Posted by critmk on May 15, 2003 at 07:40:30:
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Sisters
a novel by critmk
Chapters 12: Death and Lingerie
Ten months after the massacre at the law firm, life was great for Barbara Laufer.
The frame she’d built around her despised husband, Norman, had put him on Missouri’s death row for the murder of the Koncharova sisters – murders she had committed. Barbara’s divorce proceedings had gone smoothly, and she had wormed her way back into a secret relationship with her erstwhile father-in-law, David Laufer. He delighted her and shocked the St. Louis business community by naming Barbara acting CEO of Laufer Aerometrics, in place of Norman. And the cops had made no connection between the Laufers and the Kennet & Sikes massacre. They assumed it to be some sort of Russian mafia hit and were investigating as such.
As for me, I was drinking a lot. I was obsessed with Barbara. Sometimes I’d watch her from far away. It was nuts, I knew. But I had it bad. I needed her. And I needed money. I decided to risk making contact.
I watched her home in Ladue, St. Louis’ priciest suburb, one warm Saturday morning in May. She emerged at about 11. I followed her to the upscale Plaza Frontenac mall. I kept my distance amid the well-heeled shoppers, the large majority of them women.
Barbara bought a purse at Coach Leather, then breezed into Vicki’s Secret, a yuppie version of the Frederick’s of Hollywood lingerie chain. I saw my chance when she headed for the changing rooms. I hastily picked the lock on the door to a service corridor.
The sunny, bustling mall contrasted sharply with the quiet, dimly-lit corridor, with its open ductwork and gray concrete block. I passed steel doors marked Saks Fifth Avenue, Armani and Eddie Bauer before coming to Vicki’s Secret.
I slipped into a large, well-lit stockroom. Two young shop girls chatted as they sorted and tagged a pile of lace bras and panties.
I edged silently around them, screened by racks of dresses, and made my way to the back walls of the changing rooms. Two unattended security video monitors, each in four-screen splits, showed the fitting rooms. A third showed the sales floor. Three VCRs recorded the passing images. It was a busy day – all eight rooms were in use.
My dick began to stir as I watched women try on sexy dresses, push-up bras, corsets and garter belts. When I saw Barbara enter, I unplugged the VCRs. I watched the monitor, waited for an opening, and hustled through the concealed door to the hallway that divided the changing rooms, four to either side.
The atmosphere was intensely feminine and sensual, with red silk wallpaper and velvet draperies covering the entrances to the rooms. These weren’t just utilitarian stalls; each opulent little room had a design theme, from Bauhaus to harem oda, complete with comfortable furniture.
Barbara gasped when I swept the curtain open and then shut behind me. I gasped, too; she looked stunning in a snug black teddy, hose and heels, with her sleek blond hair pulled back.[shopbarb.jpg goes here.]
I put my hand over her mouth and pushed her down onto the plush sofa.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Barbara, but if you scream, I’ll snap your neck,” I whispered. “Do you promise not to scream?” She nodded, and I pulled my hand away from her mouth.
“You fucking idiot!” she hissed. “If anyone sees us together, we’re dead. I told you months ago that I’d contact you if it were necessary. It hasn’t been. And here you are crawling to me for – what? Money?”
“Please listen, Barbara. Yes, I need money, but more than that I need you. We could get together out of town, out of the country – ”
“Oh for Christ’s sake! Pull yourself together, Jack. Don’t even talk about love to me, it doesn’t exist for people like us. Now hate, that’s something we understand. And if you blow this deal for me, I’ll hate your useless guts and I’ll make damn sure you fry for those Kennet and Sikes murders. Here’s a hundred bucks – use it to get a shave and clean yourself up. You look awful. Now get the fuck out of my life until the next time I need you for some little chore.”
It wasn’t her words that sent me over the edge. It was the hard, mocking glint, the utter contempt, in her eyes. A rage that trumped both love and reason burned through me.
I whipped my 9mm from its shoulder holster and pressed the noise suppressor hard against her sternum. She only stoked my anger when she made it clear that I didn’t frighten her one bit.
“What’s the matter, Jack?” she teased, maddeningly. “Don’t you love me anymore?
You poor man! Awww -- your girlfriend won’t give you the time of day. It gets worse, sweetheart. I had a concealed camera in my purse at the law office that day. I got some fascinating footage of a middle-aged man fucking dead lawyers and Russian sluts – highly erotic stuff. I wonder if the D.A. would think it’s hot? Of course, he won’t get to see it unless something bad happens to me. But nothing bad would happen to me, would it, Jack? Not with you being so crazy about me and all.”
The resolve to kill her drained out of me. I suddenly felt a great need for a drink. My gun hand began to tremble; I didn’t know what to do next.
The curtain whooshed open and interrupted my moment of indecision.
“Excuse me,” the store manager said, sharply. “But we have a strict policy against men in the fitting…rooms….”
Her voice faded when she saw the gun. She tried to take control of the situation, but knew she was in over her pretty blond head. Her words were halting and nervous:
“No one needs to get hurt, here… we should all just calm down and talk it out. Um, ah, every relationship has its ups and downs.”
“She’s right, Jack. Maybe we should calm down. Maybe we should think of the pleasures that brought us together in the first place. Maybe we should go on ‘Oprah.’”
The change in Barbara’s tone brought me up short. Her voice was silky and soft. A hint of a smile curved the corners of her mouth. I had seen that look before, at Kennet & Sikes. She looked as if she were about to kill someone and enjoy the hell out of doing it.
“Give me the gun, Jack,” she purred.
“Yes, please, give her the gun,” the store manager pleaded. Gold bangs fell over her forehead and set off her green eyes and full red lips. Her face showed her 37 years, but she was no less lovely for that. Round, low breasts – 34Cs, maybe – hung against her snug, four-button taupe jacket. Her mid-thigh skirt and classy black pumps showed her slender legs to advantage. She was a good-looking businesswoman on her way up in retail – until now.
I gave Barbara the gun. The manager’s shoulders dropped with her long sigh of relief.
“I’ll call police and security,” she said.
A cruel smile crossed Barbara’s face. “No, hon, you won’t.”
She shot the woman in the center of the right breast from inches away. The victim blinked and looked blankly at the dark, nickel-sized hole in her jacket. A red stain formed around that hole as she backed unsteadily into the opposite wall of the hallway. The exit wound in her back left a red smear there.[shop1mgr.jpg goes here.]
She touched her tit wound and looked at the blood on her hand as if she had no idea what it was. The blond staggered toward Barbara, who shot her again, at about the center of the four buttons of her suit. She died as her left leg buckled and she fell backward through the curtain of the stall opposite.
A petite young brunet, with a dark complexion and Italianate face, was in that stall trying on a garter belt, dark seamed stocking and fuck-me platform stilettos. That was all she wore – her perfect little pussy and close-cropped pubic triangle were utterly exposed. [shop2petite.jpg goes here.]
Barbara shot her in the center of that triangle. The girl and the chair pitched over backwards. Her spasms made her kick, and her sharp heels dug at the dead store manager’s body. She moaned and rose to her shoulders. Barbara knocked her down and silenced her with shots just above her left nipple and through her sternum. The fatal wound was centered between the girl’s small, widely space tits.
Barbara stood over her, smiling dreamily and stroking herself.
“Barbara, for god’s sake let’s get out of here,” I urged, but she was having none of it.
“Come on, Jack, I so rarely have a chance for a little fun. I haven’t killed anyone since those Russians at the law office.”
She continued to stroke herself as she casually gunned down an unlucky sales girl who had wandered into the hall. She was tall and slender, maybe 25, with light brown hair up in a bun. She went to her knees when Barb shot her in her lower belly, The woman pulled back her jacket and clutched at the next wound, caused by a bullet that cut the left shoulder strap of her little black dress. A finishing shot in the right temple threw victim No. 3 back on the floor with her legs sharply bent at the knees. I could see that she was a true Vicki’s Secret employee – she wore a garter belt and crotchless panties. [shop3kneel.jpg goes here.]
The commotion caused the woman in the stall behind Barbara to stick her head out of the curtain. Barbara fired through that curtain and the honey blond fell back into the room, with her dark-stockinged feet and high red pumps poking out into the hall.[shop4redpumps.jpg goes here.]
She was on her back on the floor, hugging herself over her wound. Blood oozed between the long black gloves that covered her arms. Her red and black bustier attached to her stockings and left her full breasts exposed. She wore no panties.
Blood welled over the left corner of her mouth and trickled down her cheek. Her eyes were losing focus. There wasn’t much point in shooting the woman in the left nipple, but Barbara did.
She laughed.
“And now, Monty, let’s see what’s behind door No. 3!” she cackled.
Then it hit me: This madwoman intended to kill everyone in the fitting rooms, innocent bystanders all, simply for the fun of it, even though these murders jeopardized us both. And there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.
“You only have one shot left. You’ll need this.” I tossed her my extra 11-shot magazine.
“Yes – I expect I will.”