Posted by Pete on May 13, 2005 at 10:37:35:
He looked at his watch it was 23.45. He’d been here just over four hours. He didn’t mind at all, he was very patient. Patience was highly regarded in this line of work as well as preparation and meticulousness.
He respected all three to an almost religious degree, which was why he was still a free man, indeed not even a sought by the authorities. Detail, planning that was always they key and while of course there would always be a certain risk element in the killing of another, if you paid heed to the aforementioned traits then that risk could be greatly reduced.
The sounds of Friday night London drifted up, the car horns, and as in all big cities the ever present distant siren. The usual cacophony of the city at night. He wasn’t all that keen on big city life and four months here he’d had his fill. He’d come to know London quite well and had enjoyed the museums, Theatre and restaurants that the capital was famous for. Below the traffic continued to snake it’s way through the darkened city. It was a clear, crisp night. Ideal for his purposes.
This was a job he’d been somewhat reluctant to take. Katherine Edwards was a very high profile target and the media frenzy afterwards would make sure the investigation would leave no stone unturned. To use a clichéd phrase ‘The heat would be on’ and would stay on for a very long time.
Katherine had started out as fashion writer on the British edition of ‘Marie Clare’ she’d then started ‘guesting’ on various daytime shows as fashion and celebrity commentator. Now at thirty four she hosted a twice weekly chat show that covered in a rather lightweight manner current affairs, fashion and celebrity gossip. It had been running now for two years and generally seemed well liked. The show went out on a Tuesday and Thursday in a late evening slot. Katherine’s profile was rising. She was regarded for both her elegant sense of style and her sometimes scathing wit. He’d watched the show on a few occasions and she came across very professional and quite at ease in front of the camera. He’d recently seen her described in a magazine article as the ‘thinking man’s crumpet’.
Although it didn’t really matter to him he couldn’t fathom why someone was willing to pay so much to have her killed. Her show was lightweight with no dangerous exposes, she seemed happily married and wasn’t having any affairs, that he was sure of as he’d immersed himself in her life over the last four months. There was no drug involvement. There didn’t seem to be any obvious direct motive, but then it didn’t concern him anyway what the reason behind this job was. The payment was the main thing that interested him.
Because she was high profile he’d been reluctant to touch it. Something like this would require a lot of planning, not in the actual killing but in covering the tracks and making sure no track would lead them to him. That was the key. This was one case that wouldn’t just get swept under the carpet. Killing someone even a minor celeb. was the easy part. Getting away with it, well that was the hard part.
The client had offered him 2 million in UK Sterling and he’d accepted the mark. He’d said that he’d need time and that he’d only promise to deliver sometime within the next 7 months. That had been acceptable to the client and the deal was struck neither party in the deal knowing who the other was and that was best for both of them. The validity of both parties being confirmed by a outside third party. The only possible weak link in the chain.
He rented an apartment that overlooked hers and began his immersion into her life, all with the goal of looking for a moment, an opportunity to complete his task. He knew all her routines. Where she shopped, her gym, when she went to the studio, right down to what she took in her coffee. He’d taken a job in a antique bookshop which would also cover his tracks. He fitted in. He aroused no suspicions. It was knowing her inside and out that had given him this opportunity tonight. As he looked down he could see the entrance to her apartment block.
Of course he wouldn’t take the shot from his own apartment. That would be madness. Ballistic experts could determine with accuracy where the shot had been fired from. He’d broken into this apartment in another building, well not so much broken in as he’d acquired through nefarious means a key, he also knew that the owner had left town today for the weekend. This was the sort of set up you could arrange only if you gave yourself time and didn’t rush.
The Police would very keen to talk to the owner of this apartment and they’d want to know who else had, had access to his apartment, he of course wouldn’t be on that list. The owner despite his real alibi would initially be a suspect as would those who had access. He’d been careful when entering that no one saw him, those were always the little risky moments that could so easily be his undoing. He’d also avoided with some skill any of the CCTV cameras in the area. They also had them in the street nowadays and he’d spent sometime sussing out their range and placement. Planning and preparation that was always the key. Nice and steady. Keeping the variables under as much control as possible.
He saw the taxi pull up. Katherine got out with her husband. He’d watched them leave the building earlier in the evening, possibly a meal or some function or other. When she left she was wearing an elegant ‘classic’ black knee length dress that dipped towards her cleavage. Perfectly poised and at ease in her pointed black high-heeled shoes. Her dark hair as always neatly coiffed, falling just below her shoulders the ends gently curling outwards. Draped over her arm she held a white coat. As always and living up to her reputation she was a picture of elegance. Her husband was a little more disheveled and in contrast to his elegant spouse wore a rather no doubt fashionable pair of scruffy jeans.
He was three years her junior and worked as a producer on her show. They’d been married for five years and from what he could tell and read in the tabloids the marriage seemed strong and happy. He could take the shot now but he knew he’d have a much better opportunity later on that would be a lot less conspicuous.
Now as she got out of the taxi she was wearing the knee length white coat, guarding against the little chill that was now in the air. A young man approached her a little reservedly. She smiled and nodded. He fumbled in his pocket for a pen and she signed something, a receipt or some scrap of paper that he’d possibly had in his pocket. Then somewhat unabashedly he put his arm round her and he saw the flash of a camera as the young mans friend snapped a photo for posterity. Smiles and some words were exchanged as the two young men headed off into the night and Katherine and her husband entered their apartment block the door graciously held open by the evening doorman.
Ironically that if all went to plan would the very last photo of Katherine Edwards taken alive. No doubt in the tabloid frenzy that would follow this evening that photo would be worth it’s weight in gold to that young chap. If of course he was inclined to sell, which he would no doubt be.
The lights went on in the apartment and he could see movement behind the light drapes of the long balcony window. He was on the home stretch of four months preparation and although she didn’t know it Katherine Edwards life was quietly ticking away.
She came out onto the balcony as he knew she would as she did almost every evening. She’d now discarded her white coat but was still attired in the black dress she had been wearing that evening. In her hand as he knew it would be was the crystal ashtray, her cigarettes and an elegant gold lighter. He’d been surprised to find that she smoked as she spent considerable time at the gym and was also a casual jogger. It was a little vice that she seemed to keep well hidden and as he’d immersed himself in her life he’d noted she was a fairly light smoker. Smoking maybe after a meal and maybe with a drink or two. It always fascinated him to find such little contrasts in peoples lives. It’s strange, he knew so much about her habits and ways and yet he didn’t really know her at all. It was never less than interesting to see the strange mix that made up the human condition. It’s amazing what strange and dark little secrets he’d found out on other ‘jobs’.
With Katherine she really didn’t seem to have anything to hide. Her little penchant for nicotine was really as dark as she got and that wasn’t really dark at all.
She always rounded the day off with a little late night cigarette on her balcony. Winding down the day , that cigarette seemed to be a little ‘treat’ for her. Always taken on the balcony, possibly considerately not to annoy her husband or to keep the smoke from her living room or maybe just to enjoy the view of the city below? It didn’t matter the reason, but it was a daily ritual that had given him this perfect opportunity. It was a fine opportunity. Late at night, alone and she would be relatively unmoving which was ideal for taking the shot. It was as good as it could get really. He would have time to leave the scene, there would be no one instantly scanning for where the shot came from. The risk was minimal and that’s all he could ask for.
He saw the flame spring from her lighter. Through the telescopic sight he watched her inhale, her eyes briefly closing in satisfaction. He watched the smoke cone out from her perfectly painted lips and dissolve in the night air. He was about to pull the trigger, then he thought why not give her the last cigarette? It was a tradition was it not? The last cigarette before execution. He could give her that, there was no rush after all. Ironically although she didn’t know it she would never have to worry about any of the possible health effects of her habit in the future. In fact she didn’t have to worry about the future at all.
Of course she was completely unaware that this was to be her last cigarette. Unexpectedly she placed the cigarette in the ashtray and headed inside. This surprised him, surely she wasn’t going to deviate from the usual nightly routine? Then to his relief she reappeared her white coat draped over her shoulders to keep out the little chill. She retrieved her cigarette and once again placed it to her glossy lips. He’d never smoked, didn’t ever feel the need. Still, he hoped Katherine was enjoying her last cigarette. He watched her through the sight. She was a beauty and with a flourishing and blossoming career. A beauty and career that would be abruptly and tragically cut short in just a few minutes.
Once again as she raised her hand to her mouth, the glint of her wedding and engagement rings on her exquisitely manicured hand caught his eye. Then she turned towards the door mouthing something as her husband appeared. He came up behind her and gently put his arms round her waist and kissed her on the neck. A touching scene. Then as he disappeared back in she once again said something as she held up her now nearly finished cigarette. He interpreted it as she’d be in, in a moment when she finished.
She took a final deep inhale and titled her head slightly as she exhaled, she walked to the balcony table and stubbed out her cigarette. She picked up the ashtray, her pack and lighter about to head back inside.
He held her life in his hands. The crosshair placed just over her left breast. He emptied his lungs and ever so gently squeezed the trigger.
She staggered back as if pushed by an invisible hand, the ashtray dropping from her grasp. Her eyes flared and she managed to steady herself against the table in a slightly stooped posture. One hand resting on the table for support the other placed on her chest over the wound, a frown and puzzled expression coming over her sculpted face. The high caliber bullet had entered her chest cavity and tore through the walls of her heart muscle. The vital organ beyond hope. As she stood there, her brain already being denied oxygen. She tried to head for the balcony door. Her elegant stride deserting her, in her heels she was now as unsteady on her legs as a new born calf. She raised her hand slightly towards the door. Maybe she was trying to speak, to call for help? She now had her back to him and he could see the large red stain on the back of her coat where the exit wound was. He wondered as always what thoughts were going through her head? Her last action seemed to be to try and get back inside. Then her legs buckled and she crumpled to the floor.
He watched. All was still. The curtains moved slightly in the night breeze. It was hard to imagine the shocking scene that had just taken place that had left Katherine Edwards dead. It had only been a fateful moment. Down below the city went about it’s Friday night business. For now the world was still unaware of Katherine’s fate. That would soon change. The media frenzy would soon begin and spread like a ripple on a pond from that innocuous balcony to newspapers and TV all over the country and possibly even further a field.
It would be a massive story that the media would not let go of. After all she was or had been one of their own. It would be a circus that would run for sometime of that he was sure. Still, he was now two million pounds up and wouldn’t have to work again for quite some time if at all. He had to get going. It was an early start in the bookshop tomorrow.
He came out of the shower. He thought he’d heard something smash like glass dropping. He came into the living room.
“Katherine? Katherine?”
There was no reply. He looked out onto the balcony and realized there never would be a reply.
She was lying on her front. Hr face turned to the side, her hair half covering her face. He could see a great stain of red on the back of her coat. He gently turned her over. Her piercing blue eyes wide open and glazed. The expression on her face conveying shock and confusion. He could see the little entrance wound just above her left breast. Her painted lips slightly parted in a last unspoken plea. She still looked beautiful, shocked but beautiful. He could see bits of broken glass from the ashtray lying around that must have fallen. Also lying nearby where she had dropped them were her cigarettes and her gold lighter. He picked up the lighter. It was an authentic piece of Hollywood history. It had once many years ago belonged to Carole Lombard who had been the first wife of Clark Gable. It had been a gift from Gable and had a tender little engraving on it. She’d always been a little vague as to how she’d acquired it but he was sure it had been an expensive gift from a former lover. She’d loved it, Katherine had always had a penchant for that ‘old time’ Hollywood glamour. It was his now, she now had no need for such items. It would no doubt bring a tidy sum these things always did.
Her legs splayed out. He’d always loved her long legs. He’d miss them. Her feet still encased in her outrageously priced ‘jimmy shoo’ heels. The click of her heels now silenced forever. He gently kissed her lips, his nostrils filling with her perfume and the slight trace of tobacco from what was now her last cigarette He’d always said smoking was bad for her health. He’d encouraged her to quit but as always Katherine wouldn’t be told what to do. She was headstrong and stubborn or more accurately had been headstrong and stubborn. Katherine Edwards would now be only referred to in the past tense. I’m sorry honey it was the only way.
As he rolled her over he saw the damp pool of urine that had spread out from her bladder at the moment of death. She’d be horrified to see herself in such an undignified manner. But then her sightless eyes now saw nothing in this world.
He been waiting for this. He’d said it would take place sometime in the next seven months not giving a specific date. He’d almost enjoyed wondering when it would come? Anticipating each day as her last. It had been a secret dark pleasure. He looked at her still body. Hard to believe it was the same woman he’d spent the evening with. So vivacious and full of life, now still and lying in her own urine. It didn’t seem possible.
Why had he done it? As always for the money. Of course suspicion would point to him in some part. He’d covered well his connection to the assassin. In fact he’d never physically met the man who pulled the trigger. There really was no connection to be found The money for the payment was also well covered. He would ride the storm that was sure to follow as just not the police, but authors and investigators for years to come would surely all be digging. Digging with nothing to find. It would be interesting to see what conspiracy theories arose in the death of TV presenter Katherine Edwards.
He tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from her face and blew her a kiss as he went inside to call the Police.
Pete