The challenge this week from Kerrie Ann Salsac is to write an independent piece based on one of the chain stories from the previous 3 weeks. As last week’s ‘Trapped’ was my first involvement with this writing challenge, it feels only fitting that I should base this week’s writing on that story. So here it is … as sort of prequel to Trapped ….
The senator slammed down the phone.
Stupid damn bitch. Who does she think she is?
Beads of nervous sweat formed on his forehead and he wiped them away with the sleeve of his creased white shirt. Reclined back in his leather captains chair, he smoothed down his thinning grey hair with both hands.
Damn it’s hot in here. ‘Jill, have you called those bloody air con guys yet?’ he yelled at his secretary, through the closed office door.
He shook his head in frustration and walked over to the french windows at the far side of the room. They looked out over the exclusive golf course that surrounded his house. Hands on the hips of his grey slacks, he could feel his anger mounting. She was nothing before me. I made her! Ungrateful whore, how does she repay me? Snooping around in business that’s got nothing to do with her. I should’ve given the job to that cute little blonde number … I bet she would have been a bit more ‘grateful’! A sleazy smirk crept onto his face. The abrupt knock at the door jolted him out of his mental tirade.
‘Yes,’ the Senator barked.
With a creak, the door slowly opened and a tall thick-set man stepped into the office.
‘Garratt. This better be bloody good.’
Garratt turned to the door, his rough hands grabbed the handle and pushed it closed. He stepped forward, faced the Senator, straightened the trim of his black suit and stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, as if stood to attention.
‘Come on. Spit it out Garratt.’
‘Sir. This Louise is causing a bit of a stir. She’s been shooting her mouth off and people are starting to ask questions.’
‘What sort of questions?’
‘The wrong sort, sir!’
The Senator strolled over the drinks cabinet and picked up a bottle of 20-year-aged Isle of Islay whiskey. He inspected it closely and gave an appreciative nod.
‘What’s she got on us? Anything that’ll hold?’
‘It’s a bit patchy sir. There’s talk about electronic copies of some financial records.’
‘I told that ginger bastard in finance to cover our tracks. Fucking idiot.’
He scooped some ice into the glass and poured a generous shot of whiskey over the top. Picking the glass up, he gave it a swirl and took a large slug, savouring the flavour.
‘A good malt always helps put everything into perspective,’ the Senator sayed with a wink. ‘Sit down Garratt.’
A sly grin formed on the Senators face, as he sat himself back down at his desk. Placing his drink on the plush mahogony desk, he looked up at Garratt, a sly grin forming on his face.
‘Right, this is what we’re going to do to sort this mess out. You better be listening good Garratt!’.
So, this Hugh, Louise’s husband was going to be the fall guy. Garratt almost felt sorry for him, but he knew better than to get emotionally involved. This was all part of the job – keeping the Senator happy and covering his arse! After all he paid a bloody good pay-cheque.
Garratt pulled up a seat at the kitchen table. The house was deserted. Hugh would be out for a post-work run about now – all on his own – the perfect lack of alibi! And as for Louise, he was expecting her to walk in the front door any minute. Boy was she going to get a surprise! The break-in had been impeccable. He had world-class lock picking skills, but he hadn’t had to use them this time. Did they seriously think hiding the spare key under a plant pot was safe!? Idiots! There would be no sign of a break-in, no trace he had ever been here. It would be the perfect hit. He looked down at the knife he had carefully selected from the knife-block, passing it slowly between his leather clad hands. Louise and Hugh’s would be the only prints on this little beauty. He placed the knife on the table, sat back in his chair and waited patiently.
Louise fumbled in her handbag trying to find her keys. It had been a long, stressful day and she was looking forward to a large glass of wine and a good soak in the bath. Come on, where are those bloody keys? Ah, got them. Opening the front door she knew Hugh wouldn’t be home yet. She didn’t even bother switching the lights on, she just made her way straight to the kitchen diner, unbuttoning her coat as she went. Slinging her bag on the breakfast bar, she went straight over to fridge. She opened the door and stuck her head inside, locating the half-finished bottle of Chardonnay from last night. That’ll do nicely. It wasn’t until after she had poured a glass and taken a good long sip that she even noticed there was someone else in the room.
‘Welcome home baby,’ Garratt jeered.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘You’ve upset the wrong person this time.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Little birdies should keep their beaks shut, or they might just end up getting their wings clipped!’
‘I don’t know …..’
‘Oh, but I think you do. Let’s just say that we are both employed by the same person.’
‘I don’t think so. My employer is the Senator. Oh ….’
‘Catching up to speed now chick? You’ve been digging around in things you have no business knowing.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Oooh, you are a pretty little thing when you get flustered. You should’ve kept the boss happier.’ A leering glint entering Garratt’s eyes.
‘He’s a pig. Skimming off taxpayers money to fund his dirty little arms dealing sideline. Sick bastard.’
‘Oh, but that makes him a very profitable man and a very influential one – especially in some very rich mining countries! He’s got a pretty good return on his investment going on.’
‘You’re sick too. What are you going to do? Kill me? You’ll never get away with it.’
‘But we always do. Now enough chatter, I’ve got a job to do.’
As he picked up the knife from the kitchen table and started towards Louise, she screamed.
The perfect crime of passion. Garratt dropped the knife on the floor next to her dead body. A multitude of stab wounds in her stomach and chest. The plan had been put in place. A string of emails and texts planted – alluding to an affair between her and the Senator. Hugh, known to have a temper, was an easy frame. Obviously he had discovered her indiscretion and flown into a jealous rage.
Garratt did some final adjustments to set the scene. Some smashed pictures, some overturned furniture – the crucial signs of a struggle. He made sure that he had her laptop and USB drive. Any evidence would be destroyed. What would be left – just the jealous accusations of the jilted mistress.
Another fine mess all cleaned up!