Crystal had been to the gym before she came by today. She told me that she hadn’t had time to go home and change clothes, so I had Celeste do her laundry while we took a shower together. We rubbed each other down and laughed a lot, and now we were sitting in my living room, enjoying the evening.
Crystal had chosen not to get dressed: she sat in her undergarments with her legs crossed, smiling at me suggestively. I found it rather charming to talk to her when she was so openly provocative.
She was, however, extremely embarrassed when Celeste let herself in without warning to return her laundry. Celeste paid her no mind as she set the clothes on the table and let herself back out.
“Ugh, I hate her.” Crystal said, casting a wary look behind her as the door shut behind her. “She’s creepy.”
“You just haven’t gotten to know her yet.” I told her, amused. “You like her cooking, don’t you?”
“Anyone can cook.” She said.
“Can you?”
She sniffed. “Well enough.”
We ended up falling asleep on the couch that night watching movies. She had started out on my lap, but eventually we had fallen asleep together.
It was strangely comfortable. When I woke up in the middle of the night I had a lot of trouble getting myself to pull myself away from her. I had halfway made my way to my computer to start work on my book when I heard her complain for me to come back.
We slept together again in the pitch black darkness, and fell asleep again. Her smile was wider than I had ever seen it when we woke up in the morning, and she was busy talking about what we would do next week when Celeste approached.
“Some news on the assassination made it into the papers.” She said. “
“Thank you.” I said, as I took the paper from her. Crystal watched me curiously.
“Assassin?”
“A politician I knew was just murdered by a hitman.” I told her, as I perused the article. Apparently, it had taken the authorities a week to conclude that the man had died from a bullet wound to the skull. Annoyed, I threw the paper onto the table. I wondered if perhaps the finer details were being kept from the press at this stage.
She stared at me. Whenever I spoke of matters like this the gap in our position in life felt wider than ever.
“Were you friends?” She asked softly.
“We knew each other.” I told her, with a sigh.
When she left she looked a little bit saddened. She was worried about me, I thought. I felt a strong surge of affection of her.
Celeste met with me after she left to let me know that my publisher had called to let me know that my last book had become an international bestseller. I thanked her, and spent the morning working on my next one.
“You really do only stop working for girls, don’t you?” Celeste asked.
“I kaçak bahis have other interests.” I said defensively. “I read sometimes.”
She laughed at me, and I seriously considered her sending her on an errand to get her out of my way.
Celeste’s comment got me thinking though. I had been spending a lot of time at home working. It wasn’t that I didn’t have any other interests or goals in life. My issue was that working on books took priority. I developed this work ethic to pull myself out of poverty, and now that I was successful it was difficult to pull myself away from the grind. A part of me felt as if I relaxed even a little bit and left my work for another day, I would never be able to get back into it.
Still, though, when my own maid was starting to tease me for not really having a life outside of sexual affairs, I probably should probably think about trying something a little bit different. Just a little bit of a diversion from my every day routine.
My eye fell on the newspaper that Celeste had brought me, and I recalled how annoyed I had been at how the story of the assassination had been handled by the media. I found myself inspired.
I decided that I would investigate the assassination myself. I had known the man killed personally, and had quite a close relationship with a lot of individuals in his inner circle. If I could use my connections to interview them and perhaps iron out the exact circumstances behind the assassination, perhaps I could uncover something the authorities hadn’t.
It was a grand idea, I know, but my career as a novelist began due to having such ideas.
Before I made any arrangements to meet with the victim’s family, I decided to gather all of the material I already knew about the case and compile it for easy review.
The victim’s name was Mark Washington. Educated from a young age in an exclusive private school, he went on to one of the best colleges in the country and graduated with top marks. He became a doctor, and then immediately entered the world of politics. He was a little overweight, but had been fairly active in his youth and had been expected to have another two decades in his career.
He had been attending a small gathering of influential figures in his home state when he was shot and killed. The bullet had penetrated a window and caught him in the side of the head, impacting his brain and killing him instantly. The suspect had escaped with no evidence left behind. It was clearly a professional hit job.
These kinds of hits though, were generally reserved for out of control tyrants and people who threatened the national economy. I found it difficult to understand why a relatively small time politician would be a victim in such a hit. I had met the man personally, bedava bahis and he wouldn’t have been my first choice of politicians in office that needed to be killed off.
I was deep in thought regarding the situation when Celeste arrived with my lunch. I took a break from my research to eat and think. Mark Washington had been assassinated. But by who? And for what reason? And I supposed there was the matter of who had ordered the hit…
I really had no idea where to even begin with my investigation. After lunch I checked the internet for possible theories, but every post I came across seemed wilder and more unlikely than the last.
As I read though, I began to think about how the assassination had happened not very far from where I was now. I could probably head to the scene of the crime today and ask around, but the idea did not seem very appealing to me. I anticipated that I would come across nothing but more dead ends.
I had spent the entire day inside, and it was time to head out for the day. I bid goodbye to Celeste and found my way back onto the streets of the city, still thinking deeply about my problem. I was so concerned about my amateur investigation that I had brought my notes with me.
I tried going to the bookstore and walking in the park, but no ideas on how best to proceed were coming to me. Dejected, I found myself once again at the sandwich shop.
“Wow!” Scarlet said brightly as I walked in. “You’re in late.”
“I’ve been busy.” I told her, as she went ahead and made my sandwich.
“With what?” She asked curiously.
It couldn’t hurt to explain it to her.
“Well, I thought I might hunt down the assassin who killed Mark Washington.” I said.
She froze. The knife she had been using to cut ingredients remained hovering in mid-air.
“What did you say?”
“Mark Washington.” I repeat. “The man who was murdered the other day.”
“How long have you known?”
I was taken aback by her tone. “I’m sorry?”
Her grip on the knife tightened. It looked almost as if she would break the handle in half. “And you were so nice to me…”
I barely had time to react as she whirled around on me, slashing the knife towards my face. I stumble backward, alarmed, as I fell onto my back. She leapt onto the counter, and then onto me, the knife raised.
I reacted quickly: I raised my hands and grabbed her, desperately trying to keep the blade away from me. She landed on top of my and quickly straddled me, bringing the knife to my neck.
I was taken aback by how strong she was. I struggled vainly as the blade came closer and closer to my throat.
“Scarlet…” I whisper. “It was you?”
Her eyes were narrowed and dangerous. Gone was the sweet, polite girl I had garnered kazandıran bahis siteleri an interest in over the past several weeks. She looked every bit like a killer.
“What gave me away?” She demanded, as the tip of the blade connected to my throat. “How did you know?”
The only reason I wasn’t dead yet was because she wanted answers. I would have to think up a story quickly. I like to think I had never been luckier to have been a successful fiction writer.
“We’ve known who you are for a long time, Scarlet.” I told her, rasping. “We’ve had our eye on you for a long time.”
“Who?” She demanded. “Who has their eye on me?”
“If you kill me, my friends will come cracking down on you, and your employers.” I said.
The blade against my throat drew blood.
“I’m not afraid of the government.” She snarled.
“You should be.” I told her, encouraging her train of thought. “But there is no need to draw their ire. Let me go, and no harm will come to you.”
She hesitated. She looked rather unsure of herself.
“I don’t believe you.”
“My organization could use someone with your talents.” I invented. “I never wished to harm you.”
The blade on my neck relinquished.
“You’re not with the government.” She said. “They have plenty of killers at their beck and call. Who are you?”
Despite her words, she seemed to accept the fact that I wished her no harm. She didn’t look nearly as antagonistic.
“I’m no one of consequence.” I told her. “I simply wanted to meet with you. That is all.”
“For what purpose?” She asked. “If you wished to hire me you could have gone through my handler.”
I had no idea how the world of assassins was structured in the real world. By the sound of it she was simply the muscle, while someone else assigned her tasks and handled the contracts. I was tempted to ask her questions about this, but I felt it was prudent to make a getaway.
“I don’t trust your handler.” I told her.
“Nonsense.” She told me, a little bit angrily. “I am nothing but a sword. What use is a sword, other than for killing?”
“A sword is beautiful.” I answer. “There is artistry to handling it. There was passion and skill in forging it and preparing it for battle.”
“Speak plainly, or this sword will take your head.”
“I think you’re worth more than you think you are.” I told her. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
I backed away from her, staring warily at the knife she was still holding tight in her hand, and then turned and stepped out the door. Back into the street, back around normal people who had no idea what had just happened I could feel the shock of what had just happened crash around me.
I had almost been killed by an assassin. An assassin who I had thought was an ordinary pretty girl working in an unpopular restaurant. An assassin who now knew my face and name, and would likely come after me in the future to protect her identity.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have taken Celeste’s advice. Perhaps I should have stuck to my everyday, boring routine.