“Come on, let’s go to bed.” Michelle grabbed his hand and tugged at him. “I want to celebrate.”
“In awhile,” he said with a thin smile. “I want to double-check a couple of things.”
Michelle stood. “Okay, but don’t take too long about it.”
“Okay.”
He watched her dance back to bed, while he contemplated killing her parents.
A restless night’s sleep hadn’t tempered his solution-it had reinforced it. He was going to kill his in-laws. It had been three a.m. before he’d gone to bed. He’d sat in the kitchen daydreaming, plotting their demise. While in bed, he’d tossed and turned-excited by the prospect. Stronger than caffeine, his ingenious idea kept him awake. Even in his unsettled sleep, he dreamed of murdering his burdensome in-laws. Surprisingly, he’d risen the following morning in fine fettle. He felt like a million bucks.
Leaning against the sink, munching on a bowl of cereal, Richard asked as casually as he could, “When’s your mom and dad’s eviction date?”
“Don’t say eviction.”
Hell, what was he meant to call it? Their involuntary departure due to irreconcilable payment terms? Eviction wasn’t a pretty word and it wasn’t meant to be. That was the name of the game. He tried again.
“Okay, when do they have to move out?”
“By the 20 ^ th, I think. Can I tell them the wonderful news?”
“Hold off for now. I need to get the mortgage broker to double-check my figures.”
“Okay.” Michelle smiled. She was so happy. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. “Maybe tonight?”
“Maybe.” He smiled back.
I’ve got until the 20th, he thought on the commute to work. I’ve got two weeks to kill them.
Deciding to kill Ted and Eleanor was one thing. Doing it was another. He had to decide how, when and where. Inspiration wasn’t on the right wavelength. Nothing coming through sounded workable. He wandered through his working day as a passenger, cruising past his responsibilities. At lunch, he made the obligatory phone call to the mortgage broker and realtor, and they set them in motion. He went home that evening with his cover story, but no plan for murder. Inspiration was waiting for him in the living room.
“Richard, you don’t know how much we appreciate what you’re doing,” Ted said.
“Very generous,” Eleanor echoed.
“I couldn’t wait, honey. I had to tell them. Please don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry,” Richard said, his blood boiling. “There’s nothing to be angry about.”
“Richard, you’re my son now. What you’ve done for us elevates you way above in-law status.”
God forbid me ever being of your blood, you useless SOB. Richard shook Ted’s proffered hand, smiling as broadly as his anger and irritation allowed. “Thanks, Ted. That means so much coming from you.”
“We can go house hunting together,” Eleanor suggested. “Make it a real family affair.”
Over my dead body, Richard thought. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”
“We should celebrate,” Ted announced. “Go out to dinner. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds great, dad,” Michelle said.
“Great,” Richard agreed.
They went for a steak dinner. Ted suggested Outback. Richard said Sizzler, because it was nearer-and cheaper. He knew he would be picking up the tab — and he did. Their last meal together might be on him, but it didn’t have to be an expensive one.
He was glad to get home after seeing off his in-laws. The meal together had been good, though. It made his decision so much easier. Seated face to face with them, he felt no compunction to hand them a stay of execution, but they’d been a distraction. He couldn’t think seriously about killing them when they were jabbering away in front of him. Their inane chatter prevented him from concentrating. Michelle slipped her arms around his waist.
“Thanks,” she said.
“For what?”
“You know.” Her face filled with sadness. “I’m sorry we argued last night.”
He pulled her to him and hugged her tight. “It’s all right. We’ve got a solution now. Last night is forgotten.”
“C’mon, soldier. We’ve got some unfinished business in the bedroom. Let’s go.”
For Michelle’s benefit, Richard pretended to go to work. He went through the usual morning routine of his shower, shave and light breakfast. The moment he hit the road he called the office requesting a floating holiday. He had to think and he couldn’t do that with Michelle around or the interruptions at work. He stopped in at the first Denny’s he came across. Much to the hostess’ annoyance, he insisted on a booth rather than eating at the counter. He didn’t want the conversation. He ordered and gazed out the window at the freeway traffic whipping by below him.
Two restless nights and he still wanted to kill Ted and Eleanor. He was sold on the concept, but not on his morality. He told himself that he wasn’t evil. It was self-defense. Justifiable homicide. His livelihood was under threat and he couldn’t let that happen. He had to do something about it. Any notion that he was just another criminal dissolved with his first cup of Denny’s coffee.
He needed a killer, a hit man, but where was he going to find one? He didn’t have a clue. Even if he did find one, how the hell would he know if he’d found a good one? It wasn’t like he could pick up a copy of this month’s issue of Best Buy-the Hired Killer addition. No, he couldn’t count on an assassin. It was a stupid idea. He wasn’t a mobster, for God’s sake.
He examined his hands, turning them over and inspecting the calluses on his palms. He was good with his hands. He always had been. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t turn his talents to for professional results. He would treat Ted and Eleanor’s death like any other DIY project. He would kill them himself.
He warmed to the idea instantly. What would be a suitable death for Ted and Eleanor? He had to come up with something that would be befitting of their lifestyle. Lifestyle, what a joke. Style was one thing absent from their lives. His waitress brought his breakfast.
He trawled through his cheesy and greasy choice. Ted amp; Eleanor’s neighborhood wasn’t the best. It was way better than it had been the year before they moved in, but it was still tarnished by its reputation. Drug dealers and felons were still a common sight. A home invasion wasn’t out of character. He considered the scenario for a moment and dismissed it just as quickly. Home invasions were noisy and messy and required planning and more than one person. It wasn’t going to work.
“Simple solutions are usually the best remedy.”
“Huh?”
Richard’s waitress smiled and refilled his coffee cup. “You seem to be trying to solve a weighty problem. People always complicate things. Most of time, the simplest solutions are the best ones.”
Richard managed a smile. “You know what? I think you’re right.”
“I know I’m right,” she said and moved on to the next table.
He finished up his meal and paid the check, leaving an over-generous tip. His coffeepot philosopher had been right. Simple was best. Getting back into his car, a plan was piecing itself together.
Richard parked on Hillcrest Drive. The road was deserted. Not many used the service road to the water plant. He stared down the hill at the run down development and particularly, at Ted and Eleanor’s rental home backing onto the hillside.
From his lofty vantage point, there seemed to be no activity. Eleanor would be at work, but Ted would be there, pottering around, trying to make one of his damn fool schemes succeed. Even in Richard’s short marriage to their daughter, there’d been too many. There was the property speculation deal-buy cheap properties with no money down and give them a quick makeover for a quick profit. The upshot had been a string of expensive home inspections that proved that cheap houses are cheap for a reason. Not being daft enough to buy a termite-infested shack, Ted had moved on to want ads, selling junk that no one wanted. Their garage was still chock full of trash. Buying cars from auctions to sell had been next. The city had confiscated six jalopies after multiple complaints from the neighbors. His current fad was telemarketing. Richard had no idea how that one worked…neither did Ted, in all honesty.