Inspired by Murder Read online

  The girl was still screaming when he reached the bottom of the stairwell. He ran toward the front door when he heard his phone skid across the tiled entry.

  “Crikey.”

  When he stepped forward to pick it up he saw a woman running toward him from down the hall. He recognized her short, dark hair from the family photographs. He swiped his phone off the floor just as she grabbed a vase off the entry way table and threw it at his head. He dove to the side to avoid the vase. The porcelain shattered as it hit the floor next to him. The girl continued to scream at the top of the stairs.

  The woman seemed to be looking for something else to throw at him as he stood. He put both hands in the air to try and calm her down.

  “It's okay. I was just leaving,” he said, moving toward the front door.

  The woman seemed unassured and charged him. Fortunately, the woman was petite. He waited for her to get close and grabbed ahold of her forearm before shoving her onto the floor. The woman cried out in pain and struggled to get up while he made a move for the front door.

  To his relief, the door was unlocked and swung open when he pulled. He ran across their front lawn. He could still hear the girl screaming when he reached the front sidewalk. He continued running until he reached his car. He waited to turn on his headlights until he had finally fled their neighborhood.

  Eric caught his breath and tried to clear his head on the drive home. It was fortunate he’d been wearing the baseball cap. They shouldn't be able to give a very good description. But how had he gotten the wrong address?

  “Dammit, Patricia!” he yelled.

  His shout cut through the silence of his small sedan. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, inadvertently honking the horn and making himself jump. “Dammit!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Although last night had been a terrible blow to Eric’s ego as a killer, he wasn't going to let one small slip keep him from carrying out his master plan. He just needed to regroup. He would count last night's mishap as a learning experience.

  He also realized how he’d managed to show up at the wrong address. And it wasn't even Patricia's fault. In his excitement, he had turned onto McGilvra Boulevard East instead of East McGilvra Street. Who knew there could be two streets named McGilvra in the same neighborhood? It was an honest mistake.

  He'd come home last night and had a meeting with himself over a large glass of red. He decided he could still kill Patricia in the exact way he’d planned, only he would have to do it tomorrow night, just before her husband came home. He realized it would be even better for him to discover her body and be at the scene when the police showed up. They would suspect him immediately.

  He just needed to iron out a few more details before tomorrow night. He couldn't afford any more mistakes.

  In the meantime, it was business as usual. He did his best to appear interested in his other self-centered, needy clients as the day went on while his mind focused on how to kill Patricia...and get away with it.

  “My mother was an amazing woman. She won three Olympic gold medals for synchronized swimming before she went into politics. She served as the Ambassador to the United Nations for four years.”

  He looked up from his notepad to his teary client sitting across from him. Susan was in her late forties, and, if he remembered right, had just lost her mother to cancer. She paused from whatever she'd been saying for the last ten minutes and her eyes brimmed with tears. He handed her a tissue box, which she accepted.

  “Take your time,” he said. I charge by the hour, he thought.

  Three more patients and many sob stories later, he was, at last, done for the day. His blonde, overly-bubbly secretary poked her head into Eric’s office after his last appointment had left.

  “I wanted to make sure it was still okay that I take Wednesday off next week?”

  “For my birthday?” she added, seeing the blank expression on his face.

  He vaguely remembered her asking him about it a while back. “Umm…sure. That should still be fine. You arranged for a temp to fill in for the day?”

  “Yes. Did you need me to do anything else before I go?” she asked with a smile.

  She was always smiling. Why, he could never be sure. She was what Australians would call a few ‘roos short in the top paddock, but she was pleasant and always looked nice. In the eight months she’d worked for him, she’d always showed up on time and was competent enough to get the job done. He didn't need her to be a rocket scientist.

  “Actually, yes. Would you mind smiling at me just a little bit less? You always act like there's so much to be happy about. It makes me feel like a rotten human being.”

  “Are you asking me out?” She beamed at him, as though he'd be thrilled by her discovery of his secret motives.

  He was dumbfounded. She had to be kidding.

  “No,” he said.

  She made no effort to hide her disappointment, and he realized she’d been totally serious. Hopeful even. She looked as though he had crushed her. He couldn't take the way she was looking at him.

  “I mean, yes,” he heard himself say. “I was.”

  Her depression quickly changed to giddy excitement. She smiled wide.

  “I've been wondering how long it would take you to finally ask.”

  As if there had been anything between us? he wondered, perplexed.

  “So, when?”

  “When what?” he asked.

  “When do you want to go out?”

  “Oh. Right. Umm....” He wanted to say he was in the middle of planning a murder but figured that probably wasn't a good idea. Even though she would probably think he was being hilarious.

  “How about tonight?” She looked gratified, like she’d done him a favor by offering to give him exactly what he wanted. Only he didn't want it at all.

  “Umm....” He cursed himself for not being able to think of an excuse. He had nothing. “Sure.”

  She practically jumped in the air.

  “Great! I'm starving, I'll just grab my purse. Do you mind driving? I know this amazing little sushi place downtown. You like sushi, right? You're going to love it. Their sake is the best. I'll just be two secs.”

  In a blur of movement, she turned to fetch her purse, sending her blonde curls swinging through the air. Apparently, both of her questions were rhetorical.

  He sighed. This was not what he had planned for the evening. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten himself into this mess. He couldn't let himself be outsmarted by his twenty-two-year-old secretary and get behind in planning Patricia's murder. He was on a schedule. He would just have to tell her the sushi didn't agree with him and hurry home right after dinner.

  No sooner had he gathered his thoughts when she reappeared in his doorway. She brushed her blonde fringe out of her eyes.

  “Ready!” she announced with glee.

  “Great.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Stephenson took a swig from his beer as he flipped the steaks one last time. It had taken longer than usual to barbecue them in the forty-degree weather, but they finally looked about perfect. Not wanting them to be overdone, he used his metal tongs to remove them from the grill. He turned off the barbecue before lifting the plate of meat and heading inside his townhouse through the sliding door.

  Serena was already seated at his kitchen table but was too engrossed in her phone to look up when he came inside. Her shiny, dark hair framed her face as she looked down, fixated by her screen.

  After making them each a plate with salad and a baked potato to go with their steaks, he joined her at the table.

  “I hope you can put that down while we eat,” he said.

  She looked across at him through her long, false lashes.

  “Of course I can.”

  She slid the phone away from her plate.

  “You know you didn’t have to cook for me. I could’ve met you somewhere for dinner.”

  Stephenson cut into his steak.

  “I thought it would b
e nice since I had the day off. We always go out.”

  “You had the day off because you almost got yourself killed this weekend. I still can’t believe you did that.” She reached her hand across the table and grabbed hold of his. “But I’m glad you’re okay. And thank you. This is nice.”

  He took another drink from his beer.

  “You’re welcome. I might not be in good enough shape to chase murderers around, but I’m not too beat up to cook you dinner.”

  “So, what’d you do today?”

  “I had to give my medical leave form to Sergeant McKinnon. Then I met with a—”

  Serena’s ringtone blared atop the table. “Sorry,” she said before picking it up. “Hi, can I call you back later?”

  Stephenson took a bite of his steak.

  “No, I just can’t talk right now,” Serena said. “I’m having dinner with Blake.”

  He looked across the table at her. She seemed to be looking anywhere but back at him.

  “I told you about him,” she continued. “Anyway, I have to go. I’ll give you a call back later tonight.”

  “Who was that?” Stephenson asked after she placed the phone back down on the table.

  She took a stab of her salad. “Oh, just another realtor from my firm. He wants to talk about doing a joint listing.”

  “You told him about me, huh?”

  She looked up defensively, then saw he was smiling.

  “So, what do you want to do for your birthday?” he asked.

  “I’ve got a bunch of listings to show.”

  “On Saturday?”

  “That’s when most people are available to look. I’ve told you this.”

  “I was just hoping we could do something fun for your birthday.”

  Her phone went off again. She checked the screen.

  “Sorry, it’s a client. I have to take it.”

  She got up from the table to answer it. Stephenson finished his dinner alone while she took the call in his living room.

  “They want me to do a showing tonight,” she said, coming back into the kitchen as he rinsed his plate.

  “What time?”

  “I need to leave now.”

  “Seriously? You’re not even going to eat?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s my first listing over a million. I need to show the firm I’m ready to sell high-end properties.” She came toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thanks for cooking for me, I’m sure it’s delicious.” She lifted her head and kissed him softly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She turned and grabbed her purse off the table. He leaned against the counter as she rushed out the door. He looked across at her untouched plate while he finished his beer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  They hit rush hour traffic on the way to the restaurant, and it took another twenty minutes to find a parking spot downtown. When they finally got to the modern sushi house, the place was packed. Eric held the door open for his secretary to enter first, which she appeared to take as a sign of his undying love. As soon as he stepped inside, he was accosted by potted bamboo plants slapping him in the face.

  The few seats in the small entry area were already filled with people waiting for a table. The music that played reminded him of something from Lost In Translation. He put his name in for a table for two and was told by the hostess it would be at least a thirty-minute wait. Thirty-minutes! He didn't have thirty-minutes. He needed to get back to planning Patricia's murder so he could return to writing a bestseller. He couldn't believe he had agreed to this.

  “You're welcome to wait at the bar if you like.” She pointed behind her, where there were a few barstools still open.

  “That sounds great,” his secretary chimed in.

  They walked together toward the bar. He realized he didn't even know her name. That could be awkward. He’d obviously known it at one point, like when he had hired her, but somewhere between then and the last eight months she’d worked for him, it must've slipped his mind. Probably because he didn't care.

  “Do you like sake?” she asked after they’d taken seats at the white marble bar.

  He did, but he needed to stay focused so he could continue with his planning and research after dinner. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes. Although, one drink probably wouldn't hurt.

  “I do. You?”

  “Love it.”

  His eyes followed the sound of the kitchen doors opening to the right of the bar. He watched a chef carry a huge tray of raw fish and veggies out to a table for a large group. He wore a Japanese-style chef hat, white with red trim and a flat top.

  “What can I get for you two?”

  He turned his attention to the bartender behind the counter. He looked like he was probably in college.

  “We'll have two sakes, whatever's your best seller.”

  “You got it.”

  Eric looked over at his secretary. She stared at him while biting her lip and twirling a small piece of her hair. She was apparently enthralled with his ability to order nothing but the best. He noticed she had taken off the sweater she had worn all day at the office. Her low-cut, pink floral blouse showed off her large breasts.

  She looked at him with her green eyes, and he appreciated her beauty for the first time. She had a slender nose, average-size lips, and baby-smooth skin that screamed of youth. She was a pretty girl but not his taste. Too dumb.

  He came to terms with the fact he would not be able to think about Patricia's death until their dinner date was over. He forced himself to turn his attention toward his secretary, hoping to get through the dinner as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

  “Have I ever told you I love your accent?”

  He was about to reply when she continued. It seemed it was another rhetorical question.

  “Where are you from again?”

  She paused this time, and he assumed this one he was supposed to answer.

  “Australia.”

  “That's right, I remember you saying that before. Isn't that where Arnold Schwarzawhatever is from?”

  “I think that would be Austria.”

  “Oh.” She looked confused. “So, anyways....”

  She rambled on about how she couldn't believe it took him so long to ask her out when she'd known he'd had a thing for her since pretty much the beginning. She clearly had a wild imagination. She was still talking when they finished their sakes, and he wasn't sure how he could survive listening to her for the next hour. She changed the subject to her hair while he signaled the bartender for two more drinks. He felt himself relax after downing the second one.

  A waitress called his name for their table and he practically jumped for joy out of his barstool.

  His secretary giggled at his reaction. “You must be starving!”

  Something like that. “Yes.” He'd had enough sake that he smiled back at her as they followed the waitress to their table.

  She seated them at a small table against the wall. The seat next to the wall was a cushioned booth and across from it was a chair. Eric extended his arm to offer his secretary the booth. She beamed at him before sitting down. His head had cleared a little from the sake by the time he took his seat. They needed to get the show on the road so he could get back to business.

  “You like California rolls?” he asked his secretary before the waitress walked away.

  “Love them.”

  Of course she did. “We'll start with some California rolls.”

  “Anything to drink?” the waitress asked.

  His secretary looked eager for another drink, and he figured it would be just as easy to ditch her if she was drunk, even if he had to order an Uber to drive her home.

  “We'll have a bottle of your best sake.”

  The waitress nodded and tried unsuccessfully to suppress her smile surfacing, presumably in hope of a big tip.

  We'll see about that, he responded in silence. He looked over the menu as he inadvertently pictured himself standing behind Patricia with his
hands around her throat.

  “So....” His secretary said from across the table, apparently her best attempt at a conversation starter.

  Oh, right. You again. “So.” He set down his menu. “You know what you want for dinner?”

  “You want to share something?”

  Not really, but to speed things along, he agreed.

  “How about the halibut?”

  “Sure.” Whatever.

  He was staring at the pastel painting of over-fed tangerine and white coy swimming in a lily pad-infested pond that hung on the wall behind his date when the waitress came back with their sake and California rolls. Quick service. He liked it. He wasted no time in giving her their dinner order.

  “Great. Won't be too long,” she said.

  Maybe she would get that big tip after all. He poured his secretary a large glass of sake and filled his only half full.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked hopefully.

  “I'm driving.”

  “Oh, right.” She laughed before taking a big swig of her sake.

  She finished off her glass and had already halfway downed another when their food arrived. Thankfully it hadn't taken too long. His secretary's words started to slur as they ate.

  She was in no shape to drive home from his office, where they had left her car. And this so-called date would be over right after dinner. He had work to do. Which reminded him, he was supposed to come down with food poisoning.

  He waited until they had finished eating. Her sake glass was empty again, and he refilled it with what remained in the bottle.

  “So, what made you decide to become a psychiatrist?”

  He honestly didn't know and couldn't come up with one good reason. He wiped fake sweat from his brow. “Would you excuse me?”

  “Sure, are you okay?”

  “I think the sushi may have not agreed with me,” he said while holding his stomach before scurrying away to the loo.