Ian opened a door in the Algarotti house, holding an empty garbage bag in one hand. Flicking the light switch on, he descended the stairs to the basement and walked to a section of the brick wall behind the furnace. As he pulled a small patch of loose bricks from the wall near the floor, his mind drifted to thoughts of his sister, eliciting an unintentional smile.
When their mother died, the loss only seemed to bring Britt and his father closer together. Ian tried to compete – waiting on his father hand and foot, doing special things for him, like shining his shoes – but nothing garnered more than a muttered, “Thanks.”
Britt had a special connection with their dad that Ian just couldn’t break. She knew it too. She made a sport out of berating Ian whenever her father was in the room, and just to prove she had him on her side, she would give Ian grief until their father could no longer contain his laughter. To his father’s credit, he would look away so Ian couldn’t see his face, but Ian could still see his shoulders bouncing up and down.
In spite of his father’s laughter, Ian worshipped him. During the days before Pristine came into the picture, he would sometimes slip into his father’s bedroom at night and hide under the bed, waiting for him to come in and fall asleep. He would slip out from under the bed as soon as the deep breathing started. His father preferred not to be confined by blankets, so he would always toss those aside and sleep only under a single thin sheet. Ian would pull the sheet up – a little at a time – from his feet and legs and higher and then fold it over to the side. If his father didn’t stir, Ian would pull down his own pajama bottoms, kneel on the floor and satisfy himself while staring at the sleeping man.
Back in the basement, Ian sighed as he removed the last brick. He reached into the wall and pulled out a jar. As he did, he pictured Pristine’s pretty face.
When his dad married that woman, Ian lost yet another piece of him. Nevertheless, Ian hadn’t viewed his new stepmother as an obstacle. Rather, she was an essential means to a Britt-free end.
He was listening outside the parlor when his father told Pristine about the family’s financial situation – after the marriage, of course – and although she acted like it wasn’t important that her husband didn’t have full control of the fortune, Ian watched her twisted emotions and heard her mutter her grave disappointment to the news as soon as his father left the room. The boy knew what she wanted, and he was betting she was ruthless enough to do whatever it took to secure her future.
Thereafter, Ian befriended her, and Pristine played along, whether or not she had any true affection for her new stepson. People seemed to think she was stupid, perhaps because of her looks or the way she mispronounced the occasional word. Perhaps it was her tantrums, but Ian knew she wasn’t stupid. She was, however, pliable – a trait he exploited.
When Ian came up with an experiment for the science fair, he told his stepmother he was nervous about his presentation and asked her to help him with it. He showed her his experiments with calcium carbide numerous times, and each time he explained in great detail its properties and often joked how it would make the perfect murder weapon. He would “let slip” the supposed selfish plans Britt had for her half of the family money once she turned eighteen – a birthday that was fast approaching. Not wanting to be too obvious, he left it up to Pristine to see how Britt’s death would benefit her, leaving only one other heir, who wouldn’t gain control of the money for several years more.
In the basement, Ian placed the jar into the garbage bag and returned the bricks to the wall.
He recalled how enraged he was when Mr. Roberts accused him of cheating and kicked him off the team for the science fair. He almost killed the man himself after that, but he controlled his rage long enough to realize he might be able to convince Pristine to do it for him. He had already laid the groundwork for her to murder Britt, and even though she hadn’t yet acted, he knew in his heart that she would when she worked up her nerve. How could he convince her to kill someone else when it would not profit her in the least?
Of course, one of the most important factors in planning any crime is having a legitimate candidate to blame it on other than the actual perpetrator. He knew in spite of their close relationship, Pristine wouldn’t hesitate to throw him under the bus to get what she wanted, so he played on that character weakness and the fact that he had the most to gain from the two murders – ridding himself of a teacher he hated and blamed for a blemished school record, as well as the sister who would take half his fortune and more than half of his father’s love.
He told everyone how much he wanted Mr. Roberts dead and cried to Pristine on numerous occasions. Ian knew it would make no sense for him to plan a methodical murder for a sister people believed he loved, regardless of how she treated him, instead of the teacher who everyone knew he wanted dead. He hoped that Pristine would realize that too and off them both. He even helped her out by telling her about his plans for the next science fair, an experiment involving potassium permanganate that he had taken from the water factory.
Ian ascended the basement stairs and turned out the light as he walked through the door. He carried the garbage bag to the nearest bathroom and locked the door behind him. Pulling out the jar of strychnine, he poured it down the toilet. He needed a silver bullet that would destroy Pristine’s plans to nail him for the murders. He had read about the snake handlers and their penchant for drinking poison, and that gave him the idea to build up Pristine’s tolerance. He had been dispersing a precise amount in her protein powder ever since. Once he knew all signs for the two murders were pointing to him, he upped the dosage in her powder to ensure she overdosed enough to have to go to the hospital. Of course, he had no way of knowing she would happen to use more protein powder than usual that day – a miscalculation that almost killed her, not to mention Ian’s chances at freedom. He flashed to the memory of packing Pristine’s overnight bag for the hospital and leaving the brush out so he could make sure Emory saw it.
Ian heard a noise overhead. Dad must be awake. It’s unfortunate he found out about my urgings, but I’ll be the perfect son, and over time, he’ll push those memories away. He’s going to need me. After all, there’s no one else for him to turn to now.
As he flushed the toilet and returned the empty jar to the garbage bag, he reflected on his new enemies, Emory Rome and Jeff Woodard. They had embarrassed him in front of his father, and they would have to pay for that – not now, but someday soon. He walked to the door and looked back at the toilet.
It was so easy. Imagine what I can accomplish when I turn eighteen and have a fortune at my fingertips.