From the midnight shadows I watched as Ryan Quail, naked as a newborn babe, stepped from his redwood deck into the warm water of his custom built hot tub. The old man oozed with confidence. Cheating the elderly out of their fortunes was an activity at which he’d grown adept, and one he’d grown to love. With bubbles cresting his saggy chin, Quail flipped his long, gray braid over one bony shoulder to hang outside the jacuzzi and rested his head in the curve of the black marble edging.
Waiting for the old man to doze, I slowly separated myself from the darkness. I bent down and plugged in the small appliance in my hand. Standing directly across from my victim, I cleared my throat. At once the red-rimmed eyes popped open. It took several more seconds for the aged brain to take in the danger of the electric curling iron dangling inches above the water. Confusion marked the wrinkled face then was replaced by a knowing smirk.
“Go ahead, idiot. Drop it. All the outlets have safety protectors. If my nephew's paying you to get rid of me so he can get my money, he's a mite premature, as well as dumber than dirt. I haven't yet named him in my will, and without my money, he has nothing. Can't even pay a hit man.” Laughter rolled out of the thin-lipped mouth.
“Believe me, Quail, you'll die without changing your will. Too bad you can't take it with you – but all those greenbacks would only burn up where you're going. As for who's smartest, I knew a “smart man” like you would implement safety protectors wherever needed. But...are you smart enough to remember the electric repairman who came and did some work here on Monday.”
The old man's smirk began to slip then disappeared all together.
“This idiot, as you called me, knows all about GFCI’s, how to wire them and how to dismantle them. Rather like you...a demolitions expert. Your moment of reckoning has arrived, traitor. Your PATRIOTISM stinks.”
Stepping fully into the light, I smiled. Real terror filled Quail’s eyes. The man's fearful recognition sent satisfaction surging through my body and pounding in my chest.
“Le Bouquet?” Quail croaked.
“Le Bouquet!” I dropped the curling iron into the water.
Being the spitting image of my father had its advantages. I was pleased that I had revised my original plans and decided to show myself to each of my future victims. Surprisingly, observing their fear excited me much more than the actual act of murder.
I reached behind me, grabbed the cluster of nasturtiums I’d brought, and proceeded to pluck the petals from the flowers and toss them amongst the bubbles. Then I quickly flipped the denuded stems, letting them join the watery swirl of color.
Snatching the peppermint carnation boutonnière, I walked to the dead man’s head. “Hmm. Your birthday suit doesn’t seem to have a lapel, Mr. Quail.”
I hadn't taken into account this situation when I'd planned Quail's death. It was imperative that I not deviate from it. Quail's lack of clothing simply meant it was time to improvise.
I chuckled when I spotted the long braid extending from Quail's half-submerged head and dangling over the side of the hot tub.
“Perfect.” Deftly fastening the red and white flower in the twist of gray hair, I then turned and disappeared back into the shadows.
Suddenly doubts crept through my mind like an insidious mist. Was I getting sloppy? Could my recent oversight have cost me success? Or freedom? Or life?
I shrugged my fears and doubts away. The next three murders would be without flaws. I'd spend extra time going over each detail. Setting my jaw and squaring my shoulders I strode into the night.
“Next.”