Leslie sat on the bed watching the news. Next to him, the woman lay face down, her face no longer the lovely alabaster that had attracted his attention as he drove by her street corner. Her clothes had been classier, though still more revealing, than her companions. She’d taken one look at his car, given him a quick advance preview of her assets and jumped in the car when he thrust open the door. She’d been adequate in the sack, but last night adequate hadn't been enough. As she labored to satisfy, he’d wrapped his hands around her neck. He’d taken his time, squeezing until the thrashing of her body slowed, easing up, then squeezing again, until she quit moving.

He didn’t know it was so easy kill. Far easier than he’d imagined. He didn’t know why he had waited so long to try it. He felt better than he had in a long time—maybe since the first time his father had belittled him.

As if his thought had conjured up his father, his cell phone rang, the display showing his father’s private number. He didn’t mind. It would be amusing to talk to his father while sitting next to a dead woman.

“Bob’s Bar and Bordello,” he said into the phone.

“How soon can you fly into Denver?” his father said, in that dead but important tone he used with his son and other lesser beings.

“Why?”

“John Knight died last night. I believe you two were friends.” He said the words but the tone of his voice said he didn't believe it.

The old man was no fool, though Leslie hoped to make him feel like one before he was finished with him. “I’ll take off as soon as I find my pilot—”

“I already talked to him.”

Leslie felt that familiar frustration rising, but one look at the woman he’d killed and it subsided. Bet the old man had never killed anyone. At least not a human. He’d managed to off plenty of animals.

You can leave anytime,” his father went on.

Leslie fondled the woman’s hand. “I have a few things to take care of first, but I’ll be there as fast as I can. Thanks for letting me know, Dad—”

But his father had already hung up.

Leslie shrugged. He'd have to postpone his visit with Miss Prudence. Odd the old man hadn’t mentioned her disappearance, but then he might not know that old Knight was using her for a storage cabinet. And how come Grady hadn’t called? Had the snatch gone as planned? So many questions without answers and no time to puzzle them out. He had a body to dispose of.

How did the average, yet brilliant, murderer get rid of the odd, dead body?

He heard a sound in the hall, padded to the door and looked out. The maid was cleaning the room next to his. On the floor by her cart were bundles for the laundry. It seemed fate was determined to deliver him a way out.

He waited until the maid went back in the room, then grabbed one of the sacks. As he started stuffing her into the sack, the news story he’d been waiting for aired. The only surprise was the death of the security guard. He stared at the television until the anchor moved on, then looked at the woman partially in the bag.

“Sorry, darling, I guess you weren't my first, but so far you’re the most satisfying.”