by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|You can’t cook something up like the perfect crime without some sweat work. I’d done mine reviewing SCREAMS!!! Contest entries. Nobody official would think to look there. Nothing would be remembered or recorded on Youtube or promised in TV drama.
It takes letting it percolate in the subconscious until things click in a profound moment of inspiration. It seems I talk in my sleep. “That is brilliant,” Mia woke me, shaking my shoulders and wanting in on the action.
“I was just dreaming, darlin’.” I tried to cover up.
“Bobby? Tell me what you dreamed. I’ll tell you what it meant.” Mia was insistent. She wanted to suck every little detail out of me.
One thing led to another. Once she got going with her teasing, purring and midnight stroking no man alive could have resisted bragging about whatever was left in their head. I spilled everything, waiting for applause.
“Wait, you SOB, that’s it? I can do better than that.” Mia can turn her charm on and off like a switch. On the receiving end, it feels like having the rug pulled out from under you, followed by falling off a cliff.
She tore my project inside out. “I love the skeleton but it needs more muscle.” Her eyes squinched shut. Her cute snub nose wiggled. Inside that pretty skull she was deep in thought. “My woman’s intuition tells me to do it this way. What do you think?”
That is one thing men don’t possess nor trust. It seems to lie like a trigger between practical common sense and pure insanity. Telling Mia why her revised plan wouldn’t work fed fuel to the fire. I finally gave up, told her I loved her, turned over in bed and told her to sleep on it.
The thing is, she’d made me mad. In the heat of the moment, angry that I’d spilled the beans, I’d told her to off herself. Of course, that was a figure of speech. I didn’t really mean it. I made it in jest. When we woke up I tried a last attempt at fire control. “It was just a silly dream, Mia. You know I really wouldn’t hurt you.”
Mia shot me with the tip of her finger and winked. “I dig it. That perfect murder is nothing more than a burp of the subconscious, a dreamed up what if. You really had me going.”
She was testing and I knew it. She’d push until there was nothing left to push but thin air. I’d be left hanging over the cliff edge by my fingertips, Mia standing on them cracking my knuckles waiting for my other shoe to drop off. “Look. let’s can it, O.K? We are going to be late for work.”
I thought my misdirection had worked. Mia snapped out of it. “Oh my god, my makeup.” She is a joy for me to watch her do her magic act, turning herself from a sleepy seductress into a predatory female work assassin. She wears the ‘come on’ look promising instant heaven while she is scheming how to burn you in hell. I’ve seen her work.
“Gotta run. See you tonight.” I tore myself away while I could. Eyes filled with what she wore under her public persona. Black lace is a thing for me. She knew it. I knew it. She was dressing for me as much as for the corporate John’s. Her weapons of a skillful mind hidden in cleavage and tapered thights meant to murder in her next business deal.
“You see the news?” Mia asked during our lunch date, smacking her lipstick. She didn’t know it. That was her secret unconscious way of showing she was tasting success.
“No. What?” It pays to encourage Mia with questions. She likes to talk. I’d learned that’s the way to get her to spill her beans.
“Today was murder.” Mia slurped. She dabbed at a trickle of red wine at the edge of one cheek.
“You made a killing with that Henry Masterson?” That was the current deal she was working on. The man was proving difficult, unwilling to compromise and had my Mia’s back to the wall fondling her against her will.
“Got him dead to rights.” She knifed her piece of steak, savagely cut a mouth sized piece and chewed on it.
“That right? How’d you do it?” Women don’t like to outright brag. This would be a rare display indeed.
Mia got shifty eyed. “Remember last night? I am spending today practicing what you dreamed up. You are to blame. Let’s see how you get out of it.” Her foot teased out of its shoe to stroke up my calf and beyond.
Female misdirection in that form gets my blood flowing. There were nuances to our conversation on many levels at once. We were both interrupted by a waiter bringing us a message. “Miss Mia Thomas? Those gentlemen would like a word with you about the accident.”
Mia gave a nervous look towards the strangers staring our way. One flipped open a wallet. A police badge flashed back at us. “I may need your lawyer talents. Come fetch me if I don’t come back.”
I was brushed off coming with her, told to wait where they put me. I’d be interrogated next. The room off the side of the restaurant was quiet as a morgue. From where I sat alone in the hallway, I could hear everything she and they said.
“You can’t pin this wrap on me. So we were having an affair. Sure, I had motivation for seeing him dead. Yes, I own a .32 revolver. It’s for personal protection, but I never use it. What? It was found at the scene of the crime? No, Robert doesn’t know a thing about my affair.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up and saluted. Mia was setting me up. Unconsciously she must be expecting me to figure out a lawyerly way to wiggle out of being put in the slammer. That woman had too much faith in me.
“Pardon me, I need to use the restroom.” The cop I’d been left with to guard me stirred from half slumber. He followed me in making me keep my stall open.
“Brother are you hung.”
He sounded gay, looked turned on. It gave me the moment I was looking for. “Want to see it up closer?” He did. A knee to his aroused groin and a chop to his neck spilled his head, with a little help, to drown in the toilet. “Sorry, pal. You look a little too flushed.”
Only minutes had passed in slow motion. I sped the next ones up making my escape. My murder had been less than perfect. Mia had forced it on me. It would be seen as added proof of my guilt. I could see it now, the shape of her perfect murder was the state crucifying me and her getting away scott free. “See you around, Mia. I’ve got some planning to do.”
I had enough death threats coming at me as a lawyer to have planned for most any eventuality. False identity, cash and credit cards flew into my possession at my private safe house. My cache of weapons I left behind now looked starved. “Two can play this came, Mia.”
She’s not making this easy. Mia didn’t return home like she always does. Was she in protective custody or were they holding her on suspicion. Either way I couldn’t get to her except at her job. It will take some planning. I’ll have to sleep on it. I’ve an idea on how this could be done, but it must be the perfect murder. I’m thinking suicide with a letter in her own hand explaining what she planned and how it was done.
I still have feelings for Mia. I’ll leave enough wiggle room for her to escape if she’s smart. I’ll leave tracks for her to follow me to Mexico. Maybe we yet have a chance.
It depends on what she dreams up. She’s certainly added spice to our relationship on both a conscious and unconscious level. I’ll have to be ready with a backup plan to meet any cost.
A good, loving relationship can feel like murder making it work.