The Art of Murder

by Rebecca Muddiman

  ‘How did you know where I live?’ she asked.

  ‘Your colleague told me,’ he said and saw the skepticism in her face. That was a bad choice. Clearly the little man was in love with Karen. He’d never give someone else any help in their own pursuit of her. Michael laughed, lowered his head. Did his best embarrassed look. ‘No, that’s not true. The truth is, I came to the store to see you but I bottled it and went to this café to get a drink and then I saw you leaving so I thought, stop being such an idiot and go talk to her. But… you walk really fast,’ he said and saw her warming up. ‘I tried to catch you but I couldn’t, and then I saw you come inside and…’ He shook his head. The bumbling fool. ‘I was going to press the intercom but felt like an idiot so I’ve been pacing up and down your block for ten minutes and then finally someone was coming out so I just…’ He rubbed his hand across his face. ‘I’m sorry. I realize that sounds worse. Like I’m some crazy stalker man.’

  Michael gave a nervous laugh and felt relief when she did the same. He could see her shoulders drop a little, her hand unclench. Maybe he should’ve gone into acting as well as painting.

  ‘Anyway, I can’t stay,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to see you, to find out if I did something wrong.’

  ‘No, although… showing up at my house and my store like a crazy stalker man isn’t the best way to impress me.’

  He held up his hands and feigned embarrassment again. He’d swear he was actually blushing. ‘You’re right. And if you want to call this off, whatever it is, that’s okay. I’ll go, you’ll never see me again. But I felt like we had a connection. And I know that sounds cheesy and awful, but it’s true. I’d love to go out and get to know you better. But maybe without all the cocktails. I don’t think my body can take it.’

  Karen smiled and he could see he almost had her. He waited. He knew he couldn’t push too much. This had to be her decision.

  A noise behind her made her turn and Michael peered over her shoulder, seeing a parrot dancing about on a perch, loudly squawking vaguely human words.

  ‘That’s Paulo,’ she said, and Michael wondered if it would make such a racket while he was killing her, if he’d have to snap its neck or whether there was a painting that could incorporate a bird.

  Michael tended to walk away from the possible projects who owned pets, especially dogs. Partly because of the noise they made, although that could easily be taken care of. But the thing was, he hated to hurt animals. He often wondered what a psychologist would make of that. He was never a bed wetter either. Fires he could take or leave.

  Karen turned back to him and took a breath as if she was about to make a momentous decision. And really that was what it was. Life or death. He couldn’t force her to be part of the project, she had to invite him in.

  ‘It’s…’ she started.

  ‘I know things are tricky with your divorce and I don’t want to cause you any trouble,’ he said, and lightly touched her arm. ‘Think about it. Call me if you want to. I promise I won’t send any more texts until I hear from you.’

  Karen nodded and Michael took one last glance at the apartment behind her. It looked like a fantastic staging area, the lighting was amazing. It would be such a waste not to use it. Plus, while he was on his break at work, he’d done a little digging into Karen Kelly, formerly Karen Barrow. At college she’d won a few prizes for her writing, been published in a few magazines. And then, when she was twenty-three, she had her first and only novel published. It sank without a trace despite a few positive reviews. And that was it. It appeared she never wrote anything again. She married Nick Kelly and started peddling other people’s work. Michael had tracked down a copy of her book and paid extra for next-day delivery. He was certain it would be worth it.

  ‘Bye,’ he said and walked away, hearing the door click shut behind him. If he were a gambling man, he’d bet he’d hear from her by the end of the night. Not to toot his own horn, but that was a good performance.

  He walked on down the hallway as the door to the stairs opened. Michael glanced up and watched as Nick Kelly walked through.

  Michael’s heart thumped in his chest, rattling his ribs. Was this it? Had they been waiting for him?

  He put his head down and kept on walking, his sleeve brushing Nick’s as they passed each other, before he was finally out of the door.

  Free.

  26

  Nick

  Nick looked over his shoulder as the man walked past. He got the feeling he’d been at his apartment. He could’ve only been one of two places – Mrs. Nijinsky’s or his own place, and Nick seriously doubted the man had been visiting the old woman. She never had visitors other than her daughter. Not once in all the years they’d lived there had they ever seen anyone else go in or out. They’d only seen the old woman a handful of times themselves.

  The man disappeared through the door to the stairs and Nick turned back to his apartment. He went in and saw Karen about to sit down on the sofa. She turned as he came in, surprise on her face. Was it possible Karen actually was seeing someone? He never thought she had it in her.

  ‘You’re home early,’ she said.

  ‘That a problem?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m not interrupting something?’

  ‘Like what?’

  Nick shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Don’t really give a fuck.’

  Karen stared at him and then shook her head. She stood up and brushed past him, bending over to pull on her shoes.

  ‘Don’t leave on my account,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not. There’s something I need to do.’ She pulled on her coat. ‘At work,’ she added.

  She opened the door but before she could leave, Nick asked, ‘Have you seen my lighter?’

  ‘No,’ she said and slammed the door behind her.

  Nick went to the kitchen and got a glass of water, carrying it to the living room where he went to the window and peered down at the street. He watched as Karen rushed out and started walking, quickly. But she was going in the opposite direction to the store.

  He looked further up the street and saw the man from the hallway. Was Karen calling out to him? Maybe they’d had a fight. Nick wondered how long it could’ve been going on. Clearly Karen had secrets of her own.

  Maybe this guy would have an apartment. Karen could move in there, solve everyone’s problems, because he sure wasn’t moving. This place felt like it belonged to him. It was his parents who’d put up most of the money not long after they were married. But according to his asshole of a lawyer, it had been a gift to both of them so the fact it was his parents couldn’t be used in his favor.

  Nick watched as the man disappeared around the corner, Karen following him a little way behind. Should he find out who this guy is, see if he couldn’t make things work for him?

  Slamming down the glass of water, Nick rushed out of the building and jogged up the street. At the corner he stopped, neither of them in sight. He sighed. Fuck it. He had more important things to do anyway. He needed to get to Alison’s club and scrub away any evidence he was ever there. If anyone asked what he was doing, he’d tell them he was doing his job. But he had to do something to get himself out of the picture. And that was more important than chasing Karen and her boyfriend across the city. What good would that do?

  27

  Karen

  Karen ascended the steps from the subway station, idly playing with the lighter in her pocket, her mind a million miles away. What had she intended to do when she left the apartment? She’d followed Mark, watching as he disappeared up the street, wondering if she should call out to him. And say what? If she wanted to go out with him she could’ve said so while he was standing there in front of her. But he’d told her to think about it. Did she really want to look that desperate that she went chasing after him in the rain like some lovesick fool in a romantic comedy?

  As soon as she got out there, she panicked, slowing down until Mark had gotten too far away to hear her over the sounds of the city. Sh
e’d almost stopped and gone home, but knowing Nick was in there, she decided to keep going.

  Had seeing Nick made things clearer in her mind? Had his snide comment about not caring what she did made her think chasing Mark would make things better? And why? Because Mark was funny and sweet and actually interested in her? Or because she thought seeing someone else, anyone else, would piss Nick off?

  She had no idea but kept going, watching as Mark jogged down the steps to the subway. He was leaving. It was too late. Yet still she followed, keeping her eye on him as he made his way along the platform, stepping onto the train a few doors down with no idea where she was going. Maybe it was an act of self-preservation, checking him out before she committed to anything, because what if he was going home to his wife or girlfriend or mummified mother in a rocking chair?

  Karen kept her eye on him, feeling slightly ridiculous. What if he saw her? She supposed she could come up with something, make her behavior seem normal, romantic even. And maybe once they got where they were going she would call his name and ask if he wanted to go for that drink after all.

  Then Mark got off the train and walked quickly up the platform, out onto the street. He pulled his coat around him and crossed to a row of small rundown houses. She watched as he unlocked the door of the end house and went inside, a light coming on a few moments later.

  Karen lingered across the street, waiting for something to happen. Another woman coming to welcome him home with a kiss? Or maybe a woman who no longer welcomed him home, the reason he was out there picking up women in bars. But Karen saw nothing, mostly because the blinds were shut.

  After a few minutes, Karen told herself she was being stupid. Why was she so sure there was something wrong with this guy? Not everyone was as bad as Nick. She should go over there and knock on the door, ask if she could go inside. He’d shown up at her home unannounced after all, so it wasn’t like she would be out of line.

  She crossed the street, her heart thumping. Was she really going to do this? Was it possible this could be good for her, or would it only cause her more grief? There was only one way to find out.

  She raised her hand to knock.

  28

  Michael

  Michael made his way home, confident he’d hear from Karen soon. Although it couldn’t come soon enough. He felt an urgency about it. She had to be a part of the project. It would be poetic. But he had to let her come to him, however long it took.

  As he rode the subway home, he thought about his work for the night. He would carry on with his Dying Dandy backdrop. Elena’s time would come soon and he needed to be ready. It had only been a couple of days since he’d completed the Alison Project, but he was feeling twitchy, eager to forge ahead. He wondered if it was Karen that made him feel this way. He was desperate to get to her but he had to slow down and focus. There was no point in doing the others half-assed. This was his life’s work, his legacy. He needed each project to stand alone, to be perfect in its own right.

  When he got home, he turned on the light, considering eating before he got started on the backdrop, but that would have to come later. He needed to start before he grew too tired. He’d been at work all day and had been given all the crap to do because his boss was mad at him. It wasn’t his fault he’d been late. He told him he’d had something important to do, something personal, but the asshole didn’t care. Michael despised the man, had often considered killing him, possibly in the storeroom, but in the end decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. He was a man of no discernible talents. A manager of a 7-11. He was inconsequential.

  But he was still Michael’s boss and loved to lord it over him, especially when Michael stepped out of line by being a few minutes late. Michael almost hadn’t mentioned that he’d be needing to leave a little early too, but in the end he decided his real work was more important and when it was time, he called out to his boss that he was leaving for an appointment. He would deal with the fallout later. He could handle a few more weeks of crap, although let’s face it, it was all crap working there. He wouldn’t be heartbroken if he were fired. It wouldn’t be too long before it no longer mattered. As long as he could finish his project, that was the only thing he cared about.

  Michael rolled out the half-done backdrop and assessed it. It was getting there but still needed a lot of work. He pulled his phone from his pocket, the one used to communicate with Karen. There was no response yet, but that was okay. It’d come.

  He put the phone on the side with the others and noticed a message on the one marked with an E. He picked it up and listened, feeling his heart sink a little as Elena invited him out, telling him her husband was away for the night. She asked him to call her back.

  Michael sighed. He didn’t really want another date with her. He’d hoped the next time he saw her would be the last. But the backdrop wasn’t finished and he hadn’t worked out a way to smuggle it into her house anyway. He’d thought about mailing it as he had with Alison’s, but he had no idea when Elena’s husband would be home and couldn’t risk the man opening the package himself.

  He considered ignoring Elena or texting her back to say he couldn’t make it, but Elena was a princess. Everything had to be on her terms and if he rejected her, she would sulk and that could well be the end of it.

  Frustrated, he called her back. ‘Hi, it’s me, Francis,’ he said and went through the motions of pretending to be thrilled to hear from her. He suggested going over to her place, wondering if there was a way to do the project without the backdrop. But Elena insisted he take her out somewhere. Finally they agreed on a bar and he got himself ready, digging out one of the suits he wore as Francis. As an investment banker, he could hardly wear his usual attire. That was another reason he wanted to get Elena out of the way. The clothes alone cost a fortune, and then there were the fancy meals at fancy restaurants. Elena was loaded, thanks to her husband, yet she still expected Michael to pay for everything. By the second date with Elena, he wished he’d never come up with Francis the investment banker, but it seemed like the only way to snag her. Another example of suffering for his art.

  Sometimes he wondered if he shouldn’t abandon this little project. Elena had been an actress and had won a scholarship for her talent. But she only wanted fame and money, and rather than working hard, forging a career in the theater, she left the school which had afforded her the opportunity and headed to Hollywood. But instead of becoming a movie star, she only managed to get cast in a couple of low-budget movies that offered her neither the fame nor the money she desired. So she married a rich guy and that was it. Now all she did was work a couple of shifts as a personal trainer, but only for the status and for something to put on her Instagram.

  There were times that Michael couldn’t believe this inane woman had been a promising actor, despite her talent for melodrama. But he’d researched her and found proof online of her performing on stage, a completely different person. So there they were.

  Michael fixed his tie and polished the smudge on his shoe. He could do this. He would keep Elena on the hook until the time was right. He would stop thinking about Karen Kelly. For now.

  He picked up his coat and the correct phone and headed for the door, just as someone knocked.

  29

  Nick

  Nick made his way up the stairs of the club, realizing how quiet it was. There was no pumping music, no excited voices, no clattering of glasses. Of course the club wouldn’t be open. Even if the police weren’t sniffing around and the girls weren’t grieving, there was no one to organize things anymore. No Alison, no club. Nick wondered if the place would ever open again, if Graham Goodwin would hope to continue earning money from his investment when all this had blown over. Nick supposed that depended on how well Alison had concealed the true purpose of the club. Although, if anyone bothered to check out the whole space, the rooms at the back where the fun stuff happened, it would be clear what went on there. Maybe it was over, for all of them.

  He walked through the bar, noticing
how different it looked without the lights on, without the women draped over the barstools. Dead. That was the word that came to mind. How very apt.

  Making his way through to the office, he felt his throat tighten, wondering how far Azrah had got with her digging, what exactly she had dug up. He walked up to the open office door and found Azrah sitting behind Alison’s desk, her eyes down as though she was reading something. She glanced up, doing a double take.

  ‘What’re you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘Thought I’d come and lend a hand. It’s getting late. Don’t you have a home to go to?’

  ‘I’m almost done,’ Azrah said and went back to whatever she was looking at. Nick made his way over to try to see what it was.

  ‘You found anything yet?’ he asked and she looked up, raising one eyebrow. Nick felt nauseous.

  ‘We found a lot,’ she said. ‘Although nothing yet that’ll help find this guy.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ he asked, but they were interrupted by a woman’s voice from the bar. Nick looked at Azrah and she nodded for him to go and check it out but Nick figured this was the best chance he’d get, so he pretended not to notice. After a second, Azrah sighed and got up, leaving Nick alone.

  He could hear their voices, Azrah trying to calm down whoever it was. Nick hoped the woman’s distress lasted long enough for him to do what he came for. He glanced around the office, noticing another desk on the other side of the room beneath several monitors. The CCTV system. Unfortunately, the desk was empty except for a lot of dust. Whatever had been on there, and he was guessing it’d been the hard drives with all the video footage, was gone.