The Art of Murder

by Rebecca Muddiman

  ‘Bullshit,’ Nick spat. ‘I have to hand it to you though. You wanted to piss me off and it worked.’

  Karen laughed. ‘Right, because everything is about you.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘You realize you’re jeopardizing the investigation, don’t you?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ she asked, laughing again. ‘How am I jeopardizing anything? It seems to me the only thing I’m doing is giving attention to someone else, which I know is just as much a crime to you. But you know what, Nick? Congratulations. You’re getting all kinds of attention now.’ She nodded behind him and he turned and saw the whole store watching, some filming their little spat on their phones. He looked at Aronsen and saw him smirking.

  Nick turned back to Karen, practically shaking with anger. But aware of his audience, he took a breath before leaning in really close and whispering to his wife, ‘You’re a real cunt, you know that?’ before storming out.

  48

  Karen

  Karen watched Nick slam the door as he left and all the eyes that had been on him were turned to her. She could feel her cheeks burning.

  ‘New York’s finest, ladies and gentlemen,’ Aronsen said, and a few chuckles went through the audience.

  ‘You all right?’

  Karen nodded to Jamie. ‘Yeah. But I think we ought to wrap this up.’

  She watched as Jamie spoke to Aronsen, who was clearly disgruntled at his sideshow being cut short. He looked in her direction but she turned away and glanced around the store, looking for Mark, wondering if he’d witnessed the whole mortifying scene. Maybe he’d left, not wanting to get involved with all the drama. Part of her was glad, she’d be too embarrassed to speak to him. But the other part was disappointed. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt a sudden urge to be with him.

  ‘Okay, guys,’ Jamie said. ‘I’m afraid we’re almost out of time.’ The audience groaned. ‘But Mr. Aronsen will sign books for anyone who’s bought one. So… get in line, I guess.’

  Karen watched as Aronsen sat down behind the table they’d laid out and the people queued up for their moment with him. It seemed almost everyone who’d come to hear him had bought a book.

  She could still hear a few people whispering about what had happened and so retreated to the back of the store. It had suddenly occurred to her, halfway through Nick’s performance, what he’d meant when he’d asked if she had plans when she was leaving the apartment that morning. He must’ve known about Aronsen’s visit somehow. Who knew, maybe Nick followed him on Twitter too, keeping an eye on his competition. But instead of asking her about it at home like a normal human being, he had to come to the store and make a scene.

  Karen busied herself tidying shelves, the anger coursing through her. She could hear Aronsen’s voice booming through the store – her store – and it grated on her. Did he never tire of hearing his own voice?

  She abandoned the tidying and went back into the office. Before she could think about it too much, she was dialing Mark’s number and asking if he wanted to meet for a drink. He sounded happy and she thought maybe he was grown up enough to deal with her baggage. Maybe he was just what she needed.

  Having agreed a time and place, she hung up and hoped Aronsen was nearly done. She looked out and saw that the line had diminished but it seemed like the guy at the front of the queue was in it for the long haul. She decided it was time to intervene.

  ‘Sorry, but we need to close soon,’ she said, marching to the front of the queue. There were more groans but the guy at the front took the hint and collected his book, telling Aronsen he’d continue their conversation on Twitter. Aronsen grinned at the guy, telling him, ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ But as soon as the guy’s back was turned, Aronsen’s smile dropped. ‘Next!’

  When Karen finally ushered the last customer out of the door, she hoped Aronsen would follow. Instead he stood there, studying her.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘Nick Kelly’s wife. You didn’t think to mention that when you booked me?’

  ‘I’m not sure it’s relevant,’ she said, and Aronsen spluttered, looking to Jamie for back-up.

  ‘Not relevant? Hey, I can’t fault you. I know a good opportunity when I see one too. But a little heads-up would be good. Things almost got violent.’

  ‘Unlike the riot that started before he got here?’ Jamie said.

  Aronsen waved him away. ‘That wasn’t a riot. It was friendly difference of opinion.’ He turned back to Karen. ‘He’s an angry guy, your husband.’

  ‘Ex-husband,’ she said. ‘Almost.’

  ‘No shit. You two make me and my ex-wives look like the Waltons.’

  Karen sighed. ‘Mr. Aronsen, I’m really tired, so can we…’

  ‘Sure, no problem. I’ll get out of your hair,’ he said. ‘We should do this again sometime.’

  Over my dead body, she thought and locked the door behind him. She turned to Jamie who, for once, didn’t have a joke at the ready.

  ‘Well, that was a shitshow,’ he said. ‘Drink?’

  ‘I can’t. I have plans.’

  ‘With who?’

  Karen didn’t answer him, just said, ‘Leave all this,’ nodding to the chairs and general detritus of the day. ‘I’ll sort it tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re going out with him, aren’t you?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Who? Mark. The guy you don’t care about,’ Jamie said.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So? So what about last night? What about the other woman?’

  ‘I’m going to ask him about that.’ Jamie looked at her doubtfully. ‘I will,’ she insisted. ‘But it doesn’t really matter. It’s only a drink. That’s it.’

  ‘Right.’ Jamie turned away, folding chairs.

  ‘I said leave it.’

  ‘Got nothing better to do,’ he said and continued. ‘Have a good date.’

  Karen watched him for a moment then collected her bag and coat from the office before leaving. She couldn’t deal with yet another man’s mood swings. She wanted a drink and to forget about the shitty day she’d had. And at that moment, Mark seemed the one least likely to cause her any more grief. She just hoped she wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.

  49

  Michael

  Michael felt a sharp shock of panic when Nick Kelly walked into the store and abruptly turned away, abandoning his conversation with Karen. He’d hidden behind the true crime shelf as Karen’s husband and Peter Aronsen had a little squabble. Karen didn’t seem to notice Michael had disappeared, her focus entirely on the scene unfolding in front of her. Michael stuck around long enough to witness the argument between husband and wife and had then snuck out unseen, knowing he would hear from her much sooner than anticipated.

  And he did.

  He agreed to meet her an hour later and noticed she sounded desperate to see him. Michael knew it would happen. He was the calm opposite to Nick Kelly’s fury, someone who would listen instead of scream at her. He had considered sticking around, being the sympathetic shoulder to cry on in the aftermath, not wanting the little guy to swoop in and steal the opportunity. But he had to consider if he was flying a little too close to the sun.

  Nick had almost seen him, again, and if he discovered his relationship with Karen, would he start looking into him? Would he want to know who was screwing his wife? Michael assumed Nick no longer cared as such, that he wasn’t jealous. But Karen had mentioned a dispute about the house and Michael was aware of how dirty people were willing to fight about these things. And the cool persona Nick Kelly displayed on TV was not the same as the man he’d seen in the store. That was a guy with anger issues.

  The last thing Michael needed was Nick Kelly digging into his life in order to get one over on his wife. If it went down like that, it was bound to finish not with a bang but a whimper. He’d be like Al Capone brought down for tax evasion. Michael refused to allow the end of the project to be so boring, so mundane. So he would continue with the pla
n. He would hook Karen Kelly and string her along until the time was right, and until then he would keep under Nick Kelly’s radar.

  Michael checked his watch and realized it was time to go. He made his way to the bar, keeping his head down, his collar up. He’d hoped to arrive before Karen, to find a seat away from prying eyes, but as he approached, he saw her coming towards him. He smiled but she pushed open the door, saying, ‘Come on. I need a drink.’

  Inside, Karen ordered while he found his desired seats. She brought four bottles of beer back to the table and Michael resisted the urge to question her, watching instead as she knocked back half a bottle in one go.

  ‘Bad day?’ he asked, wrapping his fingers around a bottle.

  ‘You could say that,’ she said, turning her bottle around in her hands. ‘Did you…?’ She glanced up at him but he kept his face blank. ‘Did you witness the little showdown?’

  Michael made his face into a mask of confusion. ‘You mean in the store? The Aronsen fans?’

  She laughed. ‘No. After that.’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I left. I’m sorry. I thought I should get out of your hair. You seemed busy. Should I have stayed? Helped?’

  ‘No. I’m glad you left. My husband showed up. Caused a scene.’ She took another swig. ‘An even bigger scene.’

  ‘Yikes. Are you okay?’

  ‘I am now,’ she said, holding up her drink.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘Not really,’ she said and finished the bottle, pushing the empty one away and pulling the next one towards her.

  ‘Was it anything to do with me? I mean, did he see us talking?’

  ‘Believe me. It was nothing to do with you. And even if he had seen us talking, it wouldn’t matter. He could see us fucking and he wouldn’t care.’ She took another drink and then said, ‘Do you want to get out of here?’ The words rushed out as if she wasn’t in control of them.

  Michael didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected things to move so quickly and was trying to calculate the risk. She’d told him Nick wouldn’t care if he caught them together but got the feeling it was something of an exaggeration. He knew what was going on. If this were a normal date, he would feel a little hurt. She was clearly angry with her husband and was either using Michael as a way to get back at him, or as a way to release some of her anger. Either way, it wasn’t that she really liked him. But, he reminded himself, this wasn’t a normal date.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, blushing. ‘I thought…’ She dropped her head into her hands. Michael reached over, uncovering her face.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘It’s… my place is being fumigated. I’m staying on a friend’s couch.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, eyeing him up as if she knew she was being brushed off.

  ‘We could–’

  ‘Are you married?’ she asked, her words coming out quickly again, like bullets.

  ‘No, of course not. Why would you ask that?’ His mind flashed to that night with Alison again.

  Karen shook her head. ‘I don’t want to be messed around,’ she said, looking as if she wanted to say more.

  Michael took her hand. ‘I’m not married. Never have been. If I’m being truthful, I’ve been out on dates with other people. Some kind of recently. Some blind dates, set-ups, you know. But none of them worked out. I guess I’m looking for the right person and I haven’t found them yet.’

  He gazed at her and wondered if she was buying it. It was lame, but then we hear what we want to. What we need to.

  He watched as she relaxed a little, a smile broke out on her face. ‘Come on,’ she said, pushing the beer away and getting to her feet. Michael followed, making sure his scarf was wrapped around his face before he passed the bar.

  Catching up to her on the street, he asked, ‘Won’t your husband be home?’

  ‘So?’ she asked but then looked up at him. ‘He’s probably working.’

  They walked the rest of the way in silence and he wondered if her resolve was fading. He kind of hoped it was, not that he had any problem with sleeping with her, he didn’t need the pain of Nick coming in and seeing him. Michael had already had enough spanners in the works. He wanted things to go smoothly from now on.

  When they finally arrived in front of her building, Karen slowed to a stop. She looked up at him.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  Michael leaned down and kissed her. ‘Then let’s wait,’ he said and saw the gratitude in her eyes. ‘I want to do this right.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Good.’ He kissed her again, deeper this time, and then stepped back. ‘So call me. We’ll go on a real date.’

  ‘All right,’ she said and went inside.

  Michael waited until she’d vanished and then turned back towards the subway, pleased with how things had gone. All he had to do now was kill another three people and then he could finally have her.

  50

  Nick

  Nick watched Michael Fisher kiss his wife and then walk away, and Nick felt his rage building. He thought this was going to be it. He thought Fisher was going to try to kill her. Instead, he was leaving.

  Nick slammed his hand into the steering wheel and watched Fisher’s progress as he made his way up the street. Should he follow him? Stick to plan A and go and question him about Elena Jones?

  He looked back at his apartment. Through the window he could see Karen moving around, feeding that stupid bird, with no idea that she’d just had her tongue inside the mouth of a serial killer. Nick should go up there and burst her bubble. But how would that help? He glanced back at Fisher, as he disappeared into the subway, and Nick knew he had to stick to plan B.

  After storming out of the bookstore, once his anger had abated a fraction, he realized that he’d forgotten all about Fisher. Seeing Aronsen in there, and then arguing with Karen, had distracted him, but as he slammed the car door, he remembered why he was there in the first place. Was it possible Fisher was in there? Not that he was going to go back inside, not after that exit. But Nick knew Karen would lead him back to the guy sooner or later, he just had to stick with her. So he sat in the car, repeatedly googling himself to see if footage from the store had been uploaded. And when Karen finally left the store, he followed.

  Nick watched her meet up with Fisher outside a bar, taking note of the way Fisher kept his face partially hidden the whole time. After they went inside, Nick assumed he was in for a long night of waiting, that Fisher would wait for Karen to get drunk before taking her back to the apartment and doing whatever messed-up thing he had planned for her. Nick tried to imagine what he’d go for but he knew too little about art to hazard a guess.

  He wondered how long after taking his victims home Fisher actually killed them. There had been no signs of sexual activity with any of the other victims, at least not on the night they died, so did he go straight in for the kill? No foreplay at all? Nick wondered how long he should leave it before following them up the stairs. Too soon and all he’d do is interrupt his wife’s date. Hardly enough to arrest him. Too late and…

  After fifteen minutes, Nick sat back and tried to keep the bad thoughts from coming. Azrah and those damn sex tapes. Aronsen and his smug expression. Karen and the apartment. His parents. If he could catch Fisher, the rest of Nick’s problems would fall away. His bosses would overlook his indiscretion. Aronsen would be forgotten as every reporter in the country chose to talk to Nick, and most likely there’d be book offers, TV shows. And Karen? Maybe she’d be so damn grateful she’d let him have the apartment. Or maybe he’d have so much money from all the books and whatnot, he wouldn’t even care anymore. And maybe his parents would be so damn proud of him, they’d forget about the small sin of divorce. Or maybe that one was a little too fantastic.

  He tapped his fingers on the wheel as he thought about it and then, as the door to the bar opened, he snapped back to reality. Karen and Fisher were leaving. This was it.
<
br />   Nick followed at a distance. He wasn’t worried about losing them. He knew where they were going. He did wonder at the lack of equipment Fisher had with him. Where was the backdrop? Then Nick remembered Jonathan Lauder’s scene had no backdrop. Maybe whatever Fisher was planning for Karen didn’t require one.

  Nick stopped the car a little way down the street and watched as they approached the building. He watched as they exchanged words. He watched as they kissed. And he watched as Karen went inside. Alone.

  ‘Fuck!’ He slammed his hands into the steering wheel. Could nothing go his way? Was everyone against him? He wanted to solve this thing. That night. He wanted it over with. But more than that, he was starting to think Michael Fisher could do him a huge favor. Because somewhere between sitting outside that bar and waiting for them to go inside, Nick realized that maybe plan B needed a little adjustment. Maybe his arrest would come a fraction too late. Then not only would he be the man who caught this guy, he’d be the tragic hero whose own wife died at this monster’s hands, the man who’d arrived on the scene a little too late.

  He knew now that was the man he wanted to be. But how fucking long was it going to take?

  51

  Karen

  Karen was up early, mostly because Nick had woken her. She’d heard him come in late the previous night and then leave again early in the morning. She was thankful that she hadn’t had to see him. She wasn’t sure she could look at him after the previous day’s performance without wanting to stab him in the eye. She was starting to wonder if she shouldn’t just leave. Maybe she could sleep on Jamie’s couch for a while. But then what? The whole reason she was in this circle of Hell was because she couldn’t afford her own place. She had to stick it out and hope that the judge saw sense. Except, she was running a little low on hope. If all this went on much longer, she was starting to worry she’d give in.