by John Locke
Taylor, a wealthy, good-looking kid, had attended J-State. Had a popular girlfriend, Nancy, and dated Maybe on the sly. Taylor’s dad was a famous TV personality in Atlanta, his mom a local celebrity. Since his best friend was Nancy’s brother, his relationship with Maybe remained a secret.
Taylor and Maybe were on their third date at his parent’s lake house in south Georgia. It was November, and the temperature well past chilly. The plan had been to spend a couple of quiet hours there, as they’d done twice before, only this time Maybe promised to go “all the way.”
When they arrived that night, the key was missing from its hiding place.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We can do it in the car.”
“I want our first time to be special, in a proper bed,” he said. “Wait here.”
With that, he went behind the house and broke a small windowpane in the door that led to the den, reached his hand in, and unlocked it. Instead of waiting out front, Maybe followed him inside. Within seconds their clothes were in a heap on the floor, and Taylor, nude except for his socks, chased a naked Maybe down the hall toward the kitchen. Moments later they were on the kitchen floor (so much for a proper bed) and both were benefiting from his extensive sexual experience. After a few minutes he asked Maybe to get on top, and she obliged.
Then all hell broke loose.
Something inside her—a sort of muscle spasm occurred, causing her vagina to clamp down on Taylor’s penis. He yelped in pain.
“What are you doing?” he yelled.
“Nothing! It hurts me, too!” she yelled back.
As his erection quickly died, his level of pain increased. Now he was yelling, begging her to call 911.
“My cell phone’s on the counter!” she said, through clenched teeth.
“Do something!” he screamed.
She tried to stand up, but couldn’t. She reached her hand onto the counter and knocked over what felt like a knife block. She reached up again, and swept the counter. Four objects fell to the floor: his car keys, her cell phone, and two steak knives. Her first thought was Taylor could’ve been seriously hurt, had the knives fallen the wrong way. Her second thought was she had no intention of allowing police or firemen to catch her in this situation, becoming the object of ridicule, looking for all the world like two dogs caught in mid-fuck. How would they separate them? Pour a pail of water on their crotches? What if one of the rescuers secretly videoed them on his cell phone and put it on the internet?
Taylor kept screaming, “Call them! Call 911!”
Maybe suddenly didn’t care for his tone. Or his lack of concern for what would happen when the rescuers arrived. She began to think of Taylor as being weak. After all, she was in pain too. Excruciating pain. But you didn’t see her freaking out about it. Where was his concern for her? She looked down at his face. He was crying. Crying! What a wimp, she thought. Maybe grabbed a steak knife in each hand and began stabbing him wherever she could find an opening.
It took much longer than you’d think, but eventually he stopped screaming and flailing and—here’s the interesting part—the minute she knew he was dead, her spasm abruptly stopped. She pushed him out of her, used some paper towels, liquid soap, and hot water to wash the blood off her hands and feet. Then she put Taylor’s socks on and padded to the guest bedroom, where she took a long, hot shower and scrubbed herself until she was convinced all the blood was gone. Then she walked back to the kitchen, avoiding the blood spots.
She gathered her clothes from the den, dressed, and began the process of wiping down all surfaces she may have touched that night and the other times she’d been there.
Then she got a mop and bucket, some hot water, and cleaned up any traces of her footprints and palm prints. She washed the steak knives carefully, along with Taylor’s car keys and her cell phone. Then she locked the door behind her, got in his car, and drove it to a movie theater in Jacksonville, wiped down all the interior surfaces and the outer door handles, then wedged the car keys under the back tire of an SUV on the other side of the parking lot so they’d be crushed when the vehicle backed out of the parking space. From there she walked a mile to her dorm and climbed into bed. Moments later her roommate, Janice, came in, asked how long she’d been there. Maybe said about an hour. She listened with enthusiasm while Janice shared all the details of her date, then they turned off the lights and Maybe slept until ten o’clock the next morning.
28.
Two Days Ago…
MAYBE FINDS HERSELF distracted by thoughts of Daddy. She likes the idea of calling him Ralph, even though she came up with the name to tease him. But if their current relationship turns romantic, and if she’s able to open up to him, literally, she’s not about to call him Daddy. Maybe Ralph will eventually tell her his real name.
She has a high profile target this time, a big city mayor. Ralph didn’t say which one, and Maybe didn’t ask. The mayor and his family are vacationing at a beach condo in Charleston, South Carolina, and all she’s been given is the condo address and a key to cubby 17 in the lady’s locker room at Oceanwood Country Club.
That’s where the gun and silencer will be located, in a large tote bag, suitable for carrying beach items.
Maybe wonders how Ralph obtains weapons and poisons. Once he has them, how does he hide them in places like women’s locker rooms? She wonders if he has a team working for him, a team that includes a woman among its members.
Is she jealous?
Maybe thinks about it. She’d like to be part of a team, part of Ralph’s close circle of friends. Perhaps even…
What, she thinks. Marry him and run the team together?
She laughs. Tells herself to get a grip.
It’s four in the afternoon when she strolls through the country club lobby. She enters the women’s locker room, sees a number of women milling about. Some are primping in the mirrors in the lounge, others are sitting on benches, in front of open lockers. Maybe doesn’t know where cubby 17 is, and doesn’t want to be caught perusing the lockers. She’s a stranger, and would surely be reported.
“May I help you?” the attendant says, brightly.
“Hi,” Maybe says. “Just wanted to use the restroom.”
“Of course. Are you showering?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you’re showering, I’ll lay out a fresh towel for you.”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
The attendant leaves and a voice behind her whispers, “You should be proud of yourself.”
Maybe turns. “Excuse me?”
The lady behind her is early thirties. Her hair and makeup perfect. She’s smiling, waiting for the attendant to get out of earshot. “I’m Hailey.”
Maybe isn’t sure what to do or say. “What a coincidence!” she finally says. “That’s my name, too!”
Hailey smiles. “No it isn’t, but that was a nice recovery. Come.”
Maybe follows Hailey into the second row of lockers. They sit together on the bench in front of locker 17. “I’m working with you on this one.”
Maybe glances at the locker. Then looks at Hailey.
“Excuse me?” she says. “Working with me on what, my golf game?”
“I’m going to help you kill the mayor,” Hailey whispers.
She has her own key, and uses it to open the locker. She removes the tote bag, hands it to Maybe and says, “Let’s go out together.”
Maybe pauses. “Ralph didn’t mention you.”
“Who?”
“Daddy.”
Hailey looks confused. “Who’s Daddy?”
“The guy. The one who set this up.”
“Oh. Well, it was last minute.” She looks around. “Let’s not talk here.”
“Where, then?”
“Parking lot.”
“I don’t know if I can trust you.”
Hailey laughs. “You’re the one with the gun.”
They walk out together.
In the parking lot, Maybe says, “Why
does he think I’ll need help?”
“We just learned the mayor is sharing the condo with two aides and three hookers.”
29.
“WHAT DO YOU know about me?” Maybe says.
“I know you’re moving up the ladder quickly,” Hailey says. “Then again, this is pretty new for all of us.”
“I mean, what’s he said?”
“About what?”
“Me. What has he told you about me?”
Hailey says, “You want to eat first, or get this done?”
“Excuse me? You mean do it right now?”
“No time like the present. Let’s take my car. I’ve already scoped the place out.”
Maybe retrieves her small suitcase from the trunk of her car, and climbs into the passenger seat of Hailey’s rental. Hailey guides the car out the parking lot, and down the winding road that leads to a two-lane highway.
“It’s a short ride,” Hailey says. “Ten minutes, tops. I’ll pass by a few times so we can get a feel for how much activity is going on around the unit.”
“You plan to do it right now?” Maybe says for the second time.
“Of course. Why? What was your plan?”
Maybe feels a bit foolish, but says, “I figured to take a couple of days. Scope the place out, try to catch the mayor alone, or isolate him from his wife.”
“That would’ve worked,” Hailey says, “if the mayor was your only target.”
“But now it’s the three men?”
“And their whores.”
Maybe gives her a look. “The women too?”
“You were always supposed to kill the Mayor’s wife. He didn’t tell you? Jesus. Must’ve been afraid you wouldn’t show up.”
Maybe’s face turns red. “I would have shown up.”
Hailey looks at her. “Maybe, maybe not,” she says, then laughs at her joke about Maybe’s name.
Maybe says nothing.
Hailey says, “Let me guess: you’ve never killed a woman before.”
Maybe says nothing.
“Are you going to freeze up on me?” Hailey says. “I need to know. Hello? Can you speak to me, please? I mean, we are planning a high-profile hit together.”
Maybe says, “Are you dating him?”
“What? Oh.” She smiles. “You’re jealous!”
“No, of course not.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Whatever.”
“Whatever!” Hailey says, mimicking her.
She drives quietly a couple minutes, then glances over at Maybe and says, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk. Truth is I don’t know much more than you. I’m all keyed up because…I hate killing innocent people, especially women. He knows that.”
“How old are they?”
“The women? Well, it’s not like they’re children, thank God. They’re older than you.”
Maybe says, “Women, children…it wouldn’t matter to me.”
Hailey studies her face. “Are you serious? Because I could never kill children. And he better never ask me to!”
Maybe says, “You’re too pretty to have been treated badly in high school.”
“Excuse me?”
“If there were high school kids here, it wouldn’t be hard for me to kill them. I’d just remember the ones who treated me badly in school. I’d think of them, and shoot these.”
“You could do that?”
“Sure.”
“What about grade school kids?” Hailey says.
“What about them?
“Could you shoot a kid?”
“Yes.”
Hailey gives her a look. “How?”
“What do you mean?”
“Jesus!” Hailey says.
30.
AFTER PASSING THE condo twice, Hailey drives all the way to the public beach parking area, a full mile east of the condo.
She says, “We should probably change into bathing suits and cover-ups.”
“Right.”
“You don’t happen to have a large sun hat in your suitcase, do you?”
“I’ve got a ball cap and sunglasses.”
“That’ll do.”
They get out and head to the public bathroom, change into their suits, and put their clothes in their totes to further conceal their weapons. Maybe puts a second clip into the back pocket of her jeans.
“Is your silencer attached?” Hailey says.
Maybe nods.
The two assassins make their way toward the water, careful to step around the real estate sunbathers have staked out and claimed as their own for the day. Maybe doesn’t understand why so many people are sporting angry sunburns. At some point, they’ve got to know their skin’s on fire.
When they get to the hard-packed sand, she says, “What’s our boss’s name?”
“He should be the one to tell you that.”
They walk in silence a few minutes. Then Maybe says, “Have you slept with him?”
Hailey stops. “Look, honey. You need to take a step back. Not because it’s none of your business, but because I can tell he’s really got a hold on you. You can’t let a man get hold of your mind like that. My ex did that to me, and it was hell on wheels.”
“Is that a yes?”
Hailey sighs. “It’s a no. I’ve only met him once.”
“When was that?”
“About six weeks ago.”
“You’ve only been doing this for six weeks?”
“No. I was hired and trained by someone else to do this type of work, but he retired about six weeks ago, and passed me off to your boss. I insisted on meeting him.”
“What’s he like?”
“I can’t go into any details. But I can tell you he hates the fact I know his name. Not that I’d ever use it against him. To be honest, I’m not sure I’m cut out for this. I thought I was, but…I don’t know. This...” she makes a sweeping gesture with her hand to indicate the hit in general, then shakes her head and starts walking again.
“What about it?” Maybe says, catching up.
“It’s not what I signed up for.”
“What did you sign up for?”
“Snuffing business men.”
“Why?”
Hailey says, “Why am I doing it, or why does he pay me to?”
“The second one.”
“I think these guys pose as hit men and hire you and me to do the jobs they’re supposed to do. In my case, they used to get all the information on a businessman who’s supposed to be killed. When the guy would go out of town to a meeting or convention, I’d get him to lure me to his room. I was married to a serial cheater once. Would’ve killed him if I could, so I figure these men have it coming. I get paid very well to punish them.”
“What if a guy doesn’t invite you to his room?”
“That’s happened only once out of four times. But you solved that problem.”
Maybe thinks a minute. “The college professor?”
“Yup.”
“That was my first paying job.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So,” Maybe says. “There are just two of us working?”
“Far as I know.”
Maybe stops. Hailey says, “What?”
“We’re here.”
31.
“WHAT’S THE PLAN?” Maybe says. “Walk in, start shooting?”
“You think it might be that simple?”
Maybe checks her watch. “It’s after five. They’re in the condo, having a fuck fest. Probably celebrating some shady deal. The women are taking showers now, getting ready to go out to dinner. The men are sitting around, drinking a beer. The front and back doors will be unlocked.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Six people in the house? Three separate couples? They won’t lock the doors till they leave for dinner.”
“If they leave.”
“Right. If they’re cooking tonight, it’ll be the men grilling. Either way, the women are showering. We can take them
out last.”
“Should we go in together?”
“We’ll check the doors first. If they’re both unlocked, I’ll go in the front, which is the second floor, and you can go in the back, the walkout. I’ll kill whoever’s on the main floor. By then you’ll be up the stairs. I’ll go to the third floor, and you can cover me.” Maybe sees Hailey staring at her.
“What?”
“You sound like you’ve been doing this all your life.”
“Feels like it, too. Ready?”
They don’t need to test the back door. One of the women is standing next to it, sneaking a cigarette.
“Change of plans,” Maybe says. “We’ll go in together.”
They make a wide arc to the front door. Maybe turns the handle and whispers, “Go left, I’ll go right. When we finish this level, go downstairs, shoot the woman. I’ll go upstairs and take out the rest, if that’s where they are.”
Hailey takes a deep breath and nods. She puts her right hand in her tote bag.
“After you,” she says.
Maybe opens the door slowly, peeks inside, then enters. Hailey comes in close behind, closes the door, and locks it. Both women remove their guns from their totes, and set the bags down.
32.
MAYBE AND HAILEY are standing in the front hallway. There’s a spiral staircase to the right of the front door. From her vantage point, Maybe can see up the staircase, and, leaning over the railing now, can see the stairs below.
In the lower level there’s a rumbling noise that sounds like a clothes dryer working overtime. Straight ahead is the empty living room. To the right is the empty kitchen. There appears to be a bedroom off the living room on this floor, and now that Maybe has entered the kitchen, she sees there’s a dining room on the other side of it that faces the ocean. The dining room has a sliding glass door that leads to a deck. The door is open, but there’s a screen door to keep the bugs out. On the deck is a table with four chairs. Two men are sitting at the table, facing the ocean. They’re smoking cigars. Maybe slowly walks to the screen door and shoots them both in the back of the head.
