Page 79 of Unbalanced

“I doubt it. If there is a god, and I don’t know that there is, but…let’s pretend there is, then I am carrying out his work. Cleansing the Earth of those who spit in his eye, then walk through his doors on Sunday and beg for forgiveness, only to do it all over again. I’m sure he is very sick of you by now. I know I am, and this is the most time we’ve spent together. Can you imagine listening to your begging and pleading for years? Come on already. How many affairs can one woman have before you’re using the church as your get out of jail free card?”

“You know…nothing…about me,” she says.

Her breathing is labored, just a succession of rapid gulps of air. She reminds me of a fish when it reaches the top of the tank, looking for little flakes of food. Each one hopeful, but not all successful.

“On the contrary, I know you better than you know yourself. It’s what I do.”

She sucks in a strangled gasp.

“Oh no, it looks like you’re struggling to breathe. Does it feel like someone is sitting on your chest?”

“Ye…s. Pl…ease, I’m…I…”

Tiffany’s eyes lock on mine. Wide, full of terror, begging for something that she will never get.

I’ve dreamed of this moment for years, but it hasn’t been the right time until now. I smile, put the lollipop back in my mouth, and twirl the end around. The sweet cherry flavor makes my tongue tingle.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”

Tiffany’s tears now soak her silk blouse.

“What you fail to realize is that I am helping you. I’m putting you out of your misery. I’m doing you a service.”

I wave my hand around the room, with its gold-filigree crown moulding and lavish paintings with the same gold coating. How tacky.

“We both know you’re not happy. That’s why you were crying on my shoulder, a woman you barely know. It’s why you drink so much, and why you cheat on your husband. But don’t worry, you’ll be at peace.”

The ballerina slows.

Ding.

Ping.

Di…

The pretty dancer stops completely. Her body still in the perfect pirouette en passe. Her toe forever en pointe. Tiffany gulps once more and then jerks uncontrollably, caught in what looks like a seizure, before going still. The light fades from her eyes as she stares at nothing.

“See, I promised it would be over soon. Rest sweet, Tiff-Tiff. I wish I could say that I’m sorry it’s come to this, but that’s a lie, and I’m not a fan of lying.”

Lifting her hand, I wiggle the emerald ring off her finger and drop it into the ballerina jewelry box. The lid snaps shut, then I pick up my plate and wine glass like a good house guest, humming as I wander into the kitchen.

I scrub my dishes clean, dry them, and put them away before returning to the dining room. The jewelry box slips into my purse, and I take out the container that holds one perfect black dahlia bloom.

Gingerly removing the flower, I twirl it in my fingers, mesmerized by the unique black-and-purple petals I love so much. I’m careful not to step in the spilled wine or on the shards of glass when I approach Tiffany.

Pulling open her jaw just enough, I feed the stem down her throat until the beautiful blossom rests on her lips.

“There you go, Tiffany. Now you look perfect.”

After one last sweep for anything that I may have left behind, I grab my purse and walk out the front door into the cool September air. My little Mini looks shabby beside the Rolls-Royce and Bentley in the driveway. I slip into the driver’s seat and remove my leather gloves before I start the car.

The camera jammer in my purse beeps when I get out of range, and I reach in to turn it off. I can’t help wondering who will find Tiffany first.

There will be another headline soon: The Black Dahlia Killer has struck again. Maybe this will be the one that finally gets his attention.

With a sigh, I check the time, right on schedule. Crunching the last bit of my lollipop, I drop the little stick into my garbage bag and rub my lips together. I love the extra red tint the candy has given them.

Thirty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot of The Flying Dutchman Bar and Grill. I find Rob’s truck and park behind him. He doesn’t know me yet, but he will, and then he will be my pawn on a much larger board.