The perfect murder

The perfect murder

A Chapter by hogan
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If you plan the perfect murder make sure you are not the victim.

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The perfect murder

  George Foulton was in his early forties and his career was blossoming, but he was a deeply unhappy man.  The main reason he was unhappy, in fact the only reason he was unhappy was because of Jane Foulton, his wife of just over twenty years.

  “George I am going to my book reading group now, I won’t be home until quite late, we are discussing the closing chapters of Francis Heston’s latest novel.  Make sure everything is tidy, lock all the doors and windows, check the heating controls and make sure you leave the hallway light on for me, you know how I hate to walk into a dark house,” instructed the familiar and grating voice, of his once beloved.

  “Of course I will Jane, don’t I always do as you ask,” he replied, knowing beforehand he would automatically turn off all the lights and leave his red stained wine glass on the coffee table.

  The comforting clunk of the front door being pulled, into its perfectly fitting frame, reassured him he would now have a few precious hours to himself.  He did not hate her, but he treasured the brief periods of his free time he was not under her control.  He sat for a few minutes, letting his mind drift and contemplating how he should use his few hours leave from the highly ritualized institution, his life had become.

  He thought about Glenda, his mistress.  Glenda was everything his wife was not.  She was very plain, she would never attract a second glance from any passing man, in fact he doubted she received any first glances.  She was submissive, her lack of confidence still surprised him, but she was also incredibly passionate.  He was still not sure how it happened.  It was at the annual work conference he went on.  After the formalities of the evening meal, with its accompanying professional etiquette, the tradition of migrating to the hotel bar followed as the standard ritual.  He was bored and noticed her because she was alone, she was sitting on one of those high stools near the bar and looked as sad as he felt.  He introduced himself to her and was surprised to learn she worked just three offices from his, he had never noticed before.  They talked, they shared a few jokes and then he asked her if she wanted to come up to his room, she hesitated, staring at him for several seconds.  She then stood up and without saying a word waited for him to escort her to his room.

  He had only slept with Glenda four times, but on each occasion it was memorable because she clearly demonstrated she really wanted him.  He had thought of leaving Jane, but he could not even begin to contemplate the repercussions that would occur, if he gave the slightest hint he did not want to be with her.

  He switched on the television and scanned through the main channels he liked to watch.  There was a film on later, titled The Perfect Murder, it crossed his mind that would be a solution to his problems.

  He was restless and reached for his tablet.  He began to cruise the net, not really sure of what he was looking for.  The news featured a story about the sudden and unexplained death of woman who was linked to a well-known celebrity.  There were rumours she might have been murdered, but the autopsy had proved inconclusive as to the cause of death.  He wondered to himself if it was possible to murder someone and get away with it.

  It was a few minutes later he found himself flicking through the search results obtained by asking the question, how do you commit the perfect murder?  The first few articles were a waste of time, but the one he was now reading was very different.  It started by telling him that if he was serious, he was already committing a grave error in searching through sites like this.  The article then suggested he should bookmark the three links given below and after using them, make sure he fully deleted them.  He bookmarked the three links, but did not have the courage to open them.

  It was two weeks later, he was scheduled to meet two clients in the afternoon, but both had cancelled at very short notice.  He rang Glenda from his office phone and a short while later they were fulfilling their passionate desires at her place.  He must have got carried away because he was now late.  He never came home late without calling his wife first, now he was 45 minutes late and his mind was scrambling for appropriate excuses.

  “George you know I have a book club meeting tonight and I will not leave the house before you have come home.  If I don’t remind you of what you need to do, then I know you won’t do it,” scolded Jane, using the full magnificence of her grating voice to shred the remaining strands of his tattered defiance.

  She had spent the next 20 minutes instructing him on the four basic tasks he needed to do, the last being to ignore the light switch for the hallway, the one he always flicked off as he went up the stairs.  Now she was gone, he reached for his tablet and opened the first link he had bookmarked two weeks earlier.

  The first link was a scientific paper which examined the mechanisms of a group of neural toxins.  The work detailed the chemical reactions that took place and how the ability of certain nerves to transmit signals was inhibited over a period of time.  At the end of the paper, details of processes to produce these neural inhibitors were given.  He clicked on the second link and found he was looking at a set of notes detailing the synthesis of certain chemical compounds, the name were familiar from the first link.  The third link was to a chemical company, it contained a list of compounds and details as to whether the substances were restricted or not.

  Over the next hour George sat with a pencil and piece of paper, he carefully worked through the logic contained in the three links and realised he could easily procure the basic ingredients needed to make the toxins.  He searched for the toxins on the net and suddenly, one article stood out from all the others.  One of the toxins not only proved to be fatal if administered alongside caffeine, but all traces of it disappeared from the body after just two hours.

  The next morning George performed his usual morning ritual, he made tea for both of them, one sugar in his and none in Jane’s.  He carefully carried the two identical bone china mugs, set on a melamine tray decorated with brightly coloured flowers, and set them down on his wife’s dressing table.  Jane considered it very uncouth to drink in bed, but yearned for a cup of tea as soon as soon as she woke in the morning.  He offered her the left hand mug, which she took and then seated herself in her bedroom chair.

  “You have given me yours again, can’t you ever get it right, you know how much I detest the taste of sugar in my tea,” she ejected, along with a trickle of tea, which flowed onto her chin.  “Keith and Emma are coming to dinner tonight and I want you to make sure you serve the coffees to the right people, you always manage to get it wrong,” she added in her normal grating tones.

  That afternoon he decided to order the first ingredient he needed to make his toxin, he used one of the office computers and intended to pay using his credit card.  The substance he ordered was commonly used to improve the health of potted plants, which his wife devotedly attended to in their house.  As he registered his details a message appeared, it welcomed him back to his account and politely asked if he wished to make any further orders.  He panicked and shut down the computer.  Could someone know what he was planning?  It was a stupid idea, he would forget all about it.

 Keith and Emma were entertained throughout the evening and he successfully managed to serve everybody the wrong coffee liquors at the end of the meal.

  “I am so sorry, it seems George is incapable of performing the simplest of tasks, how he managed to progress so high in management at work, is beyond me,” said Jane, sweetly to their guests.  Once again she humiliated him in front of friends, he wished he had the courage to try and order the ingredients again.

  Over the next three weeks he found he had more time to let his mind explore his deep rooted feelings, Jane attended at least two book club meetings each week.  Once again the thoughts stirred within him to pursue the lethal toxin route to solving his problems, but he failed to have enough courage and slipped over to Glenda’s for a snatched hour of erotic release instead.

  It was on a Saturday morning that events took a new turn.

  “George, there is something important I need to discuss with you later, I can’t talk now because Keith and Emma are coming over for a meal at two this afternoon.  Don’t worry I have everything sorted, please just try to make sure everything is served correctly this time,” she stated clearly, with only a hint of grating.  He was confused, they never entertained anyone at two in the afternoon, he could already hear the sweet voice of Jane tearing down the remnants of his masculinity as he delivered the whiskey liquor to Keith instead of Emma.

  They sat down to a simple buffet meal and the conversation flowed politely as normal.  It was Jane who deviated from the standard protocol.

  “Emma, Keith, I have asked you over this afternoon because I have something very important to tell George, but I am not sure how he will deal with it and I want to have mutual friends here for support.”  George listened, but no one dropped the proverbial pin.

  “I am a patient and loving woman, but I have met someone else and I do not want to be with George any longer.  I have met a man from the book club and I know I want to be with him.  I have wanted to tell George for the last few weeks, but I could not find the courage to do so.”

  George felt his heart race; this was it, the means to freedom.  He knew he should appear upset, but his innermost instinct was to jump in the air and scream with delight.

  “Maybe I should make some coffee,” he said, trying to sound upset.

  “George, let me make the coffee, you can carry them in after I have made them,” replied Jane, in the softest and kindest voice he had heard for years.

  Jane disappeared into the kitchen and George was left, trying to sound upset, with Keith and Emma.

  “What am I going to do without her, she is everything to me, Life will never be the same,” he weakly whimpered.

  “It will all work out in a few months from now George, it always does, look at how Steve is doing these days,” said Keith, in a pseudo sympathetic tone that made George cringe inside.

  “George, the coffees are ready, please can you carry them through for me,” chimed Jane sweetly.  As he entered the kitchen she gave him detailed instruction as to which was which, of the four identical coffee liquor glasses.  He paused a while and made a clear mental note of the exact position of each glass.

  “He is taking his time, the coffee will be cold by the time he gets here, I hope he is not searching for rat poison to put in mine,” said Jane, jokingly.

  “Here we are,” said George, now totally confident that this time he would deliver the correct liquor to each person.  He carefully set each glass down, exactly as Jane had instructed him.

  “George you have given me your coffee, Keith, Emma have you got the correct one?”

  “Yes,” they replied in perfect synchronization.

  “Jane if you think you have my coffee, it is because you muddled them up.  I know that I have given everyone the coffee you told me to give them,” he snapped, before throwing back the still warm beverage.

  “I am sorry for my husband’s behaviour, I expect he is upset, maybe it is best if you let us talk for a while.  Please come back in about an hour, George may need some support by then,” said Jane, holding her head high with the dignity she adored.  Keith and Emma downed the coffees and left.

  “Now George, listen very carefully, there is quite a lot I need to tell you and there is not much time.  I have met a man at the book club, his name is John.  He is not as handsome as you, but he is about 10 years younger and he is very passionate, has no in inhibitions and is very dominating with me in certain ways.  I want to be with him and I will be soon.  You are such a stupid man, maybe it is because I was cheating on you that I started to check if you were cheating on me, I don’t know.  I found your research on how to commit the perfect murder George.  I kept checking, you didn’t have the balls to do it, did you?  Well George let me tell you I did.  If you had checked out your history fully you would have seen a lot more research was carried out, before you ordered all the ingredients.  George you have just drunk a very powerful neural suppressant, with extra caffeine.  At this very moment your motor control system is closing down.  You can still see me and hear me, but you cannot move and cannot answer me back.  In about 20 minutes you will stop breathing and all signs of the toxins will start to break down once the carbon-dioxide levels rise.  Now what I have done George is commit the perfect murder, all the evidence is there on your tablet to suggest it was you, every transaction has been done in your name.  Keith and Emma know how easily you muddle the drinks, it’s just so perfect George.  Now I am going to meet my new lover, I think I will get really excited as he has me, knowing that I have also killed a man, perfectly.  Goodbye George.”

  Jane walked out of the house and opened her car door.  As she was half in, half out of the car an old van accelerated and hit the half open door.  Jane was neatly separated into two halves, one collapsed into the car and the over was spread along the road.

  Glenda was waiting for George to answer his phone, she had just received the news that the addict she paid earlier had committed the perfect murder.  Why was George not answering his phone?        

 

 

      


 



© 2013 hogan


Author's Note

hogan
If you like look at The 4 dreams of Leonardo, published on Kindle

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Added on March 24, 2013
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Author

hogan
hogan

blackpool, United Kingdom



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Currently working on a series of short and contemporary horror stories. Decided to join this site because I have been working on a project for the last fifteen years. Fourteen thinking and one writi.. more..

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