A Game Called Murder

A Game Called Murder

(This article has been read 63 times)

Posted by Gursimran Arora on March 31, 2003 (Monday)

A game where no one is a winner...

He watched her cautiously from a safe distance. A slender figure cleverly covered with expensive clothing. Her exquisite black gown showed enough of her worth of exhibit and covered enough one would die to be worth of. Her delicate hands held the wine glass with excellent grip. �Tender, yet strong�, he thought to himself as he looked around hoping no one notices his interests. As he settled his gaze on her again, she laughed softly sharing a joke with her acquaintance. She didn�t cover her mouth with her hand, he liked that.

Her acquaintance, a tall almost handsome man with graying hair eyed her at all the right places with all the wrong intentions. She didn�t seem to mind. She was so used to it all. Her long black hair were wrapped up in a tight bun. Her face showed no signs of aging. She could almost pass for a girl in her mid-twenties. Who could�ve guessed she was 41, and married? Married� yes she was married. That rang a bell in his mind somewhere. Her husband� he was the reason he was here today. Her husband wanted her dead and he was the man to make that wish come true. A hit man. Not very experienced, however, He had only two murders to his name. One recently of some small-time businessman for a client and the other� of Sadhna. Sadhna, he remembered, was so beautiful, so painfully beautiful. But she found out about him, all about his dark protected secrets. How he loved her� but she had to go. She had to, he reassured himself as the memories of her made his heart ache yet again.

But he wasn�t here to weep over his past. He had a job to take care of. Instinctively, his hand reached inside his pocket to find the cold gun waiting to be of service.He looked at her again. Why did he want her dead? Why would anyone want her dead? She seemed to be the life of the party. Everyone knew her. She received both envious and admiring glances now and then.

Oh God, she was so beautiful. Almost like� Sadhna. Sadhna� perhaps she too had found out something about him like Sadhna had. Perhaps she too had to go� like Sadhna did. But he didn�t ask questions. He only gave solutions � murders. He checked his watch again. Almost time.

The words rang in his head repeatedly � �not in public�, �must find her alone�, �must call once done�, �she must go� must must�. He looked around and his gaze found her car waiting for her obediently to take her where she desired � back home, or elsewhere. No driver, he noticed. �A rich lady without a chauffer?�, he wondered to himself.

He knew just what to do. She would step out and head towards her car, which was thankfully quite far off. She would walk gracefully with quiet confident steps and he would shoot her from behind the bush. Shoot her, but wont wait for her to bleed. He would run away immediately to his car, call her husband and drive back to the quarters. The next day, the newspapers would report her murder on page 2 or 3 and the day next, the police would still be investigating. She�ll be murdered and her husband shall weep for her for the cameras.

He didn�t even know her name. It didn�t make a difference. His goal was clear and the way was well chalked. He checked his watch again. Still 12:10? How could it be? Then he noticed � the watch had stopped. He searched himself for his cellphone. Where is it? He hunted his jacket and his trousers in vain. Impatiently, he looked around in the grass but the darkness impaired him. Suddenly, the shine of metal caught his eye. He pounced on it. His cellphone. He checked the display for time. 12:17. Where was she? He looked about for the familiar face and found her leaving the party. He hurriedly moved behind the bushes and chose a dense one away from the car but at a perfect angle to where he was planning to murder her.

She switched directions and instead approached the bushes he was hidden behind. He looked about. Too many people for now. If he shot her at this proximity and around these people, he would surely be caught. But why was she approaching him? Why was she not heading for her car? Had she spotted him? He his more cautiously. �So, you�re here to kill me?�, she asked pulling him by his hair. She dug into her purse and emerged with a gun that she placed at his temple. She pulled harder. She was strong. She almost had the strength of a man. She dug the gun into his temple. He reached for his gun but found nothing in his pocket. �Shit�, he thought, �I must�ve dropped it before�. She pulled him out from behind the bush and pushed him forcefully into the car.

�How�d you know�, he asked as she tied his hands first with duct tape followed with some rope. �You see those men over there?�, she pointed towards two shabby men in the distance. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, �My husband has hired them to follow me. Detectives, if you must. He thinks I don�t have a clue and I humor his fancies. And then of course, he pays my chauffer good for giving him recordings of my cellphone conversations in the car. I fired that fool few hours back. My husband is such a dumb man, could never understand his women�. She paused to retrieve a cigarette from her purse and transferred the gun on his lap. He stared at it helplessly. She lighted her cigarette and puffed it like a man.

�And now, he hired you to kill me�. She burst into laughter. �Stupid man � he�s dead himself�. She continued to laugh as tears welled up in her eyes. �I killed him � he had to go��She wiped her tears and threw the cigarette away. She revved the engine and the two men in the distance hurriedly got into their car. She stormed the car through the lot into the velvet night; with a hit man on her side and her gun on his lap. Not very far behind her, followed a car with two shabby men trying to reach a man on the phone, who ceased to exist.