As if reading his thoughts while still staring at the ground, Charlene said to Kip, “It’s not only YOUR profession. It was mine before I knew it was yours as well. I didn’t set out to become a ‘kill artist’…that’s what I call it, but it suits me better than you’d think.” She said this almost as defensively as Kip had mentioned ignorance of the kid’s evil best friend’s activities. It was as if she thought Kip was going to argue with her about her chosen profession. “You remember in wood shop, how I got into the class to begin with despite Mr. Johnson’s strong protests and a little help from Mom and Dad’s donation to the new gym?”
Kip nodded, knowing she would feel the movement since their shoulders were touching.
“And how we would put on those smocks…aprons or whatever, and the goggles and gloves before we started sanding or using the chisels?” She didn’t look up or wait for a reply.
Kip stared at the side of her face intensely, patiently waiting for her to continue.
“For me it’s like that,” she said. “I put on my protective equipment and I go to work using my well-oiled and maintained equipment. When I come home, I put my equipment in a locker…well, most of it…and that’s that. I move on to the rest of my life.”
Kip could relate to the compartmentalization that had to come with their line of work. After all, one had to maintain a healthy ego that still allowed for the Superego voice of ethics and reason to do battle with the ugly side of the Id. However, Kip was less able to disengage the hitman persona from the rest of his life as successfully as Charlene seemed to be able to, if her description were anywhere near the total truth of the matter.
“But anyways,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, “this all started years ago. I mean, I only found out about you since L.A., those five years ago, but me, I’ve been at it since my mother’s death about seven years ago.”
“Lucy’s been dead for seven years?” Kip interjected, not intending the outburst in such a tender moment.
“Yeah, it wasn’t natural either. That’s why…” Her eyes went from the floor to the base of the wall, up to eye level and over to meet Kip’s glance. “Someone murdered her. I still haven’t figured out who it was, but at least I know it wasn’t you now.”
“A professional came after Lucy?” Kip was astonished. “What was the…?”
“Motivation?” Quipped Charlene.
“Yeah,” said Kip, just at that moment noticing his jaw had dropped.
“That’s just it. At first, I thought it was my step-dad who fell for some young college coed while he was getting his PhD in architecture and couldn’t release mom’s funds without a divorce to ‘move on’ with his life as he was so fond of putting it. But the more I looked into it, the less evidence I found that he had acted on his financial problems. Then I thought it was dad who was still mad about the initial divorce and her keeping the house, but it couldn’t have been him either. I tried to look at it as objectively as possible and from every angle, but nothing made any sense. No one else had the motivation, the connections, or the brains to get the job done. Over the course of trying to figure it out…”
“How was she…?”
“Drowned,” she answered before he could finish his thought.
“And it wasn’t an accident?” asked Kip.
“No. Do you think I’d have gone through all this trouble and become…what I am if I hadn’t been certain?”
“I’m sorry,” said Kip, for she was clearly hurt by the suggestion.
“No. I had to be sure and I broke into the lab and got her samples to run my own tests. She’d been poisoned with something rare and then it was mixed with alcohol to make it look like she had too much to drink one night and fell into our heated swimming pool on one of her midnight skinny dipping sessions, as you may well remember.”
“Hey it was only that once,” said Kip, trying to not sound too defensive.
“Aww, c’mon you loved seeing it, you perv,” Charlene chuckled and Kip joined in. “Bet she gave you blue balls,” she said, continuing, and Kip raised his eyebrows without protest. “So, it was rare, but not in the sense of you’ve never heard of it. Gelsemine, but not the vines or shrubs around here in North America. It was Gelsemine elegansextract.”
Kip didn’t bother to feign that he was following and suspected that he had a dumb look on his face that might clue her in to explain.
“Gelsemine elegans is native to China and Southeast Asia for the most part and neither my parents nor their neighbors had the vine growing on any of their properties. This wasn’t an accident. Someone put it into her drink, but in such a perfect dose that it asphyxiated her about the same time as she hit the water, making it look like she drowned from too much booze in a hot pool. The mixture was too weak to cause convulsions or anything that would have tipped off an investigation, medical or criminal. It took me a long time, but I learned how to brew and distill the poison myself to see how difficult it was to make. It had to be a pro…someone hired to kill her because we, or rather, I, never knew anyone like that seven years ago. My question has always been, ‘Who could have gotten into the house and put it into the liquor that only she drinks?’ And the ever mind-crushing quandary of ‘Who would want to?’ has vexed me ever since. Studying death and wanting to get even brought me to the path I’m currently on,” she said, as if finished.
Kip let her catch her breath and considered the word currently, she had used, as if she had a choice in letting go of the life of a hitwoman after at least one kill, which he knew about, without repercussions, both physical and psychological. He took a much-needed gulp of his drink.
“If it had just been the alcohol…but it wasn’t enough…” she said, musing as an afterthought. “I know you know, mom drank too much, but she knew how much she could have before swimming and she wasn’t even in a bad mood that night. She hadn’t argued with Todd according to him or the neighbors. He even thought she was fine with the impending separation.”
Kip knew Todd was Lucy’s ten-year younger husband from Charlene’s senior year of high school. They were newly minted back then, but apparently on the rocks as of seven years ago as she told the tale. That meant 25 or so years of apparent bliss before Todd’s retreat to the coed. Charlene would have turned 52 in February and Kip was turning the same later this month. Kip thought that Charlene’s biological dad, Daniel might have more to do with the loss of Lucy than Charlene had any clue about at this point. But, Kip couldn’t be certain, and he did know that with all the research she would have done by now, to suggest a hunch would only make her angry. Humans were basic, simple. There were only a few things that could set them off into a rage.
Charlene brought him out of his musing with, “What do you think, Kip? Who would want Lucy dead and why?” She looked into his eyes with an innocence that surprised him.
“I don’t know, Chazz,” Kip replied. “You’ve done a lot of research. Unless I were to look into it even half as long as you have, I couldn’t say a thing.”
Charlene shrugged and looked back at the floor, the vial around her neck shifting with the motion.
“But I trust your instincts,” Kip added as if to soothe her. He now wondered if the vial around her neck contained Lucy’s ashes and tried to shake off the notion that it was all that remained of the once so full of life woman.
“In studying your ‘game’,” she said this indicating his kill skills, “I trust yours too.” She got up and fixed them both another drink.
“I have to ask…”
“Yes?” said Charlene.
“Is there really a hit out on Tycho? Did you hire ‘Elvis’ the venture capitalist from Cincinnati to call me?”
“Okay, you got me. I needed to get you out here for a couple of reasons.” She took a strong sip of her vodka ‘n soda. “Tycho is a small-time crook but he knows Vin O’Malley. I knew he would lead you here to Vin.”
“Why Vin?” he asked.
“Vin hired me to see if anyone else was involved in his nephew’s death. I placed you at the scene in Bend, Oregon, and had to see if it was you who, you know. I knew that if you felt you had anything to fear from Vin, you’d never go into that pub.”
Kip tried not to take it personally that she led him into a trap just to see if, like a witch, he would drown or float to prove a point, and then his mind moved back to what might be his old friend’s apparent killing spree. “Did you…were you…?” He started to ask.
“Oh, right, now you’ve got to be wondering if the whole crew was…”
“Yeah,” exhaled Kip as if his whiskey went down the wrong pipe.
“Vin did the first one, but when he saw how many were likely involved, he called for help. I happened to have an open schedule and…”
“You killed the other five,” Kip said, completing the thought.
“Hey, they were all bad news that crew. Bank robbers. Murdered innocent people just in line trying to deposit their bi-monthly paychecks.” She set down her glass harshly onto the night stand for effect.
“Okay, I’m not defending them, just wonder how…how you got so…”
“Prolific?” Charlene finished Kip’s question.
Kip nodded.
“Trial and error, I suppose. Like any profession. I learned on the job. I went to the range, I studied my targets, I bought lots, and lots, and lots of guns and pistols and clips and bullets and...”
“I get the idea,” said Kip. “I guess it wasn’t much different for me, I’ve just been at it longer. I figured someone more like…you…would find it more difficult.”
“Like me?” Charlene’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Like female? Like a girl?” She said it in a derogatory, diminutive way.
“No, not at all. You know I don’t think of you as weak, never have, not that I think women in general are weak, but you, you’re different.” He stopped, hoping he hadn’t made things worse then added, “Like me. We defy gender norms, but in a good way.”
“Good save,” she said, then laughed. “Yeah, we’re just not normal.”
“Good riddance,” he replied and joined in the laugh.
“So, I gotta know. When did that start?” her eyes and head indicated the stilettos on his feet.
“Bar fight,” he replied.
“Do tell,” she said.
A knock came at her room’s door.
“Housekeeping,” a maid said, and before the second knock came, Kip and Chazz were on their feet armed with guns cocked.
Without moving their weapons, both trained at the door, their eyes met, faces straight, and then they laughed.
“Not now,” said Charlene.
“Okay, I come back,” said the maid and retreated without waiting for a response.
The two old friends put their guns back where they had been.
“Oh brother. Let’s get out of here. There’s a roller rink three blocks from here and I’m just dying to…” Charlene started to say.
“Roller rink? Like back in the day? ‘Nuff said, let’s get a cab. Hope they have a bar there,” said Kip.
Charlene giggled. “Maybe not there, but afterwards. And then you tell me the rest about those,” she said, eyes glancing again at his heels.
