The Good Bad Girl

Chapter 3 Charm of my Husband

It's been three days since Marshal Smith's death. The news didn't reach the local news station neither did any authorities come by his house. Since I told Klaus to lie underground, I have been snooping around his neighborhood to find out the aftermath of his death. 

Turns out, my motherfucker husband charmed his magic again. Ugh, why do I keep calling him that when we've been divorced for six months now? I ignored the name-calling and focused on what needed my attention.

The entire neighborhood is alive. Children are playing in the senior park on the left side of the town, labs barking by the bins and wiggling their tails. Parents are out playing badminton like there wasn't any murder here three nights ago. 

I can accept the vibrancy of the neighborhood but his own family is acting like I didn't kill their money sucker husband felt a bit odd. I tried my best to not be offended by their reactions, it's not like I needed praise for it. I got to take my revenge and even slipped out cleanly from the eyes of cops...yet again thanks to someone who is all of a sudden trying to be a loving husband.

I roll my eyes. Not my husband, damn it. 

I saw Marshal's wife and scoffed at the inadequacy of warmth in her eyes as she watered the flowers by her porch. That's what happens in a marriage where love is secondary and ego is put first. Not that I expected anything from Marshal but the lack of caringness from his wife told enough about him as a husband. 

As for my ghost of an ex-husband, he left no measure in turning this whole crime scene into a normal everyday scenario. Should I give him a star for his work of art or another message telling him to fuck off? 

I decided to give none. He doesn't deserve my attention. He already knows my next target because he made me tell him in our own weird communicative style. I splash the names of the next member on the wall with the victim's blood so my ex-husband can see the efforts I am taking. 

When he found out, I was behind all the murders of his board members he reached out to me through my brother via a coded message and threatened me to give him the names of my targets. If I fail to do so, he will gladly interrupt my revenge and if worst comes he will kill them all in his own way. There's one thing to get something out of me but the latter part of his threat, I won't let it happen in this lifetime.

They all belong to me. Mine to be tamed and butchered. So like always, in order to keep my ex out of my business, I gave him the name of the next target at Marshal's basement.  

I take a last look at the fucker's house then tuck my head inside the black baseball cap I purchased from the store three blocks down and marched forward to the south of the street. 

I have no business standing outside his porch and reliving the night when I covered my hands deeper into this gray world. Right now I am hungry and not in the slightest mood to overthink.

I take a turn to Lola's Diner which should be open by now.  

I can think of my plan for the fourth member with some food in my stomach. 

I walk by the pavement and in less than three minutes I reach the diner. One of the best things about living in a small town is the distance. One minute you're at a hardware store buying industrial paints for renovation, next you're at a diner eating cheeseburgers with greasy potato fries. 

I open the door to the lazy afternoon diner. The bell above the door rings against my action alerting the people inside. Apart from the regulars, the diner was mostly empty. 

I took my seat by the counter and pressed the bell. Twenty seconds later, a woman with a bob cut, a white apron around her pink uniform, and a smile that teased my soul came out. Lola Aldrin, the owner of Lola's Diner and my unpaid, non-consensual therapist. She is a lady in her mid-sixties, which describes her attitude of giving unwanted advice and acting like a mother when all she should do is mind her own business.

 During the first month of my moving to this town, I told her to stay within her limits and not approach with her motherly smile but after one or two instances of her stubbornness, I dropped explaining to her.

She can talk however much she wants from me as long as I remain neutral and closed. One day when she finds out I am a murderer all her niceties will fly outside the window. 

She comes to the counter and places her wrinkly hands on top of it. "Hello dear! How's life treating you?"

"Like a hammer on the head," I raise my head, "The usual," I close the menu and put it down. 

"Someday this hammer of yours will kill you," she says going to the back of the kitchen. 

As it should. 

I turned around on the stool and leaned my shoulders against the counter taking in the light-friendly environment around me. Mr. Lewis sat three tables east of the diner with a newspaper as usual. His big glasses rested on his nose as he sunk inside the everyday news of around the world. 

A little to his side sat a family of three eating cheeseburgers and laughing over the kid's playful attempts to feed her father three french fries. On the west side, Mr. Aldrin cleaned the tables and put tissue holders at an odd angle. His back doing injustice to his age. 

I saw the clitter-clatter of a very boring September noon. 

Soon enough, Lola came with my order. Needless, to say I finished eating my chicken pot pie in less than fifteen minutes as an emerging plan to strike Luther King came to me. 

I put the money under my empty plate and ran to my house. 

Luther King, the head executive of the Kinclad Empire. Benedict's trustiest man and my next target on the list. He gained ten million dollars from the marriage contract. Not forgetting he added the terms that my acrophobia should be kept hidden. Because of him, I got the penthouse and my nameless husband got the mansion in Upstate New York. 

I called Klaus and updated him about my next target asking him to get the basic information about Luther King out by this week. Although I know he lives in Manhattan, my gut says he is taken a shelter somewhere local. The rumor that someone is killing the board members has spread across the higher-ups. 

They are going underground and as fun as it is to see them crawl in their fears, the urgency to get over with my revenge is increasing day by day.

I have Klaus running his location meanwhile I need to find out the new message my soon-to-be dead husband left for me.