Just a Little Murder

Just a Little Murder 8

Part 9

Warning: Killing via poison but not described in great detail.

Patting his target's hair down, he snickered at the fact that all it took to knock him out was a combination of pills, alcohol and outright good sex. His fellow bedwarmer had already left, walking off with a few thousand dollars from the man's safe and not caring why he had been given the money.

After all, the poor boy did have to hide what he was because dear old daddy dearest would try to take his trust fund away and go after his job, again, if he came out. Which just wasn't all that happy making for Aran.

"Another possible freebie at a later time perhaps," Aran mused, standing and uncaring of his nudity.

Padding over to his duffle bag that he had placed near the door earlier that morning when he had arrived at his targets villa, he found his small medical case. He had passed it off to the guard searching his bag as being a diabetic who had to watch their blood sugar. The man had accepted it. The bad side for him though was the fact that he hadn't been able to have any of the cheesecake that had been offered, but the fruit salad with wildflower honey had been nice. "Such is my life."

He padded into the attached bathroom and closed the door behind him before flipping the light on. He wasn't really worried about waking his target up, knowing that the guy was down for the count, but he didn't want the guards that were walking their guards to know he was awake. Better safe than sorry.

Sitting down on the vanity table bench, he opened the case and smiled at the items within. While the vial said 'insulin' on the outside, in all actuality, it was a clear, very hard to trace poison that Michelle had fiddled around with for years. She had nearly perfected it, getting it's half life once it entered the body to about ten minutes after the heart stopped beating. The fact that it's kill time was ten minutes if absorbed through the skin, and two minutes if injected was just a boon to his line of work.

Pulling out the bottle, a syringe, the needle attachment, and two alcohol wipes, he sang to himself as he put everything together and filled the syringe with the drug. With that all done, he put everything that he was taking with him back into the case and stood, flipping the light off. Stepping out, his phone buzzed and rang quietly with the pre-set text message. He quieted the phone and grumbled softly as the guard walked past, making the bed squeak as if he was moving about on it.

The guard moved on.

Smirking, he turned to his target and wiped at a spot where groin met hip, sticking the thin needle into the skin before depressing the plunger.

With his work done, he wiped off the spot, glad that he had gotten the idiot to take a shower before he wiped down all of the surfaces that he had touched with a washcloth, hanging it up to dry again. By the time that someone noticed that he was dead, the poison would be gone from his system, the towel would be dry, and everyone would think that he had just overdosed on his party favors.

As they discovered his body, Aran would be long gone.

Dressing in a pair of simple pants and long sleeved shirt, he pulled his hair back into a braid, and gathered everything of his. He smiled at the guard as he closed the door behind him. "I wore him out. I think he just might be gone from the world until tomorrow morning, but I was sent a text for an emergency early morning, so I can't linger unfortunately," he said, shaking his head. "Can you tell him that I'll make sure to call him to talk about donation soon?" he asked.

The guard nodded, escorting him out of the house and to the garage where his car waited. Sliding in, Aran put his duffle bag to the side and started the car, pulling out once the door was open enough for him to leave without issue. As he pulled past the front gates, he was already texting Kilen to set up a car makeover and to warn him that he was dying his hair again for a while.

After all, the guards would be remembering him as a blond haired, blue eyed man in a nice suit. Just the type of guy their boss always enjoyed bedding.

They would never to think to look for a black haired, green eyed crossdresser if they did try to hunt him down.

Such knowledge of how people thought and ticked worked for him. It worked for his dark little world to.