13 Murders

Real Things

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Real Things

 No matter how much I scrub and lather myself, I cannot wash the scent of tobacco from my skin and hair. At first it annoys me, disturbing the smell of my morning coffee and vanilla candles, but I begin to grow fond of it. It’s a reminder of who I really am, and who the people beside me really are too. Today, I decide, is the day I begin to look at the big picture. Plans need to be made, I need to know how, and when I’m going to do it.

 And after last night, it will be pleasure to kill Mathew Franklin.

 But first I have business to take care of, the first, is to return the brown coat crumpled at the foot of my bed to Jason. I attempt to iron it, but crinkles still manage to disrupt the surface. I eventually give up and decide to use it as an advantage, I need to know more about Mr. Franklin’s whereabouts, his habits, his routines. After all, that is how I had killed Jeremy Linden. I knew where he was, where he was going to be, who would be with him.

 I feel slightly sick to my stomach at the idea of Jeremy Linden, the ring of scars on his ghost still haunting me. My hands start to shake involuntarily, but I manage to control my anxiety. Today is a day of focus, I tell myself.  Getting dressed, I make sure to make myself look nice and inviting.

 I’m going for the ‘tell me all everybody else’s secrets’ look. And I think I accomplished it, with a feminine blouse (a little low cut, but it doesn’t hurt to show some skin when you want something. I can see why Electra uses her feminine wiles.) skirt and a tan trench coat. I look respectable. Jason’s coat in hand, I make my way out the door and across the street. His house is almost a replica of mine except instead of stark white, the exterior walls are painted a mediocre grey. I knock on the door.

 Knock. Knock. Knock.

 No answer.

 Knock.

 Footsteps.

 Jason opens the door. His face is flushed, his hair messy, blue eyes clouded by the haze of sleep. His dressed, but in a rush, his jeans crinkled and his shirt collar uneven.

 “Hey” He smiles. I raise my eyebrows and gave him a warm smile in return.

“Hi Jason, just wanted to pop over and return your coat. Thanks again for lending it to me.” I say in a spritely voice. He nods and smiles, although he seems a little taken back, clearly numbed by sleep.

 “You’re Welcome, please, come in.” He says, opening the door a little wider. I pretend to be surprised- I’m not, this what I’d hoped for, and since wanting my boyfriend to be dead I’ve been pretty good at getting what I want- and nod in reply.

 “That would be nice yeah, if you don’t mind.” I say politely and make my way into the house. I like it more than mine. Whilst my place is filled with harsh white furniture and the smell of a show home, his is overcrowded with furniture and rugs. It looks more like a home than a house.

 “Nice place” I say and turn around to see him shovel a pile of clothes into the urn by the front door. He obviously hasn’t cleaned- he didn’t expect me- but I like the messiness of the place, I miss the feeling of a normal house.

 “I don’t mind mess Jason, don’t worry.” I say, although the house I live in is currently spotless, but that’s only because I only really use the kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. Prison taught me that only necessities are necessary. He blushes a little and guides me to the kitchen.

 We sit and he makes coffee and then he sits. He makes the coffee really strong, like my dad used to, and I drink it obediently despite that fact that it makes my throat hurt and my lips burn. We talk briefly about the night before, and I pretend to be oblivious to the past of Xavier and Amelia, he mentions that they’ve only lived here for three months and that he’s pretty sure Xavier is a journalist for some overseas company, and that Amelia is a science teacher. Every time I try to mention Mr. Franklin he seems to disregard it, perhaps he simply isn’t interested in talking about his neighbour’s behavior. I leave at around ten, having learnt nothing of Mathew Franklin, but having had quite a bit of fun. On the way to the door I spot a shelf full of CD’s and beeline towards it, spotting the soundtrack for Chicago.

 “I didn’t know you were into jazz music, Chicago is my favourite musical ever.” I say, getting excited. I remember when I was in high school my friends and I used to watch movies like a religion, particularly Chicago and Burlesque.

 “I have never met anyone who has picked that up before. I’m a bit of a fan, it’s more fun to watch than to listen to.” He says and slides the CD of the shelf and observes the cover. I just look at him. It’s one of those moments where I wish that I was under no circumstances, that I was still little old Lizzie Bird, in high school, and that maybe I could have someone like Jason. My eyes trace his face. Black hair, blue eyes –oh so curious and intelligent-, perfect. He looks up and I inhale quickly in surprise. He smiles.

 “You know there’s this place in town, a little jazz bar, it’s so awesome. They play all this kind of music and there’s singers and dancers. It’s really fun, do you maybe want to, um, go for drinks sometime? I can pick you up tonight if you like?” He asks. I really should say no. I want to say yes. So. Very. Much. But I have to say no, I am not here on personal business. But maybe this could be an opportunity to spend some more time on becoming trustworthy, and finding out what I need to know.

 Yes.

 “I’d love to.” I say. He smiles and slides the CD back on the shelf.

 “Great! I’ll be at yours at seven.” He replies with a grin. We say goodbye briefly and I walk back across the road with a sense of both achievement and excitement. I shouldn’t feel excited about my little date, after all it’s all for research purposes. But it feels so real.

 The first real thing since Jeremy Linden.