Four survelience cameras watched Jeremy and Mr. Virgil close down and lock up Mammoth Paint and Sundries. Jeremy knew the cameras were there, yet they weren’t at all on his mind when he murdered Mr. Virgil. It was the strangest thing, really. He hadn’t so much as thought to sink the thing into his boss’s neck before the man was twitching on the floor, blood issuing playfully from his neck like water from a punctured balloon.
The sight astounded Jeremy, who lost his senses and went into an absolute panic. He threw the screwdriver into the trashcan, retrieved it promptly, then rushed it to the bathroom sink, where he left it without even running the water because he suddenly realized his desperate need for towels or rags or sheets or anything thing that could possibly hide what he’d done.
He tore open a bag of drop cloth and draped it over the thing that used to be his boss. Too terrified and distraught to consider any further course of action, he proceeded to pace franticly across the sales floor until Rosemarie’s song,
The way that she moved
When I was aroused....
The bass and the drums,
The music so loud.
played from his pocket. The sound was to Jeremy what a beam of light is to a man trapped in the basement of a fallen building. In short, he knew he was saved.
His hand shot into his pocket, flipped open the phone, and brought her voice to his ear. He told her again and again that he loved her and needed her, and each time she replied with equal care and yearning. Her light laughter eased Jeremy's mind and worked to restore his reason.
While talking lovely nonsense to his Rose, he took careful note of his surroundings. There was a lot of blood, of course, but the lights were off. The doors were locked. He had ample time before anyone would have any reason to review any footage. Still, he would have to work quickly and would surely need assistance.
"I need you to come to the store," he said. "Don't tell anyone."
His abrupt change in tone and strange demands scared Rosemarie more than a little. Still, she promised and did as her husband had asked. Her friends were sent home, their wine undrunk. Her luggage, a here to unused four-piece set, given by her uncle for their wedding, was filled with the happy couple's clothes, and her car pulled into the lot behind the paint shop without the aid of its headlights.
Jeremy was already outside. His pale skin and hair looked blue in the quiet moon light. He was wearing those white painter's overalls, and for a moment, Rosemarie imagined that they were playing some sort of sexy game.
No comments:
Post a Comment