The Art of Murder

by Rebecca Muddiman

  ‘Are you really going to Scooby-Doo the whole thing? Or can we just get on with it?’

  ‘I do regret not doing this sooner. I could’ve saved Elena.’

  ‘But you didn’t,’ Michael said. ‘Why?’

  ‘I guess I had other things on my mind.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘I want to make a deal.’ Nick pointed to the photo of Karen. ‘I want you to kill her next and leave the rest alone.’

  Michael’s eyebrows went up a good inch or so and he laughed. ‘Jesus. I thought you were going to ask me to spare her. Fuck! She said things were bad between you guys but, man, this is some messed-up shit.’

  ‘Says the man who’s killed six people. If you do what I ask, I’ll let you go. But only if you leave the rest of them alone.’

  Michael was still laughing and he shook his head at Nick. ‘You really haven’t been paying attention, have you? I don’t want to be free. When I’m done, the whole world is going to know who I am.’ He looked at Nick, incredulous. ‘You really didn’t get that?’

  Nick huffed a laugh. ‘No, I did. But that’s good we’re on the same page, because obviously I was never going to let you go. At least now I don’t have to lie about it.’

  ‘It’s nice to know you can be trusted.’

  ‘Kill Karen, then that’s it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I have plans. I want to finish what I started. If you really want your wife dead, you’ll have to wait.’

  ‘This isn’t a negotiation. I could arrest you right now and make sure no one ever knows your name.’

  ‘But you won’t.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘And what if I told everyone about the deal you offered me?’

  ‘No one would believe you.’

  ‘I don’t know. A lot of people witnessed your little scene at the bookstore yesterday. And to be honest, I don’t think Karen would need much convincing to believe it. She really does think you’re an asshole.’

  Nick felt a twinge of anger. As much as it had tickled him to think that Karen was sleeping with this guy, it pissed him off to think of her telling him about their marriage. Same as it pissed him off to think Alison said yes to this clown after turning him down.

  ‘Besides, how are you going to explain how you found me? It’s been, what, two days since you went to the 7-11? So what have you been doing since then, Detective Kelly?’

  Nick had wondered this himself. How was he going to explain it? But he kept his face neutral.

  ‘Maybe I’ll tell them I was checking out everyone who worked at the 7-11 and then, eventually, I came across you and… Oh shit! This is the guy screwing my wife. What if he tries to kill her too? So I break in here on the grounds that you could be attacking her, and what do you know? I stumble upon all this.’

  Michael looked as if he was thinking about it and then shrugged. ‘Needs a little work, I think.’

  ‘Look, you’ve already told me that what you want most in this world is for everyone to know your name. To admire your work or whatever. So I’m giving you a choice. Do as I say and I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Or refuse and I make sure no one ever knows your name or sees your face and all this,’ he said, waving his hand across the crime scenes photos, ‘All this disappears.’

  Michael Fisher didn’t look so smug anymore. He made Nick wait but not for long.

  ‘All right. You have a deal.’

  57

  Karen

  Karen stood watching Mark’s house. On the train ride over, her resolve had risen and fallen seemingly with every bounce on the tracks. Was she really going to confront him? Did she even have the right? He’d admitted the previous night that he’d been out with other women. Shouldn’t that be enough?

  But it wasn’t. She wasn’t prepared to have her heart broken again. She needed to know Mark wasn’t going to mess her around, that she’d be safe with him. And she did have the right to know that much.

  So she’d marched from the subway, crossing the street, determined to ask him directly about the blonde from Saturday night. She would demand that if he wanted her, then it could only be her. She wasn’t going to be one of many.

  But once she was there, looking at the house, she felt her confidence drain away again. She would feel stupid asking him, like some needy psycho woman. She was acting as though this was going to be a serious thing when maybe all it was, and would ever be, was a fling. Did people even say fling anymore?

  Karen sighed. It was cold standing there but she felt frozen. She’d gone out there for a reason. She needed to make a decision. Either go home and call it off. Never see him again. Or go over there and be a grown up.

  Or maybe she could call him and ask. Maybe it would be less awkward than asking face to face.

  She took out her phone. Maybe she could text him.

  ‘Shit,’ she said and turned away, hiding as the front door opened. Karen looked back, desperate to see if Mark was with someone else, wondering if the blonde would come out, her hair messed up and her lipstick smeared.

  ‘What the fuck?’ Karen muttered as she watched a man walk out the door, glancing around before pulling up his collar.

  What the hell was her husband doing there?

  58

  Michael

  Michael heard the door close and let out a half-laugh half-sigh. Had that really happened? Had a NYPD detective asked him to murder his wife? Karen was right. Nick Kelly really was an asshole. And he really wanted his wife dead.

  Unless this was some kind of set-up.

  But what would be the point? If Nick Kelly only wanted to catch Michael, why not arrest him there and then? There was plenty of evidence, both in the house and the forensics left at the crime scenes. Michael had been counting on that for when he finally came forward. It was clear that Nick wanted his collar to be more media friendly. He was as much an attention whore as Michael was. He needed the validation as much, perhaps even more. But if he was planning on catching Michael in the act, stopping him before he could actually kill Karen, then why bother coming here in the first place? Why not wait and follow him until such a time actually arrived?

  Because he really did want his wife dead.

  Michael considered it. At least this way he had a free pass. He could take his time with Karen, make sure he got everything just right, without worrying her husband would come in and ruin things. Plus there was the added attention it would garner if Nick was the one to catch him standing over Karen’s body. The victim’s husband arresting the perp a little too late. It would be even better than anything Michael could achieve alone.

  And yet… he hadn’t been lying about wanting to finish what he’d started. He refused to abandon the project on the whim of Nick Kelly. But maybe he wouldn’t have to. The way he saw it, he was the one with all the power here. It might have been true that his colleagues would believe Nick over Michael if he decided to come clean about the deal, but that was hardly the most important thing. If Michael was going to be caught, then so be it. But he would go down fighting. He would keep working as long as he could. And yes, he was desperate to finish, but he would bet Nick Kelly was even more desperate to see his wife dead. And if he wanted it that badly, then maybe he’d be willing to wait.

  Obviously he had to insist on letting the others go. He was a police officer. He could hardly condone the murders of innocent people. But Michael knew that deep down, Nick Kelly was colder than he was. If the price to pay for the death of his wife was a few more bodies on his conscience, then so be it. He’d already let Elena die, hadn’t he?

  No. Michael wasn’t going to do as Nick Kelly asked. He was going to do things his way. He checked his phones for any messages. There were none. But something on his social media feed caught his eye and he headed for the door.

  He might have the power, but the clock was ticking. It was time to finish the project.

  59

  Nick

  Nick left the house,
the cold air hitting him like a slap in the face. He pulled up his collar, glancing around in case anyone was watching, and walked towards his car which he’d discreetly parked a couple of blocks away.

  What the hell had he just done? Could he really go through with it? And did he have any choice? He’d made a deal with the devil, and regardless of how calm he’d seemed when telling Fisher how he’d explain it away, Nick knew that he’d dug himself a seriously deep hole. If he didn’t go through with it, it was possible his story would unravel pretty quickly.

  He reached his car and climbed in, turning the heater on. There was nothing else to do but go through with it. And wasn’t she the one who had tried to end her own life? Maybe it would be a mercy.

  But could he trust Fisher? Nick almost laughed. Was he really debating with himself whether he could trust a serial killer? Of course he couldn’t. But Fisher had plenty to lose too. If he didn’t do as Nick told him, then Nick would make sure his name was never known outside the police department. And wasn’t that worse than death for a guy like that? He had to trust that he was in control, that Fisher would go after Karen and Karen alone, that there would be no danger to anyone else.

  Before leaving, he’d told Fisher he’d get a burner phone to him. That when he was ready to do it, he should call Nick’s own burner phone and let it ring three times. They wouldn’t talk on these phones, they wouldn’t send any messages on them. He wasn’t to use it for any other purpose. Nick would get it to him within the next day and he then had a couple of days, maximum, to finish the job. He only wished he’d thought of getting phones before he showed up. The last thing he needed was to be seen anywhere near Fisher or his house before the big day. But it was too late now. He had to trust that everything would work out.

  And who knew? Maybe when the time came, Nick would decide to show a little mercy of his own. Could he honestly say he hated her that much? Would he step in before it was too late? Do her one last favor. He could save Karen and kill Fisher and there’d be no one to dispute his version of events. How would that play in the media? Shining knight on white charger rides in to save the day at the last minute? He could see the headline now. “Hero Cop”, above a portrait of himself looking pensive.

  Nick pulled away at speed. It was something to think about.

  60

  Karen

  What the actual fuck? Why was Nick there? Karen watched in stunned silence for a moment as Nick walked away from the house. Did Nick know about her and Mark? Was that why he was there? It had to be. What other explanation could there be? But why did he care? Was it about his bruised male ego? Jealousy? Possessiveness? No, she couldn’t believe that. Nick was so beyond that. She could’ve taken a dozen lovers home with her and Nick wouldn’t care. So why was he there?

  Karen could only imagine it was for his own benefit. Nick rarely did things he couldn’t use to his own advantage. But how would coming here do that? Was he planning on convincing Mark to claim their affair had started much earlier, that she had been as unfaithful as he was? Was he trying to level the playing field in front of the judge? Surely Mark wouldn’t do anything like that. Unless he had something to hide. Nick was a cop. It was easy to get leverage when you had the law on your side.

  But what would be the point? Would Nick really bother going to so much trouble for so little gain? Unless this wasn’t about him at all. Maybe it was nothing more than trying to sabotage her fledgling relationship. Maybe it was revenge for what happened with his parents on her birthday. Maybe he was warning Mark off her, spreading lies so he’d want nothing more to do with her. That sounded more like him.

  Karen needed to know.

  She followed Nick, walking quickly. But she could no longer see him. She stopped and looked around, wondering where he could’ve gone. And then she saw his car, parked a little further down the street. She started moving, faster, ready to bang on the window and demand to know what he was up to. But the car sped away and disappeared into traffic.

  Karen cursed herself and Nick. Did he really hate her so much that he’d try to destroy any hope of happiness she had? She guessed she knew the answer to that one already. She really shouldn’t have been surprised.

  Returning, Karen decided to knock on Mark’s door and find out exactly what Nick had said, but in the distance she saw a figure walking away from the house.

  ‘Mark!’ she called out, and thought she saw him turn slightly before looking ahead once more and hurrying away.

  Karen jogged after him. Was it already too late? Had Nick planted the seed of doubt? Maybe he’d told him that they were still very much married, that she was a liar, a whore. Everything she’d been worried Mark was.

  She watched as he descended the subway steps and picked up speed. She needed to talk to him.

  ‘Mark!’

  People looked as she called out, muttered under their breath as she pushed past them, jogging down the steps after him. She could see his head in the distance, moving quickly towards the platform, so she broke into a run, conscious of slipping on the wet floor. But she needed to catch him, to stop whatever Nick had started.

  61

  Michael

  Michael knocked at the door and waited. He hadn’t called ahead. He turned up unannounced after seeing on his Facebook page that Cas was home alone, chillin’. He’d only been there once before, on the pretense of buying drugs, but it was enough to get familiar with the place and any possible obstacles.

  There was a doorman in the building and security cameras on each floor. Michael had clocked them that first time and wondered if they would be a problem. But he no longer felt that way. He felt invincible, as though he had a guardian angel watching over him. It was almost over. Things were going to move quickly from here on. As far as he was concerned, there could be a thousand witnesses. As long as he could finish what he’d started, let them all see.

  Cas Nazan opened the door, a haze of gray smoke surrounding him. He stared at Michael for a moment before realization hit him. ‘Oh, dude, it’s you,’ he said and stepped back to let Michael in.

  ‘Am I interrupting?’ Michael looked around in case any of Cas’s other customers had shown up before he could get there.

  ‘No, dude. Just chillin’.’ Cas slunk back to the sofa. An enormous TV was playing loudly in the corner and Cas kept one eye focused on the action and one on the bong in front of him. He took a hit and held it up. ‘Want some?’

  Michael sat, pulling down his hood, and Cas slid the bong towards him but Michael refrained from taking part. His eyes settled on the large dining table by the window. He recalled seeing a series of images on Cas’s Instagram, a dinner party for a bunch of semi-famous people he knew purely on the basis of having money too. Cas had paid for a woman to lie naked on the table, covered in various exotic fruits that the guests could sample, finally uncovering the woman’s body for purposes that had not been shared online.

  ‘So, what’s happening, man?’ Cas asked, never looking away from the TV. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while.’

  Michael had chosen Cas after he’d seen an article about him and his achievements, which had piqued his interest. Cas was a genius. Sort of. A talented coder who designed an app while still in school that had the potential to do real good and help some of the world’s most disadvantaged people. He’d got a lot of attention and praise for it, but then he was offered a huge sum of money by a big company who bought the app and changed it so it was no longer quite the tool for change it had once been.

  But Cas didn’t seem to mind. He took the money and hadn’t worked since, except for selling a little weed now and then, which had nothing to do with paying the bills and everything to do with the image he was trying to project into the world. This was the nerdy boy from school who was bullied for his glasses and academic ability.

  Now he was the rich playboy who wasn’t afraid of the law. Instead of spending his time and money, not to mention his talent, on creating something new, Cas did nothing but spend money on prestigious i
tems and updated his status online. Every detail of his life was recorded on his numerous social media accounts, from his whereabouts at any given moment to his every like and dislike. He was a serial killer’s dream. Michael barely had to try.

  He’d first approached Cas in a club, posing as a fan of his work as well as his online empire. Cas had responded exactly as Michael imagined, inviting him into his circle immediately. It was clear that there’d be no need for sexual intimacy with Cas, all he required was a little ego boosting now and then. So Michael had played the game and tried to get invited back to Cas’s apartment. That part proved trickier. Cas liked to be seen, so he spent most of his time in public. It seemed the only way Michael could get an in was to buy some weed, something that he knew Cas would have to go home for. He might claim to have no fear of the police, but he wasn’t dumb enough to get caught carrying outside.

  So they’d gone back, unfortunately with a couple of other guys, and Michael had bought some weed which he was then obliged to smoke and share immediately. He’d listened to Cas rhapsodize about his app and how amazing it was and how he was planning on doing something new, how he could probably, like, save the world or something, but, you know, he had other shit to do.

  Michael left, knowing exactly which painting he would use for Cas. He just had to find an opportunity to do it.

  And now he had one.

  There was no need for a backdrop, only a couple of props, some of which Michael had brought from home.

  ‘Can I use your bathroom?’ Michael said, getting up from the sofa. Cas nodded, his hand reaching out to drag the bong back in front of him.