Subject: You can RUN but can never HIDE
Hello Belle i am a professional hired killer You don't know me but I know you Because i am paid to kill you.
Everything about you I have been told this is What I do for a living There is only one way you can help yourself if you want to live again That is why am WRITING you Note: this do not involve the police or let any one know about this, If you do I have no choice but kill you Don t be surprise why am letting you know I want to help you if you will co-operate with me Contact my email if you want to live But if you don't have respect 4 life, be prepare to dance to the music of the dead.
I am very sorry for you Belle, It is a pity that this is how your life is going to end as soon as you don't comply. As you can see there is no need for me introducing myself to you because I don't have any business with you, my duty as I am mailing you now is just to (KILL YOU ) and I have to do it as I have already been paid for that.
Someone who knows you wants you Dead by all means, and the person has spent a lot of money on this, the person also came to me and told me that he wanted you dead and he provided us with your name, picture and other necessary information we needed about you.
So I have sent my men to track you down in San Francisco and they have carried out the necessary investigation needed for the operation on you, and they have done that but I told them not to kill you that I will like to contact you and see if your life is Important to you or not. Since we have find out that you are innocent.
I called my client back and asked her of your email address which I didn't tell her what I wanted to do with it and she gave it to me and I am using it to contact you now. As I am writing to you now my men are monitoring you and they are telling me everything about you. Now do you want to LIVE OR DIE? As someone has paid us to kill you.
Get back to me with this Email address ([email protected]) immediately when you get this mail. WARNING: DO NOT THINK OF CONTACTING THE POLICE OR EVEN TELLING ANYONE, OR ELSE I WILL EXTEND IT TO YOUR FAMILY, IN CASE I NOTICE SOMETHINGFUNNY.
GOOD LUCK AS I AWAIT YOUR REPLY
Lucky You You can RUN but can never HIDE
“Wow!”
“The bitch!” Belle exploded, eyes wide.
“We don’t know it is her.”
“Of course it is her. Look at the capitalizations. That’s typical Rafaella. And it came on Monday. Rafaella always hits us on Mondays. She gets herself all worked up over the weekend. How many times have we had to take my laptop in to be cleared of viruses? How many times has she hacked into my AOL account? How many out-there lesbian sites has she signed me up for? How many people in my AOL address list has she sent porn to? Diseased vaginas and penises. A man being sodomized by a horse. This is definitely Rafaella.”
“But we still cannot prove it was her.”
“We can know it was her, though.”
“Yes, it almost certainly is her.”
“And all those things she says about us on her FB page. She is evil, Luke. Whatever did you see in her? Did you ever love her, and how could you love both her and me? Is she the love of your life?”
“You are the love of my life, Belle, you know that. As for the rest, it is hard to answer. I am guessing that this death threat did come from Rafaella but it is very unlikely to be a real death threat. How would Rafaella know a contract killer?”
“She definitely wants to kill me, though, doesn’t she?”
“She would no doubt like you dead, yes, and me too, from the look of things.”
Belle laughed dismissively. “She doesn’t want you dead, she wants you back. Would you ever go back to her, Luke?”
“No, of course not.”
“Not even if I were dead?”
“Of course not. That is ridiculous.”
“So what are we going to do about this?”
“I can contact the Suffolk police. After all, we have had death threats before -“
“And I am going to renew my restraining order against her.”
* * *
The Suffolk police did indeed visit Rafaella and reported back that she denied sending the threat and seemed perfectly sane and calm. Besides, she was hardly likely to kill Belle from 10,000 miles away.
Ah, leafy Britain and urban America - we live in worlds more different than we know.
* * *
As I went upstairs after discussing the death threat with Belle, I was thinking that Rafaella would be laughing her head off. She had scared Belle senseless, while at the same time making her point that she could get to us as often as she wanted to in new and creative ways, and she had charmed the Suffolk police into believing that she was the injured party, being subjected to false, unkind and harassing complaints - a win-win situation for her, a veritable trifecta of stalking. Shaking my head, I considered, and not for the first time, how successful Rafaella would have been at business if she had only applied herself.
Entering the bathroom, I heard a laugh. The boys were at school and Belle had seemed very far from laughing when I had left her less than a minute ago. Besides, the laugh came from upstairs, close to my left ear. Or was it inside my head? Was I imagining laughter?
Whose laughter was it? I couldn’t place it. It could have been anybody’s. It was too close by to place accurately.
I turned on the taps in the bathtub and swiveled around sharply to see if anyone was behind me, creeping up on me. No-one was there, or at least no-one that I could see.
My thoughts turned to work as I undressed. It was time to focus on something practical.
I crossed the mirror over the basin as I got into the bath and a shadow seemed to follow me; not my reflection, something flitting, chasing after me, running in front of me. No-one else was in the bathroom, so it must have been my reflection being exaggerated by an over-active mind. The accounts. I must start doing the annual accounts this morning.
Chapter 9
I came back from buying some office stationery and heard far-off voices whooping and hollering, punctured by regular delighted laughs.
I climbed the stairs. “Zack, Stevie, where are you?”
“They’re in the attic,” Belle called up to me.
“In the attic? Is it safe?”
“Luke, you know it’s all been boarded over and redone. It’s a great area for them. It’s their den.”
“I meant was it safe from ghosts?”
“Ghosts? I haven’t seen any ghosts here yet. I never do. People keep telling me about this place or that one being haunted, but when you get there …”
“What about Stevie being pushed down the stairs?”
“I don’t know what that was but I haven’t seen any ghosts.”
“And George’s drinking bowl?”
“Alcohol-induced hallucinations.”
“I hadn’t been drinking.”
“I meant George.”
“But I was the one who saw what happened.”
“I think we are getting all worked up over nothing. Everyone knows that ghosts hang out in attics and basements or belfries, if you have one - or is that bats? But anyway, they don’t like the main living areas. The boys spend all their time there and don’t think the place is even a little bit spooky.“
“We’ll test that theory tonight with Stevie.”
“Give it your best shot.”
“And talking about over-reactions, what was that with the knife at my throat bit last night?”
“I thought you were a burglar.”
“Even though I wasn’t in bed with you?”
“I didn’t know whether you were or weren’t - I just thought you were - so I grabbed the knife and shoved it towards the intruder’s throat, which happened to be yours. My bad.”
“Don’t you think an intruder would be able to unarm you easily?”
“Let’s see. I’ll get a knife and you can try to disarm me. I’ll use an ordinary knife this time.” She selected a knife from the kitchen drawer. “OK, you stand where you are, and you can’t do anything unt
il the knife’s at your throat. It’s supposed to be dark too, remember? Night time.”
I made some mocking whistling noises, denoting a man biding his time with not a care in the world. Suddenly Belle’s knife was at my throat. I once did a few days of tae kwan do training, so I raised my left arm and brushed the knife away from my throat, moving in on Belle’s left shoulder with my right hand. I was showing off my minimal martial arts skills. I was halfway through the maneuver when Belle kneed me hard in the balls and slapped me on the cheek as I crumpled down.
“See?” she said.
See? I couldn’t see anything.
Is this love, I asked myself, when one partner can cause such pain and suffering to the other in the expectation that it will be viewed as the necessary fall-out from a hypothetical demonstration?
Probably so. Love shows itself in many ways and tests normal boundaries.
* * *
I staggered up the stairs, throbbing, but only after being subjected to peals of laughter from Belle, followed by her gently rubbing my balls on the end of her thin wrist, a soothing action which only exacerbated the suffering.
“Ow!”
Belle smiled. “Mine, all mine.”
“Then take better care of them.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you should have seen the look on your face.”
“You could see my face through all those stars?”
“You looked very surprised,” she said, following it with another peel of laughter.
“I am going to check up on the boys. They’re safer to be with.”
“You poor thing.”
* * *
Zack and Stevie were in the attic, a room they had decked out with the large throw cushions, thrown randomly across the floor, with them rolling equally haphazardly on top of them.
“Hello, boys!”
No response.
“Hello, boys!”
A bored, “Hello, Luke,” from Zack.
“How’s it going?”
“Good,” said Stevie.
“What are you watching?”
Zack looked over at the TV as if seeing it for the first time, then ignored both it and me, continuing with his conversation with Stevie.
“Seen any ghosts lately?” I asked.
“Ghosts? There aren’t any ghosts up here. Aren’t any ghosts anywhere,” Zack commented lazily.
“Ghosts!” Stevie snorted. “There aren’t any ghosts. You’re worse than Mom.”
“We’ll see what comes out of the woodwork,” I said.
“Cockroaches,” said Zack.
“Giant rats,” Stevie added.
“But you have been attacked by a ghost, Stevie,” I protested.
“Huh.” It was Zack’s turn to snort. “He just fell over the top step. He was probably drunk.”
Stevie contented himself with watching us.
“I heard you were pushed down the stairs, Stevie,” I said.
“Could be.”
“No?”
“Not saying.”
“So no ghosts, then?”
“I’d worry more about Dad,” advised Zack. “He’s no ghost and he swore he’d kill any guy who touched Mom. Ghosts can’t hurt you but Dad has had fights with lots of people. He punched out a guy once and he was in hospital for three weeks. Dad’s your basic mean motherfucker.”
“Motherfucker,” Stevie echoed him, chortling.
“He is! He could take Luke in about ten seconds. No offense, Luke, but you are English, and you guys are kind of known for being pussies, not fighters.”
“Tell that to Hitler.”
“Blah-blah-blah. Ancient history. Anyway, if you see Dad coming, you’d better run. Not that you will see Dad coming. He’s fast and he’ll take you out.”
“Thanks for that, Zack. What’s making you such a grouch this evening?”
“All this crap about ghosts. You and Mom pretending to be like your psychic or some shit.”
“Don’t come running to us, then, when you feel a cold hand on your shoulder.”
Stevie laid a much warmer hand on Zack’s neck which Zack pushed away with a smack. “Lay off, Stevie.”
Stevie jumped on top of him.
“I’ll be seeing you,” I said, preparing to climb back down from the attic.
Zack was right. All this talk of ghosts was pretty stupid.
* * *
I reached the bottom rung of the ladder leading down from the attic and turned round towards the top of the stairs. The figure of a young woman, as real as could be, rushed past me and disappeared into Belle and my bedroom. It happened so fast I didn’t have any time to say anything to her before she was gone.
I followed her into our room but there was no-one there. I checked in the en suite bathroom and that was empty too.
It was one of those things where I began to doubt that it had happened at all, yet I could describe her - bright red hair, pale skin, blue jeans and a white top. Black shoes. I’m not much on fashion so I can’t give you the labels, nor the designs, but I am almost positive she made no sound as she walked, which is not easy on our landing.
She wasn’t frightening, though, more rushing and preoccupied, as if she needed to get into our bedroom fast to fetch something. If she was a real person, she must have gone clean out of the window, obliquely across from the door, but sash windows aren’t so easy to close from the outside, so she couldn’t have done that.
And I had no evidence of the encounter whatsoever, nothing to thrust in front of Zack’s sardonic face or to bring up with Belle without making myself sound like an hallucinating idiot or someone in desperate need of attention.
Still …
“Belle, I have just seen the strangest thing.”
Belle looked up. “What?”
“A woman has just rushed past me on the landing as I came down from the attic.”
“A woman?”
“Yes, thirties-ish, slim, red-headed. She walked straight into our room.”
“You like red-heads. Did you find her in our room?”
“No, she had gone.”
“But you looked?”
“Sure, I looked.”
“And no-one was there?”
“Not that I could see.”
“Did the air get cold?”
“No.”
“Did she look at you?”
“No.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“No. I was too surprised.”
“Did she talk to you?”
“No.”
“But you definitely saw her?”
“Yes.”
Belle stared me hard into the eyes. “Are you being serious, Luke?”
“Very serious. Cross my heart etc..”
She continued to stare at me. “So who was she?”
“How should I know?”
Belle shrugged. “I’ll have to ask around … or look under the bed. Did you look under the bed, Luke?”
“No, I forgot.”
“She could still be there. Go and look.”
I wasn’t keen but nor could I wimp out. I thought of asking the boys to help me. In fact, I did. I climbed up the ladder to the attic.
“You won’t believe this, boys, but I really have just seen a ghost, and now I have to check under our bed to see if she is there -“
“You got that right,” Zack cut in. “We don’t believe you.”
“Come and see for yourselves. She may be there.”
“You really saw a ghost?” asked Stevie with a puzzled look on his face, trying to gauge whether to believe me or not.
“Yes. No doubt about it this time.”
“What kind of ghost?”
“A woman. Red-haired, slim, in a hurry.”
“Was she hot?” sneered Zack.
“Yes, apart from being dead.”
“Hotter than Mom?”
“Of course not, but very pretty. Worth a look.”
“No way.”
“Why not?”
<
br /> “She doesn’t exist, and if she does, what can you do with a corpse?”
“All those bones …” added Stevie.
“As you like but I have to go and look for her. Your mom’s orders.”
“See ya,” said Zack.
“You coming, Stevie?”
Stevie was assessing Zack’s cynicism and his own nervousness in case there really was a ghost. Either way the answer was no. He shook his head.
I was going to have to do this alone.
At the bottom of the ladder, I looked around in case she was going to rush past me again. In a way, that would have made it easier.
The landing was clear.
I entered our room and checked all the corners and all the hiding places I could think of, each time ready to leap back. I didn’t find her.
I was going to have to search for her under the bed.
I hesitated. What if she was there? I was going to get the fright of my life.
I touched the bed skirt, half-expecting a cold hand to make contact with my fingers. I pinched it gingerly and slowly lifted it from the floor. I eased myself to my knees and lowered my head to the level of the floor.
Here goes.
I lifted the skirt fully and thrust my face under the bed.
There was a face staring back at me, inches from my nose. It had red hair and even through my shock it was beautiful. I jumped back, slamming my head against the bed frame.
My body went cold and my hands were trembling as I held my breath. Now what? Would she come after me?
She didn’t.
I lifted the skirt again and met the same face. Her gaze did not interact with mine. It was as if she was in a different dimension although she appeared totally solid, like a real person.
This time I stayed there and studied her as she may have represented a phenomenon I didn’t understand.
She wasn’t that scary. In fact, she was the one who seemed to be scared. She started to look out all around me, as if trying to check the room because someone was looking for her. She had a really nervous expression on her face and a tear ran down her cheek.
Before There Were Angels Page 4