Murderous Twins

Chapter 1-3

“Would you care for another drink, Ms. Hawthorne?” Blaine asked, smiling across the table at her.

“Blaine, I think it’s time we were on a first name basis. Please call me Melissa.”

“Only if it’s your real name,” he teased, trying not to wince when she giggled. You’re too old to be doing that.

They had been at the restaurant for half an hour and already she’d downed one martini while discussing his business plans over appetizers. Now, he saw their waitress approaching with their meals.

“I think I switch to wine,” Ms. Hawthorne said, seductively licking the last drop of her drink from the rim of the glass. She told the waitress the same thing when she asked if they needed anything else.

“We’ll both have wine,” Blaine said. “A cabernet sauvignon. It goes well with steak.” After the waitress left, Blaine said, as he waited for Ms. Hawthorne to begin eating, “Do you think my plans stand a chance of succeeding?”

“Let’s not talk about them right now,” she replied. “I’d like to know more about you as a person.” She reached over to pat his hand. “And why don’t you take off your glasses? I bet you’re even more handsome without them.”

“And blind as a bat,” he replied with a rueful smile. “You’d be a blur and nothing more, which would be a shame in my opinion. Anyway, there’s not much to tell. I grew up back east, went to college, and then got a job out here. I’ve been with the company for the last two years.”

She took a bite of her steak, washing it down with a sip of wine as soon as the waitress set the glass down. “That was a very short synopsis,” she said to Blaine. “What do you do for entertainment? Do you have a girlfriend, or perhaps…” She blatantly looked at his ring finger. “No wife, I presume.”

Blaine shook his head. “Neither one, at the moment. I spend my free time, what I have of it, going to movies or the theater.”

“Unfortunately, at this point, so do I,” she replied, looking at him from under lowered eyelashes.

“A lovely woman like you? I don’t believe it.”

She preened at his compliment, thanking him. Then they made serious inroads into their meals. At Blaine’s prompting, she had another glass of wine, at which point she was obviously feeling no pain.

“Would you care for some dessert?” he asked.

It took her a moment to consider his suggestion before she declined. “I should go home. I have a busy day tomorrow.”

“We both should,” he replied. He asked for the check, paid it in cash when the waitress gave it to him, then stood, offering his hand to Ms. Hawthorne.

She took it, not releasing it as they left the restaurant.

“Where did you park?” Blaine asked her.

“I took a cab. I hate trying to find parking in this area and I refuse to pay for using the mall’s garage.”

He resisted smirking in triumph as he agreed the new pay to park rule which had gone into effect a year ago was insane. “However, since I did drive, and there were no spots on the street, I ended up in the garage anyway.” He shrugged, giving her a what can you do? look. “If you’d like, I can give you a ride home.”

“I would love it.” She squeezed his hand, smiling up at him as she staggered a bit on her five-inch heels.

He put his arm around her waist to steady her, knowing that’s exactly what she wanted him to do. “I’m on level three,” he told her, walking toward the escalators. He had no intention of using an elevator as they had security cameras.

“It’s dark in here,” Ms. Hawthorne murmured a couple of minutes later, as they began walking through the garage. She shuddered. “At least I have a handsome young man to defend me if a mugger tries to attack us.”

Blaine smiled to himself. But who will defend you against me?

He had checked the garage again, before joining her at the restaurant, and found the perfect spot for what he had planned. There were two cars parked in a relatively unlit corner. Ones that he knew from the stickers in their windows belonged to people who worked at the mall.

“This one is mine,” he told her when they got to the farthest car. As if going for his keys, he reached into the pocket of his suit coat—under the plastic raincoat he’d put on after taking it from his messenger bag before they entered the garage. When she asked why the coat, he said, “It’s supposed to rain tonight, according to the weather guessers.” That earned him a dubious look from Ms. Hawthorne, but she didn’t press the issue.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket. Instead of car keys, he was holding a knife, which he flicked open as he forced her up against the wall of the garage.

“Don’t make a sound,” he ordered, savoring the look of terror in her expression. “I’m going to rape you, and if you’re a good girl, I might let you live afterwards.”

“Please,” she moaned.

He grinned. “Please rape you? It will be my pleasure.” He pressed the knife to her throat. “Pull up your skirt and push down your panties.” When she hesitated, he put his hand on her throat instead, squeezing hard as he used the knife to cut open the top of her dress and then s***h her bra straps, revealing her breasts. “Not bad, for an old lady,” he sneered, lifting one with the blade of the knife. A small trickle of blood rolled down her torso. “Now, do as I told you and do not make a sound.”

She did as he’d ordered, shaking in fear. He moved the knife back to her throat, pricking it so she’d know he was serious. Twisting his hand into her hair, he forced her to her knees and told her to give him her panties. When she had, he stuffed them into her mouth before ordering her to lie down on her back. Then, he did what he’d come for. Not raping her. He had no intention of having s*x with her. The mere idea of doing it with someone old enough to be his mother, if she was still around, made him shudder. Instead, he began to cut her. Despite how intoxicated she was, in her terror she tried to fend him off. One sharp blow to her temple left her semi-conscious—aware but not struggling anymore.

“One for Dad’s first w***e,” he said softly. “Another for his second one.” He slashed deep into one breast, almost slicing it in half. He continued cutting her, watching as the life faded from her eyes. “One less pompous b***h around to make men’s lives miserable,” he whispered as he stood.

He took off the raincoat, which he’d bought with cash at busy kiosk in the mall, balled it up, and put it into a plastic bag. Then he used a couple of wet-wipes to clean his face and hands, putting the wipes in the plastic bag as well before stuffing it into his messenger bag. He wasn’t worried that anyone who might see him would notice blood on his clothes. He was wearing black slacks, socks, and shoes. His shirt and jacket had been covered by the raincoat. The last thing he did, before casually strolling down the parking ramp, was retrieve the paperwork he’d given to Ms. Hawthorne for the business he had no intention of starting.

From there, he walked down to the path along Cherry Creek and half an hour later he was back in his neighborhood. Using alleys, he made his way to his condo complex, entering by the rear door off the parking lot. Someday, they’re going to get smart and install cameras. Something the tenants had been lobbying for even before he moved in, from what he understood. If it happens, we’ll move on.

When he got up to his condo, he quickly stripped out of the clothes he was wearing. He’d dispose of them sometime the following day, leaving what Lloyd had worn to Departure in his closet. As he showered and got ready for bed, he hummed happily to himself, his need to kill women who reminded him of his father’s lady friends sated…for the time being.