Alfred Simpson owned a restaurant in the theatre district that would make him a fortune if only he could improve the décor and attract an inventive chef. Neither would happen without sufficient income from customers and the customers would not arrive in sufficient numbers until he had a smart interior and a notable kitchen.
Emily Simpson, his wife, worried about their children. Their two boys had failed miserably at school and were currently waiting tables in their father’s restaurant where they received a fraction of the government-mandated salaries.
“I’m struggling to break even,” Alfred said to justify their earnings. “It’s not as if they have to pay for room and board!” The young men dreamed of achieving riches and the mantle of celebrity through music or acting and yet neither considered making their dreams their goals. Whilst they waited for a mythical agent to recognise their raw, unused talent and sign them up for fame and fortune, they relieved their boredom with alcohol and drugs. Timothy had twice been caught in drug sweeps and Emily knew Roger supplemented his meagre income by selling ecstasy at the clubs and pubs to which he escaped after work.
‘What’s it all about, Alfie?’ Emily often sang with derision when her husband told her there was no money for a vacation, new clothes, or a piece of jewellery. She no longer maintained her friends, ashamed of lagging behind their rising lifestyles. The stress brought on by their miserable existence had long ago killed the couples’ libidos and sex was limited to an occasional fumble in the dark when one or the other needed some release. She thought of leaving Alfred every day, but knew she could never leave her boys. She was convinced they would end up dead or in prison without her subtle influence on their lives.
Rosemary Wilson was Alfred’s mistress. The pair had met several years ago when Alfred sought a partner to invest in his restaurant. Rosemary kept the company’s books and spent a one or two hours at the restaurant each day, ensuring her money purchased only restaurant supplies. The pretty, well-dressed woman had initiated an affair with Alfred after a few weeks and the couple had fallen in love soon after. Alfred still loved his wife out of habit and with a sense of responsibility. He loved Rosemary with a modicum of passion, but the stress of the two relationships prevented him from gaining much happiness from either.
His mistress did not fare much better. Her father had bequeathed her a fortune, so she had more than enough money to allow Alfred to modernise the kitchen and dining room, and to lure a top chef to work in his restaurant. However, she believed she glued her love to her side by paying only enough to maintain the status quo.
Rosemary was well aware of the stress she added to Alfred’s life but she did not believe ending their affair would help him. Should she stop funding the restaurant Alfred would go out of business and his wife would probably leave him. However, Alfred was an honourable man in many respects and might not continue an affair with the person responsible for rending his family. He would never leave his wife and boys; “I’m sorry, but they need me,” he often said.
Each night, before Rosemary surrendered to sleep, she fantasized about Emily and the boys dying in an automobile accident or at the hands of drug dealers taking revenge against the boys for cheating them out of money. Morpheus took her into his arms as the emotionally wounded Alfred moved into her home to submit himself to her tender ministrations.
One night, it occurred to her she had the money to accelerate the demise of Alfred’s clinging brood. She physically shuddered at the thought; believing she could never be involved in such a terrible crime. In any case, how would she go about hiring an assassin? She had read more than once in the newspapers of men and women who inadvertently hired an undercover police officer to murder their spouses.
Life was so frustrating! She loved Alfred and wanted him for her own, but he was unavailable, except on a part-time basis. If she ended their relationship, what would she do? She was too old for the bar circuit and the idea of finding someone via the Internet was far too frightening. She worried that strangers would only want to separate her from her money. Besides, how would she explain a new man to the few friends who had believed for some time that Alfred was exclusively hers? No, she did not want to give up a man on whom she had spent so much time and money. The nightmare that some scheming female might lure an unattached Alfred to her bed infuriated Rosemary. On the days when such thoughts arose, she allowed her mind to conjure up scenarios wherein an anonymous agent murdered Emily and her boys.
.o0O0o.
The day came when Rosemary decided she had to become proactive. Alfred told her that his next-door neighbour, a police officer, had advised him his sons no longer sold the odd pill to their mates but had graduated to the level of serious drug dealers. Emily blamed Alfred for the situation and demanded the family go away for a month, during which time they would attempt to convince their sons to veer away from a criminal life. Would Rosemary lend him twenty thousand dollars to finance the vacation?
“You’ve certainly got some front; asking your mistress to finance a vacation for you and your wife,” she told him scathingly. “Tell me, did it occur to you that I might say no?” It took Rosemary a lot of willpower not to slap the man, but she clenched her jaw and wrote him a cheque.
That night, her fantasy changed to plans of action. She decided to spare the boys after having spent twenty thousand dollars to help rehabilitate them, but Emily had to go. Once Alfred’s wife was out of the way, she envisioned taking his boys into her home and giving them the care and guidance they obviously lacked. Her love and her money would change them into fine, upstanding young men.
.o0O0o.
The Simpsons' absence meant hiring two temporary waiters. Rosemary had to be in the restaurant all day, every day to oversee its operation and she quickly learned about aspects of the business other than accounting. She also developed relationships with staff with whom she had previously had only a nodding acquaintance. When the meat-delivery driver saw Rosemary, he decided he wanted her. Rosemary shuddered at the thought of the man’s hairy, raw-skinned, meaty arms clasping her to his bloodstained chest, but she had the sense to know he might be useful and suppressed her revulsion.
When
“That’s Jack Robinson. ‘E’s known by that name ‘cause ‘e can be in and out of an ‘ouse in the wink of an eye, bringin’ the jewellery out with ‘im, of course.” Twenty minutes later, he pointed to another man. “’E’s the local enforcer for a loan shark. ‘E’s the best reason I know for never borrowin’ money. Bashful Bob, they call ‘im.”
Rosemary wanted desperately to leave the pub, but she stayed with
“That’s Billy Bones,”
Rosemary took a deep mental breath and dropped caution to the floor. “Do you know him well enough to introduce me?” she asked
The man turned and pointedly looked into her eyes. “You ‘ave a need of ‘im, do ya?”
She forced a casual laugh. “No, of course not…at least not in the way you’re thinking. My nephew’s writing a murder mystery and he said the other night he was having a hard time putting himself in the shoes of a killer. I thought he might want to have a talk with Mr Bones, that’s all.”
“Don’t ya think that’s a stupid excuse for wantin’ to talk to the likes of ‘im?”
“Perhaps, but I find the idea of talking to such a man very thrilling.” She gave
Before making the introduction,
Billy Bones seemed amused by Rosemary’s request. “I am serious,” she told him. “You’ll realise that when I give you the ten thousand dollars in cash tomorrow.”
“Relax, lady. You’re not the first well-heeled suburbanite to ask me to act on their behalf. I’m an honest man and I’ll do for your Emily Simpson as soon as you tell me she’s back from her holidays. Nice doing business with you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to see a man about a dog.”
.o0O0o.
The hired assassin phoned the restaurant three days later. “We need to talk,” he told Rosemary. “Can you get off for a couple of hours?”
When they were in Rosemary’s home, Billy asked her to make a pot of tea. Once the tea-tray was on the table and the pair had taken up positions at opposite ends of the settee, he told her the reason for the meeting.
“It seems we have a conflict of interests.” Rosemary did not know what he meant but she was nervous and opened her mouth to speak. Billy smiled and motioned with his hands to indicate she should remain silent.
“My brother does a little pharmaceutical business with a couple of likely lads called Simpson, and when he and I were talking last night over dinner, we realised your intended victim is their mother. Apparently Timothy - he’s the eldest of the two - and my niece, Angeline are making wedding plans. Now, my brother doesn’t want his one and only daughter marrying some street dope-dealer and he has promised to give them the money to turn the restaurant around. Tim and Angie are gonna learn the business properly. As I understand it, they’re each gonna attend some courses on restaurant management and what-have-you. You probably have a better idea about that than me.”
Billy refilled their teacups and helped himself to a shortbread biscuit while Rosemary shakily attended to the milk and sugar. “That’s why the boys agreed to go away with their parents - so they can tell them how their lives are going to change for the better.”
“What about Roger?” Rosemary’s voice cracked and she coughed to clear her throat.
“Oh, he’s going on the same courses and, after a while, he’ll be given the money to open up a second restaurant. We have a few friends who’ll pay him well to launder their illegitimate incomes through the business. He’ll do all right.”
He took another biscuit. “Umm, these are good. What brand are they?”
The question surprised Rosemary. “I’m not sure, er, some Scottish name, I think. Mac something or other. I can go to the kitchen to get the packet if you like.”
“No, it doesn’t matter. As I was explaining, the Simpsons are part of our family now and I can’t be putting out the mother’s lights.” Billy put his hand in his pocket and produced an envelope. “Here’s the ten grand you gave me. The deal’s off.” Rosemary turned her hand over and uncurled her fingers but she did not reach for the envelope, unsure if she should take the money from the mobster. “Here, take it, it’s yours. I told you I’m an honest man.” Rosemary reached out her shaking hand and slowly retrieved her cash.
“The problem is that all this leads to another matter. You have been the boys’ father’s mistress for quite some time and, as I understand it, have been ploughing money into the restaurant to keep it afloat. I’m sure you can see how all that has to stop. Ordinarily, we would leave matters at that, but your hiring me to kill the mother is a complication we can’t ignore. For all we know, you could go out and hire someone else to do your bidding in an effort to maintain your relationship with the father. I trust you can see we can’t be having that.”
Billy smiled disarmingly and reached behind his back. The smile was still on his face when he produced a handgun. “Funny how death turns out, isn’t it.”