Crime Fiction

This story contains themes or mentions of substance abuse.

This bar is seedy and disgusting. Not the kind of place I like to frequent. But I needed somewhere off the radar. A place where no one pays attention to you or remembers a face or name.

Even the bar's name, ‘Hot Bird’, bespoke the kind of venue it was. I had sussed out the joint earlier and knew it was perfect for what I needed tonight.

I am a closet artisan so one of the things I love the most about my job is the opportunity to transform my appearance. My current persona calls for a chic peroxide blonde bob, green contacts, long false eyelashes, thigh-high suede stiletto boots, and a tight-fitting little black dress. A Triple Boost Ultimate Cleavage bra that promises to increase the bust by up to three cup sizes and my Giorgio Armani Beauty Rouge lipstick complete the outfit.

I arrive a few minutes after midnight. Strategically late for my sordid tryst. I always love to keep them waiting, it makes my arrival so much more theatrical. Especially in this case when I can see John at the far corner table. He already has five empty glasses in front of him and one on the go. I strut over to him, and his eyes nearly pop out of his head, ogling me as if I’m dinner. Think he might even be drooling. Looks like I chose the right outfit for tonight’s assignment.

He sways as he tries to stand, I make it easier for him and lean inwards. He slurs loudly in my ear. “Candy Cane.” I nod and slide into the booth with him.

He places his large, hairy hand on my thigh and attempts to kiss me. Pushing him away and batting my eyelids like an insipid barbie doll, I giggle. “You need to buy me a drink first darling, I’ll have a Long Island Iced Tea, actually make that two,” I simper at him, winking suggestively.

He makes his way clumsily towards the bar. As soon as he’s out of sight, I locate the tiny vial in my purse. Getting the minute dropper out I do a quick scan to make sure no one is around. One drop is all I need, any more than that could kill him. 

By the time he returns I’m ready.

“Babe let’s take our drinks outside to the courtyard. It's private out there and I want you all to myself,” I purred, licking my lips suggestively.

Outside it’s spookily quiet, there’s not a soul in sight. I lead John over to the softly lit couch where plush cushions are scattered haphazardly. Placing my drinks on the small glass table I sit gingerly in the far corner. I try not to think of what some of the stains might be from.

John sits near me, and his stale breath nearly makes me gag. I place one hand on his thigh as I reach for his drink. “Here babe, drink this first, then we can get to business.” I start to inch my hand higher up his pants winking and licking my lips.

I watch as he gulps his drink down with gusto, his eyes slit and hooded with lust.

Two minutes later John slumps on my shoulder.

He’s out cold.

I tap my watch to send the message.

Placing his head strategically in my cleavage and his arms around me I wait for the reporter.

He’s here now, snapping the incriminating shots. Photos complete, he leaves as quickly as he arrived.

Grabbing an antiseptic wipe out of my purse, I clean any surface I’ve touched. I use a special spray that destroys DNA in any place I’ve touched John. I take his glass with me, that way there’s no way anyone can find remnants of the drug I used.

Wrapping it in the antiseptic wipe I place it delicately into my purse.

Draping John over the cushions on the couch makes it look like he's having a nice snooze. This drug is amazing, he should wake up in about 2 hours with a headache and no idea what’s happened to him.

Leaving quietly through the side entrance that the reporter used earlier, I check if no one's around. Darting across the road, I duck through a dusky alley and jump into my silver Sports Subaru. As I speed home, music blaring, the adrenaline pumps through my veins. What a buzz.

This is the part I love the most about my job. Tomorrow Senator John Spilling will be splashed all over the New York Times.

His political career will be shredded and his marriage in tatters. His sweet, naive wife will not put up with his public indiscretion. Part of my background research was on Lady Penelope Spilling. She might project a cool, refined manor in public, but behind that smile is a possessive, jealous streak.

All of it lies, Senator Spilling is truly evil. He has side deals going with the Mob that has our streets laced with drugs. So many young people have lost their lives due to the abundance of Ice and Speed available to them. Senator Spilling has been using drugs as a platform for his political campaign. Waffling on about how he was going to rid our streets of the drug barons, runners, and dealers.

Meanwhile, he was in cahoots with the biggest and most dangerous organization in the city of New York. Letting them run their business without any interference from law enforcement officers. And for this, he was getting large donations to his political election campaign fund. This ‘black money’ is tax-free and a way for the Mob to money launder. Win-win for them and the corrupt and disgusting Senator.

Obviously, I was not the high-class tart he thought he was meeting tonight. One should never underestimate a pretty face. I was now $10,000 richer, thank you very much indeed. But I didn’t do it for the money.

My social conscience stems from being raised by a single mother. My dad left when I was about five, I don’t remember much about him, except him being an angry, abusive drunk. We lived on the poorer side of town, in a housing estate. Growing up I lost many a friend to drug overdoses or prostitution. I saw young guys shot for getting on the wrong side of drug dealers or barons. And witnessed many homeless people spending the night in sleeping bags in Time Square; having to rely on the kindness of strangers to donate clothing, bedding, food, or money to help them survive.

The world was a rotten place at times, and I had seen far too much of it. I decided to join the Police Force hoping I could make a difference.

During my second year of working for the NYPD, I was offered this job. It required six months of specialist training and was a top-secret division. The pre-requisites were a high IQ, a high level of fitness, and dare I say it, hotness. Luckily for me, I ticked the boxes on all three.

Now I’m helping rid New York City of some of the most corrupt and evil men. So far, I’ve taken four down, well five, if you count John. This is only my first year on the job. A lot of research is required for each target. Working out their weaknesses, and the kind of lady that would attract them to stray. Each time I take a target down I receive a bonus payment, on top of my normal salary.

The extra money I make is donated to homeless shelters and residential inpatient treatment centers. It’s not much, but I like to think it might make a difference. 

Time to start research for target number six.

Opening the dossier, a prominent movie star stared back at me. Captured in a photo with his gorgeous model wife, and two young children.  

This could be interesting…

July 31, 2022 00:57

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