When in doubt
Henry sighed, reveling in being alone in the flat at last. Pouring himself a glass of whisky, he thought: Was this really the right thing to do? His plan – his elaborate plan – all hinged on him being able to kill. Not just anyone, not just strangers, but his friends, his family and his lover. That's what Trish was to him – his lover, nothing more, nothing less. His life, in a way – his everyday joy. And a pain in the ass, truly in his way to achieve his goal.
Tallying his status quo, he listed his arguments against the plan.
1. Even he couldn't be that good a liar. No, that would be impossible – someone would notice. Trish should notice.
2. His father was likely to run amok, killing her. Then all would be for naught.
3. Something would go wrong – with so many loose ends, something was bound to go to hell. Hey – the very being of Jimmy Mance was a factor that might tip the scales in a crucial moment!
He could take of numbers two and three easily enough. But number one – could he really face a week of «celebration», not to mention the preparations? To answer all Trish's joy, questions and love with a liar's tongue? More lies than he'd ever given her, much more. Before, he'd never loved her, but simply enjoyed her. That was close enough to real love to fake it gloriously. Now, he planned to kill her, and that was something entirely different. He wasn't even sure he could make love to her anymore, and without that, she'd be suspicious within a week. There was no way he could pull it off, he was completely sure. What to do? How could he go through it all without falling mercilessly through? He'd be exposed as a a wannabe-killer in a matter of days. No conviction, that was his problem.
Swilling his glass before emptying it, he smiled to himself. Oh yes, when in doubt, call Abby.