Rating: PG-13 for implied sex and a little bit obvious violence
Summary: Samantha Bevins's murder from her point of view. Last chapter (eg., we get to the murder.)
Disclaimer: See chapter one.
*******Chapter 3*******
I went out shopping the next morning. Just as I'd predicted, I kept catching glimpses of my husband trying to sneak along behind me. I stayed out all morning, just to taunt him.
At about 10:30, I called my best friend to pick me up. Now, normally, I'd prefer walking to her driving, especially since I needed my husband following me, but not that far, in that part of town, in the pitch dark with my lousy night vision. It's actually illegal for me to drive at night, my night vision's so bad.
Anyway, a few minutes after I called her, my friend rang the doorbell, and I went outside to meet her. As I went out, I saw my husband pop up from the bushes and back out of the corner of my eye. My friend obviously saw him too, because she put a hand over her mouth to stop herself giggling.
"So," she said loudly when she'd regained control of herself, "I take it you want to go to the same place as before?! That Shan-what's it place?"
"The Shangri-La, yeah," I said, taking care to do so very clearly and loudly.
"Come on, then!"
That woman's manic driving is twice as bad in the dark.
We managed to arrive in one piece and without the cruiser getting wrapped around something. Just how we managed that is something that I'm never going to be able to figure out.
After reassuring myself that yes, I was actually still alive, I checked in (same room again) and dialled the mecha's pager.
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When we came back out to the lobby, I saw my husband's back hurriedly leaving the hotel. I smiled to myself. He was following the script perfectly so far.
The mecha must have noticed my smile. "I presume it was your husband who just exited in such haste?"
"Yeah. Obviously been pumping that desk-clerk."
The mecha made a noise of assent.
I called my best friend to take me home again. My husband waited another fifteen minutes after I got in before coming in himself. He looked like he was trying hard not to look upset.
"Anything the matter?" I asked.
He half-jumped. "Oh...no, no not really," he said unconvincingly. "Er...had a good day?"
"Went shopping this morning. Had a wonderful evening."
"Why, what happened?" he asked quickly.
"Oh, nothing really." I pretended to think. "My best friend came over for a bit."
"Ah. Um...Samantha, um..."
"Yes?"
"Well, um, I was just wondering, well could you tell me..."
Come on, I thought, say it. Say 'I've caught you sneaking around with someone'.
"Could you tell me, well..."
"Yes?"
"Tell why, why....Never mind," he finished miserably.
"Okay." Wimp.
"Goodnight, Samantha."
"G'night."
He turned and shuffled off up the stairs. I was obviously going to have to get him even more jealous before he found the guts to say anything. I wanted him right back where he belonged - eating out of my hand. So it had to be him who said something first, or it wouldn't work, and so long as he was pretending he didn't care, nothing was going to happen.
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The next two days were almost exactly the same as the first - I'd spend the day being followed by my husband, in the evening I'd get my best friend to take me over to the Shangri-La hotel where my husband would follow me and pump the desk-clerk, I'd come home, and then he'd come in shortly after.
The first of those two nights he tried to question me again, giving up even sooner than the night before. The second night, he just went straight up to bed without even looking at me. My plan was beginning to work.
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The next day, I went out to the movies with some friends. I didn't see my husband anywhere, which struck me as odd since he's not any good at sneaking around - I always spotted him tagging along after me somewhere. Oh well. Maybe I was just being too predictable, and he figured he knew when I would go meet the mecha.
When I got out of the cinema, it had gotten completely dark. My best friend was among the group I'd gone to the movie with, and as she hadn't left yet, I asked her if she would drive me over to the Shangri-La now.
Thank goodness the cinema was closer than my house. I didn't know how much more of her driving I could take before finally dying of fright.
When I got out of the cruiser, I thought I saw a person lurking in the shadows down this alleyway that runs along side the Shangri-La, but with my lousy night-vision, for all I know it could have been a cat or just my imagination.
I checked in (same room again), and dialled the mecha's pager when I got in. As I hung up, I heard the door bang off the wall behind me. I swung around.
My husband was coming at me with a knife.
"What are you doing?" I yelled at him.
"You killed me," he said, perfectly calmly. His eyes were complete blanks.
"Just put that down, you don't understand," I yelled at him, frantically. He didn't listen.
"Listen to me! I was just -" I stopped as the knife entered.. For a second, my shock numbed the pain. Then fire burst out where I had felt the knife bite, then slice.
And then there was darkness.
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Somewhere in the States there is a town. In that town there is a hotel. In a certain room in that hotel, a man stands, a knife clenched in his right hand.
There is a woman on the bed. The man stands looking at her. He does not make a sound. There is despair in his eyes.
There is blood on his knife.
A sound comes from the outside - the stairs creak.
The man looks up. He appears to think. He throws away his knife, then shuts the door, then hides at the other end of the room.
A few moments later, another man walks in....
******* ******* *******
A.N: Well, that's all folks! A whole chapter longer than I thought when I started out. I hope I did the murder scene reasonably well, it's a bit tricky writing it from the point of view of the person being murdered. About the weapon being a knife - as far as I know, there is no indication as to what exactly Bevins used to murder Samantha, but if you have any evidence that it wasn't a knife, tell me and if I agree with your reasoning, I'll change it.
