Brenda Novak - The Perfect Murder

A noise from the street caused him to pause in the open doorway. What was that? He cocked his head to listen. He would’ve thought it was Marcie, screaming for help from inside his van, but he’d parked it three blocks away. And he’d gagged her to keep her quiet.

Several seconds passed and there was only silence. Satisfied that what he’d heard had been a neighbor’s dog, a car backfiring on J Street half a block over, or some other irrelevant noise, he dropped the lock-picking tools he’d just used in their felt pouch and returned them to his coat pocket. Then he adjusted his surgical gloves and closed the door. He’d chosen to enter through the front because that was the way he’d always hoped to come over, as a guest at first-and then, eventually, the owner, the patriarch of the family, Mary’s husband. He’d also chosen the front because it was the boldest approach, and he was making a statement here: Sebastian would never get the best of him.

The plastic bags he’d used to cover his shoes swished as he walked across the living room, but he wasn’t worried about a little creak or rustle. This was an old home, the kind of place that made a lot of settling noises. Midtown wasn’t the best neighborhood for kids, but the area had undergone a revival since downtown Sacramento had become a place to live as well as work. He could understand why Mary had kept the house after she and her husband split. It was small, but with its plaster walls, hardwood floors, arched doorway connecting the living room to the dining room, and steps that led from the dining room to a study alcove, all of which he’d seen many times through the window, the house possessed a cozy sort of Norman Rockwell charm. And it was practical. She worked at Sutter Hospital, only a few blocks away.

Tonight, it was too dark to see the details. A sliver of moon hung in the sky outside, but fog blocked even that. Afraid he’d betray his presence by bumping into the furniture or breaking something fragile, he turned on the flashlight he’d brought and angled it around the room.

This was a nice place, all right, certainly nicer than the dumps he’d lived in after blowing most of Emily’s money.

“We could’ve shared this,” he muttered. “But you traded it all away.”

Was it because he’d been unfaithful to her when they were in high school? If so, what a hard-hearted bitch. He wouldn’t want to get with anyone who could hold a grudge for that long, anyway. He’d already explained to her. He’d been a dumb kid, thinking with his dick instead of his brain, just like he’d said. And he’d paid the price for it, hadn’t he? Although he and Mary had tried to get back together a few times afterward, things were never as good as before. Otherwise, they might’ve gone to the same college, as they’d once planned. And they might’ve gotten married. Then he wouldn’t have married his first wife, who’d turned out to be the biggest shrew he’d ever met, always complaining about her emotional needs and how they weren’t being met. That hadn’t lasted long. He’d gotten out as soon as possible.

Spotting a family picture, Malcolm crossed to the buffet to take a better look. There was Mary with a tall dark man and her two boys. Her chestnut-colored hair was pulled back and she was smiling the same broad smile he remembered from high school. He loved her gorgeous smile. She really hadn’t changed much. She still had the same clear skin, the big brown eyes, the upturned nose.

“How could you be so cruel?” he asked as he gazed down at her.

Had Sebastian purposely ingratiated himself? For some reason, women couldn’t seem to resist Emily’s ex. They didn’t see how autocratic and overbearing he was. They didn’t see the way he constantly challenged those around him.

He’d probably shown up here, talking slick and flashing his money. Mary was certainly the type to be impressed by some big spender from New York City. She’d told him how cheap her ex-husband was.

Snapping off the flashlight, Malcolm moved toward the back of the house. Now that he’d familiarized himself with the obstacles he might encounter, there was no need to press his luck by using the flashlight. But before he killed Mary, he wanted to see her boys, to look down at them in their beds as he might’ve done had he become their stepfather. He couldn’t believe that while he’d been planning to become a good companion to her, she’d been trying to trick him-but it was right there, in almost every e-mail. She’d pressed him for his location, pretended she was still in love, even used his desire for her against him.

She’d made a fool of him, and nothing infuriated him more.

Judging by the number of doors branching off the hallway, there were two bedrooms and one bath in the house. A radio or a TV had been left on. He could hear the low rumble as he drew closer to the end of the hall. It helped to mask the creak of his footsteps.

The first bedroom wasn’t the one with the TV. That room belonged to the boys. Even if a night-light hadn’t revealed the children sleeping in twin beds that took up most of the space, Malcolm would’ve known it wasn’t Mary’s by the smell. Stale sweat from the sports jerseys, clothes, tennis shoes and cleats scattered on the floor competed with male cologne. The combination wasn’t a stench so much as it was a distinctive, familiar odor. It reminded him of Colton. His room had smelled the same way-of boy.

Why had he even considered taking on the responsibility of raising two more kids. Stepparenting was a thankless job. Colton had hated him almost as much as Sebastian had. They constantly united against him. Even Emily had taken their side more often than not.

But he’d dealt with her. He’d deal with Mary, too. And then Sebastian. Heck, he had several hours until dawn. Why not kill the whole family? That would make her regret what she’d done, wouldn’t it? That would hurt her as much as she’d hurt him. And then Sebastian would die knowing that his meddling had caused the loss of three lives, two of them children.

The older boy somehow had most of the younger boy’s blankets. He was using two comforters while his brother was uncovered and curled into a ball to ward off the cold. Typical, Malcolm thought as he stood over the bed. The younger brother never had a chance. That was how it’d been in his family, too. Jack had taken more than his share of everything, especially their parents’ love and attention.

Malcolm blew out a sigh. Mary cared more about these boys than she did about anyone or anything else. Should he march them into her room and kill them in front of her?

It’d be easier if he had his gun, he decided. Quick. Lethal. One shot and it would all be over, just like with Emily and Colton.

But he couldn’t use a gun. It was too loud and the ballistics tests would reveal too much. He had to use a knife. Did he have the nerve to murder two children he’d never even met, especially with a knife? The rage he felt certainly tempted him. Malcolm responded. He wants to know what’s in the package, but he didn’t leave an address. I’ll reply, see if I can get it out of him… She’d taken away the one positive aspect of his life, the one thing that had kept him going over the past few months since the money ran out. After being fired from yet another job as a security guard for a large commercial complex in downtown Los Angeles, he’d come to Sacramento to start over-again. Mary had been his promise that this time he’d finally build a new life, just as he’d planned ever since leaving Jersey.

But she’d ruined it for him. Sacramento wouldn’t be the answer. He’d have to move elsewhere, try to get on with another crappy security company, assume another alias-but not until he’d finished his business here. Not until he’d put an end to Mary and Sebastian and knew for sure that there was no one left-other than Pam Wartle-who had any idea he was alive. Only then could he truly forget the past. Only then could he really move on.