"He should be here soon", Deborah thought, "and everything must be ready." Deborah got off her office clothes and slid into a hot, quick shower. As she hopped off the water and dried herself she checked the time: 6:15 p.m.. She had to be ready quickly. Christian was known to be punctual to his meetings. She took a sweat suit from one of her drawers and dressed up. Nothing fancy, just practical, quite appropriate for a nightly walk on the beach.
Deborah checked the time once more as she finished packing her bag. She wasn't taking much luggage, just the bare necessities. She expected to live quite well from that moment on, so she shouldn't have much difficulty in replacing all the things she had to leave behind.
Deborah got her purse and took a chrome plated automatic pistol, clearly a classy gun, built for a lady. She made sure it was loaded and hid it under her sweater. As she zipped up the travel bag she looked around once more. There was nothing she seemed to forget. All that remained was one last task and she was ready to leave.
"No, something’s missing…" she smiled. "Something essential." Then Deborah bent over the pile of clothes she had just undressed and searched through it until she found one of her stockings. She wrinkled her nose: it emanated a strong smell after a full working day inside her leather pumps. "Yes, it would do", she thought. It would create the effect she desired. Deborah folded it inside out and placed it in one of her pockets.
The door bell rang. Someone was at the door. "Right on time", Deborah thought. She walked to the front door and opened it. It was Christian, of course. Dressed in a fashionable business suit, square pointed shoes and italian silk tie. Deborah smiled. He had such a nice figure. What a waste.
- Hello, Mr. Rothstein. Straight from the office, I see.
- Straight from the court, Mrs. Solomon. I had an audience today.
- It figures. Those do not seem the appropriate attires to bring to Lighthouse Island. This is a all year summer place. Come on in.
- Thank you. You called me in such a hurry I hadn't the time to chance into something more comfortable.
Christian Rothstein entered the lobby and followed Deborah to the living room. He always had admired Deborah's house, its space and its decor. He made a mental note about buying it after her case was closed.
- You brought your car?
- No, I would lost the last ferry. I preferred to drive my new motor boat instead. -he said as he took off his fine jacket.
- Hmmm, nice! Then I can serve you a drink.
- Bourbon, please.
**
Deborah looked out to the calm beach in front of them. They were sitting on the porch, having their drinks while talking business.
- Tell me about my case's progress.
Christian took a long sip at his drink, taking a moment before answering her:
- Not good, Debbie. The district attorney is surely getting new evidences from the FBI about the disappearance of your late husband's millions.
- But can they pin it on me?
- I don't think so. - he said without hesitating. - But I can't promise you I can take their suspicions elsewhere without raising some eyebrows.
- So, you are saying I don't have a chance of getting out clean from it? Is that it?
- Well, frankly, the only way that occurs to me is to 'mysteriously' produce the money in a 'mysteriously' forgotten account. Or under a mattress, for what matters. Only giving it up could calm down the feds, the stockholders and ease the pressure on us.
- On us? On me, you mean. I'm the one looking at a grey walled cell for the rest of my life if the shit hits the fan.
The lawyer finished his glass of bourbon and squarely looked at her client:
- No, Debbie. If the money is found in your hands, Mr. Solomon's demise will surely be investigated. If that happens, you won't be staring at grey walls for a long extent of time. You'll be having a pointy needle cocktail in a very short period.
Deborah took a deep breath. Christian didn't have to tell her that, she knew it from the beginning. And now it made her intentions even more firm. She placed her empty glass on the porch's board floor and stood up:
- Walk a bit with me, Christian.
- Sure.
Deborah stepped into the sand as Christian took off his expensive shoes and socks and followed her with his hands in his pockets. They walked on along the beach as the sun sat and the seagull cries echoed in the distance.
***
They carried on until the south end of the island, where the lonely lighthouse stood, flashing it’s stream of light cyclically. Apart from it, only the darkening sky, the weed spotted dunes and the dark waves were visible. The sun had sat minutes ago, but the air was still warm as well as the wind.
Deborah stopped to contemplate the view from the top of a sand dune. Christian stood by her side, wondering what her thoughts were. He was about to ask when she broke the silence:
- You know, I’m really going to miss all this: the breeze in my hair… the warm sand beneath my feet…
- Don’t say that, Deborah! – protested Christian – You speak like you had already gone to prison! The trial is far from lost, you know!?
- You think so? – she turned to him inquisitively.
- Of course I do!
- Oh, well… - she casually looked down at the sand – I was under the impression it was a lost case, anyway… since you snitched on me to the feds…
Christian’s smile froze. For a moment he was appalled by her words, blocking all his ability to react. And before he could, Deborah raised her eyes to him, no longer a pair of friendly eyes, and drew the automatic pistol from under her sweater.
- I’m not thinking of going to prison, Christian. I’ll leave alright, but to another country and without leaving a trace, you see? – she pointed the pistol at him – Don’t move!
Deborah kicked Christian's leg in the back of the knee, making him kneel, and then she planted her right foot on his back and forced him down. Christian could only moan to the shock and pain he felt as he was quickly subdued by his former employer. Deborah then leaned forward and pulled his arms behind his back with unsuspected strength. Christian tried to resist her:
- No, Debbie, please don't...
Deborah pressed the barrel of the gun to the back of Christian's head and said:
- Don't you make me finish you off right now!!! Believe me, you better let me have my way with it or you'll suffer a lot more than you have to!
As she was saying this, she pulled Christian's expensive leather belt off his trousers and strapped his wrists together with it. Then she loosened his silk tie, slid it out of is neck and tied his ankles with its slipknot. When he was securely tied, Deborah laughed and kicked him, toppling him off the dune, sending him rolling down its side, until he rested at the bottom of it. She slowly walked to the spot where the lawyer had landed and as he tried to get on his knees, spitting sand, she stood by his side.
- Why... why are you doing this...
- Stop it, Christian! You won't fool me anymore! I know from good source it was you who did it. - Deborah smiled viciously - Fifty thousand dollars open a lot of mouths, and all I needed was one to do so.
Christian sighed deeply and bowed down, sobbing pathetically:
- Please, forgive me, Deborah…
- Are you a Christian, Christian?
- N-no, I-I’m not… Not even religious…
- That’s a shame. – she scorned – I am of the opinion that a man about to die should at least count on his maker’s forgiveness…
Deborah looked around. Weed, bushes and twisted trees surrounded the bottom of the dune. This was the perfect spot. She put her hand in her pocket and took the folded stocking out.
- Open wide, Christian. – said Deborah, presenting the used stocking to the subdued man.
- But… Why!? I-I won’t scream!
- You know better than that, Christian. You’re a snitch. You’re about to die as one, with your mouth full of someone else’s filth. - she grimly smiled - This is meant to be a warning for others…
Christian understood. He opened his mouth, letting Deborah gag him with her used stocking. As she shoved it into his mouth, he could savour and smell the salty fragrance of her sweat in it. And he knew this was the degrading sign that this once proud businessman was about to pay for squealing on his employer.
Deborah stood behind the knelt down, sobbing wretch Christian had turn to. She raised her chrome plated pistol and levelled it to the back of his head. She pulled the hammer back, sending shivers through Christian's back as he heard its metallic noise. This was it. All she had to do was to squeeze the trigger, get her bag, hop on Christian's freshly bought boat and disappear into the nearby mexican coast. New name, new documents, new money, new life. And though everyone would know she had done it all, no one would lay a hand on her. What a feeling of power!
Deborah squeezed the trigger. The bullet went through Christian's head and buried itself in the sand, a couple of feet away. He bucked and fell forward, face on the ground. Deborah aimed at his head again and fired once more, for good measure. The shooting had awaken dozens of sleepy seagulls that flew over the dunes, passing over her. She reloaded the empty chambers and walked away from that place.
Deborah took a slow walk across the beach, gingerly wetting her feet. She still had time before taking her things to Christian's boat and heading for Mexico. There were sufficient lights along the coast to guide her safely during the night until next dawn. Besides, she had the whole weekend to get a healthy distance between herself and the federal agents.
Deborah giggled. She imagined the delicious looks on her pursuers faces when they'd find their yellow informant there, laid face down on the bottom of the dune, with two bullets in his brain and her smelly stocking in his mouth! What a laugh!