Chapter IV: Suicide is... Painful

NOTE!!!!! This is the FOURTH part of a book I am Writing!!!

      Alright, the next victim…  Aha, here we are!  East Harmon, Waldo, Maine.  Date; November sixteenth, 2006.  Time; ten-thirty A.M.  Here, read the profile.  You need to start getting used to learning the backgrounds and the recent happenings in the lives of your assignments.

      Two days ago, Hank “Jive-it-up” Lawler, was the most successful business mogul in the Indianapolis music industry; he was worth millions, no, billions of dollars, and he was only thirty years old.  He was well liked and a proper gentleman to everyone he met.

      Yesterday, he lost it all to a young woman who called herself Gina.  She was a beautiful girl who had tried to kill him.  He had managed to escape and called the cops, but by the time they had gotten to his home, his safe had been cracked and emptied entirely.  He had lost everything, and went to his broker to try to sell some stocks so he could get some cash to line his pockets.  The broker, a balding man in his mid-fifties, had peered up at him through his ultra-thick glasses and told him that, unfortunately, his stocks had been sold about an hour prior to his arrival.

      Stunned, Hank trudged home and called his lawyer, convinced that his broker had conned him for every cent he had invested.  Upon recounting the thought to her, she agreed to come with him to confront the elderly man and told him to meet her in the lobby of the skyscraper where his broker’s office was located at ten o’clock sharp the next morning.

      Hank lay in bed, restless with the insomnia-inducing thought that he might possibly end up on the streets living in a refrigerator delivery box, drinking himself to death and eating out of dumpsters and trashcans.  He stared at the ceiling and then to his girlfriend’s picture on his nightstand; she had been stationed in Iraq after September eleventh and was now laying six-feet underground in the Crown Hill Cemetery " killed in an ambush outside of Baghdad, " just a few blocks from his lawyer’s office.

      The next morning, Hank was in the lobby of the thirty-three story Johnson and Sons, Stockbrokers and Accountants, skyscraper with five minutes to spare.  He paced the floor, sweating profusely as he awaited young Jill Carpenter, Attorney at Law.  She walked in at exactly ten o’clock, nodded when she caught his eye, and strode over to him with a small spring in her step.  She carried a briefcase in one hand and wore an engagement ring on the other, and she was 8 months pregnant.  Her steel grey eyes pierced his very soul and intimidated him even though he knew that the look in her eyes was one of remorse and not hatred.

      They stepped into the elevator, rode it to the thirty-second floor, and stormed the broker’s office.  Jill immediately demanded that the older man explain what was going on with the investments and the wide-eyed man managed to stammer out that a young woman had come in the previous day.  She stated she was a government agent, and that Mr. Lawler was being charged with tax evasion; she had been ordered to sell all of his stocks and to bring the dirty money to the agency to pay off his debts, since he had not yet called to turn himself in.  Not wanting to argue with the United States Government, he had done as she asked and gave her the equivalent in cash.  She left without another sound.  Then, an hour later, Mr. Lawler had come in trying to sell the stocks.

      The color drained from Hank’s face and he started to shake, wringing his hands and tears leaking out of his face.  Seeing how hysterical her client was becoming, Jill motioned for the balding broker to step out with her.  However, once they were out in the hall, Hank climbed out the open office window and onto the narrow ledge outside.  His vision was so blurred with tears, that he could barely see the world around him.  Not as if it would matter, it would all be over for him soon.

      He stood with his toes hanging over the edge of the outcropping and took a deep breath, praying for his death to be quick so he could be with Kayla once more and that he could be forgiven for what he was about to do.  He steadied himself with an arm and pushed off, plummeting to the sidewalk below him at thirty-two feet per second squared.

      Unbeknownst to Hank, his lawyer and broker had opened the door and watched him jump.  However, neither had tried to stop him, and as soon as he fell out of view, they both ran to the window and watched as his flailing form struck the concrete three hundred and twenty-odd feet below them.  And when they heard the sickening crack of his bones snapping and the screams of the citizens below them, they burst out laughing!

      Jill squealed with delight and wrapped her father in a tight embrace.  He broke free of her grasp and danced a jig before kissing his daughter on the cheek.  She just could not believe that Hank had believed that bullshit story!  She had stolen the money right out from under his nose and gotten away with it!  The two murderers quickly left the building through the back door and escaped through the alley behind the building.  However, because they left the way they did, they did not see that they had also killed an innocent woman.

      Hank had landed on her before he hit the sidewalk, crushing her body like a toothpick.  When the paramedics arrived, they loaded the two up into an ambulance and were about to drive away when one of them picked up the dead woman’s purse and pulled out an Identification Card.  The small laminated plaque read as follows;

License to Carry a Concealed Weapon

Type of Weapon: .38 Special, with Silencer

Name: Smith, Jasmine Lorelei

Groton, Connecticut

D.o.B: September 20, 1980

      Over the course of the following couple of weeks, the local newspapers released these headlines as Hank Lawler’s suicide was investigated by New York City’s finest police and their top detectives;

“LOCAL BROKER AND LAWYER RESIGN UNDER SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES”

“HANK ‘JIVE-IT-UP’ LAWLER JUMPS FROM OFFICE BUILDING, DIES ON IMPACT”

“WOMAN FOUND DEAD AT SCENE OF SUICIDE DISCOVERED TO BE ‘THE LOVER’”

      Jill Carpenter and her father, Robert, boarded a train that very afternoon.  They were headed Westbound and planned to start everything over with early retirements for them both, Hank’s money stashed in his suitcase.  Suddenly, the train stopped at the next station and Jill got off, without her father, and entered a black sedan, throwing her father’s luggage in before closing the doors.  The plate-less vehicle sped off and something shiny flew out the back window, followed by a trickle of a female’s maniacal laughter.

      Now, is that not a tragic tale, my beloved apprentice?  I say we should go take a look at what our littering lawyer tossed out her window, should we not?  …  Well, will you look at that, a switchblade covered in blood!  If I’m right, and I almost always am, I think she just murdered her father in cold blood, do you not?  Actually, I know she murdered her father.  I’m the f*****g Grim Reaper!  I better f*****g know this should I not?!

      …

      Do not worry; I’ll make sure she meets her own end in a bloody, gruesome fashion…  Shall we move on?

Author's Note

Alright, I'm going to give it to you straight: be harsh, be blunt, but be specific about what you liked and disliked. I will consider all suggestions, and if you find there is anything that should be rewritten or replaced or deleted, tell me using P.S (paragraph #. Sentence # of said paragraph) format, and I will be sure to take your ideas into account!

Reviews

[Daenerys]

I loved this story. It was so twisted. Amazing my friend. I shall read more! :)

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the story and the people in this chapter. I like the way you are giving description of people and their life. No weakness in this outstanding chapter.
Coyote