Chapter 5

Things go horribly wrong

 

Chapter 5

 

 

Marcus wasn’t quite sure when the idea had come to him, but once the notion had formed he found that it would not leave his head, and the more he thought about it, the more vindicated he felt.   She had such a f*****g easy life. If she could afford to live in Napier Court, maintain a BMW and dress in designer clothes; then she must have serious money. Money that she would not miss but which he needed – no deserved. Why shouldn’t he have his life back?

He had watched her persistently for several days now. The fact that she only appeared to stay in the flat around three days a week was puzzling. Marcus knew he needed to know when she was likely to be around. One thing was sure; he could not rob her during the daytime.  Not only was she was always coming and going; there was also the increased likelihood of being noticed.

However, whenever the woman (whose name he still did not know), stayed over at Napier Court, she had been out most nights for at least three hours. Marcus polished off the Jacob’s cream cracker, wiped his hand across his lips to remove any remaining crumbs and checked his watch before leaving the window ledge. It had now been ten minutes since she had left the flat. He had enough time. He had to act now or he never would.

Hopefully the time he had used up watching those police crime programmes that inadvertently gave away clues as to what not to do when committing a crime, would now prove well spent. He had already picked out a pair of old jeans, a dark top and an old pair of trainers; all of which he would not miss when they were disposed of later.

Once he had finished dressing, Marcus selected a blank video cassette, inserted it into the video and set the programmer. He picked up a pair of the kitchen gloves he normally used to clean meat, stuffed them in his pocket and left the bed-sit.

He crossed the road, steeled himself as he feigned using the intercom and slipped in through the door unnoticed as a tenant left the building. He climbed the stairs quickly, but purposefully.

As he reached the third floor, Marcus neared a door that was partly open. He could hear male voices. He cautiously moved forward to sneak a quick look and saw two decorators in white overalls with their brushes in hand painting the walls of the flat.   With two quick strides, he moved past the door and started up to the next level. He placed his foot on the wooden floor, which gave a noticeable squeak that caused him to flutter.

Marcus thought of taking a glance backward to see if he had been heard, but realising it would seem more suspicious, he boldly continued walking towards his destination, unaware that the younger of the two painters had caught a fleeting glimpse of his outline.

He turned left, walked past the first two doors and noticed that there were no lights on. Reaching into his pockets, he took out the gloves and donned them on hands that were starting to sweat. He knocked softly on the door and waited, pressing flat against the wall, out of view of any unexpected prying eyes that might look over the railings above.

He waited a short while before knocking again, this time a little louder. There was still no response. He approached the door and took a close look at it. Running a gloved hand over the frame, he tested it with his shoulder and was relieved to see it had sufficient give.   He removed the phone card from his back pocket, ran it down the top of the frame until it met the lock. He leant against the door and on the third attempt, the lock popped open noiselessly.

Once inside the darkened apartment, Marcus took a minute for his eyes to become accustomed to the dimness then made his way to the window and drew the heavy velvet curtains before switching on the light.

The large living room was tastefully and expensively decorated. A large rug covered a beautiful polished natural wood floor. Marcus did not know whether the signed prints that adorned the wall were authentic or not. He picked up a Capo di Monte figurine, then what appeared to be an expensive vase, which he inspected before carefully replacing them.

He browsed through the large collection of CDs that were stored in alphabetical order. There had to be over three hundred discs. He shook his head enviously as he found some recent titles that he would have bought himself had he been able to afford them.

Marcus moved through to the kitchen, which was decked out with oak fittings. He opened cupboards which were full of tins and packets, then looked inside a fridge that was filled with smoked salmon, steaks, king prawns and caviar.   Marcus found a knife, cut some of the Roquefort cheese and made himself a sandwich with the thick fresh bread that he found in the fancy breadbin.

Beside the fridge were three empty bottles of champagne beside a newly opened box.

“F*****g spoiled b***h,” Marcus said as he opened a bottle of lukewarm champagne and began necking it as he moved through to the bedroom.

The enormous bed was covered with silk sheets. Huge frames holding erotic art hung on each wall. He opened the walk-in wardrobe, found it full of designer clothes, many still brand-new, and covered in plastic.

On top of the bedside table, he saw a jewellery box. When he flipped open the top, he noticed a platinum thumb ring, picked it up and had a quick look before putting it back then emptying the contents into the black backpack.

Warming to his task, Marcus opened the top drawer of a dresser. His eyes lit up at the sight of the expensive lingerie; again many brand new in unopened boxes. He tossed its contents onto the bed, picked up a purple silk teddy and softly traced it against his cheek before adding it to the heap on the bed.

 

 

Andrea slowed the BMW and easily manoeuvred it into her allocated parking space. She switched off the music and got out of the car with Michelle - effortlessly locking the doors behind her with the zapper and headed towards the building.

 

 

Marcus began rummaging through another drawer. As he tossed the neatly folded cashmeres and cardigans onto the bed unceremoniously, he felt a strange sensation; a mixture of power and satisfaction as the champagne started to work on his empty stomach. From now on, every time he saw her, he would remember this night.

Then bingo. He felt the packages under some T-shirts. There were several jiffy envelopes. He ripped one neatly open and smiled at the sight.

 

 

To read on contact me - or buy the book

 

http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/0955988306/ref=nosim/findthelowesb-21

  

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Amber Elaine Marshall]

After reading the five chapters I have to say it's pretty good. I would suggest as a reader and this is just my personal opinion of what intrigues me. I find the details are good and can paint the picture for you as you read but maybe try tying more to the character by relating a detail to the main characters life like for instance when he descibes his apartment how it looks rather simple for a man by himself and relate something to him as to why he's alone or he remembers a time that existed when it wasn't so drab without revealing too much etc. I just find that I get into the book with that type of detail because it leaves these little hints or clues to what and who this character is, yet still remains somewhat mysterious without revealing too much of the story too soon. It keeps the fascination with reading on and discovering what else lies ahead.

[Shellie]

I definitely want to know more. This chapter is very well written. There's so much suspense. Will he get caught? I hope u submit more. In all I like the story, the focus on putting too much emphasis on colour is the only thing that i dont like. Apert from that, it is really well written, great storytelling and no bullshit. you include small dtails like Marcus eating the biscuit etc.

[Linda Stinson]

One thing is for certain and that is Marcus's contempt toward women was obvious. It's funny how his distain toward "bad" women did a 360 when he was involved. You touched on everyday emotions, from life in the fast lane, to life in the slow lane, to exiting the highway of life altogether. Life disappointments hit Marcus hard and reality seem to open up a porthole for the evil in him to come out and play. Being reduced from penthouse status to pull top cold bake beans in a can; from hearing the "bleeding heart" stories, to living one.

You have a descriptive flare with a knack of weeding in the unusual. The story closed leaving the reader wanting to know more about the question Marcus ask about him, "What did I do wrong?"...he breaks into a house...makes a cheese sandwich...eats at the dining room table...empty contents into a black back pack...softly trased lingerie across his cheek..." and ask "What did I do wrong?" You leave the reader assuming they "know what he did wrong, yet he is still alive and well, walking the same streets they do."

It's a very good story, one that warrants "tell me more," and what more could a writer ask for?