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74
Dead By Her
Own Hand
Laura Marshall
The fox circled, looking for a way in. The sitting targets lay in wait. All he needed
was an entrance point. The tinged black of his ears stood out from the warmth of
his brown coat. Always listening, always watching.
Ruth was listening as the city flashed by, snippets of train
conversations wafting towards her becoming the accompaniment to
her thoughts. ‘Adam… Adam Wynn Jones. I’m new here. I’ve just
been hired to raise the profile of market research. I’ll be taking a
look at potential deals, like you, only more from the money side.’
Why had they hired Adam? Ruth thought she was doing a perfectly
good job at market research. He had to be a replacement. Her heart
sped and her hands moved instinctively to her mouth. The dirt
under the surface of the cracked nails was perhaps her only
imperfection. The rest of Ruth shone. Her hair was a silky brown
and her eyes darted with curiosity and cunning. She thought of her
contacts. Who did she know that had the expertise to break into
Adam’s firewall – planting potentially illegal documents?
The hole was almost just large enough. With dirt flying off around him getting
under his claws dirtying his almost perfect appearance. The fox’s eyes were
encased in a sea of dappled brown, they flitted quickly around displaying his
shrewdness. Panic filled the henhouse as feathers fell in a frenzied snowstorm. He
was in, looking around he saw in his peripheral vision a brown hen. Pouncing
quickly, his agility and cunning outsmarted the hen. The crescendo of life and
movement excited the fox’s instinct for the hunt. The clutter of the tin buckets
hitting the ground was drowned out by the forte of shrill squawks, agitated calls
for help made by the hens. With hen in mouth the fox scampered away having got
what he had come for.
Ruth took off her high-heels and left them at the door. The pol-
ished marble felt smooth through her sheer stockings. Ruth dialled
the number whilst looking out onto the city skyline illuminated in
the evening sun.
‘Ralf, this is Zoe… Do you remember me? You did some work for
me a couple of years back – helped me get into a few places. I was
wondering if you still supplied the same services.’
‘Yes, Zoe I do recall the work. And yes I do still operate in, let’s say,
pest extermination. Same fees apply if you could send me the stuff
and the name the pest will be gone, I guarantee.’
‘Right – and the money, box 24?’
‘By Monday.’
‘Monday.’
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