One Murder to Another

CHAPTER ONE

1.

It was a sunny day, sometime in February and the sun poured down its rays wickedly on anyone unfortunate to be outdoors by that time. Jim mowe shifted uneasily in his seat, although it was a modern recliner seat with soft Italian leather the room felt hot and dry, the old ceiling fan was on, whistling gently. Jim looked dismally at the old fan silently willing it to blow harder but it just whizzed on gently.

“That’s what you get for camping in a dump like this”, he thought.

His thoughts were interrupted by the heavy trumping on the concrete stairs from below, he straightened up and listened ; a skill Jim had learnt. It was not unusual to have people come up and down the stairs in such manner; as a matter of fact the offices on the first floor had a steady stream of customers who kept flocking in like worker bees going about their duties for the day.

There were three offices, the first one was a dentist shop where all manner of people came in to have their teeth checked or replaced. It was owned by a short stout man, who was on the wrong side of forty. His name was Clem and he had a big smile; which gave the impression that you could come to him with all your problems dentals or otherwise.

He should have been a minister Jim thought lazily. Humans from unknowns to superstars patronized him. Jim could have sworn he had seen Michael Jackson go in once to have a new set of sparkling white teeth, M.J had a knack for self modification, and Clem seemed like the kind of guy who would gladly change various parts of his body no questions asked but even if Jim had said so, no one would believe him anyway.

The next office was a spa, where any bunny desperate enough to burn a few hundred dollars could go in and have cucumbers put on their eyes and goat milk poured on their skin or so he heard. If Jim had a choice of what should be put on his eyes and poured on his skin; he would have gone for dollars on the eyes and Euros on the skin anywhere, anytime; he fancied himself as just that kind of guy.

Anyway this lush shop was owner by a lady, somewhere around thirty; early if he was to guess. Her name was Anita. It is fruitless describing what she looked like but there were two good things about her; her eyes and her hair. She had the kind of eyes that could easily put you in an hypnotic trance if you stared long enough or could make you want to tell her your innermost secrets, either ways it spelt danger if you kept staring.

The third shop was a complete mystery to Jim, for all he knew Osama bin laden could have been hiding in there or Adolph Hitler could have been planning another world conquest in there with the help of Mickey Mouse and Santa Clus, Jim didn’t know and something in him told him not to care either. A sign hanging overhead just said "House of jasmine".

“See what I mean? Isn't jasmine supposed to be a flower or something? And not a spooky place where men and women with dolorous faces went in, spent hours and came out looking even worse than they were before they went in”, Jim had thought multiple times.

For two hundred dollars, Jim would have gladly stood by and told those dummies who went in there, to just go jump in a well and if there was none available, for another two hundred dollars, he would have gladly dug one for them. Anyway no one gave Jim any money so he kept his opinions to himself.

The trumping sound continued, but by now Jim was fully aware that whoever it was, was coming to his office. His nerves began to jump.

“Could this be the one customer who would finally bring in some action? By God!, he was already growing fat and lazy sitting there all day like an invalid suffering from severe stroke”, he thought

A heavy looking man in plain trousers and checkered shirt appeared on his doorway. His shoes were super shiny and Jim found himself wondering if it was the sun or he took pride in keeping his shoes polished. Jim decided on the latter.

“Hello dad!”, Jim said, forcing a weak smile.

The man moved across the room to the seat and gleefully sank down into it. The chair rocked dangerously, and for a moment or so, Jim thought the cheap furniture was going to give way, luckily it weathered the storm, but only just.

"You know why I am here", the man’s voice thundered across the room.

"Sure, you miss me and have come to spend some time with me", Jim said sarcastically

"Oh cut the crap, you are behind on your rent and I felt it necessary to inform you".

"I know Popsicle, I was waiting for you to come around", Jim replied.

The man eyed Jim for a moment while trying to decide which approach to use on him.

"When would you quit this nonsense of yours and do something meaningful? A young man like you.-"

Jim cut him off before he could finish, he had heard that statement a million times and knew where the man was headed.

"Am doing just fine thank you", Jim replied, while trying to lock eyes with the man seated on the sofa.

"I would mail you a check soon, probably as soon as you get going; you use up a lot of air, I’m just struggling to stay alive right now".

Jim tried to make a gasping sound like a dying patient who was struggling for air but the man didn't seem impressed.

"Quit yapping! I give you till this month end", with that the man stood up and began to leave the room.

Jim stared blankly at the sofa as if expecting it to spring back to life. He knew the man wasn't bluffing. His landlord was very friendly to him, as a hungry lion is to a well fed antelope.