Murder Can Be Messy

It took merely moments for Victoria Belmont to adamantly make up her mind. She would soon be a widow. The Beverly Hills socialite elitist sat alone on her pearl white living room sofa and bit angrily into her fast-food taco. Victoria’s lifestyle offered her endless nights of caviar, lobster and escargot, but now and again she went back to her little girl roots and preferred to dine on greasy, tasty slop. The spicy juice from the fifty-nine cent beef dribbled over her bottom lip. She wiped her chin with her tongue, and then washed the cheap Mexican food down with a sip of Dom Perignon. Blake Belmont was working late again, which Victoria translated as her pitiable excuse of a husband was feasting on a twenty-something, fleshy, naked tart. Victoria had noticed that Blake was working sixteen hour days for the past few months, yet never tiring. In fact, on the rare occasions when he was home, he pranced through the house in only his form-fitted briefs, his forty-five-year-old abs still as tight as when they were married, and a smug smile glued to his mouth. Victoria wanted to smack that arrogant grin right off of his conniving, yet fine-looking face. Victoria tossed the last bite of taco into her mouth and then finished off the half-full glass of champagne in one chug. There was a time a glass or two of alcohol worked to drown out her thoughts of her two-timing bum of a husband. Nowadays, it took an entire bottle. She pet her primped toy poodle, Guinevere, nestled at her feet, and admired the purebred pooch’s lavender painted toenails. Guinevere resembled a frilly gift wrapped package; her soft black eyes and apricot coat offset the purple and pink lace bow stuck to the top of her head. Guinevere barked delicately, as if to say, “Thank you for turning me into a princess puppy.” Victoria cooed. Victoria slurped a spoonful of chocolate pudding, and turned up the volume on her high definition TV. She listened intently to the six o’clock news anchor spilling a story on a lovelorn woman whose husband had tried three times to bump her off, each time unsuccessfully. A bearded man with stained, crooked teeth flashed onto the TV screen and told the viewers how he was offered a hefty sum of money by a prominent businessman to kill off the chap’s unwanted wife, and discard of her worthless carcass by tossing it off of a boat into the Pacific Ocean. The intended hit man droned on about how he had the entire flawless plot laid out, as if he were merely telling the viewers the sky was blue, before his conscience got the best of him, and he didn’t have the heart to carry out the fatal act. What the shady liar failed to reveal was that it was the LAPD who caught up to him and threw his sorry ass in the clink on conspiracy charges before he had the chance to unravel his ruthless, felony death scheme.