Lady Killer

 

I continued to sip my coffee as he choked to death. It was bitter –both the coffee and the look on his face. I sighed when he finally gave up the ghost and proceeded to hide the body –inside the closet should work. The mansion was huge, and the closet is the last place they will find him.

I picked my purse and brought out a special bottle of perfume. It had Pari written in front with a bow tied on it. Trust me, darling, this perfume does more than make me smell spicy! I spritzed it around the room and onto everything I touched. And just like that, all my fingerprints and basically anything that proves I went into that house disappeared. It’s like I wasn’t even there! Before I went, I put on an extra layer of lipstick and kissed the leather notebook –Harry’s prized possession, a gift from his father. The lipstick was another neat little invention of mine. It couldn’t hold my DNA, making it impossible to track me. Oh well, my job here is done. I sashayed out the back door without a care in the world.

The name’s Anjola. Anjola Okojo. You may not know me, mainly because I’m a contract killer and my work are very confidential. But don’t worry, darling, I’ve got you covered. You see, the man I just killed is Harry Swinzuvert. Again, you may not know him because he's dead now and his fame poured away like water down the drain. Harry was a business tycoon that was associated with a lot of criminals. Let’s just say he owed them a lot of money that he didn’t bother to pay back since he thought he was so high and mighty. One of the criminals got a little pissed off by this and hired me to…get rid of him, to be polite. So I seduced at one of his annual yacht parties and he happily took me to his mansion. I offered to make him a cup of my legendary black coffee (that may or may not have had a poisoned nut in it) and he drank it all up. What happened next? Well, let’s just say that drink was to die for.

I went to the shadiest place in town to collect my payment. Seriously, can we please take a moment to realise how pee-brained criminals are? You have your hideout in an alleyway between two abandoned buildings next to a police station and you expect no one to, like, get suspicious? Like a police officer could walk near there and see it, and you’re surprised you’re spending twenty years in jail? Like, what?! But I have to admit, the alleyway is the last place one would look so maybe these criminals aren’t so pee-brained after all. Anyway, I soon met my employer. Meet Enzo Kogi. The head of a criminal ring and possibly the ugliest guy I’ve ever seen. Seriously, his dwarf statue, buck teeth and comically combed hair were not a pretty sight.

“Ah, lady killer, a pleasure as always…”, he said and kissed my hands. It was always so annoying how he always referred me to my code name.

I squirmed and pulled my hand away. “Charming, I’m sure”, I said, “alright, Enzo, a deal is a deal. I got rid of your guy so give me my payment”

“Okay, sweetheart” Enzo waggled his eyebrows “you’ll get your five hundred thousand”

I gritted my teeth. “We agreed on one million…”

“I pay you for what you’re worth, darling. For all I know, you must have done a lousy job”

That was it. I whipped my pistol faster from my trench coat than you could say Nicki Minaj. I swung my left leg, hitting his face with my sharp high heels. His face immediately began to swell.

“Give me my money”, I said through gritted teeth.

“No need to get violent, sweetie”, Enzo said drowsily, stumbling back. He knocked over: a very big green glass bottle. That’s when I realized the problem: the guy was drunk.

“Six hundred thousand, tops. That’s your payment. Unless you want me to spill the beans to the authorities…”

But not drunk enough to give me my money.

I aimed my pistol to his forehead. “That won’t be necessary…sweetie”

BANG! The pistol blew. A large, bloody hole was now where Enzo’s brain should have been. He stared at me for a second, then collapsed to the ground, a stupid smile still plastered on his face. I rummaged through his pocket and brought out fat wads of cash and his credit card. Then I dragged his body out of the alleyway to the back of the police station. I left him there, a file of all his criminal deals with his minions and partners sitting on his stomach.

No one –I mean no one– messes with Anjola Okojo.