I had been waiting for that licentious smile of hers to twinge and contort into the unmistakable grimace of someone in a serious panic because, well, she is about to crap her pants. This was not supposed to happen!
I rush out from behind the bar and lean down. Celia isn’t moving. Her chest is still, no breath goes in or out of her nose or open lips. I lean down and press two fingers into her neck. No pulse. Shit! I jump up and sprint to the front door, lock it before anyone comes in and spies her there on the ground. I lock all of the doors and start to pace back and forth in front of her body.
What the fuck do I do? Can’t call an ambulance, they find Visine in her system guess who the first suspect is? Same thing if I drag her out back, leave her in the drainage ditch. Unless… it took them a while to find her! I could cover her up with some junk; give her a chance to decompose. By the time the smell attracts attention there won’t be anything to test right? Okay yeah, I admit, it’s a horrible fucking idea. But my only other options- sending her to sleep with the fishes or feeding her to a herd of pigs- seem a little complicated and, well shit, impossible for someone like me who did not grow up in the mafia. I’ve never even committed a real crime before! (Not counting traffic infractions and casual drug use of course.)
Here goes nothing. I grab her by the feet and pull her back behind the bar and out the back door. It is pitch black outside. Charlie doesn’t like to pay for any extra electricity so lucky for me there aren’t any lights out here. It’s about ten yards to the ditch. When we get there I feel sick to my stomach as I push Celia over the edge and she rolls to the bottom, landing in a puddle of muck with a wet thud.
The ditch is hidden by arborvitaes and another building so that it is almost invisible. I run back to the bar and grab some cardboard boxes and an old banner from the trash. This is going to work. It has to.