Why it came to Murder

by

Bradley W. Simpson

I knew as soon as she took her first taste of soup I would have to kill her and leave her body in a cold ditch somewhere. She was a “slurper.” With every spoonful of broth she lifted to her mouth, she noisily sucked it down her gullet. It was a shame too, because she was very pretty. I had met her online and this was our very first date. And it would be the last.

     As I ate my own salmon and potatoes, I found the prospect of killing her a disappointing one. It really is not my style to murder. Sure I've killed a handful of people here and there, but this was different somehow. I would remember this one.
     But if I had had second thoughts about taking this young woman's life, those thoughts went out the window when she ordered a cup of coffee and began slurping it too, like a sow. Yes, I would kill her that very night, and I would do it cleverly, far away from prying eyes under the guise of a romantic stroll.
     I finished my meal first and had to endure another half-hour of her despicable slavering. When she had at last sucked the last dribble of coffee from the mug I said, "Darling, the night is so pleasant, why don't we go for a stroll in Old Town? I know a nice private spot where we can go and be alone."
     She thought it was a marvelous idea, and hastily grabbed her coat and purse, and I drove us in my car from the uptown pub to the outskirts of town to what had once been the prime spot of city life. Here you have left the paved streets and modernism of the West Village for cobble-stoned avenues and dark, vacant alleyways- a cheerless relic of what used to be in the early years of the city.
     I parked in a deserted lot and gently ushered her along the river-front to an ancient museum, long-deserted, that still stood majestically through the cold, foggy gloom of the empty streets. "Be careful where you step, dear," I told her. "The moon isn't out and the walkway can be treacherous in the dark. Stay close to me and you'll be fine."
     "Oh, isn't it so romantic!" she cried. "What a splendid idea you had bringing me here." Splendid indeed, I thought to myself. The world would soon be rid a relentless slurper of soup!
     We walked for 10 minutes or so and at last came to a place where the pavement gave way to a sudden recession in the ground and a stairway led deep into the bowels of the earth. "Here we are!" I said to her. "This is the place I wanted to show you. It was once an underground passage that led from the river walk all the way to Town Hall. Do be careful as you climb down the stairs! The steps are overgrown with moss and one false step could mean a terrible fall."

     She walked close to me as we descended into the dark passage, her arm clutching mine for safety. I had with me a small flashlight which I shined into the surrounding gloom of the pit. In the blackness my light traced the ancient motifs and ornate cornices that lined the walls which had been crafted more than a hundred years earlier.
     I led her deeper, still deeper into the forsaken passage, and as I walked I felt for the cord in my jacket pocket that I would soon strangle her with. Just a little further and we would be deep enough that no passerby from the outside who might have happened into the area could possibly hear her scream if she got the chance. This way would be quick and clean, and I could leave her corpse here for time to dispose of.
     I led her another twenty yards or more into the underworld corridor and decided this was as good a spot as any to do what must be done. But as I reached into my pocket for the cord, I felt an awful stinging sensation in my upper back that seemed to reach into the pentacle of my heart. A second later the painful sensation repeated itself, and then again a third and final time.
     I could feel the cold steel of the knife protruding from my back as I fell to the damp floor of the corridor. I could scarcely breathe, but I fell upon one arm and shined the light above me. She stood there with blood running from her hands. My blood. As I lay there quickly dying in an expanding pool of crimson, I noticed the look of malice in her eyes.
     "Why?" I gasped, before an efflux of blood erupted from my mouth.
     "Because," she said in a seething tone. "I simply couldn't stomach the way you smacked your lips over your salmon and potatoes at dinner. I knew then, I would kill you before the night was over."