Murder That She Wrote

“How difficult do you think it’d be to actually snap someone’s neck?” she asked in a whisper, leaning over her computer. I quickly realized this sort of questioning must be normal for her since her friend showed no visible reaction or concern. Instead, she didn’t even look up from her book before replying:

“I don’t know,” her friend replied with a heavy sigh. “Movies make it look pretty simple.” Her friend sipped her coffee while the girl rolled her eyes.

“Movies also make decapitating someone look easy and dragons look real,” she muttered more to herself. I swallowed down the rest of my tea and muscled up my courage before walking over to their table. I had a strange set of jitters taking up flight in my stomach.

“Sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help hearing your question,” I started, pulling up a chair momentarily. She looked at me with intrigued interest, though she was slightly flushed now. “It wouldn’t be as simple as it happens in the movies. Normally, they display someone standing over and behind someone else to twist the neck around, but the body would follow, and it would hurt like hell, but most likely not snap the neck completely. You’d need to isolate the body, keep it still, and then twisting should be fairly simple with enough strength.”

Something glinted in her eye as a small smirk formed across her face. Her cheeks were redder now, but since she kept her eyes locked on mine, I took it as a good sign.

“Thank you. I’m Sofia, by the way. What’s your name?” She asked. A small smile spread quickly on my face without my permission.

“Donnie,” I said, reaching out a hand. I glanced over at her friend, but her eyes remained glued to the novel. “Are you working on a paper or something?”

“No, I’m, it’s kind of embarrassing, I’m writing a novel about a serial killer,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. I could almost feel my heart shouting with excitement.

“That’s not embarrassing, that’s awesome. You know I’m majoring in criminology. I might be able to help you with more of these details if you’d like.” It wasn’t a total lie. I was majoring in criminology, but the details were a different matter.

“Yeah, that’d be great, maybe if you’re free tomorrow, you could take me to dinner, and we could talk more about it?” Sofia suggested with a glint in her eye. The jitters started to fly their way up my esophagus, and it took me a moment to find my voice.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” I answered, pulling out my phone and opening up a blank contact form. “Just type in your number, and I'll call you. Sofia eagerly took my phone, typed in her information, and then reached out to take a selfie to save as her contact photo. I chuckled a little at her. I already knew I’d be spending most of the evening looking at that photo.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said with a smirk as I got up. I pushed back the chair and slowly meandered out of the coffee shop. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked with an extra jump in my step back onto campus. Tomorrow night couldn’t come soon enough.

As I walked the streets, I saw a familiar kid on the sidewalk handing out flyers for his band. It was a risk talking to him in broad daylight, but I was feeling a more heightened sense of confidence now.

“Hey,” I said, reading a flyer. He smiled.

“Hey, do you like swing music? My band is playing at the Record House on 5th Street next Saturday! Come check us out!”

“Sounds great. Do you have any music available?” I asked, already knowing the answer. The guy flushed and looked sheepish.

“Well, it’s kind of old school, but I’ve got some CDs in my truck….”

“Perfect,” I said, gesturing for him to lead the way. His smile grew larger as I followed him down the alley. I readied the wire in my hands.

* * *

As I sat in class, I found myself half-listening to the lecture and half-thinking about the intensity in Sofia’s deep brown eyes. I reached for my phone and, as discreetly as I could, placed it on the desk behind my books.

Hey Sofia, it’s Donnie.

Hey, you didn’t waste any time. When and where do you want to take me tomorrow?

She added a wink face, and I smirked. Very good sign, I thought. I switched over to Google and started to look up nicer restaurants near campus.

Do you prefer Mexican or Chinese food? I asked after finding two likely candidates.

Surprise me!

Can I pick you up at 7 pm?

Perfect!

I smugly smiled to myself as I shoved my phone back into my pocket.

* * *

I knocked lightly on her dorm room door, only to be greeted by her nameless friend from the coffee shop.

“Hey, I’m Donnie. I sort of met you yesterday. I’m here for Sofia?” I started, but the girl once again didn’t even acknowledge me as she kept her face buried in her phone. She just opened the door a little wider and walked back off into the room, never removing her eyes from the screen. I peered in around the corner of the room to check for Sofia. I didn’t want to just walk in, in case Sofia wasn’t decent.

“Sorry, Donnie, one second!” I heard her cry from what I assumed was the bathroom. A moment later, Sofia appeared at the door, and I held out the flowers in my hand for her.

“Aww, you’re so sweet! Calla Lilies! How did you know?” She asked, taking them from me and moving to put them on her bed.

“Know what?”

“Those were my favorites!” she replied as she walked back to me.

“I didn’t, but they were almost black, so I thought you’d like them,” I answered sheepishly. She smiled back and took my arm as we walked back out of the dorm.

I tried to keep the anxiety out of my voice as she peppered me with small-talk questions on the way to the car. My arm felt overheated wrapped up in hers, and I was very aware of her thumb slowly petting part of my arm. I let go of her momentarily to open the car door.

“Your carriage, ma’am,” I said in my best cockney accent, doing a dramatic bow. She laughed under her breath and stepped inside.

“So what did you decide?” she asked as I started driving along the dimly lit road. I always thought it was careless that campus streets weren’t better lit. Though I couldn’t complain too much - it made it much easier for me.

“What?” I glanced at her, realizing she expected an answer.

“What did you decide to eat?” she asked again with clarification.

“I thought you wanted it to be a surprise?” I saw a small smile rise in the corner of her mouth. She began again asking me questions about my schooling and all I had learned. She seemed truly fascinated with serial killers and murderers, and I couldn’t help but imagine I might have found my dream girl. She didn’t even seem phased by more specific details, and it never occurred to her that I knew more than one might know in a textbook.

I pulled up to the busy Mexican restaurant and parked the car. I hurried to her side to open the door before she had time to do it herself. I seemed to have caught her off guard, much to her delight.

“Nice choice,” she complimented as I took her arm and we walked inside. I was surprised, given how busy it was, how quickly we were seated at a small booth in the back.

“So any more deaths that need clarification?” I asked, unable to hide my small laugh. I picked up the menu and started to glance around at the regular choices of food items. They had a lot of pictures with their meals, which I always took to mean the restaurant was going to be delicious.

“Well, not a specific type of death, per se, but you’re studying criminals, right?” she asks, while biting her lower lip. I watched as her cheeks started to redden. I nodded. “So how would you, as a killer, kill someone without getting caught?”

As she’s talking, I overhear a man at the table next to us asking in a very concerned tone about what on the menu has peanuts. I wouldn’t have necessarily thought of peanuts at a Mexican restaurant, but the waitress listed off several items. I quickly found them on the menu.

Before I can answer, a tall and dangerously skinny man approaches our table.

“Good evening, my name is Marco, and I’ll be your server this evening. Do you two know what you’d like, or would you like another minute with the menu?” He gave us a complimentary smile, but his tone was flat.

“I think I’d like to order chips with the salsa de cacahuate, if possible,” I reply. Marco takes note before glancing at Sofia.

“I think I need another minute if that’s alright,” Sofia requested. Marco nodded and scampered off to his next table.

“In my experience, that is, in my studies, I’ve noticed the best murders are the ones no one knows about. Either a body is never found, or the death looks accidental.” As I finished talking, another waiter came by the table with salsa and chips. Sofia thanked them as her phone rang.

“It’s my Mom, I’ll be right back.” I smile quickly at her and wait for her to disappear from my line of sight. When she’s gone, and the restaurant population is distracted, I take out a syringe and soak up some of the salsa in it.

I watch the man with a serious peanut allergy head to the bathroom. I slowly get up to follow him. Once in the bathroom, I break the unspoken ‘bro code’ and choose the urinal right next to him. He glances at me and shifts uncomfortably away as much as he can. Instead of preparing to use the facilities, I pull out the syringe quickly and stab it into his jugular. It doesn’t take thirty seconds for him to fall to the ground. I can see the changes in his face. I stuff the syringe back in my pocket and go to wash my hands.

I quickly walked back out to join Sofia, who was back at the table.

“Sorry, I just went to the bathroom,” I say in answer to her unasked question. She smiled softly.

“For a second, I thought maybe you decided to leave,” she admitted. I shake my head adamantly.

“Absolutely not.”

Marco came back, just then, with his blank expression and monotone voice.

“Have you two decided yet?”

“Yes, I think I’ll have a margarita and a number seventeen if that’s alright, but could I please have the sour cream on the side?” Sofia asked, handing him the menu.

“Yes, of course, and for you, Sir?”

“I think I’ll have a margarita as well, and I’ll have a number ten with an extra crunchy taco on the side,” I answered, also handing him my menu. I smiled widely at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

As soon as Marco wandered off, I turned back to Sofia.

“So how could you kill someone and make it look like an accident? Like a car wreck or something? Cutting their breaks?” Sofia asks, sipping her water. I chuckle under my breath.

“That’s a little ostentatious for my taste. Plus, it would be difficult to ensure the car would be in such a wreck that cut brake lines wouldn’t be detected. The human body is fragile, much more so than most people tend to think. Many things we might come across could kill us, even something you might not expect,” I answer, dipping the chip into the salsa and tasting the spice.