Smoke and Mirrors

The ropes around Frieda’s wrists cut into her skin with a coarse friction that left them raw and bleeding.

“Not so tight,” she murmured.

“Got to make it convincing.”  Her partner winked at her.

She wanted to frown, but the thousands of eyes upon her demanded that she smile.  She let him slip her bonds onto the meat hook that would hoist her high above the water tank.

As she rose into the air she felt the fibers of the rope weaken against the metal.  The tension was all wrong. Her hands were bound too tight, the rope too weak.

“David!”

He ignored her.  She wrapped her fingers around the hook itself and felt where the ropes had been scored with a knife.

Frieda glimpsed metal in David’s back pocket.  He wouldn’t.  Not here.  Not now.

The perfect cover for the perfect murder.

“How long can you hold your breath, Frieda?”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s