58 lines
2.3 KiB
Plaintext
58 lines
2.3 KiB
Plaintext
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All we had to do was stick together.
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After about the second night without her, I started to have doubts
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about the whole thing. It was one thing to talk and joke about
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murdering your lover's oppressive husband, it was another thing to
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actually go through with it. I really didn't think I would be able
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to...well, /perform/, when it all came down to it.
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When I started to think like that, I just returned to the plan. It
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was detailed, meticulous. It involved two of us. That made it seem
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less lonely. I felt sorry for all the killers in history who had to
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go through it all themselves.
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At least, I felt sorry for them until I realised that having a
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partner complicated the whole business quite a bit.
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Even back then, I should have sensed the danger of my situation. I
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was doing most of the heavy lifting, but my reward depended
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entirely on her. She would be the benefactor of the money, I would
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be the benefactor of her. I don't know why I assumed it would just
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work out nicely like that.
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She called me after a few days. She was breathless, a little manic.
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The guy did a great job designing her, I had to give him that. She
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had the whole gamut of human emotions and psychology programmed
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into that tiny silicon chip of hers.
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She said there was a hitch in the plan. Just a hitch. Things would
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still be going ahead. She just needed a little something extra from
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me.
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"Does that mean I'll get to see you soon, Honeysuckle?"
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"Sure, but maybe not in the way you think."
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It turned out the old man had actually removed the triple indemnity
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clause from his will a year ago. Saved himself a few pennies on the
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premium.
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"Dang," was all I could say at first. I felt relieved. I tried not
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to show it. "Guess it's back to the drawing board for us." There
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was no point going through with the whole thing now. I sipped my
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rye and looked up at the giant mass of Jupiter. I felt like getting
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back to the other side of that mass pretty quick. Maybe I could
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still take her with me.
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"Drawing boards already all drawn up. You're coming here at 9 a.m.
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sharp tomorrow morning," she told me. I should have known I wasn't
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getting out that easy.
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"A social call? The old man will be out I presume."
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"A business call. You're the salesman, after all. You're gonna have
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to do what you do best and sell him back that policy."
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