I hate the bastard. He kept the words to himself. I’m glad he’s dead.
He took a deep breath, then pondered his next move, leaving his mother to sob in the seat next to him.
How easy it would be to bump her off also, that’s if she decided not to play nice and give him the money he needed.
The solicitor had said, when she passed, he and Sanita would then receive their inheritance. As far as he knew, his mum was in good health.
He side-glanced over at her.
Hmm, your kill won’t be so easy, he thought. He calculated the different ways that she could have a ‘freak’ accident. From a slip on the stairs, a tumble in the bath, maybe even some kind of electric shock.
Only one thought lingered in his mind . . . will Mum play nice, now that she’s a rich lady, and her only son needs money? If not, it’d be a shame if she had a freak accident.
He pasted on a false smile and turned to her. “Here, Mum.” He handed her a tissue.
Sandip washed the smirk from his face, entertaining the thought of her death some more. His gaze drew in his Mum’s sobbing form next to him, and he started the car’s engine.
“You still have Dad’s tools in the garage?”
“Yes. Why?”
“The furnace was making a knocking sound the other night.” A smile spread across his lips. “Think I’ll check it out.”
“You’re such a good son.” She patted his arm and looked at him with motherly eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“Ahh, Mum,” Sandip said, then fixed his mother with a serious expression. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual. Right now, I need you more than ever.”
The pun behind his words went over her head, he could tell. He forced a sinister smile, in response.
His mother nodded slowly, then dabbed her teary eyes..
THE END
A Note for the Author
Thank you for reading The Note. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have time, I’d love it if you left a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or Bookbub. In the meantime, here’s a few chapters of the next Unsolved Mystery–The Red Light Girls, based in Amsterdam, Europe.
Sneak Peek of The Red Light Girls
Amsterdam’s a fun and exciting city set on edge.
When women linked to the Red Light District turn up dead on Amsterdamse Bose woodland area, or missing, not many take notice. Madeline Sloane, a ballsy journalist for one of London’s tabloid papers is bored with her job and surroundings. She finds herself in Amsterdam, working for De Telegraaf newspaper. Her new job becomes her obsession and determination to close-in on the person responsible for the fates of the Red Light Girls. She reports on the city’s events, appeals for information, and forms a plan of action—one born of her intuition and guides her to a suspect.
One person stands in her way of finding Amsterdam’s serial killer, and not everything is as it seems in Madeline’s world.
The Red Light Girls is a novella-length, fast-moving story with a touch of mystery, Madeline Sloane is a head-strong female on a mission to cover areas the local police have failed, and the more she digs, the closer she comes to solving an unsolved mystery.
Connect with Kim on social media:
https://kimknightauthor.com/ (author site)
@kimknightauthoruk (Facebook)
@kimknightauthor (Twitter)
She’s also on Bookbub @KimKnight
1
Damsel in Distress
Madeline
One afternoon in Amsterdam, Madeline pounded the steering wheel of the car with her fist, then rolled her eyes.
“Shit, I can't believe this.” Her car came to stand still on a deserted road. “Argh, I really don't need this today.”
She narrowed her eyes as if to try to see through the heavy sheet of rain pounding against the windows. Her view was blurred. The open woodland and trees were all she could see.
This isn’t good news.
Lids closed, she rested her head on the headrest, hoping to block out the nightmare she had just entered.
“Could this day get any worse,” she asked herself. “I should’ve stayed put in London. This move better be worth it.”
Come on, get it together.
Madeline leaned over to the passenger seat, reached into her bag, and then fished out her mobile phone. With hesitation, she stepped out of the car and slammed the door.
To shield herself from the rain, she pulled the thin jacket around her body.
The bullets of rain drummed against her with a heavy thud.
“Arrrrgh,” she cried out. “Give me a break will you. I just got my hair done!”
With a shaky hand, she pushed away a few loose strands plastered to her face. She rubbed her eyes, smudging her mascara in the process. Make-up stains had transferred to her fingers, and she sighed, attempting to unlock her phone in the downpour.
“Jesus. Great, just great,” she muttered.
The only sound she heard was the rain beat against the body of the car. Through the drumming, the wind rustled the trees.
There’s not a soul in sight.
After three months, life was no easier than before. Her decision to up and leave London wasn’t an easy one but a necessity.
Her job as a journalist in the UK’s capital no longer excited her. She accepted a sabbatical placement with the Dutch newspaper De Telegraaf as a last resort to revive her love for the profession.
Her employer back home, The Sun newspaper, offered a number of placements to exchange with international papers around the world. At the time it sounded ideal to her. However, which destination to apply for, baffled her.
One night, she had opened an atlas—after one too many glasses of wine. She stuck her finger on the map, and it landed on Amsterdam. The decision was made. That’s where she’d try her luck with falling back in love with being a journalist.
Lucky for her, a Dutch newspaper was included in the list of media sources taking part in the exchange program.
Madeline walked around the car, then bent down to the wheel. She
