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Chapter Forty-Three

H illary mentally checked all the items she needed for tonight’s “girls’ night in” with Claire.

Propofol—check. Tape recorder—check. Starter kill switch—check. Claire’s will—check. Wine—check. Confession—check.

Okay, then, she was ready. Damn that Troy Romano. He said he would get right back to her, but he hadn’t. it had been two days. Nothing. Plus, he hadn’t returned her calls. So now it was up to her, as always, to make things right.

Silly Claire. All this time thinking they were friends. The only thing they truly shared was Keith, and he had skunked her. Then Claire had.

It was a pleasant night. A pleasant night to die.

Hillary gathered the supplies and the wine and walked up to the front door.

She could hear the ocean waves pounding the shore, smell the salty spray, and thought Claire would miss all this.

She wouldn’t because she had signed Claire’s name on a will that she was leaving in the bedroom along with a suicide note.

All that time in the lawyer’s office and with Keith had taught her a lot.

She rang the doorbell.

“Just a minute,” Claire called out. Then the door opened, and Hillary was in. Air kisses. Last time.

“Let me get some glasses, and we can sit on the patio,” said Claire.

“Perfect.” Hillary followed her into the kitchen. Now she could see the moon rising over the horizon. Beautiful moon. A Hunter’s Moon. And she was the hunter. How ironic.

Claire handed her a glass, and they walked out to the patio.

“It’s beautiful here,” said Hillary as she settled into a lounge chair.

“I know. I love it here. Buying this house was one of the best decisions I’ve made.”

Hillary had to agree. It was a house she would have bought for herself if she had the money. And soon it was going to be all hers.

They chatted for about an hour until Hillary looked at her watch and stood.

“I’m afraid I need to leave. Big day tomorrow.” The gallery was having a big show that she and Claire had worked all hours on.

“Here, I’ll take your glass.”

They walked back through the kitchen. Hillary gathered her things and walked out, promising Claire she would be at work early the next day. At least one of them would keep their word.

She got in her car, hit the kill switch, turned the ignition—nothing. Tried again. Nothing. Got out of her car, walked back to Claire’s and rang the bell.

Claire opened the door.

“Claire, my car won’t start, and it’s getting late. Could I trouble you for a ride? And I’ll have the garage pick it up tomorrow. ”

“Oh, sure, come on in. I’ll just grab my purse, and we’ll be on our way.”

Claire picked up her keys and purse, and Hillary followed her into the garage. They got into her car. Claire reached for the remote to open the garage door. Hillary pulled out the needle and stuck Claire in the neck.

“Whaaat.” Seconds later, Claire slumped over the steering wheel. Perfect. That was the one good thing about Claire. You could always count on her to do the right thing.

She quickly wrapped Claire’s hands to the steering wheel and taped them in place. Later she would unwrap them to make it look like a suicide. She turned the car on and took out the tape recorder and turned it on, then she checked to make sure the car doors and windows were closed.

“Nighty-night, Claire. Pleasant dreams.” She shrugged. “Or not.”

Hillary got out of the car, closed the door to the garage and walked back into the house.

She figured she had about an hour and a half to two hours to wait. Her research on carbon monoxide poisoning had too many variables. But she wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was Claire.

She walked into the spacious kitchen. In the daylight, it would be filled with light, but even at night, the kitchen was warm and inviting.

In fact, it was even nicer than the one she had in her condo in New York City.

She ran her hand over the Italian tile counters and floors.

She looked at the high-end stainless-steel appliances and huge professional stove.

In the corner was a sophisticated coffee bar.

Now that was a plus. She envisioned herself getting up in the morning, making her coffee and having it outdoors on the patio overlooking the ocean.

Relaxing. Yes indeed, she was going to enjoy living here.

Raiding Claire’s refrigerator, she pulled out some cheese.

Found the crackers and a cheese knife and strolled into the airy living room, where more French doors opened to the patio and the ocean beyond.

She slid a door open and inhaled the salty air.

She couldn’t see the ocean, but she heard the gentle sigh of the waves as they came ashore.

Yes! This was the life she was meant to have.

She envisioned herself throwing parties here and entertaining the island elite.

Oh, it was going to be grand. Finally, she would be popular and enjoy the good life.

It would be much better than anything she enjoyed with Keith.

She placed her snack on the glass-topped table, settled into the comfy sofa, found the remote and turned on the TV, Claire a distant memory.