The FACEBOOK KILLER: Part 2 by M. L. Stewart Read Free Book Online Page A

the back doors swung open. It was time. Albert discarded the shopping bag and shouted for the van driver to stop, waving the box madly to attract his attention. “You dropped something,” he called out, “your doors are open.” The van braked suddenly, three more boxes fell on to the road, adding credibility to the story. The driver gave Albert a strange look as he took the parcel off him. He picked up the others from the road and drove off without saying a word.
     
    *
     
     
    Adela shook the box, like an excited child on Christmas morning. This is what she loved about Abdul, his spontaneity, like the time in Paris when he took her to Grand Vefour, a Michelin 3-star restaurant. The bill had come to over 3,000 euros, he had bought a bottle of Romanée Conti, “probably the best red wine in the world,” he had told her, “for the best wife in the world.” That was the night that he had given her the ring.
    Her smile lit up those sad eyes, as she tore open the enveloped attached to the parcel. “To my dearest Adela,” it read, “this is something you deserve more than anything else in the world. We will be together soon, I promise. All my love, Abdul.”
    Seconds later, Albert heard the screams from outside the house. He knew her parents would be at work; he had made an appointment to meet them at their engineering firm on the premise of discussing plans to build a multi-million pound recycling plant near the city. He knew absolutely nothing about recycling but that didn’t matter, he had no intentions of keeping the appointment anyway. He was listening to some football match on his portable radio, he didn’t have a clue who was playing or what was being said but the volume masked Adela’s cries. He knew that she would have seen the snake before it blinded her, that she would try and get out of the house to escape its fangs and he also knew that she wouldn’t be quick enough.
    As Adela’s mother and father waited patiently for their millionaire client, their daughter lay on the floor, those sad eyes now on fire, unseeing. The Red Spitting Cobra slithering towards her, weaving its way between chair legs and beneath the sofa. Coiling its body; preparing for its final angry strike.
    Albert turned down the radio. Silence. The street was deserted. The cries of pain were over. But she wasn’t dead, no, we had made sure of that. This snake wouldn’t kill her just paralyse her. A mere reptile wouldn’t be allowed the glory of ending this bitch’s life. That was our privilege and ours alone.
    We had agreed that since the stakes were so high in this country, we could leave no trace of foul play. There would come an end to this passage, but not yet and not here.
    Bereft of the technologies we had available to us back in England, Albert knew that the only way to get to Adela now was plain old-fashioned burglary. He made his way to the back of the house through a side alley. He didn’t care about climbing over the gate. So what if someone saw him? He had heard screams and was only trying to help.
    He couldn’t call the back garden a garden, not anymore. It had been concreted over and block-paved, surrounded by high wooden fences and adorned by garish ornaments and religious-looking statues. It obviously belonged to people who didn’t have time to take care of plants and trees, people who couldn’t take care of their own daughter, people who couldn’t even choose a decent husband for her.
    As he approached the large, sliding patio doors, Albert could see her lying on the floor. There was no movement. No sign of her attacker either. He looked for a point of entry. He checked to see if the back door was open, it wasn’t. The patio doors neither.
    There was a smell of smoke. Small clouds drifted over the fence. He peered through a small crack. The neighbour was burning off dead branches. He threw on a large armful of leaves. A woman called to him in a strange language, he replied, and then disappeared from the crack.