Murder My Love (Kindle Books Mystery and Suspense Crime Thrillers Series Book 3) Read Free

check in my luggage and validate my two tickets. Now I'm totally unencumbered. I carry no hand-luggage.
    I always buy two tickets when I fly. In first class. I like to keep my sides clear.
    Also, as a matter of principle, I think people are boring. Why should I spend my time chit-chatting with a sweet grandma doing her annual trip to visit Alphy, Carol, and the kids, or some stultified business executive, pattering inanities about the stock-market, earmarks and pig-bellies? Politicians are even more bothersome. On the other hand, a beautiful woman, a model, a student or a geisha, never seem to fall into my lap during these painfully boring transatlantic flights.
    I'm boring enough myself on my own, so I don't feel I have to deal with other people's problems. Not when I'm flying and may croak any minute.
    I pass without incident through the security filter and stop on my way to the gate at a Starbucks for cappuccino and newspaper.
    I settle down at the first table out in a nice square with skylights. The air is luminous. It gives the impression of outdoors. I'll wait here before it comes time for embarking. I have no reason in the world to hurry, only to get stuck in the boarding area. I take small sips from the coffee, which is a little too hot and a little too sweet for my taste while flipping absentmindedly through the newspaper.
    I amble lazily toward Gate 101, stopping from time to time to admire the scenery and this is when I see her.
     
    She's a beautiful woman who stands out in a crowd. A young woman in her mid-twenties, give or take a few sleepless nights.
    She treats herself well. Never forgets to take her beauty sleep and eats a balanced diet. No room for wrinkles on that pretty face.
    She's not smiling.
    I know I want her as soon as I lay my eyes on her. Or maybe these feelings I have for her, these precursors of feelings I have for her, run deeper. Strange feelings. I feel need, certainly need, but there is also a streak of generosity, that side in a man that has to do with helping and protecting. To be entirely honest I was not aware they were part and parcel of my mental portfolio. The presence of this woman seems to rekindle in me all the good stuff that never made it to the surface. A customized mid-size Pandora Box of my own as my psychologist would kiddingly say.
    But I am the kind of man who starts with the small stuff and builds from there. Want is good enough for now. There is nothing wrong with want.
    Time for desserts will come later.
    Take things one at a time, that's what I say.
    Yes, me too, I did love once, but let's not get into these embarrassing details. Did she not love me back? Well, actually, she did for a while, or at least, she said she did. What do I have to show for it?
    Guided by the little psychology I managed to acquire in school – to paraphrase the saying about the man who represents himself, only to have a fool for a lawyer - I am well aware of the fact that I'm passing through a dangerous and painful phase in my life. It's a transition. My loss is deep and profound, but my mind cannot wait to be whole again.
    I've entered into a compensatory phase, as my psychologist would put it. My psyche is escalating a narrow defile.
    I lost somebody very near and dear to me and the need to replace is hard to resist at times.
    But this is dry stuff.
    Let me go back to admire my nymph a little more, from a distance.
    She's a pleasure to look at; her blonde hair is combed back in tresses and reveals an adorable visage, topped by an unwrinkled forehead, a little shiny, and I wonder why. Her eyes are large, sparkling, of a vivacious green color.
    She's neither tall nor short and shows very sexy curves. Either an athlete or somebody who's been hitting the gym lately.
    She wears a low-cut green silk blouse with jeans and leather boots with high heels.
    My nymph is currently engaged in an acrimonious conversation with the gate supervisor.
    In a beautiful woman like her, the male of the species does