Cleopatra’s
Curse
Have you ever seen a beautiful
young woman with a man that can only be described as ‘toadyish’? He’s at least
twenty years older than her, potbelly, short, and mostly balding. She’s a
towering model type: perfect body, perfect skin, just exquisite. You wonder,
why, how, what?
Well, I’ll tell you. It’s all about
the money. What else?
I married a very wealthy man—me, a
girl raised in a trailer park who made a living as a waitress and dancer.
People even referred to me as white trash, and yet, I made it to the top. And I
mean the very top. Gold everywhere. Anything and everything I‘ve ever wanted
and more, even acceptance. Now people want to know me, want to be invited to my
parties. Hell, they clamor just to be in my presence or merely the same room.
My husband, as I said, is filthy
rich, and yes, he bought me. But he also put a diamond ring on my hand and
promised me that the world would bow at my feet. He kept his promise, and I’ve
kept mine.
I take his abuse. It’s my only job.
Make the man happy in the sack, anytime, anywhere, and anyway, he desires it.
It was our agreement. I live in the lap of luxury and have people at my every
command. Nothing I want is off-limits. I am fulfilled! I am rich, and his
temper tantrums don’t last long, neither do the bruises.
You say why? I say, why not? Most
of my life was hell: going to bed hungry, various uncles taking
advantage at all ages. I was considered a whore before the age of thirteen.
The few men I did learn to trust proved to be liars, but now I have a signed
contract. Yep, got it on paper, all of it. And if he breaks any of the rules,
he pays me a ten-million-dollar settlement.
It took a while, but I soon
realized that most men are pigs. All they think about is getting the child,
girl, or woman into their bed. And most will take advantage given just half a
chance. And some will do it without any invitation or a so sorry
immediately on their lips. Liars, users, rutting animals, the whole species!
So why shouldn’t I sell my soul for
the best things in life? I couldn’t have gotten them any other way. This has
worked for me for the last twenty years. But I will admit that I’m getting
bored, and his violence comes much more often and without the usual financial reward.
He’s been slipping but only to the point where he hasn’t broken the contract. I
think it’s time to say sayonara!
We’re planning a Halloween cruise,
so maybe the bastard will fall overboard and drown, leaving me a rich widow? All
it will take is a little planning…
*****
Okay, so I figured the bastard
wrong, the cheater. He’s not only broken our contract, but he’s also done me
in. I can’t collect that cool ten million I was guaranteed because they don’t
have lawyers on the bottom at the ocean, my new abode.
Hubby told the world that I fell
overboard. Nice. But on Halloween night, the same night I planned his demise,
he was a step ahead. I supposedly slipped on a wet deck during a masquerade
party and went overboard in my beautiful designer Cleopatra costume, never to
resurface again.
Dozens of men jumped into the ocean
to find me but failed because, at that time, I was unconscious in the closet of
our bedroom. When everyone finally retired, and the police reports were filed,
my sweet, generous husband simply dumped me overboard with my feet solidly encased
in cement. Yes, I was conscious, but my screams were muted by the gag in my
mouth.
I cursed the bastard with each
bubble that left my lungs as I tried my best to hold my breath. I did well
until the cement my feet were encased in hit the sandy bottom, then in an
instant, the air was replaced with seawater.
Exactly One
Year Later
*****
Detective White carefully made his
way into the Tower penthouse. The place was covered in water, sand, seaweed,
dead fish, and seashells. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn the site
was located on the bottom at the ocean.
“Well, Derek, what can you tell
me?” Detective White asked the coroner as he stared down at the two bodies lying
side by side in the king-size bed.
“They drowned. No doubt about it.
But the why and how, your guess is as good as mine.”
“You sure it’s ocean water, doc? I
mean, we’re in a high rise. The doorman said no deliveries were made today or
this week. And he saw these two an hour ago, alive and well.”
“Positive. Their lungs are filled
with seawater.” He pushed down on the man’s chest, and deep green water seeped
out. “I’ve tested it. It’s seawater. Look at the fish, sand, and seaweed.
Whoever crafted this murder wanted to make a statement.”
“Yeah, but did they leave any
clues?”
“Just the remnants of lipstick on
his face. It’s clearly not the same color this young lady is wearing. Maybe
that unique color will tell you the dame that wanted this man dead.”
Detective White laughed as he moved
to the chaise across the room. A sick sound that had the coroner looking at him
oddly. “The only woman I can think of who’d want him dead drowned a year ago.
His wife, remember, she went overboard during a Halloween party on his yacht
last year. She was wearing a Cleopatra costume.” He held up the wet costume he
found lying on the chaise. “I think she came back for a change of clothes and
revenge…”
995 Words
Yolanda Renée © 2020
