Assassinating Angels

They said she was able to utter a few words before she died. This kept repeating itself in my mind; she could not have said anything to them before she had died! I clenched my two fists until they turned white, but was determined not to attract attention to myself. Eventually my frustration reached such a gargantuan height that I knew I would be unable to contain myself in there for much longer. I walked out of the funeral parlour in silence, adjusted the black hat on my head and started walking; battling against the bitter winds of a winter Los Angeles.1

My mother’s name was Angel, and now she was lying inside a hard white box. The doctors said she had fell down the stairs and hit her head, but had not allowed me to see her in the hospital. However, I loathed doctors so I had crept into the room where she was on life support. Luckily no one had seen me, but what I seen came as a great shock to me. She had bandages dyed crimson wrapped around her stomach: not something one usually obtains from accidents on a staircase.2

Yet my greatest anger came from what Jester and Beaver had told me. This was a two-man partnership who I had employed twice before, but then it had been as Bounty Hunters. Jester contacted me, asking did I need any jobs doing. I thought that was a bit strange, nevertheless I asked him to obtain any information he could about my dying mother.3

Only several tense hours later he had called my phone again, with news that my Angel was dead. I listened on as a lone tear crept down my mournful cheek, they said she had managed to spit out a final sentence, and that it was of utmost importance. Conversely, the duo deemed it ‘unsafe’ to tell me over the phone, so they told me to meet them at Griddle Café three days later: today.4

My mind told me repeatedly something was wrong here, but my head was flooded with thoughts and I hesitated no more. There was no way that Jester and Beaver were telling the truth, but they were two men I trusted above any others: they were loyal to me and the money I paid them. 5

I shoved the wide, mahogany door open and slammed it shut behind me; the wind instantly smashing into my face as I left my house. Battling my way down the driveway I clasped my hand around the cold metal gate and began the short walk to the café. I was still in my funeral suit. The funeral might still have been taking place without me, or people might have gone looking for me, I did not know. I did not care. Jester had told me to meet them now, and that is exactly what I planned on doing: I needed to know what was happening.6

I spotted a tree as I walked, and there was an A4 piece of paper stuck to it. Intrigued by the poster for some unknown reason, I walked closer to get a better look. It took only a second for my mouth to drop open. I walked away quickly, keeping my head down. It was a wanted poster for a murder. “Alex Diaz, murderer of Julia Smith”, it read. I had knew Julia well, and she was an incredibly nice and generous woman. It was such a tragedy that she had died, and a lump grew in my throat every time I heard her name.7

Across the road from griddle café, Jester sat on a black metal bench, wearing a long overcoat and with his head covered by a tweed hat. He was reading a newspaper, and very little of his skin was exposed, but my eye was much trained. I quickly scanned my surroundings, but I could not see Beaver. Actually, I had never seen Beaver before. It was always Jester who met with me. 8

Next, I quickly jogged across the road. I took a seat next to him, and it was several seconds before he folded his newspaper and acknowledged me.9

“I am sorry about your loss,” was all he said, and I had to scrunch my eyes together to prevent any tears from spilling. “Angel said to transfer the money from your last job to your new account.” I shook my head slightly, annoyed by Jester’s lack of subtlety.10

However, I wondered why Jester was telling me to do this, because it was impossible that my mother had given that command. In fact, it was impossible that my mother had given any command at all: she was mute! Jester and Beaver would not have known this though, because I had never actually introduced them to her.11

“I trust this is the bank you and Beaver opened for me?” I questioned.12

“The very same, but could you think of any reason why your mother wanted the money moved?” Jester replied, trying to sound as concerned as possible.13

“None,” I stated, “And I’m afraid I won’t be moving it.” My guess was that the pair was actually in control of the account they set up for me, and that they would take the money as soon as I moved it. 14

“But you must; it was your own mother’s dying wish!” Jester exclaimed, and I could see the panic building up inside of him. It was obvious he had expected this plan to work straight away.15

Jester’s phone rang. He slid it out of a pocket in the sleeve of his coat and answered quietly. I sat still, trying to listen, as a near-silent argument took place next to me. Eventually he snapped the phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket. “We wait.” were his only words. He re-opened his newspaper and began reading again; leaving me to sit in silence.16

Even from across the street, I was sure that the sweet smell of fresh pancakes was drifting through the wind towards me, and I sniffed hard. Jester’s eyes flickered up at me. The only alternative sound to the howling wind was the occasional creasing of paper as Jester would turn the page. I continued to sit in silence.17

“You hear the killer of Julia still hasn’t been caught?” Jester commented robotically. He allowed no emotion to enter his speech. “It’s a shame they never seem to find those bastards. I loved that woman like a god-damn mother. ” 18

A tear began to form in my eye again; why is it always the innocent ones who die? The murder wasn’t meant. And then my mind turned to my mother. Someone had killed her, and I would make them regret it. I tried hastily to bring my mind off things. “So where is Beaver?” I questioned.19

“Emergency heart surgery,” Jester replied without averting his eyes from his article, “But don’t worry, he shouldn’t be too long.” How Jester could be so cool about his partner undergoing this major surgery was beyond me. Was he really that heartless? However, I soon found my answer. A silver Audi A4 convertible pulled up in front of us and a hand protruded from the window, ushering u inside. Jester got up first, and then beckoned me to follow. “Here he is, now.”20

I was seated in the back of the car, and there had been a tinted black window installed in the middle, making it impossible to see the front two seats. The roof was up. My immediate thoughts were concerning the heat; it was so warm in here compared to the horrors of outside. The car started moving, and we were travelling at a surprisingly fast speed; what was the hurry? I was practically forced backwards into my seat as the 24-valve TDI V6 engine screamed silently and hurled me forwards.21

“The feds think Alex Diaz had fled to Mexico.” came the voice of Beaver. 22

“Mexico eh…” Jester replied, entering a pool of thought. “I suppose he ‘aint getting what he deserves after all, then.” Beaver merely grunted in reply.23

“That reminds me. When are you going to transfer the money?” Beaver shouted back to me. The words were slightly muffled by the window. 24

“I’m not going to; my mother must have been confused in her last minutes.” I replied smugly.25

The next few seconds were unbelievable. The Audi, which must have been doing around 60mph, stopped in an instant. I had rejected my seatbelt, and was flung through the tinted glass window in the middle of the car. The pain was horrendous as the glass shattered and ripped through me, and all the air was blasted out of my lungs. Nevertheless, it had been my hand that shattered the glass as it had zoomed up to protect my head. My knuckles were shattered. I gasped for air. I screamed with agony. Beaver and Jester were still in their seats, but clearly unconscious. I could still move; my spine was unbroken. However, I was wedged in the middle of the car, with my head and torso stuck between the two front seats, and my legs left dangling uselessly in the back. 26

Feeble groans were the only noise I could make as I lay suspended in midair, like a strange tableau of a bird. My eyes spun in and out of focus, and I turned and looked at Beaver for the first ever time. It was him! Beaver was the doctor who hadn’t allowed me to see Angel. And that was obviously what Jester meant by emergency heart surgery: he wasn’t undergoing it, he was performing it! What on earth was happening here?27

Struggling, I glanced up through the window to try and work out what had happened, with blood spilling down my numb face. A tree. Beaver must have swerved, and now the car was embedded in a huge oak tree, with the bonnet hopelessly crumpled. Tired.28

I woke up in a hospital bed. My head was filled with swirls of meaningless thoughts but as I looked left he was there. Beaver. In the next bed to me he lay, staring at the ceiling. 29

“Hey!” I shouted, not even attempting to disguise the anger in my voice. Seemingly struggling, he managed to tilt his head towards me. “What did you do to my mother?” I inquired, and he actually had the nerve to smile.30

“We shot her.” He laughed quietly but callously. Immediately I attempted to spring from the bed, but I had not the energy to pull myself up. Seeing my struggle he continued talking. “She, the second in command of your business was obviously not content with being second in command. I believe that was why she murdered the number 1: Julia, my Sister.” He spat after the last words, dark blood spraying on his white bed sheets. Julia had been Beaver’s sister, that’s whys Jester had been so upset. But I could not grasp hold of any emotion other than anger; he had killed my mother and she was completely innocent. He continued. “Obviously, Angel was a pseudonym. Her real name, we found, was Alex Diaz.” I groaned hideously when he said this, he was completely wrong! “Very cleverly, she must have alerted the LAPD that Alex Diaz was a man, but how they fell for it is unbeknownst to me,” he seemed to think for a moment as I lay in silence, “Your mother was a bad person,” was his closing sentence. It took me several seconds to absorb his statement.31

I dived out the bed faster than a Cheetah chasing it’s pray, with all signs of weakness dissolved away. Beaver’s jaw dropped open as he seen the expression of rage on my face, and my fists smashed into his bruised face. An inferno of punches met only by a wail of terror. His head flopped uselessly against his pillow, my world started turning and I fell to the floor.32

He was completely wrong! My mother was dead because of a stupid assumption, and it was entirely my fault. The emotions tumbling around inside of me were banging on my brain, begging to flow out all at once. And now the police would be involved. I would be found out. 33

Alex Diaz has nothing left. Alex Diaz will walk from the earth tonight.