Notice:  Includes adult themes and violence not suitable for young readers.

Chapter 1 (Excerpt)

April 22, 1998 -- Aspen, Colorado

The actress lay naked diagonally across the ten-foot wide, super-sized king bed.  A satin sheet covered her body from just below the small of her back as she slept face down. 

Some al-Qaida missions were better than others, the man in the shadows mused.

The greenish glow from the digital clock showed 3:10.  A clamshell-shaped night-light projected a small white semicircle above the receptacle where it was plugged, just inside the cracked doorway to an adjoining bathroom.  Wide-open French doors led to a second story balcony.  The rising half moon appeared a diffused crescent through sheer curtains that gently swayed from a season-changing breeze.  It was light enough to make out shapes but dark enough for the intruder to stalk unseen.  A lavender scent lingered from two extinguished candles on the dresser.  Bonnie Becker wasn’t just asleep, she had passed out.  Mustafa had watched as she had escorted a handsome young man out of the house an hour earlier.  He had surmised that she must dislike the morning-after rituals of a one-night-stand.  A near-empty magnum of Mumm’s Grand Cru et Rose champagne stood upright on the plush carpeted floor near the head of the bed.  Two wine glasses lay next to the bottle.  The remnants of four joints mixed with cigarette butts in an ashtray. 

Mustafa could make out the slight rise and fall of her upper torso with each breath.  He walked silently over to the bed and gently slid the sheet down, exposing her exquisitely proportioned rear end.  He closed his eyes, exhaled quietly through his lips, and controlled the urge to run his hands over the perfect female shape before him.  An involuntary smile crept across his face.  He had seen that ass on the big screen last year, when Bonnie portrayed a good-hearted Las Vegas stripper.  The movie was panned, but her bare bottom received rave reviews.  

He took a last long look, then opened the top drawer of the night table holding the clock and peered inside.  He shined a pen flashlight on its contents.  The light revealed a jar of hand cream, a bottle of eye drops, and a half dozen loose Advil tablets.  In the back of the drawer, almost covered by a silk scarf was a Rolex Cellini Collection coin watch.  Mustafa picked it up and carefully examined the expensive timepiece.  Its face was a 50-pesos Mexican gold coin.  Marie had reporting seeing it in this very drawer many times but she had never once seen Bonnie wear it.  He placed it into his coat pocket and closed the drawer softly.  He moved the light to the top of a dresser where it caught the sparkle of an eye-popping diamond ring and a pair of matching teardrop earrings.  Next to them lay a black pearl necklace.  He scooped up all the jewelry and dropped the items into his other pocket.        

Mustafa was not a murderer, rapist, or thief.  He needed the watch because he wanted it found in Marie’s possession.  When Bonnie awoke and missed the jewelry she would assume that an insider had burglarized the house. 

(Paragraphs omitted)

Marie glanced sideways at Mustafa.  “Well, Pablo, did you see her?”  She knew him as Pablo Flores, although she knew that he wasn’t Hispanic.  He understood a little Spanish, but spoke to her in English with an odd accent.  He definitely was not a gringo either.  They had lived together for two months before he arranged for the job that required her to move into Bonnie Becker’s Aspen home.  On the whole, Marie knew very little about her recent lover.  Pablo she reflected, not for the first time, was very secretive.  Mustafa removed his calfskin gloves reached into his pocket, retrieved the watch and dangled it in front of Marie.

Fear contorted her face.  “Pablo!  You said you weren’t going to steal anything -- you said that you just wanted to see Bonnie naked.  They’ll think I took it, I’ll lose my job.  Pablo, why --” 

“Relax, you’re not going back there.  I’ll get you a new job.  I took the watch because I want you to have it.”

“But why?  Where we going, Pablo?”

“We’re going to California.  And -- Marie.”

Marie caught her breath and her tension eased.  “Yes.”

 “I did see her naked -- and know what?”

“What?”

“Her skinny, white ass could use a transplant.  I like yours better.”

Marie laughed.  “Pablo, that’s not true.  You’re crazy?  I’ve seen Bonnie naked.   She’s got the body of a goddess.”

Besides -- she would still be a prostitute in Juarez if he hadn’t rescued her last New Year’s Eve.  Nearly every prostitute wished for a prince to take her away from a miserable life on the street.  Marie had actually found one.    

(Paragraphs omitted)

"Lilly & Lola"   24" x 30" oil on canvas

Note:  All art in this website by my wife Judith Redner,
please visit www.jdiart.com for more of her work.

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Copyright ©2009 Charles J. Redner
Manuscript excerpts provided for review purposes only and may not be reproduced without  written permission from the author.