Upper East Side
November 20, 10.56 p.m.
Elizabeth was just turning into Roma Avenue. A daddy’s girl through and through. It paid to be a daddy’s girl in her family. It got her the Upper East Side apartment, the Mercedes, and the expense account, as Daddy called it. It got her expensive clothes, expensive treatments and all the trappings of wealth — just as long as she played the virgin daughter to her preacher father.
Hey, but she was also doing well on her own, wasn’t she? Never put a foot wrong. Straight-A student. Graduated top of her class at Princeton. But it was love she really craved tonight. Firelight, candles and strong arms. Love she wanted and love, she thought, she was going to get.
She fished in her handbag for her entrance card, but couldn’t find it. Damn. When she reached the apartment building she signalled to Marvin, the concierge, and waited for him to release the heavy door for her, rewarding him with a smile. Marvin turned and followed her with his eyes as she headed for the lift. Elizabeth was used to attention. The elevator travelled quickly to the twenty-second floor.
Elizabeth was thinking about Anthony. He was an investment banker. All gaunt cheeks, awkwardness and sparkling eyes. Gorgeous. And he made love like a man who wanted you to remember it.
She walked up the thickly carpeted corridor to the door of her apartment and took out her keys. They were on a little Tiffany lock charm shaped as the letter E.
She looked at the lock. It was covered in small scratch marks. She put in her key but the door was not locked. The killer heard the key in the lock. She opened the door and was surprised by the sudden scent of flowers. She raised her eyebrows, tossed her handbag aside.
Anthony had got in somehow. Maybe he was planning something special. ‘Is that you?’ she called.
She walked towards the bedroom. The phone started ringing and she hesitated, but then she saw it. The bed had been turned down and a small box lay on the pillow. It looked like the kind of box you’d put a ring in. A dress was all laid out. Was this Anthony’s big secret? Was he going to propose?
From inside the wardrobe, the killer watched her. Beauty and wealth were so strange, so very strange. You could see them, but you couldn’t ever grasp them in your hand. They were in her, somewhere. He was going to find out where.
She opened the lid of the black velvet box, and her smile drained away. An eye stared back at her. He had decided to use one of Mary-Jane’s eyeballs. Elizabeth suddenly felt terribly vulnerable, a feeling she’d not experienced before. Her legs began to shake. She couldn’t move as the door of the wardrobe opened. She couldn’t move at all. He appeared and stood before her. Over six feet and holding something that shimmered and caught the light. She held up her hand, open-palmed in a gesture of conciliation, as if that tiny little protest would be enough to stop the American Devil.
He walked up to her and put his other hand out to touch her golden hair.
‘Remember me?’ he said.
Elizabeth recoiled from his touch, her body frozen in shock, her eyes staring at the blade he held by her cheek.
‘You’re just perfect,’ said the killer. ‘I watched you for a long, long time, Elizabeth. I need you to cooperate with me. We haven’t got much time.’
Oliver Stark
American Devil