Candlelight
   
 Tina had always been kind. If I were to tell you that she just dropped by with fresh cookies at any point of the day, I wouldn’t be lying. She was kind, sweet and a burst of joy to all. She helped out at the school carnival and offered rides around town to all her friends. Tina was the sweetest woman I had ever met. Which is why I had to kill her. Now, don’t get me wrong, I liked what she did for this community. She was a just a sweetness overkill. To be honest, she was out of place in this neighbourhood. I considered she’d be missed a little. But please, what’s the death of one sappy, mid-thirties single lady to a population in their millions? Nothing, nothing to society. Nothing change my opinion of her. Tina had to go, and that was final.

  I’d never actually killed anyone until Tina. I’m probably the sanest murderer you will ever meet. At least, I hope so. I don’t plan on going all Zodiac Killer and conjuring some confusing murder plan. That would take up too much time. And, you know, there’s the whole ‘killing people’ part. Tina would be my first and last. I’d be quick, to the point, no mess, no screams. Like every murder is hoped to be. My objective was to not go to jail. I don’t know what I’d do with a criminal record. I’d probably get fired or get suspicious glares from my co-workers. It would most certainly put a damper in my social status.  Anyway. I was not going to jail, and I would ensure I didn’t. In preparation, I did what any logical person would do, and took notes.

 I made a precise timetable of when others came and left the house. This, without context, may have seemed like I was stalking her. To clarify, I wasn’t. This was purely for the sake of not having someone walk in on her mid-dying. That would be unfortunate. And, you know, I’d end up on jail. That would be awful. So, with this in mind, my actions made a lot more sense. I did research. I decided I wasn’t too fond of stabbing- too messy, and hell, I can’t just walk out of a house covered in blood. So I had decided upon the age-old method of poison. Okay, so it was perhaps a childish method. And yes, for the record, I felt like a total wuss for not choosing something more… murderish. Poison is effective though, and easy. I had decided that it would appear as if she suffered from an illness. The best part is, I would be the hero for calling the police and appearing innocent. Perfect. 

The real issue was deciding when, in the time and date sense. I decided on a nice Sunday afternoon. Something about it seemed ironic and amising to me, I just had to. So that was how I found myself knocking on Tina’s door.

“Claude! How lovely to see you!”
I gave her the best smile I could, before proceeding. I couldn’t stand her damn valley girl voice.
“Ah, yes, Tina. Lovely to see you too.”
“Come in, come in! I just made some fresh coffee!”
I wearily entered her modest two-story home, wiping my shoes in the doorway. A home like Tina’s wouldn’t normally be considered ‘modest’, yet it couldn’t be described as anything more. She had taken the time to furnish it accordingly, not too flashy. I noticed the first time I visited her, she had a strange affinity for cats. Not to the point where it seemed obsessive, but she had things bearing the likeness of cats I wouldn’t have imagined existed. She had a ceramic cat-shaped teapot. That one was kind of cute. The tail of the cat formed a handle, and the cat’s paws elevated it. I guess that’s one of the reasons I could stand Tina. To be fair, we had a fair bit in common. And she was a gossiper, like I shamefully admit I am.
“Claude, did you hear about Rosemary?”
Tina handed me a mug the coffee, taking a seat across from me in her greenroom. 
“No, I hadn’t”, I replied, in a vaguely monotone voice. “Do tell”.
Tina leaned in, her hand gripped tightly on her cat-themed mug.
“I heard from Miguel down the street she tried to bring her fish back to life”
“No.”, I replied, intrigued.
“Well, I knew she was loose a few screws, but really…”
I thought I had imagined it at first, but Tina’s valley-girl accent faded slightly when she spoke of more serious things. It was almost refreshing. Unless you consider it’s Tina we’re talking about.
We chatted and talked, and eventually I got a taste of her fresh brownies. I had never been a fan of chocolate, but Tina had a way with wooing me over. I guess I liked that about her. I was really gonna miss her when she was gone. Though, I was sure she’d end up in heaven or whatever the good end of the deal was when you died. No way would she go to hell. 
“Hey, Claude, not that I don’t love your company, but any reason why you came over today?”
I braced myself to tell the longest lie I had ever come up with. Not the deepest or worst, just longest. An entire sentence of lie.
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming over on Sunday evening. For dinner.” I cooed. 
“Oh?” Tina raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Alright, I believe I’m free that evening…” she trailed off, reaching for her phone to check her calendar,” 
Maybe I was taking advantage of Tina’s singleness, but it was ideal here. Nobody would be hurt, or worried. Tina had told me she was an outcast from her family, and I had remembered it when I had decided to murder her. I remembered quite a few things about her. I tried to refocus my thoughts, as she began her reply.
“Yuppers! I’m a-good to go! I look forward to it, Claude”
“Alright, does seven work?”
“Mhm!”
“I’ll see you then”, I replied, attempting a sly smile. Not one of those douchebag smiles, an actual genuine smile. Giving one to Tina, however, was difficult. I managed though.
“I’ll see you then.

I can’t believe I'm dressing up to murder my neighbour, I thought, as I mulled over which tie to wear. I decided on the red one. I thought is was a lovely shade of red. I didn’t really think it mattered, though, but I was the superstitious type, and I hoped wearing a favourite clothing item would, at the very least, provide some support. 

I couldn’t make up my mind what I wanted to serve for dinner. I was torn between lamb or chicken, both with a side of rice, when it occurred to me Tina might be vegetarian. A quick phone call confirmed she was ‘occasionally’ a vegetarian, so either would be fine. I decided on chicken, thinking she might find it a little more humane. I set candles on the table, lovely red ones. The perfect touch.
I don’t know why I hadn’t expected Tina not to talk to me during dinner. I also hadn’t guessed she thought I was flirting with her. I was most certainly not. What kind of person flirts with the person they’re about to kill? Besides, I don’t even play for her team. 
Roughly an hour into the meal, Tina began to gasp and pant. She began to shake violently grasping at her waist before passing out. I checked her pulse, she was dead. I tensed up. I had been prepared for this, yet it was still so surreal. Now, I had a predicament. There was a dead body in my kitchen, I had to get rid of it, and the chicken was growing cold. I made an educated decision that the chicken sitting on the table calling my name was much more important. After all, I reasoned, I’d need energy for planning how I was to execute this.
I decided I wouldn’t be cliche. I wouldn’t throw her off a bridge, or dig it underground. Even though I knew things like to bury it ten feet, upright, and to place an article of clothing away from it to discourage police dogs. I blame the internet for this, I don’t go searching for this mind you. The chicken, though, was delicious. Now, the body. I figured there were people to deal with this. I know I said I was going to call the police. But things change. It would be ideal, I realized, that the police get as uninvolved as possible. So for the first time since high school, I called Greg.
Greg had always told me he wanted to be one of those ‘odd jobs’ kind of guys. And that’s exactly what he went on to be. Mainly working as a deliverer for a department store down on Queen Street, he would do ‘just about anything’ on his days off. I hadn’t spoken to him since we graduated, but I hadn’t seen him on the streets or jail, so I guessed he was okay. I still had his number in my address book from the day we became friends. Shaking, I picked up the phone and dialled.
“Yo, it’s Gregory.”
“Hey… Greg. It’s Claude.”
I hoped to hell Greg would remember me- let alone my voice, which had no doubt matured since high school. There was a long pause form the other line, before Greg spoke.
“Claude? Claude Köttur? Oh my god! Claude, how are you? Wow, I mean… it’s nice to hear from you!”
A warmth hit my cheeks, I disregarded it. 
“Yeah, you too.” I paused. “I missed you Greg.”
“I missed you too, Claude.”
I inhaled slowly. “Well, I called to ask of you a favour. You still doing that odd-jobs business?”
“Yeah, why?
“I, er…”
“Listen, Claude, don’t be shy. I’ll do anything man.”
I flushed sensing the cheeky smile in his voice.  “You sure?”
“For you? Yeah.”
God.
“I need you to dispose of a body for me.”
There was a slight pause. I imagined Greg raising an eyebrow, ensuring he’d heard me right.
“Wow, uh.  Alright, sure.”
I gawked. I knew Greg was an accepting person, but it was another thing to be accepting of current situations. I hadn’t talked to him since high school, and now I want him to dispose of a body for me. Personally, I'd be a little concerned. I guess I'd called Greg knowing he’d be the one to ask the fewest questions. Thankful I could trust my instincts on something, I was still somewhat uneasy. 
“R-really?”
“Yeah, why not? I mean, I didn’t think you, being the kinda person you are, would do that, but hey I won’t judge man.”
“Thank you, Greg.”
“Plus, like, disposing of a body? Super rad man. Another thing I can add to my ‘Have-done’ list.”
I rolled my eyes. Greg hadn’t changed.
“So see you in ten? Wait, what’s your address?”
After an exchange of information, I made my way to the front porch. I left the light on, as an indicator. One thing I remembered about Greg was that he was a punctual person. Now, this did contradict his personality, but it was a wonderful quality. There was lots to like about Greg. He couldn’t cook for his life and was a good sport about it. He was bluntly honest, in the good way. Never sugar-coated what said. Greg was a good guy, and I was just a little excited to see him. I wondered if he still drove that outdated Chevy, or if he had finally upgraded to one from this century. 
The car that pulled in my driveway was indeed a Chevy. Bless Greg for finally getting a new one. I admit I'd miss the original, but not like I’d tell Greg.
As Greg stepped out, I stared intently. This was defiantly not the same Greg I grew up with. This was the new and improved Greg. He had polished up one hundredfold since I last saw him. 
“Hey, Claude.”
I knew I probably shouldn’t be staring. So I decided to make conversation.
“Ah, yeah, hey Greg. Come in, come in.”
Although it was fairly dark out, the light shone on Greg like a heavenly entity. The angel saving me from a  life in jail. 
I showed Greg inside, and he stood and stared at the body, arms crossed like he was analyzing it.
“Wow, you really killed her.”
I chuckled. “Great observation there.”
He shot me a lopsided grin. “Is she heavy?”
I shrugged. “Probably not. Look at her, she’s a twig.”
Greg let out a breathy laugh. “True. I thought you woulda lifted her by now, though, if you know what I mean.”
I turned to give him a cold stare, as he defensively placed his hands up. “I kid! I kid! Geeze, chill” he paused. “I haven’t forgotten, Claude.” He smiled. 
“Anyway, you got this?” I asked.
“Yeah, of course. No problem. See, I happen to know a guy, who knows a guy, who-“
“Alright, alright, I get the point” I muttered, waving my hand to shush him.”
I turned to face him, as he revealed a bag from his backpack.  “What do I owe you?” I asked quietly.
“Claude. For you, not a thing.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, what do I owe you?”
“Nothing, honestly. Consider it a trade for those times you let me cheat off you in Calc 2.”
I crossed my arms, discouraged. “Seriously, Gregory Joseph Lewitt. What the hell could I do to return this? Anything, you name it.”
“Anything?” he asked hopefully.
“Well, nothing more illegal than this. And nothing gross, okay? Something within reason.”
“A date?”
I paused, dumbfounded, 
“You…mean like”
“A date, Claude. How about it?”
His face as red as mine, and I could tell he was serious. Greg’s voice always got noticeably quiet when he was sincere.
“I’d really like that.”
I was barely aware of the words coming out of my mouth. But I truly meant them.
As Greg shoved the body in the trunk, giving the trunk a solid push, he faced me.
“I'm glad you called.”

Word count: 2439