Joyce
So I met a hit woman this evening.
Ibrahim had insisted that we call her “Eagle,” to protect her identity, but she wasn’t having that, and told us to call her Charlotte. I have always liked the name Charlotte. Joanna was very nearly a Charlotte.
We all met at Ibrahim’s. I know we tease him sometimes, but she had come straight over when asked, which shows that Ibrahim must be very good at what he does. She seemed fond of him, at least.
He has a battered old armchair that I’ve never thought to sit in, and she headed straight for that.
Ibrahim had given us very strict instructions.
We mustn’t ask anything about her personally killing anyone, or stealing anything, or defrauding any particular organization or prominent individual.
Also, we weren’t allowed to ask her about that drone at Gatwick Airport a few years ago.
She was there purely to answer questions about the business of killing.
But you know my curiosity sometimes; I couldn’t help myself, and it turned out she was the chatty type.
The long and short of it was, she used to work for a family in Brighton, and from time to time, but only when needs must, she would bump off the odd person.
But she doesn’t do it any more. So, while I do know that’s bad, we got on like a house on fire.
Ron told her that he had heard of the Brighton family, and she told Ron that she had heard of his family. Ron asked what she had meant by that, and Charlotte said that, well, his son was famous, wasn’t he?
Ibrahim was supposed to lead proceedings, but Elizabeth soon lost her patience with that.
She asked what the going rate was for a professional hit, and Charlotte said around ￡5,000 if you weren’t fussy, but up to ￡20,000 if you really wanted it done right.
Which I said was the same with a conservatory.
We all agreed that Ventham had that sort of money.
Then Elizabeth asked what was the best way to kill someone these days, if you were a professional.
Charlotte said a gun and Elizabeth said, well, some things never change, and they both nodded.
It’s very quick, it’s very efficient, and there is no physical contact that might leave forensic evidence.
Which is obvious when you think about it.
I asked whether it was easy to get hold of a gun, and they both laughed. Birds of a feather, those two.
Would, Elizabeth wondered, a hired killer ever use a blunt object and simply bludgeon a man to death, and Charlotte said certainly not anyone she would want to employ. Elizabeth had nodded approvingly, and mumbled “Last resort.”
And killing someone at home? How usual would that be, Elizabeth asked.
Charlotte said it depended, and that sometimes needs must, and there were times when one had to ring a doorbell and shoot someone on their doorstep.
But how about inside the home, Elizabeth said next.
Charlotte shook her head, and said if someone is killed in their home, it was either by a burglar or by someone they knew. And that made sense to me.
All in all, it made it sound like Tony Curran’s death was not a professional hit, which has jolted our Ian Ventham theory even further.
That aside, it was interesting to meet Charlotte; she spoke with a great deal of authority, but never showing off about it.
I don’t know what she does for a living these days, but she had a BMW, with a driver, parked outside the whole time.
But then so does Joanna sometimes, so I wouldn’t want to jump to conclusions.
It is very important not to judge people by appearances.
If you were to walk past Charlotte on the street you wouldn’t think she had ever been a hired killer.
She just doesn’t look the type, except perhaps the nose stud.
I am almost sure that I would have had a nose stud if my life had worked out differently.
So, we had a lot of fun today, but, really, we have made no progress on the case at all. In fact, we’ve gone backward. We didn’t even get any gossip from Donna, unless Elizabeth is keeping something to herself. And I don’t see why she would.
So I’m afraid we’re all a day older without being a day wiser. No change there though, Joyce.
In brighter news, Elizabeth has asked me to a come to a talk on ceramics with her. Pots and what have you. Girls only, she said, so I shall look forward to that.
I know that life goes on, and that there are pills to take, and books to read, and quizzes to watch, but really, this murder does tend to overshadow everything.