William Dupré is dead.
Now, isn’t this fucking interesting news?
I have to roll this about in my brain for a minute or two, letting the words sink in.
William. Is. Dead.
Huh.
“Didn’t see that coming,” I can’t help saying it out loud, because I’m quite fucking stunned at this information. I’m even pacing my office, trying to let my mind accept what I’m reading.
William has kicked it. And that’s a damn shame for me.
The report shows approximate time of death, and he had been well and truly pissed, sozzled, drunk, inebriated at the time of his death. The cleaners, when they got no reply to their insistent knocking, tried the front door. Look at that, it was unlocked, and they entered the house to be met with the smell of death and William’s lifeless body. He had enough alcohol in his system to allow himself to be pushed down those stairs by that little bitch he kept.
Oh, I know it all.
I’m his lawyer, and he paid me well to keep my mouth shut. I’m well connected to the people he’s connected to. There was no way either of us could double cross each other without severe repercussions. I would not want that wrath to come down on my head, and as wicked as William was, nor would he.
William, the clever monkey, had made allowances for his untimely death if that little bitch ever got the upper hand. His ego doubted it, but nonetheless, he still made arrangements. Even if he was stupid enough to fall down those stairs in his drunken stupor himself, he made sure she would not escape into the night like a ghost, which is what she has indeed appeared to have done.
Score one point to Whisper.
I know William had cameras around his home, and they must have all been taken care of, absolute proof of his cause of death never to be discovered. Nothing came out in the police report about anybody living in that home other than William.
Clever little bitch covered up her tracks.
Clever little bitch got her freedom.
Or so she thinks.
I knew her years were numbered. The one thing that sick son of a bitch didn’t allow for was the tapes. His ego was far too saturated with her submissive, ‘yes, Master’ behavior.
He was only fifty-one years old, fit as an ox, no health issues what-so-fucking-ever, and kept under the radar of any danger to his person. He was expected to have a long life ahead of him. Her heart would have stopped beating once William was finished with her.
He’d hedged his bets on outliving her. I’d warned him. I’d told him to keep the footage off-site, but he was a glutton for Whisper, and the inconvenience of viewing her off-site was simply too much in his mind’s eye.
She was as good as gold, he’d said. Did everything she was told.
William had bragged to me all the time of the goings on in that home. He had nobody to tell. He needed to boast and preen his peacock feathers as he strutted around my office, while I sat there mostly aroused, listening until I asked for proof. It would cost me some of the payment he gave me to shut me up about his affairs, but it was sure worth it. Each month, I got to see some footage. He’d only started showing me from the time she’d turned eighteen. I’d only found out about the girl when he couldn’t contain himself any longer and he’d needed to reveal his sick little sordid stories to somebody.
Where’s the fun in keeping it all to yourself, when you can’t brag about it?
Now, the police have come and gone, I find it interesting there’s no mention of anything linking William to his dark past. No mention of the little bitch, no mention of any tapes. She has to have had help. His home must have been wiped clean.
How fucking convenient.
She got the upper hand.
Who else knows she was there?
I do not mourn him. The only thing I will regret is my monthly footage to watch of that little beauty. I was paid in cash, so there’s no link to me other than I’m his law-abiding lawyer. But then, I’m a lot of people’s lawyer. There was nothing strange about my working relationship with William Dupré...to the outside world.
Sitting down in my office chair, I put my feet up on my table, hold William’s file up, and can’t help smiling to myself. He really was a sick fuck, but a very organized one.
It’s time for me to play William’s last cards. I have some detective work to do first, and once that’s done, I will get out of Dodge for a while and lay low.
The orchestra is going to play William’s last song, and he is the conductor.
In other words, the shit is going to hit the fan.
William sure knew how to keep me entertained.