Free Out of the Mist by EvergreenWritersGroup Page B

Reginald said.
    Elizabeth gazed at
Duncan and held out her hand once more. “Nice to have met you,
Duncan. Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime.”
    Duncan accepted her
hand and held it to his lips a second longer than
necessary.
    Reginald watched his
friend leave. “Haven’t seen him since he graduated. Nice to have
run into him. Hasn’t changed much. He always was a wild
one.”
    “ Wild?”
    “ Liked the women, if
you know what I mean.” Reginald snickered.
    “ I see.” Elizabeth
paused. “Perhaps I’ll go to my room and rest up. Finish my book,
maybe, if you’re going to play poker.”
    “ I’d like to, if you
don’t mind. The game starts at ten. I’ll go to the bar
first.”
    “ Stay as long as you
like. I’ll be fine.”
    “ Should be over by
midnight.” Reginald kissed his wife on the cheek before heading to
the bar.
     
    ***
     
    Reginald gulped the
last of his rum. He glanced at the clock hanging over the bar,
surprised it was only 9:45 p.m. He’d already decided to pass on the
poker game. For some reason, he wasn’t in the mood. Perhaps he’d
had too much to drink.
    "I'm going to head
in," he told the bartender. “Put the tab on room 428, will
ya?”
    Donning his hat, he
headed to the staircase. At the top of the stairs, he stopped to
catch his breath and then turned right toward his room. He
retrieved the brass key from his pocket and, not wanting to wake
his wife, stealthily inserted it into the door.
    At first, he didn’t
realize anything was amiss. The moon’s rays shone into the room,
enough illumination for him to make his way to the bathroom, yet
something made him hesitate. There appeared to be more than one
person in the bed.
    When his suspicion
registered, he froze. What the hell!
    Reginald coughed, a
nervous reaction. Whatever hid beneath the blankets
stirred.
    Two figures, once
shrouded by linens and darkness, bolted upright. The bedclothes
concealed the lower halves of their bodies, but the beam of
moonlight trapped the couple in its glow. The light framed the two
lovers as though they were meant to be together, like a hurriedly
snapped photograph of a recently married couple. Except they
weren't a married couple. And they didn’t sport happy faces. One
was Reginald’s dearly beloved Elizabeth. It took a few long seconds
before he recognized his college buddy, Duncan.
    Tongue-tied, Reginald
stared. The couple had apparently lost their voices, as
well.
    Reginald coughed
again, on purpose, which injected life, albeit sluggish movement,
into the shadowed room. Before Elizabeth or Duncan reacted,
Reginald reached inside his jacket and withdrew his gun.
    He pulled the
trigger. The flashes produced eerie luminescence when he fired two
precise shots before the unsuspecting couple were able to jump from
the bed or regain their voices. Tears formed in his eyes as the
force threw the individuals—first Duncan and then
Elizabeth—backward on the bed where they lay as if never
disturbed.
    Reginald spewed a
thick wad of phlegm to the floor before tossing the Smith &
Wesson onto the bed. He visualized the blood of the two lovers
mingling as the thick fluid seeped into the mattress. The raw
acridness wafted toward him though the smell was probably in his
mind. He knew from his investigations into dozens of homicides that
the pungent, metallic odour wouldn't fill his nostrils that fast
unless he stood in a slaughterhouse.
    He clutched his
unbuttoned coat around him before unlatching the balcony door and
stepping outside. The full moon hung low in the sky, and, to
Reginald's numb mind, it seemed ready to swing down and snuff him
out. Stars twinkled mockingly in the sky, their sharp edges
piercing his skin and gouging his heart. He leaned against the
balcony and, despite the darkness, stared far ahead to where he
knew the Atlantic Ocean met the horizon. Below him, the ocean
smashed its furious fists against the boulders. To his left, in the
distance, Cape d’Or Lighthouse radiated.
    As if