The Perfect Murder by C.N.LesleyWhen a man loses everything, he has nothing left to lose, and now he is free. That is the time to start running if you were responsible for his framing.
Elizabeth Hull4 min

The Perfect Murder by C.N.Lesley



John <>

to me


Subject: You’re Dead.


Hi Dean,


You can come out from under your desk and continue scrolling down. I don’t have a sniper bead trained on you. See? No red dot. But you are dead as of this moment. Oh and before you rush into the bathroom to puck up your coffee, I haven’t poisoned you.


As I have spent a lot of time planning the perfect murder, I would like my victim to appreciate my genius. Not only will you die, there isn’t a court in the land that will convict me of your death. And no, I haven’t paid someone else to take you out.


We used to be friends and partners, Dean. Why did you set me up? I didn’t deserve ten years in jail although I’ve put my time to good use. I picked up all sorts of interesting skills, especially after I told my fellow inmates how I intended to use them.


Let’s start with Maria shall we? Despite your trophy wife, you took my love. We were happy together until you came along. I found out about your affair when I was on remand, when I knew I was going to get time inside.


I know she knew too much, but did you have to get her hooked on heroin? Yes, I know she has graduated from coke because I know the dude supplying her on your behalf. I guess the hike is to make her permanently quiet. She doesn’t know you’ve dumped her yet, does she?


Say, have you had any fevers lately? I can see from your medical records you have just gotten blood work done for some strange symptoms. I’ll save you the wait. You have AIDS, Dean. I arranged for Maria to have a supply of contaminated needles about six months back. She tested positive three weeks ago, but she hasn’t had the bottle to tell you. That is the thing about shacking up with older women, Dean. They get their tubes tied, and then you don’t use condoms. I’ll bet you’re regretting this.


Oh, and I know Aaron isn’t mine, despite his arrival three months after my arrest because I caught mumps on my eighteenth birthday. Do you remember that, Dean? You stayed away because you were frightened of catching it. Well the rumours are true, I am sterile. Your child—your responsibility.


Now, on to your business. Remember giving the bribe to the congressman so you could get all your permits, despite the zoning being all wrong? Guess who has pictures of that wonderful Kodak moment in their chubby fists? On the other hand, I don’t imaging the people buying into that high-rise in Detroit are all that happy with the results of the deep core sample of their lot. Built it on an old landfill, didn’t you? Dumping loads of rubble on the top and compacting that down doesn’t make for a stable structure. After the letter they each got today they will know why they have cracks in their walls. I did remember to put the names of all the best lawyers in this field at the bottom, just to make things easier for them.


Having a bad day, Dean? Thinking of going home to that swanky, million dollar pad? Remember the gardener quitting last week? He finished his job for me. You will find multiple termite nests in your property and carpenter ants, just for good measure. They‘ve had plenty of time to get well-established with the careful help from my friend. Of course,  you could try fixing it to sell—at least you could’ve done before I had him contaminate your yard with anthrax. A report is about to arrive at city hall, so they will be making your pad a no-go area.


Now I sail into the wide blue yonder with all of your money from your personal account, and from that holding account you didn’t want the tax man to know about, except that he does now since I sent him all the statements from the last ten years.


Yes, this is a free confession. I have destroyed your business, your home, your social life and infected you with Aids. You are not just dead, you are destroyed. Everything you care about is ruined, including your computer. I embedded a nice new virus in this email—currently busy wrecking your registry.


You might also want to start running now. The automatic transfer of money from your personal account to the holding account of your drug dealer didn’t go through. I hope you appreciate how careful I was with my timing, Dean. I don’t know what they will do to you when they find out you are broke. Oh and don’t think about the trophy wife’s diamond bling, it’s all fake. She has a little gambling habit that is way out of control. In fact,  she will have to ask you to square her debts at the casino, only you can’t, Dean, being broke. I wonder which mob will get you first?


So Dean, what do you think of the perfect murder? Enjoy.


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