It was the last day of November. I knew this from the large calendar clock on the opposite road. I was woken by the chill of winter. I was never the first to feel the cold, because I had been used to it for so long. I was always the first to know when winter had began, because of the unpleasant surprise of my bed and myself being coated with a layer of dew in the morning. Unlike the others I could not turn the heating up; all I could do was to cover myself with another sheet of newspaper.
However the gusts of the night would always blow these extra layers off. Living on bench number thirty six in central park was not my ideal place to live, but I made do with it, because I was not disturbed at night, and the odd person with an ounce of soul would give me fifty cent or so at day at day. There was also a large dumpster in the house opposite the park, where the wealthy owner of Mobile Intercom got rid of his scraps. This dumpster was reminiscent of a gourmet for a man like me. I always saw Sir Blythe Fortesque-Brown’s house keeper hurl out almost whole meals, which I would hastily dash for, the second she would enter back in the house.
Dinner tonight was either half a left over stake, or almost a whole pineapple trifle. Stake was always my favourite especially when still warm; the only problem was it was at the very bottom of the dumpster. I decided on the stake, and this was where I found cell phone that looked extremely new. I found it in the dumpster so I assumed it belonged to the Fortesque-Brown resident. I was planning on selling it to a guy I knew who worked in a market, but as it looked desirable, part of me wanted to keep it for myself. I realised that I had no use for a cell phone, or the camera in it; but it reminded me of my old life.
It was seven years ago when I lost my job, and existence. I was a highly respected lawyer who dealt with the highest paying clients. It was actually Sir Blythe Fortesque-Brown, who offered me three million dollars for his case, in return for sending his daughters rapist in to prison. I was as determined as ever, with the hardest case I faced yet. I had been waiting for a chance like this all my life, but sadly I lost. Following that incident I lost my reputation as ‘the best in town’ which is what some had said. This resulted in not acquiring any business for months. That was when I turned. Gambling was a popular pass time in America, and one of my friends had won a huge sum of money. I gave it a try and akin to any addict, lost great amounts, and was in debt of over thirty thousand pounds. I became bankrupt and was thrown to the streets.
This phone was the only asset that had the essence of my past. Ever since then I had found myself in dilemma with the cops. I tried robbing a small shop; I was also thrown out of some stores whilst trying to hide in them for some warmth. Now I am a known face by the local cops.
While I was chewing away at the tender stake, the cell phone rang. It was a deep husky voice, who spoke with an upper class accent. I hung up the phone, believing it was Brown, and at the next moment the phone rang again. The chime was the same ring tone as my old phone. I answered and spoke to the same man, he said the exact words ‘it is going down on Saturday at ten past nine’, that was all. I had no idea what the man was taking about. I checked who called, it was a private number. I was thinking of my earlier life, and looked through the text messages. There was a series of messages consecutively from the private number. I read through the messages:
Katherine Brown, 31, single, unemployed,
Next Saturday, schedule time later.
50 k, in a case next to the tree on 8th street at 2
A guy called AJ; he’ll set you with a nice pistol, or anything you need.
This was when I started getting suspicious; I knew something wasn’t right I saw this type of thing in films. I panicked and was going to put the phone back, but then a new message:
Make sure it’s done right, no evidence. Just get her in a grave before anyone knows.
I decided to put the phone back, I took it to the dumpster, and discreetly placed the phone where I found it. I made my way to the police station, and saw all the regular faces. They glanced and me and sniggered to each other.
I entered the police station and tried to avoid the recognizable faces, however Andy, who was the most memorable saw me.
“What are you here for this time? Andy enquired. Andy was a large muscular man, who stood stout and wore his blue uniform with pride. He always believed he was superior to his colleagues.
“Well, I’m here to report a murder; a woman called Katherine Brown is going to be killed next Saturday.” I spoke very quickly, and I spoke gibberish.
“What are you talking about? Oh you’re not gonna cry wolf again are ya like last time?”
“No, I’m serious, I found a cell, and there was a group of messages saying that she was going to be killed.”
“Look, we don’t wanna know any of this, we’re busy and I aint got time to sit here listening to your garbage.”
“I am not lying; I found a phone that said…”
“Alright, let me see the phone, and I will see what I can do.”
“Well I don’t have it; I put it back where I found it.”
“You don’t have the phone? You really are an idiot, get out my station, I don’t wanna here anymore stupid lies.”
I left with no complaint, if they do not want me; I am not going to help. If a respectable man went in there, the cops would listen. They do not listen to me just because of my class. I thought that all this type of prejudice had stopped. As I neared my home, I saw a mysterious stranger standing by the dumpster, he looked in. I soon realised that this bald, plump man was looking for the cell phone. After a minute or two, the man left empty handed. I lingered until the man was out of site, and without delay darted for the phone. I checked for any new messages. A new message had been received, it said that Katherine was going to be shot in an exclusive club on twenty-fifth and seventh. That was not too far from my house, I had been to the club before, when I was respected. It was a large club with a dance floor that could allow a vast amount of people to let loose.
It was late evening, and the skyline of Manhattan had its usual orange veneer. It was then it popped into mind, Katherine Brown, Katty Brown. That was the daughter of Blythe Fortesque-Brown. She was an old colleague of mine, and helped me a great deal in the past; we used to be in love but we drifted over social status. I felt obliged to repay my debt and help her. She did not live with her father; she lived over thirty-five blocks away. That distance would take over an hour to walk. My only choice was to go to the entrance of the club and stop her there.
After a time-consuming jog to the club, I was greeted by a swarm of paparazzi, who called security to throw me away. It was nine o’clock and was nearing the supposed assassination time. I was standing one block from the club, waiting for the woman. I saw a hefty, dark SUV and assumed it was one of the celebrities. As it neared the club, a robust, wispy haired man entered the club. From behind; I could see he was carrying a briefcase. It was like the films, a gun is sometimes carried in a briefcase.
I called the last number that had sent a text. The wispy haired man who was walking at a secure pace stopped. He placed down the briefcase and answered his cell. I knew it was the killer. I ran for the case I had to stop the death. I kicked the case through the man’s legs and ran with it. I thought I got away, but then I heard a “BANG!” it was a gunshot. I fell to my knees, with blood trickling from my back. The paparazzi must have heard; they scampered round the corner. The first one was quick to his phone, he dialled 911. I heard the distance siren of the ambulance, and then I wholly collapsed.
“Hello, Hello,” I struggled to open my eyes. As a regained consciousness, I tried speaking to the woman next to me; she was petit with a long white lab coat on. Her coat was almost trailing the ground. Speaking was however a great effort, it felt like muscles had stopped.
“We have given you heavy medication; you are fine, you just need to get some rest. You are on sleeping tablets.” As a drifted into a sleep I saw the faint figure of Katherine Brown.