Marcus Fielding gazed fixedly at the kitchen knife.
“Look old chap why don’t you put that thing down and we can chat over a whisky like civilised human beings”.
The visitor made no answer save for the sickly smile which slowly spread across his sallow face.
“Look here old man if you leave now we will say no more about it. You where never here. A nods as good as a wink to a blind horse and all that”.
The stranger’s smile broadened. He shook with silent laughter.
Marcus wondered if he could reach the panic button on his key ring. If he could do so then the private security firm who guarded the house would be there in a matter of minutes. Why the bloody hell had they not stopped his unwelcome guest from reaching him in the first place?! Marcus casually reached towards his pocket.
“I wouldn’t do that if I where you”. The stranger’s voice was flat and expressionless but the coldness in his eyes caused Marcus to shiver involuntarily.
“As you like. I was only retrieving my handkerchief” Marcus said placing his hands on the desk. “Is it about a girl?”
“Ah Mr Fielding we all know your reputation with the ladies don’t we? I bet there is a queue of irate husbands wanting to punch that smug face of yours, not to mention the angry fathers baying for your blood. You like them young I understand, anything over 16 and, preferably below 30”
“Was it Jenny” Marcus asked thinking back to the leggy blonde he had picked up on Friday evening. God she had been as thick as two short planks but Marcus didn’t care. It was whether they where good in bed which interested him.
“Who is Jenny?”
“You haven’t come about Jenny. Then who have you come about?”
“Juliette”.
A look of puzzlement flitted across Marcus’s face. His position as a leading literary critic enabled him to bed more or less any girl of his choosing. A few well chosen words about how he could create a best selling author had the ladies eating out of his hand. It was lies of course and it never ceased to amaze Marcus that so many girls fell for the yarn, hook, line and sinker. He couldn’t remember the name of every lady he had had the pleasure of sharing his bed with, however he was almost positive that none of his conquests where called Juliette.
“No, sorry I don’t believe that I have had the pleasure of meeting Juliette”.
“I can assure you that you are intimately acquainted with Juliette”.
“I honestly can’t recollect having met the lady in question”.
“She is my dearest possession and you destroyed both me and her”.
Marcus was convinced that he was dealing with a mad man.
“What does she look like? If you describe her then perhaps I may remember her”.
“She is the love of my life. We spent many happy years together. She began as a tiny thing and grew into a beautiful creation. But you destroyed her!”
“She is your daughter? How can a night of passion ruin the life of a young lady? You are upset but young ladies have the right to choose who they date. Painful as it no doubt is there comes a time when a father must let his little girl go out into the big bad world and explore”.
“She is here with me, my Juliette”.
Christ he really was dealing with a lunatic Marcus thought.
“Here she is” the visitor said extracting a crumpled manuscript from his breast pocket. “You trashed my labour of love, my Juliette. Do you know how long it took me to write Juliette? 2 years. Yes 2 years of burning the midnight oil. It cost me my marriage and you, you go and wreck my literary career with half a page of newsprint. Half a bloody page is all it took to destroy my life. I’ve come here to finish it. To let you know what you have done before the grim reaper strikes”. The visitor raised the knife. Marcus closed his eyes preying that it would be quick. There was a gurgling sound followed by a thud. Marcus opened his eyes to see his visitor sprawled across the floor blood soaking into the expensive carpet.
