Swimsuit - James Patterson [36]
HENRI BENOIT WOKE UP between soft, white layers of bedding in an elegant four-poster bed in his room at the Island Breezes Hotel on Lanai.
Julia was snoring gently under his arm, her face warm against his chest. Late morning sunlight filtered through the filmy curtains, the whole wide Pacific only fifty yards away.
This girl. This setting. This inimitable light. It was a cinematographer’s dream.
He brushed Julia’s hair away from her eyes with his fingers. The sweet girl was under the spell of the kava kava, plus the generous lacing of Valium he’d put in her cup. She’d slept deeply, but now it was time to wake her for her close-up.
Henri shook Julia’s arm gently, said, “Wakey, wakey, monkey face.”
Julia cracked open her eyes, said, “Charlie? What? Is it time for my flight?”
“Not yet. Want another ten minutes?”
She nodded, then dropped off against his shoulder.
Henri eased out of bed and got busy, turning on lamps, replacing the media card in his video camera with a new one, setting the camera on the dresser, blocking out the scene. Satisfied, he removed the silk tassel tiebacks from the curtains, letting the heavy drapery fall closed.
Julia mumbled a complaint as he turned her onto her stomach. He said, “It’s okay. It’s just Charlie,” as he tied her legs to the posts at the foot of the bed, making a clove hitch knot with the cords, and then he tied her arms to the headboard using an exotic Japanese chain knot that photographed beautifully.
Julia threw a sigh as she slipped into another dream.
Henri went to his duffel bag, sorted through the contents, put on the clear plastic mask and blue latex gloves, unsheathed the hunting knife.
Masked and gloved but otherwise naked, Henri placed the knife on the nightstand, then knelt behind Julia and stroked her back before lifting her hips and entering her from behind. She moaned in her sleep, never waking, as he pumped into her, his pleasure overtaking reason, and told her that he loved her.
Afterward, he collapsed beside her, his arm across the small of her back until his breathing slowed. Then he straddled the sleeping girl, twirled her short hair around the fingers of his left hand, and lifted her head a few inches off the pillow.
“Ow,” Julia said, opening her eyes. “You hurt me, Charlie.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”
He waited a moment before drawing the blade lightly across the back of Julia’s neck, leaving a thin red line.
Julia only flinched, but with Henri’s second cut, her eyelids flew open wide. She twisted her head, her eyes growing huge as she took in the mask, the knife, the blood. She sucked in her breath, shouted, “Charlie! What are you doing?”
Henri’s mood shattered. He’d been filled with love for this girl, and now she was defying him, wrecking his shot, ruining everything.
“For God’s sake, Julia. Show a little class.”
Julia screamed, bucked violently against the restraints, her body having more range of motion than Henri expected. Her elbow collided with his hand, and as the knife danced away from him, Julia filled her lungs and let loose a long, undulating, horror-movie screech.
She’d left Henri no choice. It wasn’t graceful, but it was ultimately the best means to the end. He closed his hands around Julia’s throat and shook her. Julia gagged and thrashed against the ropes as he squeezed off her air, controlled every last second of her life. He released, then squeezed her neck again — and again — and then finally she was still. Because she was dead.
Henri was panting as he got off the bed and crossed the floor to the camera.
He leaned toward the lens, put his hands on his knees, said with a grin, “Better than I planned. Julia went off script and ended our time together with a real flourish. I just love her. Is everybody happy?”
Chapter 46
HENRI WAS STEPPING OUT of the shower when he heard a knock at the door. Had someone heard Julia screaming? A voice called out, “Housekeeping.”
“Go away!” he shouted. “Do not disturb. Read the sign, huh?”
Henri tightened the sash of his robe, walked to the glass doors at the far end of the