The two men got out of the limousine and stood looking up at the building.
They were in a quiet part of the city. The night was cold and the warm glow from the foyer looked inviting. The younger of the two went up the front steps first, the nozzle of the handgun gently prodding him in the back. He had no idea what he was doing there. Earlier, he had taken the call in the office, arranging to meet a potential client later in the evening. Nothing strange in that. After all, selling life insurance was a private business. It involved varying degrees of confidentiality, but this? The fancy car and chauffeur sent to pick him up, the elderly man in the back that hardly spoke, the gun pressed against him as they made their way to this, a building he didn’t recognise.
They entered and crossed the lobby to the lifts. The building seemed empty. With the barrel of the gun still pushed firmly against him, they entered the lift and rode to the top. Then, taking a short flight of steps, they came out onto a large, flat roof area. It was dimly lit.
“Where are we going?” the young man asked yet again.
The man finally spoke. “Just a few steps now, to the edge.”
“The edge? Why would I want to go to the edge?”
“There’s a great view of the city from up here.” The gun pushed harder.
At the edge, in front of a low wall, the younger man asked, “Why are you doing this?”
“I’m doing this for Blossom.”
“Blossom?”
“She is… she was, my Russian Blue.”
“Russian what?”
“Blue. She was an angel; my beautiful angel, so loving,” he sneered, “and very expensive!”
“I really have no idea what you are talking about.”
The man’s eyes filled with tears. “My late wife adored her. I adored her. Those delicate whiskers, and those eyes, such gorgeous eyes.” He turned to face the young man. “This, you took from us.”
“Are we talking about a cat?”
“A cat, yes, but no ordinary cat. She was our little angel.” More tears welled up. “Last Tuesday you killed it, with your car. I saw it, I witnessed it! I got your plate, the rest was easy. Now we fix your problem.”
“Problem? What problem?”
“We’re going to fix your depression.”
“I don’t have depression.”
“Yes, you do. A bad case of it, apparently.”
“Nobody’s going to believe that.”
“I think they will. Sometimes depression isn’t easy to see in a person. Besides, the letter found in your apartment will explain everything…”