As I mentioned, Mrs. Ava Beaumont was an extremely attractive young woman – thirty or thirty five tops, although I’m not a good judge of age. Her long dark hair was pulled back behind the ears, but somehow I got the impression that allowing it to flow freely down across her shoulders was a preferred style. That would certainly attract more attention, and for some reason I imagined Mrs. Ava Beaumont liked attention.
I suspect a tight skirt is uncomfortable for most women; but her waist size was less than twenty-four inches and the skirt’s butt hugging shape gave her the chance to show off a very slim and very well figured body. Small, but ample, breasts were inconspicuous behind the conservative beige blouse, and I got the feeling I was seeing the ‘business’ side of Mrs. Ava Beaumont rather than the ‘real’ side.
Her eyes were hidden by dark glasses and weren’t telling me anything about what was happening in the mind behind them. However, one thing stood out about Mrs. Ava Beaumont and couldn’t be disguised by conservative clothing, dark glasses or hair style. She had small round lips, which remained tightly pressed together except for when she spoke, giving the impression of words left inside her lovely mouth that she didn’t want to accidently escape. Today her lipstick was red, not bright, just red – and without seeing her eyes, the lips became the focal point on a face with a flawless complexion and a mild tan that didn’t show signs of abuse from the sun. I hate dark glasses, and prefer to see eyes when talking to a client. But, without the eyes, I found myself talking to those lips rather than her.
“May I smoke?” she asked, after retrieving a pack of Winston from her purse, lighting one and laying the pack on the edge of my desk.
Hanging onto his left arm, much like being escorted to a prom dance was a woman whose appearance I can only describe as breathtaking. Three inches taller, and young enough to be the man’s daughter, she was dressed in a strapless, low cut, electric blue evening dress that clung to her body like paint - leaving little for the viewer’s imagination. Medium length auburn hair dangled near her shoulders without encumbrance, allowing it to bounce across her beautiful face when she walked. But, most noticeable about this beauty were her large lips, which were painted with a bright red lipstick that seemed to almost offer its own light source into the dark room.
She turned when the door automatically closed behind them, then leaned across the gentleman while whispering something in his ear – offering the viewer another interesting angle. The back of her electric blue evening dress was cut almost six inches below a slim waist, exposing the top of firm buttocks and suggesting the exposure of much more.
Sylvia had not looked directly at anyone other than Byron since entering the bar, at least if she did I hadn’t noticed. She also wasn’t carrying a purse, which I found odd – considering my extensive knowledge of women! She also hadn’t released his arm, except for the few moments while sliding onto her bar stool. Evidently they were close, or she found some real comfort in having him close, because he was certainly getting all her attention.
Without testing her drink, she reached into Byron’s inside coat pocket and retrieved a pack of Tareyton cigarettes and lighter. Handing him the lighter, she put one between those big lips and he quickly lit it. Apparently now comfortable with her surroundings, she finally sampled her drink before blowing a mouthful of blue smoke out into the room. Sylvia was definitely an interesting, if not strange, woman.
Olivia disappeared into the shadows and Henry removed his wallet before opening the passenger door to speak with the driver. Henry never spoke a word.
Tap…tap, tap. Three silenced bullets came from somewhere near the rear of the limo. The first smashed into the back of Henry’s head, spilling his blood and brains all over the driver and front seat. The second two slammed into the chest of the shocked and surprised driver – neither he nor Henry ever realizing what was happening.