It was so simple, two shots to the head, and the bastard was out of her life, finally. “Glad I didn’t waste money on a hit man.” She wasn’t sure why she was whispering.
She tossed the gun down the garbage chute, stripped off the plastic gloves, the large plastic bag, worn to protect her clothes from blood splatter, and sent them after.
She pulled out a pair of plastic gloves from her pocket, there wasn’t going to be any chance of prints; careful planning equaled perfect murder. She didn’t notice the paper-wadded gum fall and roll under the stereo.