The perfect breakfast

The perfect breakfast

“Now everyone expects the butler, but nobody has butlers these days.”

“So if you were going to plan the perfect murder, you would have to be unfamiliar to your victim.”

“Effectively you would have to pick a complete stranger off the street,” said as he drew back a long drag on his cigarette. A sharp voice made him put it out.

“Smoking is banned, dicksplash!”

“Take him for example. Murder isn’t always about perversion and revenge, it could be a matter of principle. No fucker talks to me like that and doesn’t walk away without riding the pain train, and who knows? I might even just go too far tonight and snap his neck with my bare hands. But who murders someone just for so slight a grievance?”

“A madman.”

“Yep, there wouldn’t be any reason, so how can you reason that he would use logic and common sense?”

“Much madness is divinest sense.”

“Sometimes, but then how useful is wearing your shoes on your hands? It doesn’t make sense to kill someone for such a pointless reason, other than to show your dominance. Think Idi Amin, Pinochet, Sadamn Hussein, and all the most recent dictators.”

“So they all killed for a reason?”

“I would like an espresso please - Mostly.”

“Black coffee. So back to the perfect murder, how would you go about it?”

“Like I said, most murders are by people who were once known by the victim or either knew them well at the time of the murder. There’s crimes of passion and then there’s revenge. Once the corpse is found, the pigs begin the questioning: who, when, what and finally why? Crime scene investigations are almost like journalism, in fact they are exactly the same.”

He took a sip from his espresso.

“When and what are obviously, so let’s look at who. Who was the victim they will be asking and what kind of lifestyle did they have? Right there you can bring up contacts, friends, lovers and family. Everyone knows someone, and everyone is connected to someone in a way and that is what sometimes makes the murderer. The serial killer - the psychopath - is an example a murderer, if you want to kill someone you have to put up with the little thing we call conscience, and its strange ability to prevent you from wrongdoing. The psychopath often doesn’t have a conscience, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have reason and reasoning.”
“Tangent?” he asked as he looked at the grubby, laminated menu.

“Not at all, the example of the psychopath is of one person who is disconnected from people, he feels no conscience, no remorse and often doesn’t have what we, the mainstream, would call a conventional morality; this makes it way easier to end another person’s life.”

“No fuckin’ shit Sherlock, ’spose next time you’ll be telling me that faggots like cock!”

“I fancy some egg and bacon to be honest. So this is part of the perfect murder, a vital component: cold blood. Hey! Yeah could we get some service over here?”

“So cold blood, yeah? What else?”

“I’d like the rooster and oinker please, hold the tomatoes please. Killers often kill for a reason, like pent-up rage, sexual perversion or in the case of Gary Ridgeway it could be because he wanted to rid the world of undesirables. That was his motive: to cleanse the human waste that clutters up the streets. Once the filth has the motive they can find the next victim and plan a stake out; that’s just one of the many ways to finish a serial killer.”

“Supposing you don’t have a motive?”

“Now you’re catching on. In my humble opinion if you have no motive, it’s harder to for someone to suss you out.”

“Your next victim could be anyone that - for example - just wanders into this café?”

“Precisely, but we’ve been here too long and this is all theoretical.”

He downed his espresso and carried on talking.

“An Englishmen’s home is his castle, but this applies to everyone that lives; your home is your nest and noone imagines anything bad happening inside, but they always expect something bad happening outside. Hence why we have so much bloody security outside our houses, it makes an honest crook’s life a misery.”

“So you were saying?”

“Oh yes, the point is not to have a motive.”

“But didn’t you just disagree with that earlier?”

“You think we can murder the waitress and get away with it?”

“By your reasoning.”

“That would not be the perfect murder; she knows us too well.”

“We’ve only been in here for twenty minutes!”

“I know, but the point is that you’re to have no motive, and to make it damn difficult to be tracked.”

“I fuckin’ know that.”

“Well then, dickhead, you know how to commit the perfect murder.”

“So finish what you were saying, about the Englishman’s home being his castle.”

“Isn’t it obvious? Don’t you know anything about vampires?” he said as he counted his dosage.

“What the flying fuck has that got to do with murder?”

“Well for starters moron, vampires drink blood, so they have to kill to survive, and they also can’t enter a house without permission.”

“Well I’ll be!”

“And that is what make the perfect murder; don’t go into houses unless you’re invited. Ah thank you it looks delicious.” He took one final look at the little white tablets and downed them with his small glass of orange.

“This was all bullshit wasn’t it?”

“This is good bacon.”

“Was it?”

“Kids these days. You’re what? 21? When I was your age my biggest ambition was to jack the crown jewels. Kids of today don’t know you’re born.”

“It was bullshit.”

“This is good bacon; we’re going to have to come here again.”