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Authors: Shaun Hutson
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against his ribs.
The time had come.
He pulled the pistol from his shorts and raised it so that the barrel was practically touching the back of the grey-haired man’s head.
In the stillness of the wakening day, the sound of the first shot was thunderous.
The bullet erupted from the muzzle of the pistol and – from point-blank range – drilled its way through bone and brain. A geyser of blood erupted from the wound, some of it spattering the young man himself, who barely blinked.
He fired again.
Another thunderous discharge.
More blood.
The grey-haired man fell forward, crashing face down onto the stone steps. Blood from his head wounds began to cascade down them like a viscous waterfall.
The young man stood there for precious seconds, staring at the body, then he turned and hurried away, aware that someone was already hurtling down the main path from the palazzo, shouting at him.
On the steps themselves, a spreading pool of blood stained the stonework around the bullet-blasted head of Gianni Versace.
14 July 1997
People don’t know me. They think they do, but they don’t.
Andrew Cunanan
People always turn away, from the eyes of a stranger.
Afraid to know what lies behind the stare . . .
Queensrÿche
12
S HE HAD HEARD the doorbell, but hadn’t yet been able to reach the door in time to open it.
Hailey muttered to herself as she padded across the hall towards the scattered letters lying on the mat. She picked up the correspondence quickly and scanned the addressees, then she opened the door itself.
The postman was already making his way down the street, but once he heard her door open he waved back cheerily to her.
The package in the porch stood almost two feet tall: wrapped in shiny red paper, topped by an enormous silver bow.
There seemed to be no label on it, and for a moment she wondered if it had been delivered to the wrong house. But, as she bent to retrieve it, she spotted a small tag attached to the bottom.
MISS R. GIBSON , it announced. Then their address.
Hailey picked up the parcel, surprised at how light it was.
Becky had already wandered out into the hall to see what was happening. She was dressed in her school uniform, ready for her first day back after half-term.
‘What is it, Mum?’ she said, looking at the large package.
‘You’d better open it and find out,’ Hailey told her. ‘It’s addressed to you.’
Becky’s eyes widened in delight, a huge smile spreading across her face.
They took the package back into the kitchen, Hailey looking on with a combination of curiosity and delight as her daughter pulled open the immaculately wrapped parcel.
She wondered where Rob had ordered it from.
Would flowers for her follow later that morning?
Nice touch. Away for a couple of days, so send a present. Good psychology.
‘Mum, look,’ Becky said delightedly, as she pulled the last of the wrapping paper free.
The teddy bear was about eighteen inches tall with big blue eyes and an inviting stitched-on smile. It wore a school-cap and a little knitted scarf.
‘He’s lovely, darling,’ said Hailey, smiling.
Even cleverer, Rob: the teddy was wearing the same colours as Becky’s school uniform.
As Becky lifted the bear to cuddle it, Hailey noticed the label hanging around its neck. She reached across and flipped open the small card.
TO BECKY.
MAKE SURE HE DOES HIS HOMEWORK.
LOVE, ADAM.
Adam?
Hailey frowned slightly as she read the label again.
‘I’m going to put him in my bedroom,’ Becky said.
‘Later, darling,’ said Hailey. ‘We’ve got to go now, or you’ll be late for school.’ She sat the bear on the kitchen table. ‘He’ll be here when you get home.’
Becky shrugged, then scurried into the hall to fetch her coat.
Hailey looked at the bear.
Then at the label.
LOVE, ADAM.
This bear couldn’t have been cheap.
What a lovely thought.
She picked up her car keys, seeing her reflection momentarily in the big blue eyes of the bear.
A
The time had come.
He pulled the pistol from his shorts and raised it so that the barrel was practically touching the back of the grey-haired man’s head.
In the stillness of the wakening day, the sound of the first shot was thunderous.
The bullet erupted from the muzzle of the pistol and – from point-blank range – drilled its way through bone and brain. A geyser of blood erupted from the wound, some of it spattering the young man himself, who barely blinked.
He fired again.
Another thunderous discharge.
More blood.
The grey-haired man fell forward, crashing face down onto the stone steps. Blood from his head wounds began to cascade down them like a viscous waterfall.
The young man stood there for precious seconds, staring at the body, then he turned and hurried away, aware that someone was already hurtling down the main path from the palazzo, shouting at him.
On the steps themselves, a spreading pool of blood stained the stonework around the bullet-blasted head of Gianni Versace.
14 July 1997
People don’t know me. They think they do, but they don’t.
Andrew Cunanan
People always turn away, from the eyes of a stranger.
Afraid to know what lies behind the stare . . .
Queensrÿche
12
S HE HAD HEARD the doorbell, but hadn’t yet been able to reach the door in time to open it.
Hailey muttered to herself as she padded across the hall towards the scattered letters lying on the mat. She picked up the correspondence quickly and scanned the addressees, then she opened the door itself.
The postman was already making his way down the street, but once he heard her door open he waved back cheerily to her.
The package in the porch stood almost two feet tall: wrapped in shiny red paper, topped by an enormous silver bow.
There seemed to be no label on it, and for a moment she wondered if it had been delivered to the wrong house. But, as she bent to retrieve it, she spotted a small tag attached to the bottom.
MISS R. GIBSON , it announced. Then their address.
Hailey picked up the parcel, surprised at how light it was.
Becky had already wandered out into the hall to see what was happening. She was dressed in her school uniform, ready for her first day back after half-term.
‘What is it, Mum?’ she said, looking at the large package.
‘You’d better open it and find out,’ Hailey told her. ‘It’s addressed to you.’
Becky’s eyes widened in delight, a huge smile spreading across her face.
They took the package back into the kitchen, Hailey looking on with a combination of curiosity and delight as her daughter pulled open the immaculately wrapped parcel.
She wondered where Rob had ordered it from.
Would flowers for her follow later that morning?
Nice touch. Away for a couple of days, so send a present. Good psychology.
‘Mum, look,’ Becky said delightedly, as she pulled the last of the wrapping paper free.
The teddy bear was about eighteen inches tall with big blue eyes and an inviting stitched-on smile. It wore a school-cap and a little knitted scarf.
‘He’s lovely, darling,’ said Hailey, smiling.
Even cleverer, Rob: the teddy was wearing the same colours as Becky’s school uniform.
As Becky lifted the bear to cuddle it, Hailey noticed the label hanging around its neck. She reached across and flipped open the small card.
TO BECKY.
MAKE SURE HE DOES HIS HOMEWORK.
LOVE, ADAM.
Adam?
Hailey frowned slightly as she read the label again.
‘I’m going to put him in my bedroom,’ Becky said.
‘Later, darling,’ said Hailey. ‘We’ve got to go now, or you’ll be late for school.’ She sat the bear on the kitchen table. ‘He’ll be here when you get home.’
Becky shrugged, then scurried into the hall to fetch her coat.
Hailey looked at the bear.
Then at the label.
LOVE, ADAM.
This bear couldn’t have been cheap.
What a lovely thought.
She picked up her car keys, seeing her reflection momentarily in the big blue eyes of the bear.
A
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