The Power of Suggestion by Glo Curl

Women would often tell me I had hypnotic eyes but I didn't really believe them—until now. And Kathy fancied me, maybe that made her highly receptive. 

When she caught me that afternoon in the safe room of the Hatton Garden jewellers where we worked, pocketing three huge diamonds and a bagful of rubies, it was a cinch to take her in my arms and whisper a few sweet nothings, give her a good snog and then ask her nicely to forget she saw me there. 

"But Dan, how will you get away with it? You know the boss checks the stock every morning." "I’ll be long gone. That slimy bastard’s been screwing my wife for months. They're probably at it right now, while I'm supposed to be conveniently attending the gem conference," I replied. “This bag of goodies is a small recompense. Maybe they’ll both realise that eventually. Just help me out, eh?" 

“Dan, let me come with you." 

"Kathy, sweetie, you're great, but honestly it wouldn't work.” Taking her hands in mine I gazed into her unblinking green eyes. “Remember to delete the CCTV before you lock up.” "Yes, Dan." 

"I was never here, okay?" My voice was steady. I felt sure I'd got through to her. Of course, I did get through to her, hence my present predicament. 

They detained me at Dover; I assumed Kathy had snitched on me out of spite. In retrospect it was a mistake to boast to the local plods that I'd enjoyed every minute of my revenge. An hour or so later the arresting officer slapped the handcuffs on and recited the caution. The word "murder", and the names of my wife and boss eventually filtered through to my shuttered brain. My legs buckled. 

But I had an alibi. Didn't I? 

Published in Issue #19

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