The Black Top Hat

The air stunk of hidden agendas and New York fog. The woman rummaged through her purse, pretending to look for her lipstick, but her attention was on something else entirely. A middle-aged man was conversing with an elderly woman in the center of the train station, his face concealed by a lofty top hat that seemed far too large for his likely balding head. As she strolled by purposefully, the eyes of the elderly woman locked onto her own for a split second before their piercing stare swiveled back to the man, the gaze far too sinister for a person of that age. Perhaps this was why she avoided the wealthy business class. This client had been willing to pay a hefty amount so she couldn’t complain. 

The woman walked back toward the exit of the station, beginning her third lap around the bustling room. She sidestepped a quarreling couple, swirled around a man choking on the smoke of his own cigar, and pulled out a notebook and a velvet hat, this time pretending to be a journalist jotting down some ideas before they flee her mind and never return. It would be any moment now that her client would finish and she could finally go home to her cats. But until then, the woman would have to endure the suffocating superciliousness of the upper class for a bit longer.

A figure shouldered hastily past her, knocking her notebook onto the dust-covered floor. The woman scoffed, cursing viciously under her breath. She knew her mother would scold her for such foul language. 

“You need to be a lady, Elizabeth,” She would always say. Her mother would probably faint if she knew what her daughter was up to these days. Good thing she was dead. Her high blood pressure would never allow for her daughter’s lifestyle anyway. 

“I sincerely apologize. I was in such a rush that being careful simply slipped my mind.” 

It was the man from before.

The woman felt a rush of panic skitter through her as she bent down to pick up her prop. 

“Allow me.” He picked up her notebook eagerly, perhaps a little too much so. 

“Thank you.” The woman replied, her own smile a tight line on her face. Her heels had already turned in the opposite direction when the man called out again. 

“A pleasure to meet you…”

“Jane. The name is Jane.”

“Jane! Ah, yes. Allow me to take you to dinner tonight?” Elizabeth looked pointedly at the man’s wedding band. 

“No thanks. I have to meet my mother anyways.” With that, the woman waved the man farewell, pretending not to notice his sigh of disappointment. When she was sure he was out of earshot, Elizabeth approached the elderly woman. 

“So, are the rumors true?” 

“Yes. My daughter’s husband has been having an affair.” 

“Consider the job done.” 

Elizabeth’s fingers closed around the handle of her shotgun as she followed the bobbing of that black top hat.