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Winter's End
Part 1 of 1
Synopsis:  Amanda Winter's work was flawless.

Winter's End

    Death came on silent feet.

    Frost lowered the limp body to the floor, enjoying the macabre expression of surprise on her victim's pasty face.  Then, before the blood could clot, she shoved the body down the stairs, coming to a final, sickening thud at the base, limbs splayed.  By the time anyone found the politician, the local law enforcement would have little to conclude from his cold corpse.  To all appearances, His Tubbiness had fallen down the stairs while heading to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

    Tragic, yes, but extremely convenient for the political rival who coveted the newly-deceased's job...

    So convenient was the accident, he'd donated ten thousand clams to a Swiss "charity."  The whole transaction was made efficiently and quietly, just the way Frost liked it.  Her part of the deal was completed just as neatly and carefully.

    Frost's employers were just as silent as she, though she could often guess their identities.  So, too, could whatever local constabulary investigated the deaths of her victims, but Frost's work was flawless.  To this date, nothing greater than baseless finger-pointing had ever befallen the patrons of her "art."

    She locked the front door and stepped out, taking quick stock of her surroundings.  Nothing had changed in the four minutes her task had taken.  Well aware that the hard-sleeping wife of the fat mayor–former mayor, she corrected herself–would likely awaken soon, she glided to the fence, slipped over, and crept quietly away.

    Less than two blocks away, Jack guarded her backpack.  Rubbing the black Labrador Retriever in silent thanks, she peeled off the mesh mask that concealed her features and dropped it into the roaring fire blazing away in an old steel drum.  The black knit cap which concealed her wealth of platinum hair and the satin hairnet which protected her elaborate coif vanished into the flame, as well.

    A brightly-colored jacket and a tube of lipstick did wonders to alter her appearance to her day-time persona, Amanda Winter.  Blonde, beautiful, and brainless, no one would ever suspect Winter was a cold-blooded assassin.

    "Yes, officer," she practiced to herself, hearing sirens in the distance.  "I was just walking my poor little Babykins here when your car stopped.  No, I didn't see anything at all, officer!"

    Winter could never resist turning up at the scene of one of her "exhibits" in the guise of a clueless bystander.  She was always in a different disguise, of course, so she ran little chance of being connected to any of her works.

    The sound of the police siren became more urgent, so she gave her hair one last pat, affected an absent-minded stare, and reached for Jack's leash.  Smiling to herself, she stepped off the curb...

    ...And into the path of a speeding, screaming police cruiser.

    Death came on silent feet...

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