Where John Smith confesses to killing a prostitute. It will, of course, turn out to be Rhonda. I am trying to see if I can get Davies Okafor to do the 'right' thing. Read on...
Dear Davies,
It was interesting to finally get to speak to you earlier this evening.
I look forward to meeting you and putting a face to the voice. You didn't sound as Welsh as I expected. Obviously you have picked up a little of the local accent; I'm sure that this can be corrected with a speech therapist.
I will contact Wells Fargo tomorrow when I get you faxed details. After speaking to you I re-read your original proposal. That is a lot of money!
To celebrate the imminent arrival of the funds I then went out for a few drinks and then on to the local brothel. I recommend it; a great release.
Actually the bitch tonight wouldn't do what I wanted and I must confess I was a bit too rough with her. Can I trust you? I think so. I actually killed her. Bitch! I didn't want her to die. I just snapped when I asked her to comply to my wishes and she replied 'Over my dead body". "Okay" I replied and that was it. Dead.
So easy. Very arousing, interestingly enough.
I'm sorry for telling you this but I had to tell someone and, so far away, you are no threat.
Remember, I will be away at sea for the next two weeks. They shouldn't look for me there. And once the money comes, and we share it up, I can disappear from the scene completely.
Not a bad thing.
Yours in strict confidence, John Smith.