You’d never have guessed his true occupation. A mild-mannered man. Easy-talking, casual. You’d have him over for coffee without even thinking about it. Played folk songs on his guitar which he carried in a heavy-duty case.You wouldn’t give that case two-seconds of thought, either. Clearly, he valued his guitar — and indeed he did. It was a Martin. A good one.

He was a man who held values dear and thus he valued, even more than his guitar, the more modern AR-15 he carefully stowed underneath the guitar. It was broken tidily into sections. Easy to put them together and he could do it in seconds. It lay wrapped in carefully cut foam packing underneath the instrument in a well-protected part of the case.

Oddly, the broken-down gun was light. No one guessed there was more to the case than they expected. Flip (his real name was Philip) never told anyone to not pick up the case. His natural ease made his real intentions impossible to guess or even imagine. Sadly, his artistry wasn’t giving him quite the income he needed for his comfortable, middle-class life. Just to keep the books balanced, he had a second livelihood with higher pay .

Assassinating people.

It was so easy. The set up was all done via cell phone. No one saw his face. No one knew his name or where he lived. This second job paid very well. It gave him plenty to live on and more than enough to put something by for his eventual retirement. It never crossed his mind that anyone could discover his field of endeavor. Now in his mid-forties, it was probably true. He was a well-established musician and an internationally famous and nameless gun for hire. To the right people.

He wasn’t greedy. He only killed when he needed money and he didn’t kill unless his target “needed killing.” He thought of himself as one of those old western-style heroes. When someone needed killing, he was the man. He liked to think he was ridding the earth of its worst vermin. It was possible he had a point. The people he “took out” were, in his opinion, evil and no one was going to mourn their loss. He had some occasional collateral damage, but every business has its risks and burdens.

He grieved when he was forced to take down someone not on his list and he made sure widows and children were cared for. A good insurance policy is more than worth its price. It was hard to argue his point of view, unless you happened to be his target.

Then you could argue, but you’d never win.

Categories: Fiction, Music, Musical Instruments

Tags: Fiction, guitar, guitar case, hit man, humor, Marilyn Armstrong, Musician