THE KILLER By J. T. Oliver Smith made a profitable business out of murder. It was all quite simple--he killed a man and then disposed of the body--forever! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy March 1952 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The sign on the door said Ernest H. Smith, Private Investigator. The door opened and a woman came in. She was a brunette, about five-feet-two, wearing a yellow dress with black buttons. She carried a brown alligator handbag. "I am Mrs. Wilma Rogers," she said. "You were recommended to me." Smith motioned to a chair in front of his desk. "Sit down, Mrs. Rogers. Do you have a card?" She sat down and opened her handbag. She took out a small card and handed it to him. He looked at the printed words, "Recommended to Smith." He opened a desk drawer and removed a small bottle of red liquid, spilling a few drops on the blank side of the card. Soon there was visible writing on it. "Okay for any service," it said. "All right," Smith nodded, "what can I do for you?" "I want you to kill my husband," she said pleasantly. Smith swiveled his chair around to face the typewriter, inserted a blank sheet of white paper, and began to type. "Why do you want him killed?" "He's stingy--he won't give me enough money." "How much money will he leave you, Mrs. Rogers?" "Roughly two hundred thousand," she said. "There's insurance, of course, but I understand we can't count on that." Smith smiled. "That's a nice sum. Now what time would be most convenient?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Any time suits me." Smith laughed. "I mean for your husband. What time would be best for killing him?" "Oh," she said. Her brow wrinkled and she began to mutter, "Let's see, now ... home at five-fifteen, reads the paper ... takes a shower ... dinner at six-fifteen ... I can send the servants out at seven-thirty ... oh, I think eight will be perfect." "Eight it is," said Smith, putting the information on paper. "Now for a bit of information about the house and grounds. Can't afford to bungle into the wrong place and foul up the job." Mrs. Rogers opened her purse again and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. "I've got a floor-plan of the house here, with the address and everything marked off." Smith took the paper and looked at it. "You don't overlook anything, do you? Why didn't you just go ahead and do the job yourself?" She smiled and shrugged. "I understand you can perform a perfect murder. I'm afraid I couldn't." Smith removed the typewritten sheet from the machine and inserted a fresh sheet. He filled it in with names, dates, and figures. When he finished he handed it to her. "Sign on the bottom line." She took the paper and looked at it.