Hybristophilia.
Colloquially known as ‘Bonnie and
Clyde syndrome,’ the condition is defined by sexologist
John Money as a 'paraphilia in which an individual derives sexual arousal
and pleasure from having a partner who is known to have committed an outrage or
crime.' This force is evident in some of the criminal couples themselves,
but it also points to the public's fascination with their stories.
‘One of the reasons that people are
so interested in crime, true and imagined, is it's something they're
thinking about. It's something that they want to solve,’ says author Walter Mosley. ‘They want to know: Could that happen to me? And they want to know: How can I
make it so it doesn't happen to me?’
Closer to home, the theme reminds us
of the Bollywood blockbuster ‘Bunty aur Babli’ starring Abhishek Bachchan and
Rani Mukherjee. Although the premise may have been done and dusted in fiction,
it is nevertheless a challenge to attempt a new story every time. This is the
challenge I have attempted to take on in this story, with my own twists of course.
***
Boring without Crime.
‘But darling, you need crime. It is in your
blood, it is your essence, my dear’, she continued to paint her nails with the
colour-less polish. The sickly sweet odour assaulted his nostrils.
She could say the most incredulous things
without batting an eyelid or missing a beat. Maybe that’s what he found irresistible
in her in the first place. Her killer figure was only as added bonus and she
knew it.
‘You’ve got to do this, darling. We have got to do this,’ she closed the
vial of enamel and replaced it in her vanity case, careful not to smudge her
nails. ‘Seventeen million dollars. Imagine what we could do with all that money…’
The greed in her eyes glittered more than her nails.
He still said nothing. He was a man of few
words and she knew that. She was used to his stoic silences, she knew he was
listening anyways. What she didn’t know was that he listening to the stuff she
didn’t say as well.
‘You know, you are an amazing guy, my dream
man,’ she slipped her hand into his large ones. ‘You know, it is your genius
mind that I find most enticing. You must never quit crime, that would be such a
waste of your talent.’ She placed a kiss on his jaw, he moved slightly to
capture her crimson lips. A minute later, she drew away a little to gaze into
his eyes and ran her fingers over his hair. ‘Without crime, you would be so, so
bored’. She stood up and turned away to pick up the half empty bottle of
champagne.
’And boring.’ She murmured under her breath,
as she poured him a tall glass of the glistening liquid.
Hours later, she lay in bed listening to
his soft snores. That had been easy, she congratulated herself, with a smile.
She knew he would come around sooner or later, he could never resist her charm,
could he?
***
A week later, a handsome couple emerged from a gleaming Limousine at the entrance of the ‘Regina Gallery of Art’. The valet
bowed and saluted, as the man handed him the keys to his vehicle with the
typical nonchalance of the highly affluent.
‘Mr and Mrs. Mckenzie?’ The curator shook
hands with both of them, as he escorted them into the inner chambers of his office.
‘Is it ready?’ Lydia’s full mouth curved
into an engaging smile.
‘Yes, ma’am, of course it is,’ The curator
gestured to the plush leather couches, as he unlocked a huge safe on the wall
behind him.
He removed the contents, wordlessly
unwrapped the package that had been waiting for them and stood back to allow
his guests to examine his proud possession.
‘Why is the owner selling this?’ Simon
spoke for the first time.
‘His family has come upon hard times,
Mr.McKenzie. He would never have dreamed of selling this, otherwise. This has
been in his possession for three generations now.’
‘Alright, we’ll take it,’ Simon retrieved
his cheque book and handed it to Lydia.
‘My hand writing is better, you see,’ she
smiled, as way of explanation.
Two minutes later, the curator examined the
cheque for the amount of one hundred thousand dollars written out in her neat
handwriting.
‘I shall have it packed for you, please wait
for a few minutes…’
Lydia picked up the tiny antique vase
carefully and ran her fingers over the delicate figurines etched into the
ceramic.
Just then, the air was shattered by the
shrill sound of the alarm going off. The curator froze, transfixed by shock and
then, dashed out of the room without a word.
Simon and Lydia waited for not more than
two seconds before they got to work.
***
Four hours later, the detective reported
his findings to the investigating officer.
‘They rigged the alarm to go off at exactly
the time when the curator was with them, sir. They knew that the inner chamber
has no cameras, to protect the identity of their more scandalous clientele.
It was easy for them to break open the
display case of the real treasure in the next room, without attracting too much
attention in the chaos that ensued. All they had to do was put the emerald into
the vase they had just purchased, rush back into the inner chamber and behave
normally,
‘I packed the damn vase myself, without realizing
that it had the emerald inside it!’ The curator wiped his tears, unabashedly.
‘I didn’t suspect a thing! After all, they had just paid for the ceramic
antique, they were seated exactly where they had been when I left them.’
‘How long did it take for you to return to the
inner chamber?’ The policeman asked.
‘Less than three minutes. I received a call
from security that the it was a false alarm and returned to the chamber at
once.’ His voice shook with the shock of a new realization. ‘Seventeen million
dollars!’ he exclaimed as an answer the cop’s unasked question. That emerald
belonged to the queen of Ludhiana, from the princely state of Punjab in India…’
He broke down then as the shock of another new implication hit him ‘I will lose
my job here…I surely will…’ The policeman handed the distraught curator a
tissue from his pocket, before he began to take fresh notes.
***
The decomposed body was found after three days. The
newspapers screamed the headlines gleefully. ‘The body of the woman that was
found in the Dalton river was identified to be that of one Lydia Norman, who
was involved in the daring crime of the stolen emerald from the Regina Gallery of Art, last week. Sources say that it is possible that her partner, known only
as one Mr. McKenzie must have dumped her body in the river after a possible
misunderstanding with his partner in crime…’
***
He missed her. It wasn’t surprising; he
would miss her until he found someone else to take her place. Someone who
wasn’t greedy as she was, or as boring as she was; someone who wouldn’t find HIM
boring, without crime. She’d known he was a good listener, what she hadn’t known
was that he listened too well, especially to the stuff he wasn’t supposed to.
Simon poured himself another glass of
champagne and settled down on the chaise lounge to watch the frenzy of TV
channels, reporting the sensational news of Lydia’s death.
*****
: Along Came A Spider, by Jack Vetriano
: Along Came A Spider, by Jack Vetriano
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