One-hour writing challenge - "Last Will"

The passenger door of the new white Mercedes-Benz was pulled open and a sweaty, unshaven fellow in dirty overalls jumped in and closed it behind him. The business-suited, perfectly made-up blonde woman in the driver's seat didn't flinch, despite the fact it was after dark and her top-of-the-range car was parked under a broken streetlight in a dodgy part of town.

“Did you get it?” she asked, with just a hint of urgency.

The man was still catching his breath. He didn't answer, but reached inside his overalls and brought forth a small rectangular object, wrapped in a piece of fabric.

“The money's already in your account,” said the woman, her voice all control now. She held out her white-nailed hands expectantly.

With an exhale that was part satisfied whistle, the man handed over the little bundle. “It's not that I don't trust you...” he began, unpocketing his phone and proceeding to log onto a foreign bank.

The driver registered no offence. Her gaze was fixed on her purchase. Unwrapping a piece of silk so old and worn it was almost transparent, she revealed a deck of cards that, while fully intact, somehow felt much older. She reached for the interior light.

“Hey!” said the man in the passenger seat, his messy brown curls glistening with perspiration. “That's not a good idea in this neighbourhood.”

“It would be an unlucky criminal who tried to rob me.” She was gently thumbing through the cards, studying the pictures, running a white-nailed finger over them.

“I've still got to get back to my truck in one piece.”

“I suppose so,” said the woman, switching off the light. “Before you go, tell me again how he died.”

“Not much to tell. Pneumonia with complications. He'd been inside for most of his life, from 18 to 63. Conditions aren't the healthiest. Plus, he smoked. Did well surviving that long.”

“That's a matter of opinion. And you say he was using these right up until his death?”

“Oh, yeah. We knew he did readings for people. Charged 'em for the privilege and gave at least half of the money to the top dog. Funny thing is...”

“Go on.”

“Funny thing is, I don't remember anyone asking for their money back. No arguments, no fights, no unhappy customers. Which is weird when those customers are some of the meanest humans to walk the earth, don't you think?”

“Leave me now. Run back to your truck. Wait three months prior to spending a cent of that money. Do not attempt to contact me again. Fail to follow these instructions and I'll make trouble for you with the prison and with that 'top dog' you mentioned.”

The passenger door of the new white Mercedes-Benz was pushed open and the sweaty, unshaven fellow in dirty overalls jumped out and closed it behind him. Then he ran into the night, clutching a phone that told him he was suddenly a rich man.

The business-suited, perfectly made-up blonde woman in the driver's seat raised a card to her perfect smile, then began biting off pieces, violently chewing and swallowing them. Despite the fact it was after dark and her top-of-the-range car was parked under a broken streetlight in a dodgy part of town, she sat there until she had consumed the entire deck.