There were other risks, too. He didn’t know specifically what particular mood altering substance she was going to be asking for, so there was an issue of discovery there, too. Ultimately, he figured that she’d use whatever she apparently got. If she didn’t, well, that was just how it was going to be.
He took some care in what he was going to give her. His first thought was that he was going to try and give her an overdose, so that it would like an accidental death. Pretty everyone on Hollywood expected her to go that way anyhow, so the odds were good no one would ever know there was a murder, much less track it back to him.
There were two problems with that, though, one practical and the other more…philosophical. The practical aspect was that there’s no particularly good way to guarantee some is going to OD unless you’re there to actually give them way more of their drug of choice than they were intending to take. He wouldn’t be, so that was out.
But even more than with the practical considerations, Johnny found that he didn’t want this to go down as just another tragic drug related death. He wanted people to know what had happened, to know that she was dead not because she did something foolish to herself, but because someone had decided that she needed to die. He wanted people to know and understand. He needed it.
What he ultimately decided on was rat poison. There were, he discovered, a whole range of rat poisons available, with a range of effects. The most common versions, he found, were actually anticoagulants that caused death by internal bleeding.
Rats are, as small vermin go, pretty sharp. They will sample something to see if it tastes bad or makes them sick before going on to eat the rest of it. Because of this, rat poison needed to be tasteless and odorless which, as it happened, was perfect for what Johnny had in mind.
Johnny knew that the Starlet tended towards coke, and she often did it while she was out dancing at the clubs. He was a doctor and had never played one on television, but he suspected that a large dose of rat poison plus a nice heart racing stimulant like cocaine plus physical activity gave him a better than average chance of killing her.
He had to carry the pack of spiked cigarettes around with him for a few days, and he was acutely aware of the weight of it. It felt like he had a brick in his pocket, and he had to try and keep his hands from shaking. He told himself he didn’t have a reason to worry, but he did anyway. He couldn’t tell if it was nerves or excitement. Probably both.
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