by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|“Isn’t it obvious?” Nancy Cline loved ‘Who Done It’s’. She’d graduated from Miss Marple, Periot and Sherlock Holmes to follow her local police detective hero, Andrew Wright’s career. She finished cutting out her latest clipping from the Deseret News and gave it a kiss. “The clues to solving this case are right there.”
Her husband, Dennis Cline wasn’t bothered by losing first place on her hero worship throne. Her absorption in local murder stories meant his ear wasn’t being chewed off like before. He enjoyed the free space. “That right?”
Growing up on the wrong side of the tracks, she’d been fascinated by his tales of crime. Lies and boasts came easy, substituting mob names for his own forays into running a numbers racket and part time enforcer. “The Marty Shaw case?”
Nancy’s eyes flicked at him suspiciously, “What do you know about it?” His wife had taken him on as a student social worker project to reshape his life and gotten pregnant in the process. Marriage seemed a good cover.
On the surface Dennis got saved by Jesus, networked business church goers into an under-the-table lucrative crime syndicate franchise construction and road building contract business. Favors given and received made everyone happy except for the occasional sore loser like Marty Shaw. “He was a bad dude. Knew him when I was young.”
Dennis launched into a remember when tale so winding and dry Nancy’s eyes glazed over. “Never mind.”
“I’m going out. I’ll buy dinner before coming back.” She’d lost interest in her husband after she’d reshaped his life. Their son, at thirteen was being shaped up by a military school, having failed the administrations of his mother. Andrew Wright was her new cause celebre’.
“Sure. Have fun. Go solve the Marty Shaw Case.” Dennis knew his wife and the police detective were having an affair. The videos were a handy bit of potential blackmail if things got dicey about his part in what happened during the local murder. The relationship had its uses. Nancy kept him up-to-date with police insider information. Nice.
Waking up by means of having a gun barrel tapping the side of your head brings you instantly aware and alert. Dennis saw his own death written in the back of Andrew Wright’s eyes. “Poor staging,” he said. “Messy doing it in my own bed. I can tell this is your first time.”
“You never changed,” said Nancy. “You got worse.”
The pistol whipping hurt. The loving couple wanted everything he had, all the connections, payoff’s and proof of wrongdoing. Those higher up unknowns hidden beyond exposure would want to stay that way.
In the end, he gave the lovers what they wanted. They were digging their own graves. The balance would be broken between Dennis and the power structure. Mayhem. He wished he could see who did whom with what.
In the end, we are all misplaced zero's, when we become non-entities.
Nancy's bullet put an end to the thought.