Going Insane (7 page)

Was she going to leave the gun here? Jesus Christ, Kathy was even dumber than Leslie had thought. You see, there was a spare box of ammo in the glove compartment of her Lexus, which meant that Kathy and her daughter would be dead in a mere hour or two, assuming they were headed to their apartment in Cypress.

“I won’t break your trust, Kathy. I promise.”

#

#

Squeezing tightly the steering wheel, Leslie looked at the clock. According to her estimate, Kathy had a head start of ten minutes: that was how long it had taken Leslie to set herself free, pick up the magazine and the gun, find her car, load eight bullets into the clip, collect her thoughts, start the car, and get moving. The GPS indicated that Kathy’s home was a twenty two mile drive away from the warehouse, which turned out to be located in South Gate. She had already covered roughly a third of the distance.

She was elated, full of energy, and ready to take on the world.

“Hello, Leslie!”

She was startled by this loud call, which was coming from under the front passenger seat. She recognized Kathy’s voice.

“Leslie, pick up. Pick up!”

The quality of the sound was subpar. The image of the walkie talkie hanging on Kathy’s belt immediately flashed in her memory.

“Can you pull over and pick it up?”

Leslie switched on her right blinker, cautiously pulled to the side of the freeway, and grabbed the walkie talkie, wondering why the hell she had not noticed it before.

How does this thing work, by the way?

“Push the green button on the top if you want to talk,” prompted Kathy, as if having heard Leslie’s thoughts.

Leslie followed her instructions and uttered into the walkie talkie:

“I’m here.”

“Did you pull over?”

“Yes, I did.” She instinctively glanced left, then right, evidently expecting to see Kathy, sitting in her Honda and peeping at Leslie through binoculars.

Now that was paranoid. It would have been too hard to tail her in the middle of the night.

Was this insane bitch going to leave her alone tonight?

“I wanted to warn you,” said Kathy. “Don’t touch the bullets. You should not touch the bullets in the glove compartment of your car, Leslie.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“It is very important. Did you take the bullets out of the box? Please be honest.”

“No, I didn’t touch them. Why would I do that? And why does it matter?” Leslie shifted her eyes from the road to the glove compartment. She suddenly felt a chilly heaviness in her temples and the back of her head caused by the realization that there had to be a very compelling reason for Kathy advising her not to touch the bullets.

“Well, we’ll find out soon enough.”

“What will we find out soon enough?”

“Just leave them where they are, don’t open the box.” 

“Okay, okay.” Leslie had trouble remaining calm. “But you didn’t answer my question, Kathy. What are we going to find out?”

“There’s some stuff on those bullets. It kills a person your size within twenty minutes of contact. If you touched it, you don’t have much time left to live.”

Even though Leslie was aware of her being inside the car, with little wiggle room, with the belt gently pressing her to the back of the seat, Leslie found herself in a free fall. She could literally sense all solid matter vaporize from under her and—down she went.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Leslie moaned.

But she, of course, knew what Kathy was talking about. Her temples had grown much heavier, her vision began to blur, her heart was throbbing in her chest. It was poison working its way to her muscles, nerves, and brain.

“Don’t touch the box. I can come over and pick it up in the morning.”

“Is there an antidote?”

A few silent seconds passed before Kathy responded:

“Yes, there is. But you have to administer it within five minutes after you get this compound on your skin. Ten minutes at most.”

Leslie breathed out a tired groan. It had been at least fifteen minutes now since she had put the bullets into the magazine.

“Leslie, can you hear me?” the walkie talkie crackled. “Are you there?”

Leslie angrily pushed the green button.

“What do you want?”

“I think I know what you did.” A pause. “You took those bullets out of the box, didn’t you?”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, cunt!”

“I’ll be honest with you, Leslie. I am glad it ended the way it did.”

Leslie closed her eyes.

#

#

And then came contentment.

There was at least one thing she could be happy about in the final moments of her life. Her death from poison would prove to every pathetic soul out there who had doubted her that she had been right all along, that she had not been a crazy paranoid.

The End

(from the under a 1,000 word story collection)

1.

“You’ve got a great bicycle there,” complimented Norman.

“Yes, it is a nice bike.” Jesse propped his Schwinn against the wall and the men entered the house.

“Riding away from a heart attack?” Norman smiled. “This time I’m going to win.”

“Keep dreaming.”

They walked into the living room, where Sheila, Norman’s wife, was watching TV. Sheila and Jesse greeted each other.

The men sat at the table, ready to have another session of Texas hold ’em. In a minute, they were joined by Jack, Norm’s brother.

“Where’s Paul?” asked Jesse.

“Our son’s having a good time with a new girlfriend,” answered Sheila.

2.

“What are you doing?” asked Norman. “Are you about to fall asleep?”

“You shouldn’t have drunk so much,” remarked Jack.

Jesse yawned. He really felt an irresistible urge to go to bed. But he did not think he had drunk too much.

“I know—he just doesn’t want me to win my money back,” growled Norman.

“Guys, I guess I’m out.” Jesse put his cards on the table and tried to get up but unsuccessfully.

“Jack will take you home in his truck,” said Norman. “And don’t forget the bike.”

Jesse yawned again, closed his eyes, and fell into the abyss of sleep a moment later.

3.

He was woken up by the doorbell ringing. He got up, went barefoot to the entry hall, opened the door, and was surprised to see a cop.

“Your name is Jesse Greenburg?” asked the cop.

“Yes, that’s correct.” Jesse cracked a weak smile. 

“Can you come to the police station with us?”

“What happened?”

“They just want to ask you a few questions.”

4.

At the police station, they took his fingerprints, as if he were some serial killer. Then Jesse met a somber-looking man in a gray suit.

“I am Detective John Lewis,” said the man. “I am going to conduct an interview. I suggest that you call a lawyer.” 

They brought him to the interrogation room after he told Lewis that he would call the lawyer when he felt the need to do so. When Jesse and the detective took seats at the table, Jesse noticed a bicycle parked against the wall, which looked almost exactly like his. 

“Is this your bicycle?” Lewis pointed at the bike.

“No, it’s not. My bike is at my house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I’ve been riding mine for five years now.” 

“What if I told you that there’s your name on this bicycle?”

“Where?”

“On the seat.”

Jesse frowned. He had in fact had his name branded on the side of the seat of his bicycle.

“Suppose you did. So what?”

“What if I told you that this bicycle was used to commit a robbery?”

“I told you it’s not my bicycle.”

“Then why is it covered with your fingerprints?”

Jesse felt a chill in the pit of his stomach.

“What robbery?” he asked. He could hardly keep his voice from shaking.

“Last night, at nine pm, a man on a bicycle snatched a purse out of a woman’s hands on Lincoln Avenue. There were five hundred dollars in cash and a pearl necklace in the purse.”

“And you think it was me?”

“That’s right. You fit the description.”

“I assure you it was not me.”

Lewis shoved a piece of paper in Jesse’s face.

“Here’s a warrant to search your house,” he said. “And we’re going to search it right now.”

5.

They found the money and necklace. They were stashed in the garbage basket in Jesse’s kitchen, packed in a plastic bag. They put the evidence in the center of the table in the living room so he could see it in all its glory.

“Do this money and the necklace belong to you?” asked Lewis.

“No, I’ve never seen them before.”

“Can you explain how they got in your house?”

“I guess somebody planted them there.”

“Planted? Do you think it sounds plausible? By the way, can I see your bicycle?”

“I don’t see it in my house. Somebody has stolen it.”

Yes, his bike was gone. Or it was hidden very well.

“Someone has stolen your bicycle? What for?”

Don’t forget the bike, said Norman.

Jesse’s heart started throbbing. Damn, all this stress had made him completely forget yesterday’s poker night.

“Listen. I couldn’t have robbed that woman because last night at nine pm I was at my neighbor’s place, playing Texas hold ‘em.”

“What’s his name?”

“Norman Cooper. We played poker till midnight. Talk to him.”

6.

Jesse shifted a triumphant look from Detective Lewis to Norman, then back to the detective. Now this misunderstanding would finally get resolved.

 “Where were you last night at nine o’clock?” Lewis opened his notepad.

“I was at home,” answered Norman.

“Did you see Mr. Greenburg at that time?”

“Jesse? No, I didn’t.”

“Norm?!” Jesse exclaimed as a thousand goose bumps popped up on his skin. “What are you saying?!”

“Is anything wrong?” asked Norman.

“Tell him the truth!” shouted Jesse.

“I told the truth. What’s going on?” Norman stared at the detective.

“So, Mr. Greenburg was not at your house yesterday at nine pm?”

“No, he was not. What happened?”

“What happened?!” Jesse was ready to charge at Norman, but restrained himself, being aware that it would only harm him.

“I guess we’re finished here,” said Lewis with a smile.

7.

“This necklace…How much is it?” Paul put his arm around Jane’s waist.

“I don’t remember the exact price.” Jane kissed Paul on the cheek. “You made a great robber.”

“And you made a great victim.”

“Having fun, kids?” Norman entered the room.

“Mr. Cooper, are you sure it was Jesse who killed your dog?” asked Jane.

“I am positive. I wish they had driving schools in prison.”

“Bad thing he’ll never know why we framed him,” said Paul.

“Why? I’m going to send him a postcard to prison,” said Norman. “A postcard with a picture of a dog. A dog riding a bicycle.”

THE END

“Days of Vengeance” description:

With the last six years of his life wiped out of his memory, Frank begins to suspect he may have murdered his wife Kelly, who went missing shortly before the car crash that caused his amnesia. While struggling to remember his wife and the events surrounding her disappearance, Frank is shocked to find out that Kelly’s family has the same suspicions as he does.

As memories trickle back to him, Frank is still unable to figure out why he slaughtered his wife and what happened to his accomplice. He is not even sure he has nothing to do with the disappearance of his young daughter, who went missing a few months earlier. Things take a darker turn when he realizes that his in-laws will stop at nothing to make him remember what he has done to their beloved sister. The situation gets even more complicated as an anonymous blackmailer accuses Frank of the murder and demands money to keep his mouth shut. 

Frank’s search for answers becomes a fight for survival after he rediscovers that his wife’s relatives are a clique of bloodthirsty serial kidnappers serving a mysterious one-legged man. His chances of prevailing are slim: one of the in-laws is a cop and another is a multimillionaire.