Promise Me Eternity

by Ian Fox

  “Oh, it’s you, Carlo,” the detective said.

  “So, do you know who my wife is seeing?”

  Some uncertainty could be heard in the man’s voice. “I’ve got some info, but it’s not confirmed. You’ll have to wait another day or two. I told you the guy got away.”

  “I don’t have that much time. Tell me what you know.”

  “I don’t like saying something I’m not sure about. I’d prefer telling you later.”

  Carlo shouted, “I want it now!”

  “OK, if you want it now, have it now. As you know, I followed the guy and he escaped. I thought I’d lost him.”

  “Yes, yes, just tell me who it is.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s possible. Today I bought a few newspapers and saw his picture in there. I’m not sure it’s the same man, but if nothing else, he looks very much like him.”

  “Who is it, damn it?” Carlo said sharply.

  “As I’ve already said, it’s probably nothing. It’s a Dr. Patterson, who was charged with the murder of his wife.”

  “Dr. Patterson?” Vucci said in shock.

  The detective was sorry he had told him. “I’ll try my best, just wait a day or two and then I’ll find him …”

  Suddenly he realized that he was talking to himself. The line had gone dead.

  Chapter 70

  _______________________

  Dr. Patterson, his legs shaking, was standing on the gravel beside the road. As he waited for the right vehicle, his teeth chattered with fear. He had turned around a few times and set off for his car, which he had left deep in the woods, but then changed his mind again. The thought of Christine made him stay. Someone has to do this, he kept telling himself.

  He had no idea what limousine Carlo would arrive in. Christine hadn’t told him that. Just stand there and Carlo is sure to stop. You know how he feels about you.

  Simon wondered if that was really what was going to happen. Maybe he won’t be in the car alone. Well, in that case I won’t do anything.

  He caught sight of a pair of headlights shining in his direction. He again wondered if it could be Carlo Vucci and grimaced in horror. Simon painfully stared at the light and prayed to God that everything would be OK.

  The light became stronger. It burned his eyes, but he didn’t want to drop his gaze, knowing there was no other way.

  The sound of the engine indicated that the vehicle was slowing. Oh my God. This is probably him. What should I do?

  The black car came to a halt. Simon wanted to unglue his feet from the ground, but he couldn’t move. He quickly checked that the hypodermic was still in his right pocket. Everything was OK.

  The car window went down. A deep voice said, “I saw you walking along the road. Do you need help?”

  From a safe distance, but barely able to stand up, Simon looked at the man, who was around thirty. “No, no, thank you. I’ve arranged to meet someone. Thanks.”

  The window went up and the man drove away.

  “Damn it, that idiot saw me. He could be a witness later, testifying I was here.”

  He stood there for another minute or so and then decided to go home. The whole thing was too dangerous.

  Again he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Gazing into the distance, he wondered whether he should stay or leave. To calm himself, he started singing a tune. A large beam of white light enveloped Simon. “La, la, la …” he mumbled.

  The slow roaring of the engine suggested that the vehicle was going to stop. He started singing even louder: “Ti, ra, ra …”

  The driver slowed down even more.

  Please God, don’t let it be him.

  The car stopped a few yards ahead and then reversed. Simon waited, pale faced, to see who was behind the wheel.

  “Dr. Patterson?” said a male voice. “What are you doing here?”

  Simon wanted to say something, but his muscles froze. He stared at Carlo as if petrified.

  “Get in. How convenient. I was just thinking of you.”

  Simon had no choice but to comply.

  Carlo put his foot on the accelerator the moment Simon shut the door. “You won’t believe how happy I am to see you,” he said, smiling secretly to himself.

  “Me too, Mr. Vucci,” he finally said. “I didn’t think anyone was going to stop.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “I went for a walk in the woods to clear my head a bit, but my vehicle stuck in the mud. The ground is really wet and I couldn’t get out.”

  “Is that so? Tell me where the car is. We’ll manage to get it out together.”

  Simon cursed himself and wished he’d come up with something better. “No, no, you don’t have to. I’ll get it tomorrow. But I’d be very grateful if you took me into town, where I could find a taxi.”

  “No way,” Carlo said decisively. “We’ll drive to your vehicle and pull it out.” With his left hand he checked that the revolver was in place. “Why leave such an unpleasant job till tomorrow?”

  “Oh, no!” Simon objected. “You’ll get filthy. Please, just take me into town!”

  “It’s out of the question. I really want to help. Where is your vehicle?”

  He was left with no choice but to show Carlo the area where he’d parked his car. They arrived at the spot half a minute later.

  “Get out!” Vucci ordered.

  Simon wondered if maybe he suspected something. Vucci sounded far from friendly. You know how he feels about you, kept echoing in his head.

  “So tell me, what’s wrong with your car?”

  “Th-there’s n-nothing … wrong with it. It … just needs a push.” He was dizzy with fear.

  “Let’s have a look.” Getting out of the limousine, Carlo leaned on the back of Simon’s car with his hands.

  Simon also got out, feeling the hypodermic with his right hand. He removed the safety cap. I must do this.

  Just as Simon was about to take the hypodermic out, Carlo swiftly turned around and took hold of his throat.

  “What! Mr. Vucci, what are you doing?”

  “I’ll show you, Doctor! Saving my life doesn’t mean you can start doing my wife.”

  Blood rushed to Simon’s head. “Your wife? Wait, for God’s sake …”

  Carlo was gripping his throat with his right hand and pressing a revolver against his stomach. “I’m waiting!”

  In a surge of panic, Simon clumsily reached into his pocket for the hypodermic and stabbed himself in the finger. Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he heard the hypodermic fall to the ground.

  “I haven’t touched your wife,” he struggled to say.

  “You’re lying!” Carlo hit him on the cheek.

  Beads of sweat covered Simon’s forehead. “Please, calm down, Mr. Vucci! I can explain.”

  “Well, tell me then!” Again he slapped his face.

  Simon reached for Carlo’s hand, which was squeezing his throat tightly. “You’re hurting me. Please, stop!”

  “First I’ll deal with you, Doctor, then with Christine. This time she really let me down.”

  “But nothing happened between us.”

  “Why did you meet in that hotel then?”

  Simon whimpered, “We didn’t meet anywhere, I swear!”

  His answer was unconvincing and Carlo knew he was lying. Carlo punched him in the stomach with all his might, knocking him against the car. The sound that came out of Simon’s mouth was like an air bag deflating.

  Simon should have fallen to the ground, but he managed to stay upright.

  Again, Carlo punched him in the gut. “Nothing to say?”

  Something in Simon shifted. He realized he could be saying good-bye to his life if he didn’t resist. Clenching his fist, he punched Carlo in the stomach, clumsily but efficiently.

  Carlo was obviously surprised. He took a deep breath, but somewhere it got stuck. The blow had knocked the wind out of him.

  Simon bolted. He ran, crushing the ferns beneath his feet. Behind him he could
hear Carlo choking and wheezing. Simon knew he only had a minute or two to find a hiding place before Carlo recovered and started looking for him. Simon ran as fast as he could, not caring about the thin branches lashing against his face. The deeper he got into the woods, the weaker the light.

  He slipped on a damp surface, landing hard on his backside, and then started to roll downward. He was turning so quickly he thought he would break his arms. It ended with a strong blow to his head.

  He came to a few minutes later, with a terrible pain in his neck. He wanted to lift himself up, but his head was throbbing so violently that he could only moan and lie there a few more minutes. He put his right hand to the back of his head. Through the thick branches he could see the pale glow of the crescent moon.

  Then, hearing the cracking of branches at a higher ground level, he remembered what had happened. It was Carlo, coming for him.

  “Where are you, Doc? I’ll find you, don’t worry,” he said, the threat plain in his voice.

  Simon thought it best to stay where he lay, on his back. He waited for the sound of the cracking branches to fade.

  Then, very slowly and with careful steps he walked through the undergrowth until he reached a spot where the slope wasn’t so steep and he could climb up.

  At the top he stopped, listening to the sounds of the woods. He could hear an owl hooting and crickets producing their typical buzz. But he couldn’t hear any branches cracking or leaves rustling. That meant Carlo wasn’t near.

  He brushed off the leaves that were sticking to his clothes. With every move he felt a throbbing pain in his head. He wondered whether he had fractured his skull. Then he tried to figure out the direction he’d come from.

  In the distance he could hear a car engine start. He listened hard, almost sure that it was Carlo’s car. So he’s given up and gone. Besides, why would he bother with me. He’ll just send a hired killer after me sometime. I’m as good as dead already.

  As he made his plodding way back up the slope, he wondered how Carlo had found out about the relationship between him and Christine. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Carlo probably didn’t even have any evidence. If anyone had seen them going into the hotel together, that wasn’t evidence. It’s true that it would be hard to convince Carlo that they had met there because of her headaches, but it was worth a try. The best thing would be to call Carlo the following day and explain everything.

  He stopped about ten yards from the car. Carlo’s car was gone. Simon listened again, putting his hand to the back of his neck. Moaning, he approached the car, his body still shaking. He had never been in such a terrifying situation.

  Before opening the car door he remembered the hypodermic. In the dim light, he had to bend down to see in the thick undergrowth. He ran his hand through the grass, wondering where it could have fallen. A stinging pain in his hand told him some thorns must have grabbed him. Quickly pulling his hand away, he swore. All he wanted was to go home. While he was glad that the hypodermic had fallen and he hadn’t used it on Carlo, he was scared of what was to come.

  Wiping his clothes with a cloth from the trunk, he remembered Christine. All this time I’ve only thought of myself. How selfish of me! My God, what will he do to her? He’s certain to go home and make her confess to being with me. What if he kills her? I must help her.

  Again Simon shoved his hand into the undergrowth and started feeling around. That hypodermic was too important to leave behind. He could go to Carlo’s home and inject him with insulin there. Then he’d just have to transport him to the woods. The police would never find out the truth.

  Not far away he heard leaves rustling. He became alert, stood up, and peered into the dark thicket. He didn’t dare move an inch.

  After not hearing anything for two minutes, apart from the sound of the wind, the owls calling, and crickets singing, he calmed down, still far from being certain Carlo wasn’t nearby.

  Feverishly he resumed his search. He knelt on the ground, feeling through the grass and leaves with both hands. He didn’t care about the thorns pricking his skin, he just needed to find that syringe.

  Noises emanated from the distance again. He raised his head, scanning the surroundings. He’d much rather meet up with a wolf than Carlo. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s probably a hedgehog or something.

  The pain in his head had become so unbearable he could barely think anymore. He concentrated on the search. Where is that damn hypodermic?

  When he heard the branches cracking again, it was too late. A heavy figure was running toward him and he had no doubt it was Carlo. Simon jumped up, ready to escape, but Carlo kicked him in the backside, making him fly through the air. Simon lay on his stomach, with his head in the undergrowth. He wanted to get up onto his knees, but because of the pressure of a foot on his back he couldn’t.

  “How could you sleep with my wife? Don’t you know who I am?”

  “I didn’t sleep with her. I swear! Ask Christine!”

  “You’re lying!” Grabbing his hand, Carlo lifted him into the air, hurling him toward the car. “Damn you, Doctor! How stupid I was to invite you to my house.”

  Simon turned and looked at him beseechingly. “I really didn’t sleep with her. How can I prove it to you?”

  “I can hear from your voice that you’re lying. Your life is over. I detest you.” Carlo kicked him in the stomach.

  Simon was choking from pain. “Please, stop!” He shielded himself with his arms, trying to protect himself from the blows, but it didn’t help. Carlo was kicking him as if he were a sack of potatoes. “No, please!”

  “There, and there …”

  “Please listen!”

  “And that … you’ll see …”

  “I’m begging you!”

  The blows stopped. Holding his stomach, Simon could hardly bear the pain which was spreading through his entire body.

  Carlo had stopped to catch his breath. He leaned forward and thought aloud: “I don’t know what to do with you. I have to think it through. … Aha, that’s what I’ll do.” Grabbing him by the collar, he dragged Simon behind him.

  “Where are you taking me, I’m choking! Let me go!”

  After he opened Simon’s car door, he pushed him inside. “Get in the seat!”

  “What are you going to do? Why do I have to get in?”

  “Because I want you to.” He pulled the revolver from the inside pocket of his jacket and put it to Simon’s head.

  “You can’t do this. Please, you mustn’t kill me. I’m innocent.”

  “Say good-bye to your life. If only you’d admit it, then I might forgive you, but not if you look me in the eye and lie. I hate that.”

  Simon’s nerves were in tatters. The metal touch of the revolver on his forehead made him hysterical. “OK, we were together, I admit it. It happened even though it shouldn’t have. Let me go, for God’s sake!”

  Carlo lowered the weapon and stared at him. “Where was this and how did it happen?”

  “In a hotel …” He tried to remember the name of the hotel, but couldn’t. “Actually we met in front of the hotel. We didn’t plan anything. Your wife had a headache and she asked me to come and get her. She said you kept changing phone numbers and she couldn’t reach you. I didn’t want to, but she …” He told the story and Carlo listened with interest. Simon also told him about her visiting the hospital before that, so that he could run some tests.

  “So she said she had problems with headaches? Funny, she’s never complained to me about these problems. An interesting story. Did you ever meet her again?”

  Simon had no intention of telling him how they met again, when she came over to his house. “No, after that we never met again. I had a wife, Helen. But then someone killed her—”

  “Quiet, you bastard! Now you’re going to involve your dead wife. How dare you?” He grabbed Simon’s throat and pulled him out of the car. “How could you do it? I can’t believe it.” He punched him in the stomach, knocking Simon o
nto the car hood.

  “But you said that—”

  “I’m going to kill you, you bastard! I don’t get it. I can’t imagine you in that hotel with my wife. What did Christine see in you?” He lifted him up and studied him oddly. “I couldn’t say you’re good-looking. Rather the opposite. And you’re built weird, bony, as if you’re undernourished. I really don’t see what the attraction was.”

  “I made a mistake, I admit, but you can’t kill me because of it, the police will catch you and …”

  Carlo threw him to the ground. “What did you say, that they’d find me? The cops? Come off it! Do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed already?” He kicked Simon in the groin, causing his body to double over. “I can’t even remember how many. At least two dozen. And you know why the police can’t do anything to me?”

  Alarmed, Simon turned his head toward him and clenched his teeth in pain.

  “Even the cops aren’t what they used to be. I pay them well, so they leave me alone. Everyone likes the smell of money.” He grabbed a branch that was lying on the ground and started beating Simon with it. “You were the only one who didn’t want my money. That never happened before. And I thought you were being modest.”

  “Stop!” Simon raised his legs. “I’m begging you!”

  “But you were even greedier than the rest. You wanted my wife. You bastard!”

  “But you said that you wanted the truth, that you’d let me go.”

  “Yes, I’ll let you go. Oh yes I will, but not alive.” He raised the branch in the air.

  About ready to give up, Simon closed his eyes and waited for the blow.

  “But before that, I’ll cut off your dick. You don’t deserve just death. That would be too easy. I want to see you suffer, I want to hear you squeal with pain.” Dropping the thick branch, he took hold of Simon’s collar and dragged him away from the car.

  “Stop!”

  “You can keep on whimpering, but it won’t help. You’re going to die in pain. And stop resisting, goddamn it!” With his other hand Carlo took hold of the revolver, pointing it to Simon’s head. “Do you want me to blow your stupid head off? Is that really what you want?”