The shade across Harold’s office window was pulled up high, and dangling from the shade was the pull-string. Attached to the end of the string was a ringlet, just the right size for a finger to slip into and manipulate the shade up or down. With one eye, I lined the far-off Chrysler Building inside the tiny ring dangling from the window shade, ‘as if you were aiming a gun at a target’.
I gazed intensely through the ringlet at the Chrysler Building for nearly a full minute; the building slowly moved out of the line of fire. It moved to the right of the ringlet; then, again, it moved slowly into the center of the ring, and then, out of the orb and to the left of the ringlet.
In my mind, I tried to lie…to deceive myself, it was my head that was moving; or it was the ringlet that was, but it was useless. I knew both choices were false. Either the New York skyline was moving, which was impossible, or the Empire State Building was swaying, just the way my father told me those many years ago.
I could hear my father’s voice in my head, “It’s made to sway back and forth…it has to or the building would crack…and we would all go tumbling down to our deaths,” I’m sure I’m paraphrasing.
In my mind’s eye, I could see the smiling face of that airplane pilot with his hand next to his cheek, waving hello to me. A sickening feeling of vertigo gripped hold of me. I was being terrorized from the inside out. It paralyzed me; I was unable to speak, and I could barely move a muscle. I turned my head slightly to see Chi, still seated next to me with his gun in hand and pointed directly at Harold.
“One thing you forgot to consider, Harold,” Chi said, ‘is we still run with the same crowd as these women do. How long did you think it would be before either Alex or I had a run-in with one of them?”
“Wait one minute, Chi, you’ve got to listen!” There was a clear urgency in Harold’s voice.
“Shut up, Harold, and you listen!” Chi demanded, slouching back in his chair; still keeping his gun pointed at Harold’s heart.
“The other night,” Chi continued, “I was at a party, and who do you think I happened to run into? Mrs. Whiteman…do you remember Mrs. Whiteman? Well, this woman comes marching across the room and tosses her drink in my face. Now, I don’t get too upset about this; after all, who could blame her? I was the one who lied to her, seduced her, and tricked her. If you remember, we got some very steamy photos of her and me in bed. Photos that you so called sold to her husband…and I was handsomely paid for, I might add.
“So, like I said, who could blame her for hating me? Her life was probably ruined because of me; she’s most likely in the midst of a very nasty divorce because of me. But after a few minutes of name-calling, spitting, and eye scratching, I was able to calm the woman down. And, I found out the photos never got sold to the husband.
“I found out she was approached by the same private dick hired by her husband and he offered the pictures to her, for a price. She could have the photos, and he would give the husband a clean bill of health on his wife’s comings and goings, all for a price. But to make matters worse, even though she bought the photos, he was blackmailing her with the negatives. Every month she had to send him cash to keep those negatives out of the hands of her husband.
“After the night of the party, I started playing detective myself; and you know what I found out? I found out most of the women we scammed were now being blackmailed…by none other than you, Harold. Now that’s a large amount of money you’ve been holding out from your partners.”
There was panic in Harold’s voice, “I was going to tell you, I swear! In fact, I was planning to give you two boys your cut as a surprise. Look…I’ve got the money right here!”
He placed both his hands on the front drawer of his desk and then started to pull it open.
“Don’t even think about it!” shouted Chi; he jumped up from his chair and ran behind the desk next to Harold. Chi reached down, opened the drawer and pulled out Harold’s revolver.
“I wasn’t going for my gun, Chi, I swear I wasn’t! I was going to write you boys a check,” Harold took a check book out of the drawer.
Chi slapped the check book out of Harold’s hand, “A check…you’ve got to be joking?” laughed Chi. Then he turned to me, “Alex…here…take my gun.” In a hypnotic trance, I stood up and took Chi’s gun from him; he took hold of Harold’s gun and pushed it into the old man’s ribs.
“Don’t worry, Harold. We don’t want your money,” said Chi. And with that statement even I was taken aback.
“I don’t get it?” said Harold, shaking like a leaf.
“Oh…you will,” laughed Chi. “We want those negatives, so all that money can start coming to us. Where the hell are they?” Chi demanded, shoving the barrel of the revolver deeper into Harold’s side.
“I keep them in the dark room,” Harold pointed to the door on the right, a few feet from the desk.
Chi slowly guided Harold to the door; I followed close behind, still in a daze.
Harold opened the door; we walked in; Chi flipped on the light switch. The dark-room bulb was red…the tiny room glowed in red…circus clown red.
“I keep them over here,” Harold pointed to a file cabinet pressed against the far wall. He walked over, opened it, pulled out a large yellow envelope and handed it to Chi.
“These the negatives?” asked Chi.
“That’s them,” replied Harold.
“All of them?”
“Yeah…that’s all of them.”
“Here…Alex,” Chi handed the envelope to me.
“What are you going to do?” Harold asked nervously.
“Good question! What do you think I should do, Harold? Alex…what do you think I should do?”
I didn’t reply; I was just grateful to be in a room without a window, but the flood of red light still was unnerving.
“Chi, for mercy’s sake,” Harold whimpered.
I finally reached down within myself and spoke out, “Let it go, Chi. We have the negatives; let’s just go.”
“No…I can’t let it go!”
I knew there and then all hell was to break loose.
Chi looked around the room, his gaze stopped at a gallon jug on one of the overhead shelves marked Negative Cleaner. On the side of the bottle were the words Highly Flammable…need I say more?
Chi took hold of the bottle, wheeled it around, and brought it down hard on the side of Harold’s head, smashing it to pieces. The gallon of liquid escaped and drenched Harold, who from the force of the blow, feel semi-conscious to floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted.
“Not now...Alex…not now!” Chi pulled me with him out of the room. He took a book of matches from his topcoat pocket, set the entire book on fire and tossed it at Harold.
With a whoosh Harold’s entire body went afire. With the rudest of awakenings, he leaped to his feet, bouncing against wall after wall desperately trying to extinguish the fire that was consuming him.
Chi slammed the darkroom door shut, he took hold of one of the chairs and propped it against the doorknob…there was no way out, now.
Harold’s screams of pain were incomprehensible; there are no words to describe them.
“For God sake…kill the poor bastard!” I cried.
Chi stood with his back pressed against the darkroom door; he was laughing.
Finally, I could take no more; I shoved Chi out of the way, kicked the chair away from the door and opened it.
Inside, Harold was bouncing about the room like a pinball; his entire body from head to toe was aflame. I raised my revolver and planted three shots into Harold’s head. He fell down, motionless, burning like wood in a fireplace.
Chi slammed the door shut and took hold of my arm.
“Let’s get the hell out of here, before the alarms start going off!”
We took the stairwell, down three flights, and then pressed the button for the elevator. A minute later, we entered the elevator and told the operator to take us to the ground floor. There was a c
ouple – a man and a woman – already in the elevator.
When we were at the tenth floor, an alarm started to sound. The elevator doors opened and the operator apologized.
“I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but an alarm has sounded. All elevators must stop functioning…State Law. I suggest you take the stairwell.”
The couple took to flight; before long they were well down the stairs and gone. The elevator operator was nowhere to be found. Chi and I were alone, making our way down to ground level.
“Why the hell did you do that?” I shouted.
“Alex…you’re such a faggot. He was walking all over us; what was I suppose to do?”
At that moment, a group of firemen came running up the stairs with all sorts of firefighting paraphernalia in tow. We waited a minute for them to pass out of ears shout.
“What the hell is with you about setting people on fire? A simple shot in the head would have sufficed.”
“Not for a backstabber, not for a traitor, not for someone like Harold!” argued Chi.
“And are we so much better?” I asked.
“No, not at all; but we’ll never get caught, and that makes all the difference,” Chi surmised.
So, that’s what it’s all about; survival of the fittest…like it’s always been?
We made our way to the ground level. We decided it was best to split up and go our separate ways. We’d phone each other in a day or two.
“Well…take it easy killer,” said Chi; he started off.
“I’m not a killer,” I demanded, grabbing his arm before he could get away.
“Oh, yes you are! There’s a dead body to confirm it.”
“Yeah…but it was a mercy killing!”
“Sure…try telling that to a judge…murder is murder,” I heard Chi laugh as he walked away.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Promise her murder”
It was Thursday; and I sat patiently in the Bentley, like a lapdog waits for his mistress to return. From the parking lot, I could clearly see the front door of the hospital. In the trunk of the car were two small overnight bags. Justine and I made plans to spend the next four days at the Hutchinson’s country home…just the two of us. But first, her weekly visit to her daughter’s bedside.
I had made the journey with Justine more than once in the past few months. Her visits were short, just under an hour; and she always exited from the front door of the hospital in a sorry state of mind. I would devotedly guide her spirits back to the real world; it was a slow process, but it was my pleasure.
That particular Thursday, I kept myself occupied in my wait by eyeing the comings and goings of the nurses and nuns who worked at the hospital. Contrasts between the two were immeasurable. On one hand, you had the nurses…young women dressed from head to toe in pure white. They moved about like playful imps along the walkway in front of the car. Smiling and laughing among themselves, their straight white teeth reflecting the sun as only a small momentary sparkle. Their tight skirts revealed the curves and joys of womanhood…a celebration of their sex.
The nuns, on the other hand, were black voids seemingly hovering their way across the campus, like low-lying dark clouds. No smiles, no laughter, no evidence of womanhood…only sullenness. But I must admit there was a silent, pious, peacefulness about them I had only witnessed in flowers and small children; there was a part of me that envied that brand of serenity.
A nurse was walking along the walkway to the right of the car, just as a nun was walking to the left; they met directly in front of me. They greeted each other; it was obvious they were friends. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, since the car windows were rolled up tightly.
I watched from the front seat of the Bentley. The young nurse was blonde and very pretty with light pale skin showing only a hint of freckles; she seemed so vibrant and alive.
The nun was solemn, just listening and nodding her head. There was little of her exposed for the world to see; even her hands she kept tucked away under the front of her habit. Only her round white face could be seen protruding from her clerical restraints.
Then it happened, the nurse said something and began to laugh, and the nun, shaking her head in concurrence, suddenly burst into laughter also…exposing full lines of teeth, both upper and lower.
I watched the profile of the laughing nun, and then it dawned on me. Like a shock of electricity running through my bones…I recognized her.
I’m sure you’ve heard the expression, “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost”? Well, I was gazing through the windshield of the Bentley at a living, breathing ghost. That laughing nun was…my first love…my Anna!
I got out of the car to get a closer look. I walked up but a few feet from them and took off my sunglasses, to get a better look. It was her, all right.
The nurse and nun became aware of me, all laughter stopped. It seemed I ruined their little tête-à-tête.
“Can we help you?” asked the nun, smiling at me.
“Oh…no…I’m just waiting for someone.” I smiled back. I thought for a moment, and decided to follow what was going on in my mind. “Yes…there is something,” I said, “If you don’t mind, Sister, I’d like a word with you?”
“Why of course,” she complied. “I’ll just be a minute. Judy, I’ll meet you inside,” she said, turning again to the nurse.
The young woman walked off…it was a nice walk…I enjoyed watching her walk. I could feel the stare of the nun on the back of my head. I turned around, she was still smiling.
“So, how can I be of service?” she asked.
I said not a word; I could only stare at her face, examining every feature. This was the woman I lusted over so many years ago; the woman who spun my mind in a whirl and set my heart afire.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
I looked her up and down. I wondered whatever happened to the panties I gave her…the ones with the days of the week written on them. I wondered what was now written on the side of her panties, if anything at all.
“Sir…do I know you?” she spoke firmly, but still politely.
I was a young lad the last time we met, how could she remember me?
“Why…do I look familiar to you?” I asked.
She squinted at me, “No…I don’t think so.”
“Well, maybe I can help you. Tell me…what was your name before you became a nun?”
“I’m sorry, sir; but I couldn’t tell you that. When I took my vows, I put my old life behind me. Tell me…what is your name, sir?”
I thought for a moment, “You know, Sister, I think, maybe, it’s best I don’t tell you my name, either. If I tell you and you don’t know me then it means nothing to both of us. If you do know me then it only reminds you of your past life…the one you are trying to forget…and I would feel badly, if I did that.”
She reflected on what I just said, and then she nodded in agreement, “That’s quite true, and very kind of you…thank you…thank you!”
I knew right there and then, for certain, she did not, nor will she ever again, have anything written on the side of her panties…c’est dommage.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Sister; I see my friend coming, now!” I said, nodding my head, as I backed away.
I ran up the walkway leading to the front of the hospital and stopped to face Justine. She stopped and looked at me; there were tears in her eyes. As always, the visit to her daughter left her in a deep saddening funk. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, “There…there…it’s all right,” I whispered, “Give me the keys; I’ll drive.”
As we made our way back to the Bentley, I looked about. We were alone; there was no sign of Sister What’s-her-name, the little, low-lying dark cloud that had once been my first love. My precious Anna had floated away.
***
As we pulled up to the Hutchinson’s country home, I realized this was no summer bungalow, but a large acreage estate. The main house was at the end of a mile of dirt road that connected to
the main highway; it was a two-story affair with a stony face…much like a mountain ski resort.
The drive from the hospital to the country home took nearly an hour; in which time, I thankfully manipulated Justine into a better mood. In fact, when we arrived she was in high spirits. As I parked the car in the four-car garage, she was laughing joyfully about making dinner for me.
“Leave the bags for now; we can get them later,” she announced, guided me through the door.
The inside of the home was as impressive as the outside. Taking me by the hand she took me on a guided tour that ended in the downstairs living room. The room had a large picture window to one side with a spectacular view of distant mountains and valleys…each splashed with colors cast by the setting sun. The next wall had a large fireplace; there was a large throw-rug in front of it, in front of that was a long leather couch with matching armchairs.
“The wood is over there,” she pointed to the right of the fireplace, “Do you know how to make a fire?”
“Sure…you just rub two Girl Scouts together!”
“You would!” she laughed and kissed me quickly, “Well…do your best. Sit and relax…I’m going to make my Honey a nice home-cooked meal.” She gave me another quick kiss and ran off through a door at the far end of the room.
As I fumbled with a few pieces of wood I placed in the fireplace and a book of matches, I could hear the clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen.
It took a full book of matches; but to my surprise, I got a fire going. I turned to see Justine standing at the kitchen door; she was nodding with approval.
“Sweetheart…why don’t you be a dear and make us both a drink,” she pointed over to the bar and then disappeared back into the kitchen.
It had been a long and slow process, but over the last few weeks I weaned Justine off white wine, and introduced her to the glories of single-malt scotch. I poured us both a drink and brought them into the kitchen.
The kitchen was just as impressive as the rest of the house. Justine was chopping and cutting.
Memoirs of a Gigolo Page 21
