Trust No One

by Paul Cleave

  But you know what? This journal is all about being honest. Best to write down all the details, and of course you can always go online and search Jerry Grey Wedding Speech if you want to see the moment it all happened, if you want to see your family watching in horror as what’s left of your dignity plummets.

  Context. That’s what you need. There is some good news because the ceremony itself went off without a hitch, so let’s start there, huh? Your wife disappeared in the morning to be with Eva and the bridesmaids to go ooh and ahh as they had their hair done, to relax the nerves with a glass of champagne, to have their makeup expertly applied, and to just generally enjoy the morning. Hans came to look after you, and you sat out on the deck like always and you had a beer and since nobody else was around, he lit up a joint just like he used to. The morning was hot. It’s not even summer yet, but if today is anything to go by, then the city is going to blister and burn.

  The wedding was scheduled for two o’clock. Around twelve you put on the new suit and it looked sharp, really sharp, and you can count the times in your life on one hand that you’ve worn one. You actually liked the feel of it, liked the way it made you look grown-up. All these years hanging out at home in a T-shirt and a pair of shorts always did make you feel like a kid. In a suit you looked like somebody to be taken seriously, and that’s something else you’ve always thought—nobody ever took you seriously. Why not? You were just a crime writer, and do you remember that time you were detained flying back into New Zealand because you wrote Makeup on your immigration form as your occupation? The woman at passport control didn’t find it funny and you were detained, but only for fifteen minutes during which you were given a stern telling off and a reminder that immigration was not a joke. But the fact of the matter is you are a makeup artist. Technically. Or were—because now you have a ghost makeup artist tapping those keys on your behalf.

  Hans drove you to the church and you got there thirty minutes early and things were still being set up. Belinda was there with her assistant carrying flowers out of the back of the van and loading them into the church, and you chatted for a minute with her before she had to disappear to the winery half an hour away to unload some more.

  Guests started to arrive. They hung out in the parking lot in the sun. It was too nice a day to spend in the cool church. Some of them smoked, some laughed, chitchat filling the air. Rick and Prick and the groomsmen showed up in a black limousine, and it was pretty obvious they’d had a few drinks to calm their nerves, then a few more just for the fun of it. Rick had the same look in his eye hundred-meter sprinters have just before the firing gun goes off. He came over and you introduced him to Hans, and Hans took his hand and applied a little too much pressure and said If you ever hurt her, if you ever cheat on her, Jerry here may not be around to protect his little girl, but I will be. You step out of line, buddy, and I will punish you, and the way he said it—well, he wasn’t bluffing and Rick knew it.

  I would never hurt her, sir, Rick said.

  Then we don’t have a problem, do we?

  No. There was no problem.

  The problem was still to come.

  More people were showing up, and Rick and his entourage went into the church and you stayed outside with Hans. There were family members you hadn’t seen in a while, mostly from Sandra’s side, her sister the gossip who has been married herself three times, a couple of cousins and an aunt and uncle you couldn’t remember from your side, a lot of Rick’s friends and family you’d never met, and a lot of Eva’s friends, some you’ve known since she was a kid. You shook a lot of hands, said How have you been a few dozen times, Nice to see you again a few dozen more, people who were strangers, people from your life you couldn’t remember, here was Jerry with his Alzheimer’s, Jerry to be pitied, Jerry who everybody was worried was going to mess up, and isn’t that just the setup to the world’s greatest punch line? Isn’t that what they wanted? People go to car races hoping to see a good crash, don’t they?

  When the cars with the bridal party pulled up all murmurs coming from inside the church came to a stop. You could hear the pews groaning as everybody shifted to look back towards the door. Eva climbed out of a dark blue fifty-year-old Jaguar, and she looked so much like Sandra on your wedding day that your heart froze and for a moment you were scared, actually scared you were having what Mrs. Smith would sum up as an episode. But it wasn’t an episode—it was Eva looking stunning, looking beautiful, the smile on her face so large she looked as though she owned the world, and your heart melted. You were changing, but you had done your job. You had helped raise this amazing woman, and no matter what the future had in store, nobody could take that away from you.

  You took her hand and hugged her, and told her she looked beautiful, and her smile widened and she hugged you back, and she was happy, she was filled with so much joy you actually felt like crying. You hugged Sandra and her smile was almost as big as Eva’s, and she also looked like she was going to cry, and in that moment, Jerry, you forgave her for everything. Sandra had given you the best years of your life, and she still had a future ahead of her. Her body was warm and comforting and she smelled amazing, her hair smelled great, she felt fantastic against you, and in that moment you embraced your future. You had reached the top of the grief pyramid, your name was Jerry Alzheimer, and you were going to let Sandra put you into full-time care if that was her desire.

  Sandra went inside to sit in the front row. There was already music playing in the church, but now it changed to a different piece that was your cue to start moving. The flower girls, who were related to Rick in some way, wandered down the aisle first, everybody in the church going They’re so cute, they’re so cute, they’re so adorable, and they were adorable, of course they were, these little kids that didn’t have Alzheimer’s. The bridesmaids went next—two of them, friends of Eva’s since primary school—and then you led Eva, people in the crowd almost breaking their necks to get a better view, Eva beaming the whole way, little nods and extra smiles for certain people in the crowd, and you did what you had been told to do, nothing more, nothing less, step after step all the way to the front, and Jerry falls over and the crowd goes wild! No, that’s not what happened, but it’s what they expected. You got Eva to the front, gave her a hug, and then shook Rick’s hand. You said It’s over to you, now, son, before glancing at Hans. Rick glanced at Hans too and you were all on the same page.

  You sat next to Sandra and held her hand and the ceremony began. You watched Eva get married. There were tears and there was laughter and there were no zombies as far as the eye could see. Rice was thrown at the end and people clapped as the happy couple walked back down the aisle, arms linked, lives linked. Outside the photographer started putting the bridal party to work, Stand here, Smile, Now you, Now you and you, Now just the family. If that was it, then it would have been a perfect day. But of course Captain A had something else in mind, didn’t he? Look at this hand while he fools you with the other. That’s the magic of it all.

  The wedding party disappeared to other locations for more pictures, and everybody else had two hours to kill. The crowd slowly departed, breaking up into mostly groups of two or three and getting into the cars to drive to the winery. Father Jacob stood outside shaking hands and making chitchat, and you had this weird image of him sticking business cards under all the windshield wipers, with little Ten percent off your next confession coupons attached, or Absolve two sins for the price of one.

  Hans drove you to the winery, and Sandra went there with her parents. You sat at a table under a sun shade chatting with Hans as others slowly arrived, and it was like the church all over, everybody outside killing time and mingling, only the difference here was they were all holding glasses of wine or beer. You were drinking water even though Hans had smuggled in two hip flasks full of gin and tonic for you, to which you told him thanks but no thanks, then thanks and had a drink anyway. The nerves were gone because there was nothing left to do except listen to the speeches, eat dinner, and maybe
hit the dance floor.

  You only had the one drink, and were back to water when the speeches began, and you hated that you didn’t get to say anything, that Sandra was muzzling you for the occasion, and you thought . . . this is what you thought: Hey, that’s my daughter too, everybody else gets to say something so why not me?

  Why not you?

  The answer became obvious once one speech ended and you interrupted the emcee while he was introducing the next speaker, because you had something you wanted to say. Some words of wisdom.

  And the crowd went wild, didn’t they?

  The video online has now had 3,981 hits. It’s going viral. And there you are, walking up to the stage. Jerry Grey in his wedding suit and his funeral suit, but it’s not Jerry Grey at the wheel, it’s his magician buddy, Captain A. It’s all there for the world to see, 4,112 hits now, and the human race, well now, they sure do love a good show, don’t they? Especially when it’s at the cost of somebody else.

  Let me describe it for you. Jerry Grey. At the stage and to his right the wedding table, and at the table are the wedding party, Rick and Prick and the groomsmen, Eva and her bridesmaids, glasses of wine and plates and flowers, and to Jerry’s left the band, and next to Jerry the emcee with the smile on his face, the kind of guy who was just going with the flow, the kind of guy who looked like he’d still be emceeing while the ship went down—and that is what happened, isn’t it? So that’s the scene. Jerry on stage and the room goes quiet. What’s he going to say? What’s he going to do? Well step on up, Future Jerry, and catch yourself a tale.

  Hi everybody. My name is Jerry Grey, and for those of you who don’t know me, I’m the father of the bride, Jerry says, and he turns towards the wedding table and smiles at his daughter, and she’s smiling, or trying to, and off to the side people are standing near Jerry trying to figure out a way to get him to sit down. To contain him. They’re hoping for the best.

  But Jerry doesn’t want to be contained.

  As the father of the bride, I want to start out by thanking you all for coming along on what has been, and I’m sure my lovely wife will back me up here, one of the best days of our lives. To see our little baby girl all grown up, to have become this beautiful, charming, and caring woman, well, I don’t need to tell you all what an honor and a pleasure it has been along the way as we’ve gotten to know her. And Rick, Jerry said, turning his attention to the groom, we are looking forward to getting to know you, and I want to welcome you to our family.

  Pause for clapping.

  But please, can you stop coming around to the house with that hip-hop music of yours cranked up? It frightens all the neighbors.

  Pause for laughter . . . It’s there, it’s polite, it’s enough to make Jerry feel confident.

  Now, some of you may know that I’m a crime writer, and that’s a very different beast from being a stand-up comic, which means I may not be able to make everybody laugh, but, Eva, what I can do if you ever need it is give you the perfect alibi.

  Another pause. More laughter this time. Jerry is feeling good, feeling good, he’s looking comfortable on stage.

  Why couldn’t you have sat down then, F.J.? But you didn’t, because Captain A was the master manipulator and had something he wanted you to say.

  As the father of the bride, having been where you’re sitting now twenty-five years ago, it reminds me of what my own dad said to me back then, a piece of advice I wish I had taken. He said, Jerry, run!

  Laughter. Genuine laughter, especially from the older folks in the crowd who all can relate to what Jerry is saying.

  But seriously, folks, as any parent will do when they’re seeing their child getting married, you think back to when it was your own time, you think back and you wonder how the years have gone by so quickly, there are always ups and downs in a relationship, and the older you are the more you’ve been through, and the more you’ve been through the more advice you can give. Of course everybody has advice, a lot of us say My advice is don’t take anybody’s advice, make your own way, and thankfully, folks, that’s not the chestnut of wisdom I’m here to impart. Rick, I’m hoping I can come to think of you like a son one day, and I want to tell you that you are a very, very lucky man marrying my daughter.

  Ooh. Ahh. The crowd is lapping it up.

  I envy you. You’re not making the mistake I made by marrying a whore.

  There is a pause in the crowd as people try to interpret what Jerry just said. They heard the words—at least they think they did, because surely he didn’t just call his wife a whore, did he? And if he did, then surely it was a joke, wasn’t it?

  Jerry carries on.

  Had I mentioned that my lovely wife is a whore?

  Lots of gasping as people realize he’s not joking. Everybody inhales at the same time and the air in the room goes thin, but Jerry hardly seems to notice. He’s still looking at Rick and he’s smiling.

  I didn’t know it when I married her, but I do now, and isn’t that always the way, people?

  Pause for laugher. None. Jerry looks confused.

  Isn’t it?

  Hans has come up to the stage and is reaching for Jerry, but Jerry shrugs away from him. Sandra has been fucking people. Lots and lots of people, including my good friend Hans who’s right here, everybody, Jerry says, and points at his friend. She wants to put me into a home so she can go table shopping with the baker. She’s a—

  And that’s as far Jerry gets, because then Hans is dragging him off stage, actually dragging him from the collar of his funeral suit, the back of Jerry’s feet sliding over the floor, and people are standing up, and somebody says in a high-pitched voice, holy shit, holy shit, holleee shit, and there’s Sandra, storming off, and Rick hugging his new wife, and Jerry still ranting away, bitch, slut, whore, all of it coming from his mouth.

  Over six thousand hits now. It’s speeding up.

  Good news—at least the ceremony went okay.

  Bad news—it’s all bad news, partner.

  Hearing it coming over the radio is a confirmation Jerry doesn’t want. He looks towards the police station. The top few floors are looming over the surrounding buildings. He can picture cops staring out the windows at him, binoculars finding him, a sniper rifle narrowing in on his head. He can picture a tactical team already in the elevators making their way to the ground floor.

  “They’re going to make the connection between the knife and the crime scene quickly,” Hans says. “My guess is that evidence is already on its way back to the station and in about fifteen minutes they’re going to be fingerprinting everything and about fifteen minutes after that they’re going to have your name. You agree so far?”

  He nods. The crime writer inside of him agrees.

  “Surveillance from the mall is going to find you going into the bathroom, and they’re going to run the footage in both directions and find out where you came from and where you went. They’re going to find you buying the hat and buying the SIM card, and that’s going to tell them they’re dealing with somebody who knows what they’re doing. It’s going to tell them that Jerry Grey committed a murder and had the sound mind to try and get away with it, which means when they come for you, they may be trigger-happy. If I take you in now, that can be avoided.”

  “You said before there was another option,” Jerry says. “I want to know what it is.”

  “Whether you did this or not,” Hans says, “you look guilty. Nobody is going to see it any differently. Even I don’t see it any differently. If they don’t shoot you when they find you, then there’ll be a trial, one that Eva will have to sit through and learn all the awful things you’ve done, and then they’re going to make a big show out of executing you, because that’s what they’re going to do, Jerry.”

  “Execute? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The death penalty, Jerry. It got voted back in last year. There was a referendum.”

  “What?”

  “It was a big thing. The crime rate in this country, hell,
you know it better than anybody. The people wanted to be heard. It was a big talking point in what was an election year, and the result of that is it’s been voted back in, and the government agreed to do the will of the people. It hasn’t been enforced yet, but you trying to get away with this today, people are going to think you’re of sound mind and, therefore, you’re going to be a pretty good candidate for the noose. The country will finally get to see the results of their voting put into action.”

  “But I didn’t hurt anybody,” Jerry says.

  “I love you like a brother, I really do, but that’s your future. So the way I see it you have three options.”

  “We run,” Jerry says.

  “That’s not one of them,” Hans says. “You can’t run. I won’t let you run. So option one is you let me take you into the police station right now and you avoid the possibility of getting put down in the street like a rabid dog. Option two is I take you to a strip joint and I can give you a thousand bucks to blow on strippers and drink and you can have the last, best, final day of freedom before I call the police.”

  “And three?”

  “Three is you go out on your own terms. We go and find a sunset somewhere, we have a few drinks, we reminisce about old times, and we both drink a little too much and you take some pills and you—”

  “No.”

  “You die with your dignity and with your best friend by your side.”

  “Jesus, how can you—”

  “Because you killed those girls, Jerry. You killed Belinda Murray and Laura Hunt and the woman this morning, and you killed Sandra. That’s how I can suggest it. And if you were thinking straight, you’d suggest the same damn thing.”