The Widow's Husband

by William Coleman

  Chapter 4

  (The Actor)

  Jimmy drove south with the window down because the air-conditioner in the old sports car didn’t work. The agent’s briefcase, wallet and plane ticket were on the seat next to him. As he drove he practiced referring to himself as Mike; having conversations with invisible passengers. The night sky was moonless and the shadows between streetlights were darker than he remembered them ever being before. He lit a cigarette and noticed his hands shook like they had when he did a stint in rehab to kick his addiction to pain killers.

  He had never killed a man before. Sure, he roughed up a few guys, always when he was drunk and usually over money or women. Never killed one though. It was unnerving. Yet, there was something else. A sense of power like he had never felt before floated around in his mind. He had just performed the ultimate act of domination. And it felt good. Sarah always dominated him in bed, one of those things she got into. He didn’t mind. It was sex and that was what he was into. He considered now if he should switch their roles. The power he felt strangling Mike was incredible. If Mike’s body hadn’t been there, he would have taken Sarah right there on the spot. With a dead body in the room . . . well that was just sick.

  Now, that sense of power was fading and as it diminished, it was replaced by the shaking. What if he got caught? What if he went to prison? He had to be sure no one found the body, or at least didn’t find it for a long time. There was an abandoned factory about three miles south of the airport. It was enclosed by a tall fence, but Jimmy remembered the lock was busted from the last time he was there. It would be the perfect place to dump a body. No one went inside the fence, no one that would call the cops, anyway. It could be years before anyone found him, and by then he would be nothing but bones. Drive in, dump, drive out. That simple.

  A jet flew low over his car placing him just east of the airport. The roar of the engines was deafening and it occurred to him the agent would never hear anything like it again. Jimmy wondered what it would be like not to hear anything ever again, what it would be like to be dead. He also wondered if Mike hadn’t been in town tonight, would he have been the one Sarah’s husband had tried to kill? Some other guy might be driving around in the dark trying to find a place to dump his body. Possibly even Mike.

  It didn’t really bother Jimmy that Sarah was sleeping with another guy besides him and her husband. It bothered him a little to find out her husband scrambled the guy’s brain. In contrast, it made him feel good knowing she asked him to help her out of her mess. What bothered him more was how calm she was during the whole thing. One cold broad there. And if it weren’t for the money, he’d just dump this stiff and disappear. He needed cash and this was an opportunity to get a lot of it quick. All he had to do was convince a bunch of losers he’d never met he was someone they'd never met. Simple enough.

  He drove by the old factory’s entrance before he realized what it was and slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt several yards beyond. He turned around and pulled into the short drive leading up to the chain-link fence. He pulled up to the gate, his headlights illuminating the area. Looped through the holes of the links was a thick chain. In the center of the tangle was a shiny new lock. His plan came to a screeching halt.

  Jimmy couldn’t think of another place to dump the body. He looked up and down the road, shoved the car in gear and backed into the bushy area next to the gate, turning off his headlights so he wouldn’t draw the attention of passers-by. Opening the trunk, Jimmy reached in, grabbed the bundle of sheets containing Mike’s body and pulled the torso up and over the edge so the body lay draped over the rear of the car. Another pull on the legs and the body dropped like a bag of topsoil to the ground. The sheets unraveled and Mike’s lifeless eyes stared up at him; through him to the sky beyond. A chill crawled up Jimmy’s spine until it nestled between his shoulder blades and he shivered.

  “I didn’t need that, fella,” he said, grabbing the man under the arms and dragging him deeper into the bushes. Out of view from the road, Jimmy untied the knots holding the sheet in place and rolled the body out onto the dirt. Mike was in his suit. Jimmy and Sarah agreed they should dress the guy. Neither of them had experience dressing dead men so he looked disheveled. For a dead man, Jimmy supposed that was okay.

  Before leaving the house, Sarah had given Jimmy a change of clothes, the promised shirt and slacks belonging to her husband. Jimmy retrieved them from the car and changed in the dark next to Mike. From time to time he glanced back to assure himself the agent was still there and still dead.

  Last, he slipped on the sport coat Sarah’s husband had left in the kitchen. It fit surprisingly well. Patting it down he noticed a hard object in the breast pocket. He pulled out Allan’s wallet complete with state I.D., credit cards and three twenties. Jimmy stuffed the cash into his slacks. He pulled out the I.D., letting the wallet and credit cards drop to the ground next to Mike’s body. He stared at the face of his lover’s husband trying to see in the picture what Sarah saw in the man. Whatever it was, he decided it didn’t translate on film.

  He dug into his pants pocket and withdrew a lighter. With a single flick, he had a flame which he held up to the card. He watched the plastic lamination blister and melt, the photo darken. The edges of his lips curled upward just a bit as he erased Allan’s existence, even if it was only figuratively. As the heat of the flames reached his fingers, he dropped the remains of the card into the dirt and kicked it until the flames went out and the small ball of blackened plastic was buried in the leaves.

  Jimmy checked his watch. His flight was still hours away. He thought about going to a diner for breakfast, but was worried he might lose track of time and miss the flight. It would be best to go to the airport and wait. He climbed into his car with one last glance back toward the body. Satisfied he couldn’t see there was a dead man lying in the bushes, he sped north toward the airport. All the way there he practiced saying his new name, Mike Bishop. He even tried saying something intelligent about books and being an agent, instantly hoping the Hollywood bigwigs would not be much for conversation.

  At the airport, he pulled his car into a spot in long-term parking, tucking the parking ticket into the visor. He pocketed the plane ticket and pulled the briefcase out as he exited the vehicle. There was a shelter where several people stood waiting for the next shuttle. He looked down at the case in his hand and to the stacks of luggage around the others and felt instantly out of place. Joining them in their wait, no one seemed to notice him.

  In the airport, he found himself conscious of every security guard he passed, waiting for the one who would recognize him for the imposter he was. Each moved on without anything more than a cursory glance in his direction. He ducked into one of the many restaurants and ordered a hearty breakfast. Killing and disposing of a man gave him quite an appetite.

  He smiled at the waitress each time she appeared at his table. She was definitely his type. Asking her out crossed his mind, but he thought better of it, settling on watching her body as she moved around the dining area. When she brought him the check, she smiled broadly at him and told him she would take payment when he was ready.

  Panic struck him like a slap in the face as he read the total. He had heard that airport food was expensive, but he didn’t know they used the money to purchase new planes. He was looking at half a day’s wages. His body relaxed, remembering that he had Mike’s credit cards on him. He opened the wallet and his eyes grew wide. He counted six credit cards, all of them gold or platinum varieties. Head bobbing and whistling a bit, he placed one of the cards on top of the check. The waitress took them and returned moments later for his signature. Jimmy added in a healthy tip and scribbled something resembling Mike’s name across the bottom.

  He walked a little taller as he left the restaurant. Having money felt good, gave him a sense of power similar to what he had felt after killing Mike. Considering the trip he had to make, he was filled with the confidence to make things happen. Everything would be okay. />
  He checked his watch. The day was passing quickly. It would soon be time to board his flight. He located and took his place in line at the airline counter and followed the flow of travelers as they made their slow progress to the two employees working there. One of them was a man in his late twenties that smiled dutifully at each customer. As an actor, Jimmy could spot a fake smile a mile away and that was what this man was wearing. Even the tone of his voice was a dead give-a-way. The young woman next to him looked much more natural as she flashed her teeth at each person in turn. Jimmy found himself trying to calculate who would be helping him, hoping silently for the cute girl.

  Reaching the front of the line, Jimmy realized that the girl had taken the person in front of him, suggesting the man would be helping him. But the couple the man was working with seemed to be experiencing difficulties, starting with the fact that English was not their first language. Jimmy stood mesmerized by the exchange between them when the man behind him tapped his shoulder. Jimmy turned, expecting a badge to be shoved in his face. Instead the man simply pointed to the counter. Turning back, Jimmy saw the cute girl beckoning him to her. A small chill ran through his spine, much different from the one Mike had invoked with his dead, dull eyes. There was no greater feeling than an attractive woman asking you to come closer. A smile spread across his face like a bloom.

  He approached the counter and handed Mike’s license and ticket to her. He lowered and turned his head as she examined the documents. She handed them back and he sighed audibly.

  “Are you all right, sir?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Fine.”

  She smiled broadly and said, “Luggage?”

  “What?”

  “Do you have any luggage to check?” she clarified.

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Business trip.”

  As if men on business trips didn’t have luggage. He took in a deep breath and held it. He expected an armed security guard or two to come drag him away kicking and screaming. Instead, she cocked her head to one side and looked at him quizzically.

  “I mean,” he said trying to think fast, something he was never good at. “I mean I’m only going to be there for a short meeting. I’ll be on my way home tomorrow.” He patted the briefcase adding, “I have everything I need right here.”

  She smiled again and gave him directions to the gate number for his flight. Well out of her sight, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath and to make sure his heart was still beating. His audition was over, and tomorrow he must put on the performance of his life.

  He again found himself in line as everyone was funneled through a security checkpoint. Like cattle to the slaughter, the crowds were directed through three metal detectors. Reaching the front of the line, Jimmy emptied the contents of his pockets onto a plastic tray and lay the briefcase on the conveyor belt. The transit authority employee directed him through the door sized arch and he stepped forward.

  A loud beep sounded and Jimmy’s heart jumped. An employee on the other side of the metal detector pulled him to the side and commanded him to stand with his legs apart and his arms out to his side. It reminded him of being frisked the night of his first encounter with Sarah. The ecstasy of being with her had consumed him and he hadn’t realized he was speeding. The odor of the pot he had smoked wafted through the open window and the cop had him out of the car, searched and sobriety tested faster than he could blink. He had spent the rest of that night in lockup.

  The transit employee waved a wand the length of his extremities and across his body. The familiar sound sang out softly with each pass. As the wand passed his waist, the sound intensified. The employee looked up at him, “Remove your belt, please.”

  Jimmy did as he was asked. The employee took his belt and told him to step back through the metal detector. This time no alarms sounded. Relief flooded Jimmy’s body as he returned to the employee holding his belt. She handed it to him, saying, “You may want to remove that when you empty your pockets next time.”

  He nodded and guided the belt back through the loops of his pants, cinching it into place. He stuffed his belongings back into his pockets, grabbed the briefcase and walked away, glancing back to be sure he wasn’t being followed. Usually relaxed and carefree, killing a man had made him paranoid and on edge. It wasn’t a feeling he enjoyed and hoped it would pass soon, but was convinced it wouldn’t.

  He reached his gate and found a seat facing the window, looking out at the large, shiny jet that would be taking him to California. His heart rate increased as he thought about arriving in an unknown place to meet a group of strangers pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He had always dreamed of going to Hollywood to try his hand at acting. Now he was on his way to do just that. Not exactly the way he planned it, but it was a start.

  If all went well, maybe he could make some contacts. In a year or so he could drop a line on them, mention they met once upon a time and get an in. They would never remember his name wasn’t the same. Not after a year.

  A young woman crossed in front of him, glanced around. Her eyes fell on the empty seat beside him. She was stunningly beautiful and Jimmy couldn’t take his eyes off her. He had never realized what a great place the airport was for meeting women. His eyes followed hers as she scanned the waiting area. No other seats available.

  “Is this seat taken?” she asked.

  “No,” he answered, straightening himself in his own chair. “You’re welcome to it.”

  She sat and placed a small bag and her purse on the floor between her feet. Adjusting until she was comfortable, she opened a paperback book to the page saved by a bookmark. Her eyes moved slightly as she read, otherwise she did not move unless she ended a page and needed to turn to the next.

  Jimmy watched her, staring at her smooth tan skin, the shape of her body. She looked to be about his age, possibly a little younger. He began wondering if she would be interested in a guy like him. Not the ‘him’ who just killed a man and dumped the body on a dark road, but the ‘him’ who wanted to be an actor and maybe have a family someday.

  “Goin’ to California?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, looking up from her book only long enough to make eye contact.

  “Me too,” Jimmy said. “Going to meet some movie people.”

  “Really?” she looked up again. This time she held his gaze. “Anyone I would know?”

  “Probably not,” he said. “Just some guys buying movie rights to a book.”

  “You're a writer?” she asked, marking her page and giving him her full attention.

  “Nope,” he shrugged. “A friend of mine. I’m going out to get the contract signed.”

  “You’re a lawyer?” she said.

  “No way,” he denied. “I’m like an agent.”

  “Like an agent?”

  “Yeah,” he grinned. “Name's Jimmy . . . er . . . Mike.”

  “Jimmy Mike?” she asked, confused.

  “No.” he shook his head. “Just Mike. I used to be Jimmy. Changed it for the business.”

  “Rachel,” she said, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mike who used to be Jimmy.” Jimmy shook it.

  They continued their small talk for another half an hour until a woman’s voice came over the speaker announcing it was time to board the plane. On board, they found a couple seats together. Rachel was from California and Jimmy found himself wanting to stay and get to know her better. He soon made up his mind that he was going to do what was necessary to secure the money and return it to Sarah. Then he would use his cut to return to California and look Rachel up. He felt confident he would have her phone number by the time they landed.

  The plane started to taxi to the runway. Jimmy watched through the small window as the building they were just in moved away. It was his first time on a plane, first time to leave the state. He was getting another rush of exhilaration. He watched as they passed other planes and the small luggage trucks. Next to him, Rachel was adjusting her seatbelt and bracing herself i
n her seat.

  “I’m not big on flying,” she said.

  “It’s my first time,” he admitted. “Don’t know what to expect.”

  “Well,” she said. “I always feel like I’m going to sink through the seat and fall through the bottom of the plane. Most people are fine with it.”

  “Guess I’ll find out if I’m one of them,” he said, pulling the ends of his seatbelt together.

  The plane stopped for a moment before turning onto the runway. As it straightened, it began to pick up speed and Jimmy took hold of his armrests. At the end of the runway the plane lifted off the ground and Jimmy understood what Rachel meant. His grip on the armrests tightened. He looked out the window and saw the lights of the city drop away at a rapid rate, though not quite as fast as his heart.

  A few minutes later the plane leveled off and the pressure pushing him back into his seat relented. He looked at Rachel who was still holding on tight. He grinned and patted her hand. She looked at him and smiled. Things were definitely looking up.

  A sudden sensation of freefalling overwhelmed him and everyone screamed at once. The engines roared so loud in Jimmy’s ears his mind felt like it was going to implode. ‘No wonder she didn’t like to fly’, was the only thought he could process. He rolled his head to one side and looked at Rachel who was screaming open mouthed. He rolled it the other way and peered out the window, seeing the lights of the city again. This time they were directly below him and coming up fast.

  In that instant, he understood. He did not know anything about physics, didn’t need to. He understood what would happen when the wing of the plane struck the ground. He yelled out and was amazed to feel the plane shift upward. He let out his held breath and grinned with relief.

  The plane rotated and dipped, striking the ground nose first in the center of a cornfield. The fuselage came to a rest in a fireball seen from miles away. Jimmy Falcon’s luck had just run out.