by Matt Ferraz
“What is it?” asked Winifred.
“I’m going to be travelling for some time,” Grandma Bertha said. “These are the names and phone numbers of the hotels I’ll be in, and these are the dates I’m going to be there. If you need to talk, you call me and I’ll listen.”
Winifred’s eyes filled with tears. “Grandma Bertha, I don’t know what to say.”
“And this number” – Grandma Bertha pointed – “is for my son Todd’s house. I’ll live there after I’ve finished travelling. If you’re ever in the area, you knock at the door and say my name, and he’ll let you stay in my room.”
Winifred couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. She hugged Grandma Bertha. “Thank you for this,” she said. “You’re an angel.”
“Nah, I’m just a curious woman,” said Grandma Bertha. “And I recognize a special girl when I see one.”
They held each other for a minute, then Winifred let her go. “Thanks again,” she said. “And I hope you have a nice trip.”
“Oh, I will!” said Grandma Bertha. “There are still many places left to visit. I’m going to enjoy my trip. I plan to go to the beach, eat a lot of ice cream, take a nap every afternoon and try to smile a bit.”
Winifred kissed her on the cheek and they said goodbye. The porter carried Grandma Bertha’s luggage to the waiting cab.
“Where to?” asked the cab driver when the old lady was sitting in the back. “Are you going somewhere nice?”
“Somewhere exciting, I bet,” said Grandma Bertha.
She was right about that.
A Matter of Wife and Death
1
Antoinette Wood was planning to kill her husband. There was no way to avoid it. In the past few years, the mere thought of Richard had made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t stand his looks, the way he spoke, the disgusting way he ate, his clothes, his friends. Antoinette wanted to be free. She wanted to be able to enjoy her youth and the money she had married into. And that wouldn’t be possible while Richard was alive.
She often thought about it. Slipping poison into Richard’s drink, sabotaging his car brakes, hiring a hitman to put a bullet between his eyes. It seemed so easy! But Antoinette had to be careful. After all, what would be the point of going to all that trouble just to end her days behind bars? No, if Antoinette Wood was going to commit a crime, it had to be perfect. She was not going to be caught.
During the awful years she had spent with Richard, Antoinette had had time to do a lot of reading. She loved crime novels, and could always identify the murderer before the ending. She tried to think what those fictional criminals had done wrong. There was always a small detail that doomed even the most perfect plan. She enjoyed imagining how that could be fixed, so when the time came for her to put her own plan into practice, she wouldn’t make the same mistake.
For a while she thought of slowly poisoning him. Putting a little something in his tea every afternoon would make him sick over time, and people wouldn’t suspect her of murder. No, that wouldn’t work. What if someone else drank his tea by mistake? It was too risky.
What about his toothpaste? Richard had very sensitive teeth, and used a special toothpaste that cost a fortune. Would it be possible to poison his toothpaste? She would have to do some research. But where – and how – could she research something like that? Certainly not on the internet. That would be a great way to get caught. So where could she find a poison specialist –without drawing attention to herself?
Maybe poison wasn’t the way to go. What about faking Richard’s suicide? A story started to form in her mind. “It’s just so sad!” she would say when alone. “I can’t believe it! I was out all day, shopping, and when I came home I found him in the bath, his head in a plastic bag.”
But how could she pull that off? It seemed even harder. Also, Richard was such a happy-go-lucky bastard that it didn’t seem likely that he would kill himself. The police would ask a ton of questions, and Antoinette wasn’t sure she could memorize all the answers in advance.
There was, of course, the option of hiring someone to do it. There were professionals in that field, and it shouldn’t be hard to find one, with Richard’s money at her disposal. But she didn’t want to do that. Antoinette wanted to finish him with her own hands. She had earned it.
“Hello, my honey!” said Richard, coming into the room, breaking into Antoinette’s thoughts. She had been lying on the huge bed they shared in their huge room in their huge country mansion. Antoinette looked at him with bored eyes, chewing an expensive chocolate.
“Look what I got you!” he said, sitting on the bed and handing her a small box.
“Great, another golden bracelet,” she said as she opened the box. “I haven’t been given one in the past five minutes.”
He was still smiling at her, twisting his ridiculous moustache in joy. “This one has a huge amethyst in it, you see?”
Antoinette stared at his ugly red face. “I can see it. I’m not blind,” she said. “What else have you got me this time?”
Richard crawled over the bed and put his head on her lap. “I thought we could take a little trip,” he said. “We hardly ever leave the house.”
He was half right, thought Antoinette. She never left the house. Richard was always busy at work, and she was left at home by herself. She had no friends, no family. She couldn’t even hold on to a lover for more than a couple of weeks. She had a dog once, but she grew tired of it, and abandoned the animal on the other side of town. And Richard thought he could just come into the room, waving a ridiculous piece of jewellery, and think she was going to love him?
“What are you thinking?” she finally asked.
Richard took a chocolate from the box. “I thought you could choose somewhere. Anywhere in the world. We’ll pack up and leave for a couple of months. You and me, what do you think?”
A tiny smile appeared on Antoinette’s face. Choose anywhere in the world? That opened up a whole new set of possibilities. Accidents were prone to happen on trips like that. All sort of things could happen that could take a man’s life, leaving his young wife all alone to enjoy his enormous fortune.
Suddenly, a million different plans were rushing through her mind, each one more diabolical than the last. Right there, with Richard’s head in her lap, a plan started to develop. “Why don’t we go to a place where the sand is warm and wet?” she said.
“You mean a beach?” he asked, chewing the chocolate.
No, dickhead, a cat’s toilet! she thought, but managed to stay quiet. She had become good at that. “Yes, a beach would be nice,” she said. “You told me you liked to scuba dive, didn’t you?”
“Oh, I was young the last time I did that,” he said. “I don’t know if I could do it any more!”
Antoinette made her best sad face, which guaranteed that he would do what she told him to. “I thought you said I could choose anything I wanted.”
“Oh, darling!” he said, sitting up and caressing her face. “I’m so sorry! We can go wherever you want, but are you sure about the scuba diving? It can be so dangerous.”
Yes, I’m sure, dipshit, she thought. She had the plan all laid out in her mind. They’d go to the coast, drink a lot of martinis, and she would convince him to dive with her. At the last moment, Antoinette would say she had a headache, but he should go and pick her a shell from the bottom of the sea. The old fart would do it for sure, just like he always did everything she told him to. And when he came back to the hotel, she would be gone. She’d leave a note saying she didn’t want to stay there any longer and he should meet her somewhere else. She would have to buy a plane ticket at the last minute, which could mean flying economy. The thought brought a sour taste to her mouth, but it was all for the greater good.
Richard would fly after her in their private jet, just a few hours after deep sea diving, without taking the time to decompress. He would feel terrible, but he would still go after Antoinette. She would pick him up at the airport, complimenting him on how
great he looked, then she’d take him to the hotel, make him drink half a bottle of whisky and ask him to go for a night walk with her. She would choose somewhere quiet so when Richard fell to the ground, throwing up, she could just choke him with a handy piece of plastic...
It sounded complicated, but it would work.
Oh, Inspector, how could that happen? I told him he should have gone through decompression before meeting me! I told him he should have had some sleep when he arrived, and that he was drinking too much! Yes, we had a fight back at the hotel, and he told me to go home while he enjoyed his holiday alone. I guess he changed his mind, and came back to apologize, but why was he so careless? He was a mean man, Inspector, but I loved him. What am I going to do without him?
Tonight at your place? Oh, Inspector, you dog! Well, I’m not married any more, so I guess there won’t be any problems. See you then!
“What do you say?” asked Richard, picking another chocolate from the box.
Antoinette felt like slapping his hand and telling him to stop eating her stuff, but instead she smiled at him – as much as the Botox on her forehead and the cold heart in her chest allowed – and nodded at her soon-to-be-dead hubby.
“Scuba diving it is,” she said. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
2
Grandma Bertha saw that there was something wrong with the couple from the start. They were so different, and not in a good way. In her experience, couples who are too alike tend to get bored, but couples who are too different can start to hate one another.
There was something else bothering her. The man seemed to be too concerned about the fact that a murder had taken place in the resort. Grandma Bertha had seen him talking to people about it, reading the newspapers, even trying to talk to young Miss Compson once or twice. His wife just seemed anxious to go scuba diving as soon as possible, even though most activities had been suspended while the police investigation took place.
At first, Grandma Bertha thought that the woman was bored. Soon, she realized it wasn’t like that at all. That was just the image she was trying to project. That woman wanted something really badly, and Grandma Bertha had to find out what it was.
“Hello, babes,” said Grandma Bertha one afternoon, sitting at the woman’s table at the resort café, her dogs sitting quietly by her side. Antoinette wore a large white hat and a white dress to match, and drank a tall glass of iced tea.
“I’m Grandma Bertha, and you are…”
“Not interested in talking,” said Antoinette, taking a sip of her tea.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs Intalking,” said Grandma Bertha, taking a can of beer from her own handbag. “Or can I call you Notinterested?”
“Get lost, old lady,” said Antoinette, looking at her. “I don’t have time to… Wait a minute. I think I recognize you.”
“Oh, I get that a lot these days,” said Grandma Bertha. “I’ve been on TV, you know? People around here call me—”
“The Homicide Magnet!” said Antoinette. “You’re the one who solved the case of the murdered girl next to your house.”
“Oh, that!” said Grandma Bertha, sipping her beer. “It was nothing much. After all, when a killer starts threatening your family, the least you can do is put him behind bars. I’m working on a new case here, have you heard about it? The man who was found dead on the beach? That’s where that silly nickname came from. People think I attract that kind of thing.”
Antoinette couldn’t believe that. Since she was so interested in murder – after all, she was about to commit one – she followed crime shows on TV. She had actually studied the case the old lady had solved, and now here she was! Antoinette was both thrilled and concerned. She had a real-life detective in front of her, and that could mean trouble.
“So, you’re solving a case around here?” she asked Grandma Bertha. “That must take most of your time and energy, huh?”
“I have plenty of both,” said the old lady. “At my age, you learn how to use them.”
There was a moment of silence. “So, Mrs…” said Antoinette.
“Grandma Bertha,” she corrected. “That’s what everyone calls me.”
“So, Mrs Bertha,” continued Antoinette. “People say you’re going to solve this murder as well. The one that took place on the beach.”
“I’m not so sure it took place on the beach,” she said. “But you’re right, people have been saying that. They just don’t trust the police to do their job nowadays. I’ve been talking to people. Still waiting for a chance to talk to the dead man’s son, though.”
“Do you have any suspects?” asked Antoinette. “Any leads you’re following?”
Grandma Bertha noticed something in Antoinette’s tone: something that made her dislike the woman even more. Was it mockery? No, she was used to being mocked. People didn’t trust her detective abilities, starting with Lydia and Todd back home, and now the guests of this resort, who saw her as a curiosity. She could deal with mockery. No, there was something else here. Somehow, Grandma Bertha felt that Antoinette had some kind of respect for her detective abilities. What was it, then? What made her so uncomfortable in Antoinette’s presence?
“I’m doing my work,” said Grandma Bertha, finishing her beer and putting the empty can on the table. “It isn’t as easy as people think, especially when you don’t have a badge.”
Antoinette nodded. “A badge must open a lot of doors. But it must also shut some of them, huh?”
“That’s correct,” said Grandma Bertha, reaching for her bag and taking out a ball of wool and a pair of knitting needles. “People are more willing to open their hearts to a quirky old lady like me than to a man in a uniform. Do you mind if I knit?”
“Not at all,” said Antoinette. Grandma Bertha was making a long purple scarf, the kind nobody would wear in hot weather. “I’m not so sure about that, though,” she said. “My experience with old ladies isn’t that good. My grandmother used to yell at me when I was a child. Can’t say I cried when she passed away.”
“What happened?” asked Grandma Bertha. “I mean, how did she die?”
Antoinette stopped. Why would she ask that? Antoinette’s grandmother had been old, and old people die like flies. Who cared how she died? Nobody had ever asked her how the wheelchair had escaped from Antoinette’s hands while she took her grandmother for a walk. Who cared if her granny had ended up under the wheels of a bus? And who cared if she had let her go on purpose or not? They just buried her and went on with their busy lives.
“She had a heart attack,” she answered. “She was about as old as you.”
“That young, huh?” asked Grandma Bertha. She kept knitting, her eyes on Antoinette. “So, are you by yourself?”
“What? No!” said Antoinette. “I’m here on a third honeymoon.”
“And where’s the lucky man?” asked Grandma Bertha. “I haven’t seen you holding anyone’s hand.”
Nosy bitch! thought Antoinette. “Richard enjoys nature more than I do,” she said. “In fact, he’s been dying to do some scuba diving, but with that murder business, we haven’t had the chance yet. I don’t think anyone has.”
“Do you always call your hubby Richard?” asked Grandma Bertha. “Not Rich, or Richie, or Dick, or Dickie, or—”
“His name is Richard,” said Antoinette, wiping her forehead. It was covered in sweat, which had nothing to do with the weather. “Is there a problem with that?”
Grandma Bertha gave a toothless smile. “Not at all,” she said. “It’s just that people who have been married for some time usually have pet names for each other.”
“How are you so sure we’ve been married for a long time?” asked Antoinette, with a frown.
“You must be if this is your third honeymoon,” said Grandma Bertha, picking up her knitting and putting it back in her bag. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m going back to my room to take a nap.”
She got up, turned around and went away without saying another word. Antoinette stared at her as she wen
t into the hotel. She knows something, thought Antoinette. She may not know everything, but she knows something.
She threw the rest of her iced tea on the sand and ordered a vodka, telling herself to take it easy. After all, her plan was to kill Richard at home, nowhere near that pesky old woman.
Still, Antoinette couldn’t help wondering if it would be better to take care of Grandma Bertha before she found out anything else…
3
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Richard asked, his mouth full of rare steak. Once again, Antoinette thought how disgusting it was to watch him eat.
“I’m fine,” she said, taking a sip of champagne. It had no taste, at least not to her. Nothing did, actually. “What about tomorrow? Are we finally going to do it?”
Richard wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. He knew very well what it was. “I wanted to talk to you about that,” he said. “I’ve been talking to this new friend of mine and she said—”
“New friend?” asked Antoinette. “I didn’t know you were going around making friends.”
Richard put the napkin down. “I just met her this afternoon,” he explained. “Funny old lady. She said she was very busy trying to find the person who killed that man on the beach…”
Antoinette squinted at him. What could that bitch want with Richard? “That woman is crazy,” she said. “You should know that. She goes around saying stupid things, and they just let her because she’s old.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Richard, which made Antoinette even crosser. Now he was even disagreeing with her! “Anyway, she said I shouldn’t scuba dive if I was planning to fly soon. Something to do with atmospheric pressure.”
She held her glass so tightly that it cracked. She put it on the table. If Grandma Bertha had walked into the restaurant at that moment, Antoinette would have taken her golden fork and stabbed her in the eye. Did the old lady knew anything about her plans? Antoinette knew it was a stupid question, but it wouldn’t leave her head. Nobody else knew, she had no accomplices, no one who could have leaked the information. Yet Grandma Bertha had sensed something. Why else would she give a total stranger that sort of advice?
