November 15th
The house is upsettingly quiet now.
No longer could I hear the occasionally melody of the piano drifting through the open spaces. Not that it seemed to matter
Although I was aware of Mrs. Beck’s presence and the way she ambled around the house cleaning, cooking and asking the occasionally question, I remained lost to it all.
I imagined vividly the DeLune’s housekeeper shuffling through the daily mail and delivering Martin the envelope that contained his daughter’s fate. Perhaps it would take him some time to realize the writing on the back, I wondered how long it would take him to realize it was similar to his daughter’s handwriting, carefully copied from her letter still in my coat pocket.
Either way Martin would worry, concern himself as to how he would find the extra funds requested to ensure her safety.
Should he call the police ?
No, he had been warned.
He would instead refer back to the photograph. Did she appear dead or alive. And even more so what strange word stained his daughter’s skin? What did it mean ?
Revenge
How long would it take for him to search out his father for help ? Roger would know. Certainly Roger's mind was going but he could never forget what he wish to never remember. After all how many times in an otherwise good mans life does one get to commit murder without consequence?
“… sir ?”
A chill of cool air from the open doors of the sunroom
brought me back to the desolate view of the woods before me. It was far to cold to be outside but
the overcast was perfect to enjoy the view.
“You will have to speak up, Mrs. Beck”, I lingered in the after thoughts of my daydream
“I’m sorry Mr. Fierro”, she spoke louder, “I said what happened to the window.”
Still it was troubling, this vile act of revenge.
Why did Ms. DeLune have to be so relentless in trying to escape/ Apart from spending her father’s money and tinkering at her piano what was she really missing ?
I would give her life a new meaning
She was my means to an end.
“Mr. Fierro ?”
“Mrs. Beck”, I answered her.
“The window, sir. What happened to it”
“Yes, the window it will need fixing.”
She may have been searching for a more adequate answer but I was far from the mood.
My thoughts were soon interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. I waited for Mrs. Beck to answer it; I did not want to appear to eager.
“Mr. DeLune is calling”, she called from the house, I had noticed that she avoided the backyard ever since the . . . incident.
I had made if halfway to the study when Mrs. Beck handed me the phone.
“Mr. DeLune ?”
“Something’s happened. . .we need to discuss some things.”
“I see, I will meet you in an hour.”
“Great, now-“
I didn’t give him the chance to finish and handed the phone back to Mrs. Beck.
So predictable.
+++
“You see, you see it is all there”
2 MILLION OR YOU’LL NEVER SEE YOUR DAUGHTER AGAIN
The message was simple and dull, very impersonal just as I had intended.
I looked over the photograph and envelope as if it were my first time viewing it, Martin motioned for another drink. The bar was empty so early in the afternoon so I had decided to indulge him.
“Do you think she is alive”, I asked
“I think so”, he took the photo, “She looks like she is sleeping. . .but that word painted on her-“
“Ulito ?It means revenge”, I said to quickly, “. . Do you have any enemies ? ”
“No. None. Either way they are asking for 2 million--”
“Perhaps your daughters or your wife? perhaps they have adversaries you are not aware of, your father even ?”
“That bastard?”, he spoke ill of his father, “doubt it”
I hid my frustration; Martin believed this to be about him. This was about Roger
“Are you sure you can handle being indebted to one person?.”,
He finished off a
third expensive scotch.
“When I get my Clara back you’ll get your money”, he believed
me to not care about his daughter’s well being, "I just don't need the word getting around about my poor finances"
“I’ll write you a check as soon as possible and hopefully have Miss. Clara safe at home.”
We shook hands at our agreement.
There was a cliched glimmer of hope in his eyes.
I wondered just how predictable Martin could be.
II
+2+
IBLYd43
“Uh, don’t even get me started on his new little friend.”
“Oh, at least you don’t have to clean up after 3 hyperactive 8 year olds !”
The group of tired and worn out women laughed at the prospects of their clients. It was almost the weekend and like most Friday nights the women met at a cheerful working class bar just outside the resort town to share snippets of their upper-class clients.
Among these women was Gail Beck whom, since working for a new client, seemed less tired and less worn-out that the others. She was usually quiet- having signed a confidentiality agreement when she began working for the strange young man living at the end of the county
Mr. Fierro had been listless lately. What puzzled her more was that broken
window downstairs. She'd overlooked some of his oddities but things had gotten stranger. She was not allowed to clean upstairs and she'd begun smelling perfume in the halls.
Gail Beck nervously sipped her warm beer and listened to Harriet retell the story of the Marion triplets running wild in the mall.As the laughter hit it’s height Gail excused herself, she was tired and ready to head home. She bundled in her beige winter coat and waited for the bus. While she waited she further considered that missing DeLune girl.
The girl had been by the house before, usually with her father. Clara DeLune was a sweet
girl and clearly the apple of her father’s eye. Gail often caught
lingering gazes between the girl and her young employer. Just before Clara DeLune dissapaered Gail had witnessed the two kiss away
from her father’s prying eyes. Clearly Mr. Fierro wanted her.
With a bit of liquid confidence Gail began to dial the police. Suddenly she was knocked to the ground.Gail turned to face her attacker but saw no one. She reached
for her phone , but was dragged toward the back of the bar;
Gail dug her nails into the moist ground, pulling up dirt and leaves. She kicked and
wailed but saw no one in the dark. She
was now behind the bar, the reek of the dumpster and stale beer made her nauseous.
“I’ve had to much to drink.”
She sat for a while and listened.
Clip Clip clip
Her eyes adjusted to
the dark not believing the image before her. An axe dripping with dried blood
was coming towards her, chopping in and out of the ground, pulling dirt and
grass along with it. She stood on shaky legs and ran.Gail was knocked to the ground again, she backed against the
wall her screams came out as mute.
Clip clip clip
She searched for the assailant but there was no one there. And that was it.
Blood coated the ground and seeped into the soil.
No one heard her scream, no one saw the attack, no ever saw Gail Beck again.
ATIMEFORYOUTH
+3+
Red
I saw red everywhere and woke up in a cold sweat, grotesque and gory images faded like a bad dream.
Turning over I fell about a foot down, and rolled on a hard wooden floor.
Still drowsy I felt around the strange environment, as my eyes began to adjust to the dark I saw myself lying in front of a full-length mirror. My eyes were bloodshot
“It was just a bad dream”, I told myself but I couldn’t stop shaking
I quickly gathered that I had fallen out of a bed and furthermore that I hadn’t been alone.
Mr. Fierro’s room was cold and dark, not that I expected anything less.
I teetered back towards the bed, watching the unconscious rise and fall of Mr. Fierro’s breathe.
I awkwardly picked up the kerosene lamp on the dresser and
hovered just slightly over him. The light illuminated his pale incandescent
features. The lamp slipped from my hands but I caught it.
Suddenly his icy blue eyes opened, startled I dropped the
lamp on the ground. Hot oil and glass shattered everywhere and my nightmare came back to me
“Lucie, what in God’s name”, he said sitting up.
“It’s me”, I winced while taking a breath, “it’s Clara.”
He began searching my eyes the truth. Lucie had made it unbearably difficult for us to trust each other..
I heard her scream again, I could feel the warm red liquid splashing on my face.I held in my sobs as best as I could but I let my tears fall.
“Oh, God”, I whispered, “Blood.”
“Ms. DeLune what –“
“I killed her, oh God I killed her—“
Why had I been so cruel ? She just wanted to get home, she just wanted to help . . .
I began clawing at my face. I could feel the blood but I couldn’t see it. I wanted to make the images go away.
I felt a hand on my back attempting to comfort me, I laid my head on his shoulder.
“It was a nightmare, Ms.DeLune”
“No”, I knew better, “There’s an missing axe in your greenhouse. I’ve never been there how would I know that. She did something terrible with that axe. I did something terrible.”
“Who was it”, he pulled me closer.
“Mrs. Beck”, I finally said, “. She’s dead. I-killed her.”
“You have done no such thing.” he told me, “Where is her body hidden, where has Lucie hidden it?”
I studied his eyes, I couldn’t tell if he really cared for the woman or was trying to cover for himself. His hand traveled up to my neck, gently stoking back my hair.
“There is no body, not anymore”
I pushed myself closer to him, terrified to close my eyes or
blink.
“Mr. Fierro”, I whispered as if Lucie could hear us, “Because your lives didn’t work out the way you want them, doesn’t mean I can be a pawn to her happy ending. Let’s run away together. I can show you the wonderful places this world has to offer. I want to go far far away from here”
“I need you”, he said, “I need you to stay. Roger has to suffer.”
"What-"
He tightened his grip on the back of my neck until I gave into unconciousness.
+4+
Mr. Fierro
T Mrs. Beck did not show up to work the next day or the following. I questioned Lucie extensively about this yet all she could offer was a slight smile and a promise of better days.
Ms. DeLune had been dangerously shaken up the night of Mrs. Beck’s disappearance. If pain had a sound it was most likely the sound in her voice. For a moment I let myself foolishly imagine running away with her, never to see the marshy shores of Chataqua lake or the large inducing DeLune home again.
I had listened to her cry for a while, quickly realizing I
did not know how to take her pain away. My mind trying to fathom how I could
project this pain on Roger. I had kissed a bit of her hair but she didn’t
notice.She smelled sweet like honey, far sweeter than any flower. Ms.
DeLune fell to asphyxiation quickly. I carried her back to her room, certain
she had been dreaming. It had not been in a dream
The lights in the hall were turned on and the hall floor was smeared with fresh blood leading to her room, once inside the room I saw the weapon in question. The axe was propped casually next to an open window.
From the bay window I saw Ms. DeLune walking outside her arm outstretched and tapping along the metal gates.he weather was dim and cold but I ventured out to join her. She appeared to be in a daze walking absently around the house.
There was a puff of smoke in the distance from a chimney,
Roger DeLune's home no less. Clara stopped to look at it. The smoke rose and dissipated, a signal of sorts of how close Roger was. I believed it comforted her.
“You know, Mr Fierro”, she started sensibly, “Your hair is almost white”
At first I was not sure I heard her correctly, perhaps the cabin fever had worn on her or she had been shocked into some type of stupor; either way I played along.
“Yes, I suppose that is true”
She laughed a little and continued.
“I couldn't stop seeing what happened to Mrs. Beck, so I began to look for a way to get away. I came across a book . . . do you remember the present you gave me for Christmas, do you remember? It was a book—“
“Alice in Wonderland, I remember”
“Haven’t you ever read it ? you are like the white rabbit with your pocket watch and you always seem very late for things. Some say Carroll wrote part of it in the novel in his garden perhaps one like yours ?”
“Shall I paint my roses red? Would that please you?”
“What do you mean? Wouldn’t I be Alice?”
“Nonsense, Ms. DeLune. . . you are the queen of hearts.”
“I don’t think you’ve read the story at all”
In truth I had never laid eyes on the story, I hard heard in years ago. My mother had read it to me, the silly story distracting us from the nauseating up and down of the ocean and the stench of salt and sweat in the tiny cabin.
1937, it must have been.
What a strange thing to remember.
The smoke still billowed from Roger’s chimney,he was lighting a fire to keep himself alive and warm.
It was as if he was flaunting his naivety, his complete
ignorance to the hero he could be. After a few minutes the smoke stopped and ceased to continue.
That would have to change, suddenly I knew how to garner his attention.
“Let’s go for a ride, Ms. DeLune”
“What do you mean ?” You trust me ?”
“Yes”, means to and end I reminded myself, “After all I am the only person who knows the murder you have committed.”
“It was a nightmare”, she yelled at me
“Was it ? That would hardly explain the trail of blood in you bedroom-“
She struck me.
It was unexpected, certainly I deserved it still it angered me. I dragged her with full force across the yard and towards the garage searching through the pile of keys.
Something neutral
“I don’t want to go anywhere”, she continued to fight.
I found the keys to the Fairlane and forced her into the car. She was quiet as the garage doors opened. I wrapped myself in a scarf, shades in hat in anticipation of letting the hood down.
“Where are we going ?”, she noticed we were headed into town.
The town had been stripped and redesigned in recent years, giving it the façade of a quaint European village. A few residents wandered the streets in to much of a rush from the cold weather to pay us any attention.
I was careful to drive around the same block a few times, constantly circling the liquor store Roger liked to frequent.
Ms. DeLune kept her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. I kept my eyes ahead and finally parked in front of the store.
And waited.
Ms. DeLune peered a little farther down the road, there was a bus stop with a ramshackle building not to far from it. The area seemed to hypnotize her, reminding her of what waited should she escape.
“Clarabelle ?”, From the review mirror Roger squinted and
called to her, balancing on a cane
He came a little closer and I started the car.
“Grandpa ?”, she heard him, before she could turn I began to
drive.
“Stop”, she begged, not daring to escape from a moving car.
She looked back helplessly,"Stop the car"
Suddenly She began swinging and screaming at something I could not see. I drove faster till the car had reached its limit. The road had become empty and once over the bridge we weren’t far from the house.
With new found strength she took the wheel and veered of the road, I hadn’t expected it and tried to regain control, we were now off the road, the tires tore though a marshy field.
“Clara, Stop”
The car scrapped the edge of a tree up ahead I could make out a densely covered ravine not to far.
She was going to kill us both
“Clara”
Her eyes were dark
“What have you done, Addie ?”
Lucie turned to avoid another tree but the car would not stop in time.
The front end slammed into the ravine and sunk into the
water before flipping over. The ravine was low and I only suffered a few cuts from the jagged pebbles After the care settled I found a way out from
underneath the car. I could hear Cla—Lucie struggling to climb out the window. 
I had already begun the long walk back to the lake house
“What were you thinking”, she shouted to me
I turned back toward her.
“What were you thinking? You killed an innocent woman”
“She was only in the way, I was trying to protect you.”
I fought the urge to strike her, it would not really hurt her either way. I
would have to hurt her with my words.
“You believe no one will grow suspicious? Two women seen in
my house suddenly go missing. How simple are you Lucie”
“Let's leave. Go somewhere no one knows us and we can be togetherr—“
“No, Lucie we can't. —“
“ I knew it”, she said, “I told you she would come between us. You said ‘no Lucie, you are the only one for me’ you lied.
I could not just stand and listen to her, it was almost dark
and I would never find my way back once night fell.
My plan to torture Roger had worked out well. Surely Roger would remember the car and if it was found in the ravine with no plates or identification it would just add to his confusion.
Happy with this new revelation I found my way back to the
main path, I began mentally drafting another letter to the DeLune's when I heard Lucie approaching. Then I felt a hot thrumming pain against the back of my head. I turned to see Lucie with a tire ion.
"I don't like being lied to", she said hitting me until I was out cold.