The Salmon

Mary took another sip from her wine glass eyeing her husband across the table. Thomas, of course, was looking at his phone. The sickly electric light reflected off his face, putting a spotlight on his aging jowls.

“I thought it was your favourite?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Thomas looked up, finally acknowledging that she was there.

“The salmon.” she said, gesturing at his barely touched plate. “I thought it was your favourite. Is there something wrong with it?”

Mary knew there was nothing wrong with the salmon.

“Oh. It’s fine. I guess I’ve just lost the taste for it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. I could make something else if you like?”

“No need. I had a big lunch today, so I’m not very hungry anyway.”

“I see. I guess you’re all sorted then.” Mary topped off her wine glass, holding eye contact with Thomas. He hated it when she had more than one glass of wine at dinner. He always stuck to exactly one glass, never a drop more. Thomas had other vices.

“Great” said Thomas, eyes flicking back to his phone screen. No passive aggressive comment, no pointed looks, no reaction at all.

“Were you at the club today?” Mary asked, voice even.

“What’s that, dear?” Thomas reluctantly dragged his attention back to his wife.

“You said you had a big lunch. Were you at the club?”

“Ah, no, actually. It was a restaurant. Near work.”

“How nice. What was it called? Perhaps the Ladies Who Lunch could visit it next time?”

“You know, I don’t remember what it was called. You know me, no head for details.” Thomas made a self-effacing gesture. Once she would have found it utterly endearing, now it made Mary want to plunge her salad fork into his eyeball.

“Yes, I do know you, Thomas.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Listen, Mary. I hate to spoil the evening, but they need me back at the office. We have a very tricky client that requires a lot of handling.”

“And of course, you need to be the one doing the handling.”

“Well, yes Mary. I am the project manager and they’re one of our biggest clients! How do you think I pay for all of this? The club? The ridiculous lunches with your ridiculous friends? With work, Mary! Not that you would know anything about work.”

Mary was impressed, she had no idea that Thomas was smart enough to try and distract her with such an enticing argument. She wasn’t going to fall for it though.

“You’re right, Thomas. You should be there to supervise. You can’t leave these things to the junior staff, they don’t have your experience. Let me pack up the rest of the salmon and you can take it in with you for the team as a bit of a late dinner.”

“No, don’t worry about it. We’ll just order Chinese food or something later” Thomas said.

“Nonsense! This will be much nicer and saves it going to waste. I’ll send a quick message to Jamie about reheat options. Don’t want him mistakenly microwaving the salmon.” She pulled out her cell phone to message his assistant.

“No!” Thomas snapped. He paused, visibility recollecting himself. “I mean, don’t bother with it, the rest of the team won’t be there. It’ll just be me working in the office alone.”

“Oh” said Mary in the most sickeningly sweet tone she could summon “Just you? Why can’t you work from your home office then?”

Panic flashed across Thomas’ face.

“There it is.” thought Mary.

“There’s some documents and things I need, that are in the office.” Thomas said, avoiding looking at her directly.

Mary donned her most innocent expression “That’s strange. I thought your office had gone paperless. I remember you complaining about it for several weeks. They took out the printers and you insisted on installing one here so you could print out your reports.”

“I…I guess I got them from the client.” Thomas said, his words beginning to slur.

“Hmmm. Would that client happen to be Marianne Thomas?” Mary asked.

Thomas looked up sharply, but his eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing.

“How… how do you know that name?”

Mary sat back in her chair, legs crossed. “I know a lot of things Thomas. I know that you don’t need to go to the office. I know that you weren’t at a restaurant at lunch, unless we count room service as a restaurant, and I know that you don’t want to smell like fish when you meet Marianne Thomas tonight.”

“That’s not true!” said Thomas, it sounded more like “Thasnotroo!” but Mary got the gist.

“Come on now. I know you were never really a logical thinker, but how could I possibly have guessed such specific information? I obviously had you investigated. Went through an untraceable VPN, kept it private. I did print out some hard copies of certain documents as a backup. So handy having that printer here. You were right about that.”

“So, you want a divorce, is that what this is about?” Thomas seemed to be concentrating very hard on enunciating every word.

Mary sat back, legs crossed, wine glass in hand. “Oh Thomas, as you so astutely pointed out, I have never had to work. I can’t divorce you without facing a significant loss in lifestyle. Perhaps if you hadn’t insisted that I drop out of my chemistry programme when we got married, I wouldn’t be in this position. But you wanted a traditional wife to support your career. To make a home, raise your children…” Mary paused and looked at his plate “…cook your favourite meals.”

Thomas was beginning to feel a darkness creeping in to the edges of his consciousness.

“You…did something… to the food.” He tried to stand, tried to get away from the table but it was too late. The poison had already taken effect. He fell from his chair knocking his full plate and empty glass to the floor.

“Actually, it was the wine.” she laughed. “Just a basic compound that mimics a heart attack. I put the blocker in the salmon. Just think, if you weren’t tired of it, you wouldn’t be dying right now.”