Final Business

He watched Bruce as he broke and tore into the loaf of bread. The crumbs falling to the plate and into a red sauce which reminded him of blood. He dipped the bread into the sauce and ate it. Some of the sauce dripping off his face and hand onto a pure white napkin he had on his chest. Mark closed his eyes and turned away.

“What’s wrong with you?” Bruce said.

“Must you eat like a barbarian?” Mark said.

“How should I eat, Martha Stewart?”

“Is that what you did to her?”

Bruce looked at Mark as he took another bite of the bread concoction. He had a smirk on his face.

“You didn’t?” Mark asked.

“It was quick and painless.”

Mark pulled his jacket closer to his body. Bruce offered him a piece of bread with the red sauce dripping off of it. Mark glared at him.

“What do you care? You wanted her—”

“I know what I wanted. Not done so animalistic,” Mark said.

“Which reminds me.”

Bruce slapped down a small box onto the table. Mark picked it up and slowly opened it. The diamond sparkled under the light.

“You spent some money on that ring,” Bruce said.

“Yes, I did,” Mark said.

“So why did you want her dead?” Bruce asked.

“Personal reasons.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Mark snapped.

“Don’t get crazy with me,” Bruce said.

“She was pregnant. I didn’t want any children in my life.”

“I see.”

“She was so passionate about it. I thought we were on the same page about family life.”

“Women are fickle. They change their minds too quickly.”

“Yes, odd creatures.”

“What’s your next move?” Bruce asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe a trip to the Bahamas. I’ve always wanted to go there,” Mark said.

A loud thud hit the front door.

“What was that?” Bruce asked as he withdrew his gun from his pocket.

“Put that away. It’s only the mail,” Mark said.

“It’s a holiday today. No mail delivery.”

With the stealth-like movements of a cat, Bruce approached the door with his gun in hand ready to shoot whatever or whoever was on the other side of it.

“Bruce, stop! I’ll just open the door and prove to you it’s nothing to worry about.”

When Mark opened the door, Bruce pounced in front of him, gun pointing at empty space. He noticed an envelope was on the Welcome mat.

“This didn’t make that loud thud we heard,” Bruce said.

“What’s in the envelope?” Mark asked. He wasn’t in the mood to figure out what was the source of the sound they heard. Until he saw what came out of it.

As Bruce ripped it opened, a bullet fell onto the floor along with a note. It didn’t say much, but enough to make Mark’s pallor go pale and his body slump to the floor.

“Who sent that? How did they know?” Mark asked.

“Nobody knows nothing, Mark,” Bruce said.

“How can you say that? Read the note!”

“I’ve read the note. It’s cryptic. It means nothing.”

“Someone knows we killed her. You said no one would find her and figure out how she died.”

“Nobody knows nothing. I refused to believe that anyone knows about this, and you need to calm down.”

 “And if someone does know something?”

“I’ll take care of them,” Bruce said.

“Kill them, you mean,” Mark said.

“I’m not going to ask them nicely, ‘Please stop what you are doing. It’s upsetting us.’ “

Mark got up and went to the kitchen. The sound of ice and liquid being poured had Bruce shaking his head.

“A little early in the morning for drinking,” Bruce shouted. “You need to stay focused and—”

Mark came out of the kitchen with two glasses and a bottle of scotch in his hands. He placed a glass on the table in front of Bruce and gulped down his drink. He poured himself another one.

“You don’t need another one,” Bruce said.

“Yes, I do,” Mark said, then gulping down the second drink. “And you know why I need to drink?”

“I know why. It’s not necessary.”

“Because we’re going to prison for murder.”

Bruce slapped the glass out of Mark’s hand. Then took the bottle and threw it across the room.

“I’m not going to prison! Neither are you. You need to calm down and think.”

“Think! Think about what?”

“Who else wants to scare you? Who have you pissed off lately?”

“That could be any number of people.”

“Exactly.”

Mark took a deep breath and released it slowly. He knew Bruce was right.

“Now let’s think about this whole situation,” Bruce said.

Before Mark could answer, another thud hit the door. Both men pounced toward it. Mark checked for human life; Bruce ready to end it.

“No one is there,” Mark said.

Bruce opened the door. Another envelope was on the mat.

Mark opened it. Again, he went pale.

“Same message and bullet?” Bruce asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m not in the mood for games. I’m stopping this now. Here take this.”

“What? I don’t want your gun!”

“I’m going out to check around the neighborhood. I have another one in my car. You’ll need this for protection until I get back. Understood?”

“No, I don’t—”

“I’ll be right back.”

Mark watched Bruce get into his car and leave. He felt clammy all over. His hand was heavy from holding the gun. A faint voice told him to close the door. He put the gun on the table and went into the kitchen to get another drink.

“Is that you, Bruce?”

The noise continued.

“That was quick. I could have told you—”

When he entered the room, the sharp intake of his breath was the only bodily function he could control.

“Susan. You’re alive?” Mark asked

“Yes, I am. Let me state another obvious fact. Bruce won’t be coming to the rescue. He’s dead.”

“He said—”

“I’ll help you with that one. He told you the whole process was quick and painless? I told him to say that since you hate gory details. It was easy to bribe him. Just a little girlie talk and a promise or two and I live. Now it’s time for you to join your murder buddy.”

“Susan, let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

“Mark, this is not an ‘I caught you with another woman issue.’ You wanted me, us, dead!”

He stared at the gun on the table, grabbed it, and pulled the trigger several times. No explosive sounds just empty clicks.

“A problem, Mark? I emptied the gun while you were in the kitchen. My turn.”

“Susan wait—”

The End