One New Message

           Martin Brill was a petty man. He hounded the employees at his car dealership over the most trivial of mistakes.

           “He has no heart,” they would say.

           “He’s just a bastard.”

           “If I ran into him in a dark alley…”

           But Martin Brill persisted as the Martin Brill’s of the world often do.

           “Mr. Brill, Jim has a customer who has an issue,” Valerie, his personal assistant, told him.

           Martin took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and walked toward Jim’s cubicle.

           “More meat for the grinder,” he said under his breath.

“I have a real jerk of a boss,” Jim said to his customer, a middle-aged woman with blonde, curly hair and a drawn look on her face who was sitting at his desk.

           Jim walked a small distance from his cubicle and met Martin out of earshot of the woman. 

“Well, well, what is it?” Martin asked impatiently.

           “My customer is a nurse in the natal intensive care unit and she needs a vehicle to get to work,” Jim said.

           “So? What’s your point?”

           “Damian ran the financing and she can’t afford the payments at the price I quoted her. I want your permission to sell her at cost,” Jim said wincing.

           “Jeez-us Chrysler! Hold on! You want to sell her one of my vehicles for no profit?”

           “Well…”

           “Let me talk to her.”

           “Just call him and get it over with, Tana,” Malcolm said.

           “I don’t know,” Tana demurred. “Should I really break up with a man I’ve been married to for eight years over the telephone? It seems cowardly.”

           “You know if you try and do it to Marty’s face he’ll talk you out of it just like the last two times,” Malcolm replied. “Who cares if it’s cowardly or not. Don’t you want to be together, baby?”

           Malcolm put his arm around Tana and nibbled on her ear. He knew that turned her on.

           “Stop that!” Tana giggled. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

           Martin’s phone rang in his jacket that he had left in his office. His voice mail picked up.

           “He didn’t answer!” Tana said.

           “Leave a message,” Malcolm said.

           “What? A message? Oh, Malcolm!”

           “Just do it!”

           “Oh, okay,” Tana acquiesced.

           “Hi, my name is Martin. And you are?”

           “Helen.”

           “Glad to meet you Helen. I understand you’re a nurse.”

           “Yes, I work in the NICU at Gladstone Community,” Helen said.

           “That’s just sweet,” Martin said with a smile. “I see you want to buy the Focus. A fine car, I drive one myself.

           “Yes, my old car died and I need to get to work, for the babies.”

           “Of course, for the babies. But we have a problem I hear, you can’t make the payments.”

           Helen looked down at the desk.

           “Now, Helen,” Martin continued, ”Your hospital pays you your salary because everyone does their job and the hospital makes a profit. I’m able to pay my salespeople here like Jim, a fine man, because I make a profit. Jim needs his salary so he can pay his bills and drive to work, too. If I don’t make a profit then Jim can’t drive to work and feed his family. Do you understand me, Helen?”

           “Yes.”

           “You see, I don’t run a charity. I run a business. A very profitable business, by the way. So why don’t you go home and find a little more money or try another dealership, okay? It was a pleasure to meet you, Helen. I really admire what you do with those babies. It must be a tough job. But someone has to do it, I guess. Jim would you show Helen out. Thanks.”

Martin returned to his desk and put his feet up on his desk.

           “Come on over here and sit on my lap, honey.”

           “I’ve told you, Mr. Brill, that’s sexual harassment,” Valerie said.

           Martin whipped his feet off his desk and pounded his fist on the table.

           “You’re fired!”

           “You fire me every day, Mr. Brill, but you need me. For example, you’ve forgotten you have a dinner party at the Duggar’s in half an hour. You’d better hurry home and change into something dressy casual.”

           “Shit!”

           “You don’t know Marty like I do,” Tana said. “He might get violent when he finds out.”

“Don’t worry baby, that’s why I got this.”

           Malcolm and Tana went back into the living room and put his hands on a hardbound copy of War and Peace that was resting on top of the piano.

           “You’re going to hit him with a book?” Tana asked.

“No. Look and see.”

Malcolm opened the book and form fit into the cut out pages was a 9mm automatic handgun. Malcolm took out the gun and showed it to Tana.

           “Oh, my God!” Tana exclaimed. “You’re gonna shoot Marty?”

           “Only if he gives me a reason to.”

           Martin pulled his Alfa Romeo into the double garage. Tana’s car wasn’t next to him in her spot. He furrowed his brow and went inside, expecting a note explaining where she had gone, but he found none. Unperturbed, Martin changed his clothes. He had no time to waste looking for her if he was going to be on time at Malcolm and Rita's.

           Malcolm was setting the table when the doorbell rang.

           “Who’s that?” Tana called out, a nervous quiver in her voice.

           “I don’t know. Let me look,” Malcolm said. 

           Malcolm peeked out the window and saw Martin’s medium build and sandy brown hair. One arm was leaning against the front door, the other was picking at his nose.

           Malcolm panicked and headed for the gun, then stopped. He rushed into the kitchen and told Tana who it was.

           “Shit! He’s come to get me! What do we do?” Tana asked.

           “We talk with him.”

           The doorbell rang again. This time more urgently.

           “You can’t reason with Martin when he’s angry, I know. Oh, we should have just had the dinner party tonight and not started all this.”

           “Well it’s too late now. I told Rita yesterday about us and she’s moved out to her mother’s. And you told Martin in the message.”

           Tana sighed. “I guess we have to face the music and dance.”

           “You stay in here,” Malcolm said. “I’ll answer the door.”

           Malcolm strode with bad intent toward the door and after a deep breath opened it.

           “Hey, buddy,” Martin said. “What took you so long. I was turning into a statue out here.”

           Malcolm tried to hide his surprise at Martin’s pleasant greeting. It must be a trick, he thought.

           “Hey, man, I was in the shitter, you know,” Malcolm responded like nothing was wrong.   

           “Well, don’t let me get in the way of a king and his throne,” Martin laughed.

           Malcolm manufactured a laugh and then there was a pause.

           A long pause.

           “So, what’s the deal, Mal? Can I come in or what?” Martin said at last.

           Malcolm laughed. “Oh, shit, man, of course. Come on in!”

           Malcolm opened the door wide and Martin walked by Malcolm’s six feet two inch frame into the house.

           “I saw Tana’s car in the driveway. She didn’t tell me she was coming over by herself,” Martin said. “Tana! Are you in the kitchen!”

           “She must have forgotten to tell you. You see, er, Rita had to go home to her mother’s last night, very suddenly,” Malcolm explained. “Her mom is sick and she needs Rita to help out around the house.”

           “Nothing serious I hope.”

           “No, just a bout of gout, I think.”

           “Oh yeah, gout, that’s a real motherfucker. Too many fatty foods.”

           “So Tana came over to cook dinner,” Malcolm said.

           “God save us both, huh,” Martin joked.

           “Yeah, yeah,” Malcolm laughed.

           “I was just setting the table for us,” Malcolm said. “Do you want a drink? A Manhattan, I assume.”

           Martin brushed back his hair out of his eyes and plucked a few keys on the piano. “You know me well, my dark friend.”

           “I prefer ‘black beauty’ if you please, my Caucasian pal.”   

           Malcolm assembled the parts of the Manhattan in a cocktail glass.

           “Mmmm,” you make a good drink, Mal,” Martin said after taking a sip of his cocktail. “You missed your calling. That New York finance is a waste of your time.”

           “That New York finance, as you call it, pays the bills better than tending bar.” Malcolm eyed Martin by the piano, near War and Peace. “It’s my passion, I couldn’t survive without it. Any more than you could survive without wheeling and dealing with your customers.”

           “Eh, I could leave it right now for something different. I swear I could just up and leave and start all over if I had the guts.”

           “Really?”

           “Oh yeah. Maybe you could give me a job as an intern at your group? Ha!”

           “You would hate it.”

           “Yeah, probably.”

           Martin took a long draw of his drink, reached onto the top of the piano, and lifted up the cover of the loaded copy of War and Peace.

           Malcolm quickly walked over to Martin who was surprised by his friends hurriedness.

           “You read this crap, Mal? Tolstoy? Shit, what a waste of time.”

           Malcolm took the book from his hands.

           “Nah, not me. Rita likes it,” Malcolm said, attempting to hide his anxiety. “I’d rather watch football than spend my time reading this stuff.”

           Malcolm took the book from Martin and carefully put it under his arm.

           “Let me check on Tana and see if she needs any help,” Malcolm said.

           Malcolm escaped into the kitchen, book and all.

           “What does he want?” Tana asked, shaken from waiting.

           “You’re not gonna believe this!”

           “Believe what? Malcolm!”

           “He’s here for dinner.”

           Tana batted her eyelids.

           “He wants dinner before taking revenge?”

           “No, he wants dinner. He mustn’t have gotten your message. Remember the dinner party we were going to have tonight? He’s here for it!”

           “Is he playing a game with us? Is he doing this on purpose to fool with us?”

           “I don’t know,” Malcolm conceded. “But until we do we play along.”

           “No,” Tana said.

           “So what are we going to do?”

           Tana went to her pocketbook and retrieved a medicine bottle.

           “What’s that?” Malcolm asked.

           “Ambien.”

           “You’re gonna take a nap?”

           “No stupid, not for me, for Marty. Does Rita have any nutmeg?”

           Their eyes scanned the spice racks. She had a full bottle.

           “What are you going to do with nutmeg?” Malcolm asked.

           “Put it in his food. If I put in a lot of it, it will make him hallucinate and then vomit. Couple that with the Ambien and it’ll disable him long enough for us to take care of him and then get him out of here.”

           “What do you mean ‘take care of him?’” Malcolm asked with suspicion.

           “You know what I mean,” Tana said, cold and assured.

           “I don’t care how cold it is in there I’m not paying extra money for them to come out at night. You’re gonna have to suck it up,” Martin was saying into his phone. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Well, Jeez-us Chrysler, wear a freakin’ jacket then!”

           Martin slammed his phone down on the table as Malcolm returned, War and Peace still under his arm. He was carrying a tray of appetizers.

           “Appetizers are served,” Malcolm said.

           “Oh, good. I’m starving!” Martin said and sat down at the head of the dining room table.

           Malcolm placed the tray of appetizers down on the table and put the War and Peace back on top of the piano. With his back to Martin he opened up the book and looked at the lethal weapon. He contemplated his options.

           “Trouble at work?” Malcolm asked, closing the book.

           “HVAC is on the fritz again. The money I pay those people. What a racket!”

           “Sorry, man.”

           “You know, maybe you should call Rita to make sure her mom is okay. It has me worried. Here, you can use my phone.”

           Malcolm froze then recovered.

           “Oh, she’s alright,” he said, laughing. “I just called her from the kitchen, Rita should be home tomorrow.”

           “Great. I just realized, it’s funny. I’ve been here almost twenty minutes and I still haven’t seen my wife. You’re not stealing her away from me are you?”

           “Ha! Good one! She’s been busy cooking dinner.”

           “I’d like to go see her in the kitchen, if you don’t mind.”

           “Why would I mind?”

           “These appetizers are great. There’s some spice in them I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s delicious.”

           Martin walked by Malcolm, passed the piano with the deadly book, and entered the kitchen.

           “Hey, honey!” Martin exclaimed with his arms outstretched.

           Tana almost jumped into the air. She let out a small screech and dropped a spoon.

           “Marty! Holy shit, you scared me!” Tana said.

           “Scared you? I’m your husband.”

           “I just didn’t know you were coming.”

           “That’s what I thought.”

           “What?” Tana said.

           “I thought I might have frightened you.”

           “Oh, yes, right.”

           Martin picked up the spoon and handed it back to Tana. He saw her hand was shaking.

           “How about a kiss?” Martin asked.

           Tana kissed him on the cheek.

           “Are you kidding me? I mean a real kiss,” Martin said.

           He took her face in his hands and pressed his lips violently against hers and held it until Tana, with some difficulty, pulled away.

           “Now that’s a kiss!”

           Marty circled around Tana, looking at her up and down.

           “You didn’t tell me you were coming over early, babe.”

           “I didn’t? I thought I called you. I must have forgotten. I wanted to help Malcolm, with Rita being gone and all.”

           “Is there anything else you forgot to tell me?”

            “No, I don’t think so.”

           “I think you did,” Martin smiled.

           “What do you mean?”

           “You forgot to tell me today how wonderful of a husband you have.”

           “Ha, yeah! Of course, darling. I have the best husband in the world,” Tana said relieved.

           “Then why…” Martin grabbed Tana by the hair and pulled her head back until he heard footsteps and let her go.

           Malcolm came through the kitchen door.

           “Who is gonna have wine? Should I open a red or a white?” Malcolm asked.

           “Let’s celebrate!” Martin said. “A red and a white!”

           Martin put his arm around Malcolm’s shoulder and led him out of the kitchen, but not before winking at Tana over his shoulder.

           “Y’know, Mal,” Martin said, holding his stomach, “I’m not feeling so well.”

           Martin sat down at the table.

           “Do you want an Alka-Seltzer?” Malcolm asked.

           “Yeah, that would be fine.”

           Malcolm went into the kitchen.

           “He’s starting to feel it,” Malcom reported.

           “Good, he should be throwing up in no time.”

           “Then what?”

           “Then, you know,” Tana said.

           “No, I don’t know.”

           “Then, you shoot him with your gun,” Tana said.

“What?

“I’m sick and tired of getting black eyes from falling down and hitting doorknobs.”

“Then why don’t you shoot him!” Malcolm protested.        

           “You’re the man! You should do it!”

“And then what do we do with him?”

“We make it look like suicide. When he’s unconscious you put the gun to his head in his hand and pull the trigger with his finger,” Tana said.

“Not bad.”

Malcolm and Tana peeked into the dining room. Martin was on the floor on his side. There was vomit on the floor. He was mumbling incoherently.

“Alright, I’m going to get the gun,” Malcolm said.

They both walked slowly into the dining room. Malcolm retrieved the gun from the copy of War and Peace. As they approached Martin he turned his head toward them. They stopped and shook.

“Helen,” he stammered. “Helen is that you? You can have the car for the little babies. I’m sorry. The little babies need to drive to work.”

“Who’s Helen?” Malcolm whispered to Tana.

“I have no idea. He’s hallucinating. Go ahead and do it now.”

Malcolm went up to Martin and placed the gun in his hand and pointed it at his head.

“Oh, is this for me?” Martin asked.

“Yes, Marty, it’s a new toy,” Malcolm spoke to Martin like he were a little child. He placed Martin’s finger on the trigger and put his own finger on top. “Pull the trigger and you’ll get a big prize.”

“A big prize! Really?”

“Yes, Marty, a very big prize.”

“A very, very big prize?”

“Yes, a very, very big prize.”

“Your promise?” Martin asked.

“I promise, cross my heart, hope to die.”

“Then maybe you should die.”

Martin jerked the gun back toward Malcolm and fired a shot. Malcolm slumped to the ground when the bullet penetrated his brain. Then Martin dropped the gun and fell into unconsciousness.

Tana screamed and ran to pick up the gun. She looked at Malcolm and saw that he was dead. She brushed his shoulder with her hand as she cried. Her chest was heaving up and down when a fist hit her on the side of the head. Martin was on his knees, hovering over Tana who was now laying on her back. The gun was on the ground a few feet away.

“So you knew the whole time,” Tana said.

“No. Marty found out when he talked on his phone to worky. Tana left a bad message for Marty,” Martin slurred.

Tana turned her head and looked at the gun just out of reach. They both scrambled for it. Tana reached it first. She turned and fired. A direct hit to Martin’s heart. He fell lifeless to the ground. When he did his cell phone fell out and slid near Tana.

A man’s voice was speaking.

“This is Lieutenant Donovan, are you still there Mr. Brill? Would you repeat to me what you said to the desk sergeant? Who is trying to kill you? A Malcolm Duggar and your wife Tana? She said she’s leaving you in a phone message?”

Tana dropped the gun when she heard the siren from the police car.