Is She Dead Yet?

“Is she dead yet?” Stanley whispered into the phone. Cupping his hand over his mouth and the mobile to protect from any outside eavesdroppers. There was no one else in the room his apartment, but the walls were thin and, he could hear the couple next door arguing on a daily basis so, no doubt they could hear him.

There was annoyed huff on the other end of the line. “Sir, we told you not to call us back. Once everything is done, we’ll keep you informed.” The voice was low and monotonous, betraying no hint of an accent.

Stanley was about to protest but the man on the other end had disconnected. When he tried to call back, the number would not work. Presumably, he had been blocked temporarily. Stanley threw his phone on the bed, stood up and stared anxiously out of the window. He got unnerved when someone passed by on the street and looked up towards him. He reacted by swinging the curtains shut. Leaving his room in almost near darkness except for a crack of light that intruded through a slight opening in the centre of the curtains.

Frustrated, Stanley poured himself a whiskey and paced the room as he took occasional sips. He did not even enjoy whiskey that much, he just needed to occupy his mind. To take over the thoughts of ruin, greed and destruction that had been battling with reason and humanity in his mind for the past few months.  The phone buzzed. The one, long bell like sound that indicated he had a text message. The noise echoed and lingered in the room like an irritating fly buzzing around his head. He left it for a while. Was it the men? Had it been done? Probably just a colleague from work. He had been off for a few days sick now. Someone was probably going to disguise their attempt at seeking gossip by acting concerned.

He picked the phone up. It was Christina. His wife. Beautiful, intelligent, Christina. It read: “Hi Stan, I’ll be home later tonight off for a drink”.

This had answered his question. No, she was not dead yet.

Stanley and Christina had been married for twenty-two years. They were both 21. They met at University in their first year and dived headfirst into a relationship. They would spend most days together. Even when they both had deadlines looming over them, they would have “study dates” together. Christina’s friends and her housemates had told her they felt alienated from her as she was always with her boyfriend. Some of her closer friends even expressed concerns about Stanley “seeming a bit weird and possessive”.

“That’s not true” she would say, in his defence. “He is just a little shy. Once you get to know him, he’s a sweet guy”.

She told Stanley this, one evening, while they were alone together. He told her he wanted her to stop seeing them. They were trying to turn her against him. This was their first argument. Their first real argument anyway. It was explosive and caused her friends suspicion of Stanley to increase even further. Eventually, she did stop speaking to her friends and got closer and closer to Stanley.

He was an Accounting student and she studied History. He liked cricket and going for long drives around the country. She liked reading lengthy novels, visiting museums, and drinking in bohemian bars and cafes which were littered with mismatched furniture and a random array of books. They did not have a lot in common, but something drew them to each other. Neither of their parents seemed to think they were a good match either. Christina had been brought up by her aristocratic father. Her mother had died when she was young. They were not incredibly close. He was often away when she was growing up and she was sent to boarding school. But she was his only daughter and he was reluctant to see her off to someone who he did not consider worthy enough, ambitious enough or from a privileged enough background. He did not trust Stanley and he did not conceal this when they encountered. And Stanley made just as little effort to make a better impression on the old man.

Stanley lived with just his mother. His dad had walked out when he was seven and never come back. His mum was left working long hours to pay for her three children. She got increasingly bitter each year since her husband left and she got more and more attracted to spirits and wines and less and less concerned about her children’s’ future. She didn’t like Christina. Thought she was too stuck up. Although she did not much like anyone, so Stanley did not pay much attention to her protestations.

 They got married almost immediately after University. They did not invite anyone or even tell anyone for several months afterwards that they had got married. Her dad was furious and threatened to cut her out of his inheritance. He changed his mind in the end on the condition that Stanley would get none of the money directly. The money would go to Christina and to her children if she ever had any. These conditions were set out strictly in his will. Her dad did die. Heart complications related to many years of over drinking and chain smoking. Christina received a massive fortune. but she was morose. Her usually light and dreamlike moods had dissipated irreparably. She regretted never being close to her father and, even more, she regretted she never bore him any grandchildren. Stanley and Christina had tried for years until they finally discovered that Christina was infertile. This was fifteen years into their marriage. Up until then they had been happy. They travelled around the world together, took dancing classes together, spent hours together watching movies. She would cook one night then he would cook next. They loved each other and they let each other know frequently. After her father’s death and news of her infertility, Christina became more distant. She seemed less interested in love or at least, less interested in Stanley.

There was on occasion where Stanley had lost his job due to the company going bust. He asked for support from Christina and she refused.

“I promised my father I wouldn’t send you money and I don’t want to disrespect him by dishonouring his promise while his body is hardly cold.”

they argued over this for ages. He could not see why she was being so tight. She could not see why he needed extra cash considering he still had a roof over his head. She accused him of only wanting it for more alcohol.

After the years dragged on. They became more and more distant. Stanley got another job that left him unsatisfied. He often got drunk ad had several affairs. Christina spent lavish amounts on extravagant clothes and expensive trips. She never invited Stanley. He suspected she knew about his affairs and was rubbing his face in it. Truth is, she did know, but she did not care. She also did not care if he was jealous of her new lifestyle. It was her money and she would do as she pleased with it. They often spoke about getting a divorce but, both seemed reluctant to go through with it. Neither of them believed that there existed any love between them anymore. But they were old now or, at least, they thought they were. Too old to find a new companion and start all over again. And then Stanley was tempted by the devil. Had saved up money and hired someone to murder his wife. Once she was dead, he would inherit her money. She had no other relatives left.

Stanley woke up. It was still dark. He checked his phone. No messages and it was half past midnight. Christina was not home. Had it been done? Was she dead yet? Surely the time was dawning now. He got up and poured himself more whiskey and continued his frantic pacing.

*

Christina was touching her makeup up in the bathroom of a bar. She was alone in the room, standing in front of the mirror. She heard the door open and assumed it was one of her friends come to collect her.

“I’m nearly done. One more drink then we’ll go to the club after this yeah?”

No response.

She finished applying lipstick then turned round. It was a man she did not recognise. Bald, wearing a long black coat and black, leather gloves. In his left hand, he wielded a pistol, which he pointed directly at her. His expression was blank, ghostlike.

Christina thought about screaming but the noise would not come. She threw her purse towards the mans feet.

“Take my money, please don’t hurt me”.

The man made no movement towards the purse.

“I have more money; I can give you more.”

This seemed to spark a small reaction. Or at least she thought she detected a small smile.

*

Stanley heard a noise from the kitchen. The front door. Was it Christina? Or had the deed being done. Had they come in person to tell him. He waited for a while. Hesitant. He could hear nothing else. Eventually, he mustered up the courage and crept out of his room and moved towards the kitchen. There was a man sat at his kitchen table, drinking whiskey. Stanley did not recognise him but, the uncomfortable feeling that swept over his body around him let him know that this was the man who would have committed the murder.

Neither of the two said anything for a while. Stanley stood, motionless, almost regretful. Had he done the wrong thing?

“Is she dead?” He asked.

The man finished the whiskey and looked up. Staring directly into Stanley’s eyes. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a pistol.

Stanley leapt back, pressing against the wall.

“What, I don’t- put that away!”. He stammered.

“Change of assignments.”

“Wh-but I paid you! Why are you doing this?”

The man chuckled. “She was more polite. And she tripled the pay that you offered.”

The bullet went straight through Stanley’s head. Piercing his brain and killing him instantly.