She dug out her ring of keys and carefully selected the right one for the locker area door. Turning the key, she turned the knob and opened the door into the darkness. Reaching around, she flicked on the switch to light up the locker room. People say that you have to be careful, being alone, being a woman and alone, but after five years in the complex, she knew everyone, had never heard of any problems, and felt perfectly safe coming down to her locker even late in the evening.
Gertie stepped into the room and turned to shut to the door. As she did, she spied a metallic object on the floor off to the side. Picking it up, she turned it around in her hand wondering what it was. Rectangular; not necessarily heavy for its size; curious, what could it be? She held it so she could look at the one end. Were they...? Yes, Gertie remembered seeing this on a few of those police shows on television. In fact, she had seen this in a movie. It was the bullet clip for a gun. There were the bullets. Hmmm, how many were in a clip?
Why would such an item be on the floor of the locker room? Instinctively, she looked around. There was nothing else on the floor beside her. She looked down the length of the rectangular room, lockers to the left and right with a narrow corridor running down the middle, but the floor was clean. "Hello?" said Gertie. "Anybody here?" Of course there wasn't anybody here. Would they be down here in the dark?
Gertie put the bullet clip in her pocket and continued down to her locker at the far end of the room. She went through her keys, found the right one, and unlocked the padlock. Swinging the door completely open, she went into her locker and began to look at each of the boxes she had carefully stored on a shelving unit set up against the one side of the locker. She had been smart enough to label each box with its contents so it was easier to locate things. Ah, here it was, a box with the word "cooking" printed in block letters with magic marker. Gertie pulled the box off the shelf and put it on the floor. Fortunately, she had arranged the various things she wanted to put in storage into a number of boxes so each individual box didn't weigh too much and she could easily deal with moving them around.
Gertie kneeled down and pulled the four flaps up so she could get in the box. Ah yes, here was all her extra cooking utensils. Somewhere in here, she had some old, metal cookie cutters. If she remembered correctly, they should all be in a single plastic bag. She started to take things out of the box and set them aside in order to dig down to the bottom. Bingo, there was the plastic bag and there were her cookie cutters. She placed the rest of the contents back in the box, folded down the flaps, and then put the box back on its shelf.
A noise came from the far end of the room. Gertie looked up. She heard voices. Somebody else was coming into the locker room. The voices were still indistinct, but she thought she heard two voices, a man and a woman. The locker room door slammed shut.
"Gee sus H K rist woman. Can't you remember where anything is? Why the fuck didn't you leave this in the apartment? Why put it in the locker?" said the man. Gertie could hear their steps coming part-way down the room. They stopped. "Give me the fucking keys, goddamn it!" There was a familiar tinkling of a ring of keys followed by some fumbling on a padlock then the squealing of some unoiled hinges.
The woman said, "I think it's on the bottom shelf."
"Think? You think?" said the man. Judging from the tone of his voice, there was no doubt he was not at all happy with the situation. "Crap, I'm gunna have to go through this complete fuckin' mess." Gertie partially stuck her head out the door of locker to look down the corridor at the couple. "Jesus, you are really goddamn stupid, woman." The man got down on his knees and crawled partially into the locker. His feet stuck outside the locker door.
The voice was muffled, but Gertie could still hear him. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" The noise of boxes being moved around broke the silence. There were other noises punctuated with "Shit", but suddenly there was a loud crash. There was moment of silence then the man started in again. "You stupid cunt. The box containing the statue from Florida just fell off the shelf onto the cement. Fuck! It's broken!"
Gertie stared down the corridor interested by the scene playing out in front of her. "I'm sorry," said the woman. She seemed to backing away. Was she trying to stay out of the line of fire? The woman turned and walked back to the door. The man continued whatever he was doing while periodically swearing. Gertie watched as the woman stopped beside the door. She was fiddling with something but Gertie couldn't quite see what.
The woman finished and walked back towards the locker where the man was. She stood at the door. She lifted her hand. Gertie's eyes widened. The woman was holding a gun. Gertie watched as the woman squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. The woman squeezed again. Nothing. She held the gun sideways and looked at it. She pointed it again and squeezed a third time but nothing happened.
All this time, the man continued in the locker making the sounds of somebody pushing things around and opening boxes while cursing from time to time. The woman now held the gun up in the light looking at it as if to see just what the trouble could be. She looked at the barrel, looked at the trigger, and then finally turned it over. Her eyes widened and she and looked around her. Seeing nothing, she walked back to the locker door and started fiddling with whatever she had done before.
Gertie picked up her bag of cookie cutters, exited the locker, and closed the door. She put the padlock back in place and clicked it shut. The woman was walking back from the door to where the man was when she looked up and saw Gertie. Her head shook in surprise and she immediately held the gun behind her so Gertie couldn't see it.
Gertie walked down the corridor towards the couple. She could hear the man more clearly. "You dumb bitch. I'm gunna kill you for fucking this up. I've never seen anybody so fuckin' stupid before in my entire life. You are such a retard." The woman stared at Gertie with wide eyes. As Gertie approached, the woman moved slightly so as to give her room to walk by. The light from the overhead bulb shone onto the woman's face. Gertie looked. The woman had a black eye. Gertie stopped and stared at the woman. Yes, not only did she have a black eye, she had a cut on her lip and there appeared to be some bruising.
The woman realised Gertie had noticed her face. Her eyes dropped. Gertie continued to stare at the woman for a moment, and then looked into the locker at the man down on all fours rummaging around in the darkness. "Fuck, you cunt. How the hell am I supposed to find anything in this shithole? What a fuckin' mess. You're gunna pay for this. You hear?"
Gertie looked back at the woman. She looked back up and the two of them stared at one another for a moment saying nothing. After a few seconds, Gertie reached into her pocket, and then held out the bullet clip to the woman.
The woman didn't move. She looked down at the bullet clip. She looked back up at Gertie. She didn't move; she didn't take it. "You're gunna pay for this, you bitch." said the man.
Gertie held the bullet clip up a little higher as a second offer and smiled slightly at the woman. The woman hesitantly put out her hand. Gertie dropped the clip into the woman's hand. She turned briefly to look at the back of the man who continued to curse, then stepped over his feet and continued down the corridor.
As Gertie approached the door, she noticed off to one side an air vent. The grill had been removed and was lying on the floor. Ah, that's where the woman had hidden the gun. Gertie opened the door of the locker room and stepped out. Just as she was closing the door, she heard the man say, "You fuckin' dumb cunt." Gertie pulled the door shut and it clicked into place. She hesitated at the door before turning to walk to the elevators. She pressed the up button and waited for an elevator to arrive. A little bell rang and one of the doors opened. Gertie was about to step in when she heard a muffled bang. So, that's what a gunshot sounds like, a real gunshot.
The elevator door started to close so Gertie stuck her arm up and it opened back up. Gertie stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for her floor. The door slide shut as she held her bag of cookie cutters up to look them over. Ah, the grandkids were going to have a great time making cookies with her.
************************
Gertie had boiled the kettle and made herself a nice cup of chamomile tea. Sometimes she felt a little peckish later in the evening and a biscuit with something hot to drink was a good way to wind down the evening before bed. She walked from the kitchen into the living room to stand by the window. She looked down from her third story window onto the parking lot and the common central area of the complex. It was a nice moment to reflect on things. As her neighbour Barry liked to say, "I like to cogitate." Gertie smiled thinking that she liked to reflect and wasn't sure if she liked "cogitating".
The lights of a vehicle appeared out of the darkness. It was a van and it pulled into the lot and took a spot close to the side entrance of the building. The headlights went out and somebody got out. Gertie saw the figure walk up to the building and guessed it was a woman. All of a sudden, she walked into the light of the main entrance and Gertie recognised her as the woman who had been in the locker.
Gertie took a sip of her tea then bit down on her cookie. She wondered if the woman would get away with killing that man. It was hard to say. From the various police shows she had watched on TV, the police were getting more and more scientific in their investigations. Their ability to find evidence meant getting away with it must be getting more difficult.
Gertie turned and looked at the bookshelf beside her. On the top shelf was a framed photo of her husband, Toby, and her taken years ago up at their cottage. She smiled slightly. Ah, it was a better period of my life, but it's over. Everything has to come to an end sooner or later. Gertie glanced out at the emptiness of the parking lot wondering what the woman was doing.
A movement off to one side caught Gertie's attention. She stared in the semi-darkness and realised that she was seeing somebody pushing the baggage cart from the main entrance. The building had a luggage cart like those found in hotels as the residents of the building from time to time needed to move boxes, groceries, or even baggage between apartments and vehicles. It was a handy thing to have.
Some light shone onto the walkway and Gertie could make out the woman. There was something, a bag, a rug, something on the baggage cart. For lack of anything else, Gertie imagined it was the body of the man. Did the woman wrap it up in something? There must have been blood. You can't shoot somebody without there being blood, right? How did she clean it up? Just what was she going to do with the body?
Gertie shook her head as all these questions came flooding back to her, the very same questions she had asked herself ten years ago. Her husband Toby did not start out to be a bad man, but he had difficulty dealing with life. His education wasn't the best; he found himself passed over in his company, and as the years wore on he became progressively bitter about his lot in life. He had gotten angry with Gertie twice. The second time involved Gertie phoning the police and that incident completely changed the nature of their relationship. He never touched Gertie again, and that meant he never touched Gertie again.
Unable to deal with his work life or with his home life, Toby slowly developed a problem as he tried to escape his situation: he drank. He wasn't a falling down drunk; he was what they call a functioning alcoholic. He managed to hold down a job; he managed to function in life, but after hours he drank and drank and drank. Most nights he didn't fall asleep insomuch as he passed out. Gertie was surprised the human body could take that much punishment, but the day did finally come when the doctor told her. Toby was 64 and a half years old and set to retire in six months. The doctor had taken Gertie aside to explain that Toby was probably going to die in a year or so if he didn't stop drinking immediately. His liver was shot; he had cirrhosis and this was his last chance.
Gertie realised that Toby after so many years of drinking was not going to stop. She also realised that she was going to have the onerous task of taking care of him as he went downhill. On top of it, once Toby stopped working, his pension wasn't going to be that great so making ends meet would be another problem.
The solution to Gertie's problems presented itself with no invention on her part at all. Shortly after the doctor had given her the news, Toby and Gertie had visited their cottage. It was after the end of the season; the leaves were changing colours, and nobody was left on the lake. Toby had been sitting out on the dock watching the sunset. He had been steadily sipping all evening and had fallen asleep or passed out in his chair. Finally Gertie walked out and said to Toby that it was time to go to bed. Toby didn't move. She put down her flashlight, shook his arm then tried to pull him up. Toby roused himself and half stood up. He then stumbled, lost his balance, then pitched to one side falling off the dock into the water. Gertie could not hold his weight.
In the darkness, Gertie couldn't quite see what was going on. There was a little splashing and a little gurgling. She hesitated. She could rescue him. She could jump in the water and hold his head out of the water. But she hesitated. She waited. The movement stopped. Silence. There was what seemed like a bubble breaking or some gurgling then once again silence. She stood still waiting. Listening in the silence. She could hear the crickets. A loon cried on the other side of the lake. Other than that, it was quiet.
Gertie bent down beside her chair and felt around until she found the flashlight. Picking it up, she turned it on and shone it on the water in front of the dock. At first nothing, then moving slightly, she could make out the outline of her husband floating face down in the water. It was still. Gertie turned off the flashlight. She looked up at the stars. She listened to the crickets. It was over.
Toby dies before his retirement date, but Gertie gets his full pension; a full pension for one instead of two. Toby dies quickly instead of lingering on for possibly years requiring expensive hospital or home care and who knows how much work on the part of Gertie. Toby leaves his wife a little something so she can live comfortably, not richly, but comfortably.
Gertie had been watching the woman wheel the baggage cart around to the back on the van then proceed to half pick up, half drag the package, whatever it was, into the back of the van. After finishing the job, the woman pushed the cart back to the building to leave it at the front entrance for somebody else to use. The woman came back out, got in the van, and then drove off into the night.
Gertie had sold their cottage and their house then moved into a condo apartment. It wasn't luxurious, but it was comfortable. Gertie turned away from the window and looked around the room. She absentmindedly reached out and touched the framed picture of her husband and her, making a minor adjustment in its position. She'd have a good time with the kids tomorrow. She went to the kitchen to leave her mug. Time for bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day.
2011-05-07
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