[Marvin's] World of Deadheads Read online

  Mike and Tommy looked at one another.

  “You thinking what I’m wondering?” Mike whispered as they dropped a few paces behind Marvin on the way to the elevator.

  “I heard that!” Marvin stated and they all laughed.

  The packed-in crowd of Tommy’s loyal customers applauded as the three of them walked through the side wall of the deli and Marvin heaved a sigh of relief. He thought it would be his chance to brush off the real explanation Tommy and Mike seemed determined to pull out of him.

  Tommy loved the attention and bowed to his audience. He called out to the kitchen, “Glen, are we fired up and ready to go?”

  “All ready, boss! Hit me with it!”

  Orders were taken and put up on the spin rack, drinks were made and served as Tommy and Glen cooked.

  During the whole meal, the place buzzed over the tiny article in the morning’s paper. Multiple copies were spread out on more than a few tables as everyone tsk-tsked over the scene one of their own caused in public. Marvin feigned ignorance of the affair and asked to borrow someone’s section. He wondered how anyone would have even noticed it, buried like it was in the middle of Section D, or why anyone paid attention to it. But then he had to remember who he was having breakfast with. To blend in with the crowd, he interjected his own comments of disbelief over such blatantly inappropriate behavior from a deadhead.

  Marv was relieved when the topic of conversation finally shifted gears. When it came time to clean up, he pitched in to clear tables and refill condiments. Once everyone had left, he offered up a silent thank you when Glen decided to stick around and join the three of them for coffee. Tommy and Mike seemed to have forgotten about his moodiness of the morning.

  Tommy flopped down in the booth. “Whew, that was intense today. We went through a lot of stuff. Anyone up for a midnight grocery run tonight?”

  Marvin and Mike both volunteered.

  “Glen, are you in, dude?”

  “You know it!”

  -25-

  After helping to restock the restaurant, Marvin went home. Jenna was sound asleep. To him, she looked so peaceful and beautiful, especially the way she always slept curled up with one of his shirts hugged to her chest. He wanted to curl up around her and stay there for eternity and it’s just what he started to do. His arm slid around her shoulder and entwined a hand into her hand. An empty hand.

  “Huh. So what’s the deal here? You go out on one date and all of a sudden I’m out? Out of sight, out of mind? Is that it? Come on, Jen. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. You can’t fall for some other guy. I couldn’t take watching that happen, it would kill me to have to see that.”

  In spite of his hurt feelings, he laid down next to her. She adjusted her position, as if she felt him wrap around her body. He laid there for a few minutes and then took a deep breath. Something was different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it might be. He sat up and leaned over her and sniffed her hair. “No, the shampoo is the same.” He moved his nose down her body and it hit him. “Hey! What’s with the new perfume? I liked the other stuff better.”

  He got up off the bed and went into the bathroom to survey the counter where the bottles and atomizers were lined up. He spotted a new one, picked it up, took a whiff, nodded and opened the bottle and emptied it down the drain. “There,” he said as he dropped the bottle into the wastebasket. “That takes care of that.”

  Jenna stirred, but didn’t wake. Marvin stood looking at her.

  “You know, I’m not sure if the new stuff was just because you liked it, but I have a sneaking suspicion you bought it for that creep Larry. I’m sorry, but ya know what? Larry can go fuck himself.”

  Marv realized he wouldn’t get any rest with that offensive smell invading his nostrils, bringing images to mind he didn’t want to see. I might as well do something constructive. He went to the kitchen, grabbed a handful of paper towels off the roll and the bottle of glass cleaner from under the sink, and started into the living room. He stopped dead in his tracks.

  On the wall opposite the archway to the kitchen, a noticeable gap in the series of framed photographs glared at him.

  “What the hell did you do with my diploma? I worked my ass off for that degree! What other stuff of mine have you dumped?” His eyes swept the room and there was an empty space in the entertainment center. A very glaring empty space. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it earlier and the cleaning supplies dropped to the floor in his rush across the room. His hands glided across the bare surface of the wood and he wailed in anger and frustration.

  “Not my balls! What have you done with my balls?”

  Marvin’s anger increased as he rummaged through the cupboards and drawers of the entertainment center and found nothing. He stormed into the bedroom and stared at Jenna, fists balled up at his sides. “You… You… bitch! How could you do this? I could see getting rid of crappy photos of people you didn’t know. My music… My movies… I could even understand dumping my clothes. Those things I could forgive. But this? My balls? Never. You’ll pay for this, I swear to Jesus H. Christ, you’re gonna pay for this one!”

  Marvin stormed out of the apartment not sure of what to do or where to go. He ran through the streets of the city, swearing at every person he came in contact with, live or dead; kicking at anything that landed in his path. An hour later, still angry and frustrated, a store across the intersection caught his attention.

  Inside, eyes adjusted to the dim light, he looked through the glass cases until he spotted what he thought would do the job: a .357 snub-nose revolver. Marvin glanced around the shop, worried the gun wouldn’t come through without breaking the glass, or an alarm of some sort might be rigged to go off. He reached in, took a firm grip on the handle and slid his hand back to freedom as gently as he could. A smile spread over his face when the gun slid right through along with his hand as if butter had been slathered around his wrist. He shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants. After a quick look toward the street, he scanned the shelves for the correct ammunition. He walked to the shelf he was sure contained the right bullets, grabbed a box, shoved it into a pocket and walked back out the glass and security bars of the front window.

  By the time he climbed the stairs of the building at home, his anger had subsided and he began to feel a little silly. But it threaded itself right through his brain again the instant he looked at the empty spot where his prized baseballs should have been.

  He stood in the living room and loaded the gun, careful not to drop any bullets on the floor, and returned the box to his pocket. With one more look at the hole on the shelf, he strode to the door of the bedroom. If he took any more time he might falter in his resolve, so he lifted the gun, pointed it at Jen’s sleeping form, closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing. No gunshot reverberated through his ears. He opened his eyes and a soft snore escaped from Jenna. “What the… You gotta be kidding me!”

  He pulled the trigger again, and again nothing happened. It was like something out of one of the movies Tommy always seemed to go on about; one where the main character is repeatedly pulling the trigger of an empty gun. But he knew this gun was not empty, he’d just loaded it not three minutes ago.

  He fumbled with the gun in his hand to study it, but it was just a little too dark to make out the details, increasing his fury. Light from the streetlamp poured through the window, which in the past had always kept him awake and was why he made Jen sleep on that side of the bed. He went to the window and brought the gun close to his face for a better look. A deafening roar issued from the gun. Something burned through his right ear. He fell backwards and spun around in a complete circle. “Ow! Goddammit.”

  The bullet lodged in the crown molding above the sleeping Jenna and a soft sprinkle of powder dusted her hair.

  The sound of the gunshot didn’t penetrate the world of the living; Jenna snored lightly. Marvin turned toward the window and twisted the barrel to catch some streetlight for a b
etter look at the safety when the gun went off again. The glass shattered as the window exploded outward. Small, diamond-shaped shards rained to the alley below. The bullet ricocheted off the next building and buried itself in the wood framing of a window in the condo below theirs.

  Jenna sat up screaming, turned on the bedside lamp and stared at the near-empty window frame. A very frightened Marvin muttered a single “mother-fucker,” ran out with gun in hand and forgot about the glass cleaner and paper towels on the floor.

  Jenna ran for the phone and dialed 911 as lights turned on in several apartments. She sat in Marvin’s chair shaking as she waited for the police to show up.

  She heard a loud tapping on the door. “Jenna, dear, are you all right?”

  “Oh, Mrs. McClaskey!” She ran to open it and immediately buried her face against Mrs. McClaskey’s shoulder.

  “Dear, what’s wrong? I heard you scream. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. The bedroom window…it’s shattered.”

  Mrs. McClaskey hugged her tight and tried to calm her down. “Did you break it while you were cleaning it?”

  Jenna broke the embrace and stepped back to allow Mrs. McClaskey in. “No. I wasn’t cleaning anything, I was in bed, sound asleep.”

  “Well, dear, you should’ve put your cleaning things away. Why, you could’ve tripped on this and hurt yourself,” she warned, and picked the items up. “Now, where do they belong? I’ll put them back for you.”

  Jenna stood looking at the paper towels and glass cleaner, confusion planted across her face. “I don’t understand…how did those things get out here? I swear they weren’t there when I went to bed.”

  Mrs. McClaskey settled a questioning look on her face. “Well, maybe…maybe you’ve been doing things in your sleep. You have been under an awful lot of stress since your Marvin passed on. It would be understandable, dear.”

  Jenna thought for a minute. “I guess you could be right. Because I sure don’t remember cleaning anything before bed.”

  “So?” Mrs. McClaskey shook the bottle of cleaner.

  “Oh! Um, under the sink.”

  Mrs. McClaskey went to take care of the wayward items, there was a sharp rap on the front door and a man’s head poked into the foyer, “Hello? Ma’am? Police.”

  Jenna let out a yelp.

  The officer pushed the door wide. “Oh, sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to scare you. The door was open. Is it all right if we come in?”

  Mrs. McClaskey peered around the corner and moved back into the living room. “You called the police? Why?”

  “I was scared! I thought someone was trying to break in.”

  “Oh, of course. I apologize. How silly of me. Forgive an old woman’s addled brain.”

  “Mrs…?” The officer left his question hang.

  “Oh, um…no. It’s Miss. I’m not married. Jenna. Jenna Wilson. Thank you for coming officers, but it appears I wasted your time.”

  A decidedly female voice issued from behind the patrolman. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, sorry. This is Officer Dent. I’m Officer Gentner.”

  “Do you mind if we take a quick look around, just to make sure?”

  Jen gestured, “Suit yourself.”

  Dent began a slow walk through the entire place and paused to peer into each nook and cranny. She yanked on the sliding door to the balcony to make sure it was locked and opened closets to ensure no one was hiding in them. From the master bedroom she called out, “Clear.”

  “I told you. I’m really sorry.”

  “But, Gentner? I think you better come in here.”

  When the patrolman entered the bedroom, followed by Jen and Mrs. McClaskey, he found his partner pointing at the ceiling above the bed. He saw a small hole in the crown molding and small spider-web cracks spread out along its edges. “Yeah, and?”

  Dent’s arm lowered and her finger pointed to the gypsum powder on the pillow. “It’s powder from the wallboard. But, look at the window. It got blown out.”

  “I don’t get what you’re driving at, Officer … Dent, is it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Gentner understood. “Do you own a gun Miss Wilson?”

  Jenna shivered. “No. I don’t like guns.”

  Mrs. McClaskey wrapped an arm around Jen. “Now, officers, I know you mean well and you’re trying to do your job, but don’t frighten the poor girl any more than she already is.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that up there,” Dent pointed to the molding, “is a bullet hole. And the only way the window would’ve shattered outward, to the street, is if a bullet had been fired from inside.”

  Jenna’s legs weakened and she almost fell to the floor. When Mrs. McClaskey lost her tenuous grip, Gentner lunged and caught Jenna and led her to the bed. “Here, Miss Wilson, I think you better sit.”

  “Oh, my, God! Mrs. McClaskey, I haven’t been imagining things. Someone has been in here. Someone’s trying to kill me!” Jenna burst into tears.

  Officers Gentner and Dent shared a knowing glance.

  “Ms. Wilson, are you sure there are no guns here?”

  “I told you, I don’t like guns!”

  “Well, then, does anyone else have a key to your unit?”

  “No… No.”

  Gentner gently lifted Jenna’s arm. “Why don’t we go into the living room and Officer Dent will take your statement and fill out the report.” He guided her to Marvin’s chair and then turned to Mrs. McClaskey. “May I speak with you, ma’am? In private.”

  “Why, of course, young man. I don’t know what I can tell you,” Mrs. McClaskey said and smiled as the policeman squired her properly to the hallway. “I wasn’t in here when the accident happened, but I’d be happy to help Jenna in any way I can. She’s a lovely young woman and she’s had a very tough time of things since her young man died.”

  “Have you known Ms. Wilson long, Mrs…”

  “McClaskey, Mrs. McClaskey, dear. Oh, let’s see… I believe it’s about three — perhaps four years now.”

  “Has Ms. Wilson been unusually upset lately?”

  “I wouldn’t say so, no, not really.”

  “You mentioned someone died recently. Has she seemed despondent at all?”

  “Well, her fiancé passed just about five months ago. She grieved, as any normal woman would, of course. But it would seem the fog is beginning to lift a bit.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, she just went out on a date with a new young man. She seemed to be in high spirits again.”

  “So, you don’t think she may have… tried to… you know —” Gentner drew a finger across his throat.

  “You mean kill herself? Oh, for goodness sake. My heavens, no!”

  Gentner took a long minute to study Mrs. McClaskey’s face and then nodded. “Okay. I apologize, but I had to ask.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “Well, ma’am, to be honest —”

  “I expect you’d better be, young man,” Mrs. McClaskey cautioned him.

  Patrolman Gentner smiled. “The only way that window could break like it did — out? — would be from a bullet coming from inside the bedroom. There are no signs of forced entry, nobody else has a key, and no one else was in the place with her, then it stands to reason she had to have fired the gun.”

  Mrs. McClaskey looked puzzled. “Oh, my… I just don’t think Jenna would.” She stood silent for a moment. “So, what do you suggest we do, Officer?”

  “If she’s suicidal, we can’t let her stay here. We have to take her to a hospital.”

  “I simply don’t believe that’s the case. How can we make sure though? I certainly wouldn’t want to see such a beautiful young lady…”

  “I think you can help us. Do you think you could convince her to go to your place while we search hers? It won’t take long, I promise.”

  Mrs. McClaskey patted his arm. “Of course!”

  She followed Gentner back inside. Jenna’s hands
wouldn’t stop shaking and she attempted to apologize. “I’m afraid my writing may not be too legible.”

  “Now, dear, don’t you worry about that. In fact, why don’t we take this over to my place? I’ll fix you a nice cup of that lovely tea you gave me for Christmas. It’ll help to calm your nerves. You just tell me what to write and I’ll fill out the form, how does that sound?”

  “Oh, I’ve disturbed your sleep enough. I just need to take a few deep breaths.”

  Mrs. McClaskey leaned down and pulled Jenna to her feet. “Nonsense! Now I don’t want to hear another word. We’ll go across the hall and allow these nice young officers to inspect every nook and cranny for your safety. When they’re done, they’ll come and bring you home. Won’t you? ” She hesitated at the door and turned to get a nod from Dent.

  In less than thirty minutes Dent knocked lightly on the door, which Mrs. McClaskey had left open a few inches. “All clear. If you’re finished with the report, we’ll sign it and give you your copy and we’ll be out of your way.”

  Gentner nodded in response to Mrs. McClaskey’s questioning look, held up a single bullet, then spread his arms in a gesture of surrender. “I sure can’t explain it, except to think it had to be a stray bullet. It may have ricocheted off the other building. The way the glass blew outward is weird, but I guess stranger things have happened.”

  Jenna signed the bottom of the form and handed the pen to Dent. “I’m really sorry. I guess I just panicked.”

  “Don’t give it another thought, Ms. Wilson. Really. It’s what the police department is for, ma’am; to investigate things.” She signed and put the date and time in the appropriate places, ripped off the copy. “If you need anything else, you call anytime. I know how tough it can be for a woman living alone.”

  “Thank you. Both of you. You’re shining examples!” Mrs. McClaskey said and showed them out. She turned back to Jenna after closing and locking the door. “Now, I think we need to get you tucked in. The bed in the spare room is old, but it’s comfortable.”