Max's Message

I have a passion for writing. I love to write my thoughts and I hope that others will like to read them. Maybe my thoughts, ranting and opinions will get you thinking and start a dialogue among you and others, or maybe it'll just get you to say "Huh". I love music, books and movies and sharing my opinions about them because sometimes I want the world to know how amazing something is or I want to understand how others could like something I wasn't the biggest fan of. Finally and maybe what I'm most passionate about is I love stories, hearing them, reading them and especially writing them, which I do everyday and will be posting often. Each of my passions and writing exploits can be found labeled below. Pick one, get a little lost, maybe a little excited and hopefully always entertained.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Wrong Man, Right Job- Ch. 2

As they do in the movies it seemed my husband and his crew were highly aware of prying ears and spoke of cargo and packages in very general terms. With every passing conversation I gathered more details about his activities and the people he worked and dealt with. Finally, 6 months later, I discovered what kind of cargo they were dealing with.

He had gone to the mansion bringing a box that I had seen so often down at the shipping yard. Inside the house, the leader of the gang, or so I assumed, said “Johnny, let’s see the goods. Are these the first of the new line?”

“You bet, JD. Check it out.” I heard the sound of a box being ripped open and clinking plastic or metal. When I heard what sounded like a shot being fired, a man screaming wildly and saw some someone come running out of the house clawing at himself before falling to the ground motionless I realized things were worse than I feared.

I finally confronted Johnny about his extracurricular activities, feigning the belief that he was having an affair. Johnny was always kind. A great, kindly liar. He assured me he was in no way having an affair; that he was usually out running, clearing his head; that the cool night air, mixed with the impenetrable silence of the middle of the night was his favorite running time. You’ll soon be doing a whole lot of running, away from the law, I thought. Johnny wasn’t a terrible guy. He was just terribly drawn to trouble.

The following week my boss called me into his office to inform me that all my hard work had paid off.

“Given all your work we’re putting you on another part of this venture.” He handed me a file. Opening it I wasn’t surprised. Everything I had done for my job was leading up to this. I was, however a little stunned at how I felt. Guilt? Shame? “Think you can handle it?” he asked.

“Definitely, Boss.”

That was the night I killed my husband. It was easy actually. Poisoning his favorite dish, lasagna, which brought on a coronary embolism was as easy as convincing him to come to the house for a rarely made home cooked meal. What I didn’t realize would be so difficult is dealing with it. He had to go, I know that. I didn’t realize that a part of me would actually miss him. That is when I turned to the vodka in the pantry and the drugs Johnny had hidden in his closet.

My work phone rings. I need to pretend I’m sober. I pick it up after a few seconds of concentrated breathing.

“Hawson, here”

“Secure line.” There are a few beeps and clicks then an automated voice replies “Line Secure.”

“Agent Hawson.”

“Chief”

I wanted to commend you on an excellent job. I heard the clean up crew came and everything went without a hitch.”

“Yes sir.”

“I just want to applaud you on the excellent work you’ve done for this agency the past 6 years. Your dedication, information and perseverance to this case has shown me what you’re capable of. With your husband out of the way we can fully infiltrate the Skiferlli gang. Can’t wait to see you back in the office Monday for your next role in this assignment.”

“Thank you sir.” I hung up the phone and downed two more pills.

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