The Forging Page 22

  The rest of the day went as the days lately have gone. Mo came home; we spent time with Charlene. Moiraine went to bed.

  Now that Mo was down for the night, I need to make a couple of calls on the throwaway phone. I went into the garage in case Mary has sharp hearing. I dialed Mike’s home number. Having a perfect memory can come in handy sometimes.

  Mike answered a little groggily. “Sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean to wake you. Things have been hectic here, and this was the first chance I had to call you.”

  “It’s alright, Nathan. How is Charlene doing? The shooting was all over the news.”

  “She will be passing in the next few days, Mike.”

  “Oh God, Nathan. I didn’t know. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Can you see your way to giving me Marcy’s phone number?” There was an awkward silence on the other end of the line. I realized how it sounded. My wife is dying, and I want another woman’s number. “Marcy needs to know about Char. They have become friends since the last Christmas party.” Lies, lies, and more lies. “She might want to say goodbye.”

  “Give me a second, Nate.” The sounds of fumbling and paper rustling came over the phone. “Here it is.” Mike gave me the number. “If there is anything I can do for you, Nate, just say the word. You have friends here. We want to help. You are not alone,” Mike said without a touch of hesitation or reservation. There is a tugging at my heartstrings. Except for Charlene, Moiraine, and John, I have always thought of myself as being alone. When this is all over and if I don’t go to jail for murder, I’ll have to reexamine my belief.

  The time is getting a little late to call Marcy, so I’ll have to drop her a line tomorrow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It is a new day and the time for action. After I saw Moiraine ready and off to school, I looked in to see if Mary had any needs. As it is a decent hour, I gave Marcy a call.

  “Hello,” she sounded tired. Crap I hope I didn’t wake her.

  “Marcy, this is Nathan from work. Can we talk?” She grunted, yes. “I know this is coming out of left field, but I remember you had a quizzical look on your face when Mark Galos robbed the pharmacy. Why?”

  “I’m fine, Nathan. How are you? No, I haven’t found a new job yet. Say how did you get my number?” Her sarcastic tone is coming through loud and clear.

  “I’m sorry, Marcy. You are right. It is rude of me to launch into my question. I hope you can forgive me,” I didn’t hear a reply, so I carried on. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten snatched up by another pharmacy. I know there is always a shortage of experienced pharmacists.”

  “Well, it seems the word has been spread around town and now everyone thinks I was in on the robbery. This is all unofficial of course. I have even gotten a call from the State Board. They interviewed me over the phone. They may pull my license. My life is falling apart. And now you call and remind me of that awful night.”

  “Those bastards. You need to fight them, Marcy. I’ll stand up with you.”

  “Thank you, Nathan. It means a great deal to hear someone say those words. It seems like everyone family, colleagues, and the state are kicking me.” I heard her gently sobbing then blow her nose.

  “Marcy, if I can do anything, I will, but I need my question answered. Mark Galos shot my wife, Charlene. He intends to kill my whole family. I am desperately searching for an edge any advantage at all to stop him. Please,” I waited for her to respond.

  “Aren’t the police protecting you?”

  “What they are doing, I would not call protecting. The police are using me as bait to draw Mark out. The detective in charge believes I was in on the robbery too. My best guess is he wants Mark to kill me to save him the trouble of making a case against me.”

  The sobbing stopped “Well, I don’t know what good it will do you, but he didn’t want any of the drugs you would expect. The list didn’t have any painkillers or opioids. Nothing on the list had any street value. All those drugs do is treat schizophrenia.”

  “Thanks, Marcy. I don’t know if this information will be of any help, but I thank you for it. You hang in there. If I hear of an opening anywhere, I will give you a call and put a word in for you.”

  “Thank you, Nathan. I don’t know anymore, maybe this is a sign I picked the wrong path for my life. Goodbye.”

  “Marcy, Marcy, wait. Don’t hang up.”

  “What else?” She sounded resigned to despair.

  “Years ago, I struggled with depression. It wasn’t pretty, and it took me a long time to climb out of the emotional hole. Don’t slip into hopelessness, Marcy. It won’t help. You have to fight it. Fight it by not giving into depressing thoughts. I know it sounds hollow but trust me. This trouble is not your making. Something will present itself to you. You have to wait until you know what it is. It could be a new job, finding the right someone to make you feel complete, or maybe a chance to start over. No matter what form it comes in, and it will come, it will be a blessing. It was for me, and it will be for you.”

  “I sure hope so, Nathan. I sure hope so. I will try to take your suggestion. You know I think this is the most words you have ever spoken to me at one time,” she gave a bit of a half-laugh, “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Marcy.” She hung up. The conversation was enlightening. I did a quick search of my memory, and she is correct. It was the longest dialogue we had ever had. Despite seeing each other most days, we had never connected in any way other than work-related. Connecting with people other than family, was never important to me. I have no friends. My whole life has, after Char and I wed, been about family. People should connect. I should connect. How much more could I grow if I had friends?

  I must focus on trying to kill that bastard who is going to kill me and those I love. Let me inventory what I have. A gun, check. A location, check. Desire, check. I must find a way to shake the police tailing me. How? It is broad daylight, but I can’t wait. Think.

  I cleared my mind and willed my brain to find a solution. Twenty minutes passed with me staring off into space and thinking of nothing. Daylight is burning, and I am no closer to my goal. So, I turned on the TV to distract myself.

  “…the full report on News at Five,” the newscaster read. The TV cut to a commercial, “Next week a new Magic’s Biggest Secrets Revealed. Watch as our masked magician tells all the secrets behind your favorite illusions.” Using the remote and click. Maybe I can hire the masked magician to make Mark Galos disappear “Bippity boppity boo.” No, wait … it … is … coming to me. Not magic, but one of the principles of magic. Misdirection. Oh, this can work.

  In the bedroom, I retrieved my workout clothes and another change of clothes. Next, I grabbed a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. I changed into the workout outfit and stuffed the rest into the sports bag containing my implement of justice, a Lee-Enfield 303. In my imagination, I see a slug hitting him in his melon. The thought of seeing the moment his head blossoming into red goo is most satisfying.

  Sometimes I scare myself.

  I went into the bedroom and said, “Mary, I’m headed to the gym to try to burn off some of this nervous energy. All this waiting has been getting to me,” and it is no lie.

  “No worries, Dearie. If there is a change, I will call you,” she stood, stretched out her back a bit, and went to check on Char. She has caring hands. It is a blessing we switched out Ms. Barton.

  With sports bag in hand, I headed out the door. I made a show of stretching a bit before I climbed behind the wheel. I drove to the gym, grabbed the bag, and walked straight to the locker room. I waited and watched. No one followed me in. So far, so good. I transformed into another person care of my nifty disguise. Exiting the gym, I walked to the curb and hailed a cab.

  It was a bit of a drive. The time passed in boredom by pretending to be involved with my phone. No chit chat with the driver, I didn’t want to leave any lasting impression. We arrived a few blocks from Mark’s lair. I hoofed the rest of the way and found a neighbor’s ho
use, which had a beautiful view of his home.

  Luck is with me as the house is empty. I walked around until I found an unlocked window. After I climbed in, I went upstairs. In the home office, I found a window facing Mark’s house. It had a clear view of most of the property. I set the trap. A song by Kansas began playing in my head. “Carry on my wayward son. There’ll be peace when you are done…” The only thing left is to wait.

  Time dragged on; I’ve been lingering here too long. The owners may return before the deed is done. Getting caught stalking with a scope and rifle would look nefarious. Doubts and second thoughts entered my mind.

  John’s words came to me again, “It’s a hard thing taking a man’s life. Whether you answered the call of your country, protecting the lives of your family, or preserving your own life, no matter the reason, you are never quite the same after. I wasn’t.”

  What am I thinking I can’t do this? Kill Mark Galos in cold blood. It’s not me. A man must be true to himself, and I am no murderer. I need to get out of here.

  “No, you don’t. Mark Galos will show any minute. Patience.” The thought which entered my head is in a different voice than my own. This is weird. My brain has spoken to me many times, but in another man’s voice? This freaks me out. Have I snapped? Has the stress caused me to lose my grip on reality? “Do not have doubts. This is what we must do.”

  Okay, this is close to madness. I heard a car drive up and a car door slam shut. Out, I must leave and try something else later. I saw Mark in a window of his home. My body started to aim. There are footsteps outside heading towards the house. I am trying to pack up and beat feet, but something is stopping me. My body isn’t answering my call and on its own started to lineup Mark in the sights. My finger started to squeeze the trigger. No, Stop. I can’t do this. I eased off the trigger and pulled the sights off Mark.

  “We’ll never get a better chance. Do it.” My body is moving on its own. It lined Mark up again. I heard keys jingling in the door. “Ignore it. Kill him.” My finger started again.

  No, I won’t kill him not like this. I tried to move, but I could not. It is exceedingly difficult to move away from the shot. My finger relaxed, then started to tighten again. I will not be a murderer. I screamed the words in my head and put all my will behind the effort “I WILL NOT BE A MURDERER! GET OUT OF MY MIND!” There was a release. It seemed like opening a bottle of Pepsi and having the Carbon Dioxide escape. My body started to obey my commands once more.

  While breaking everything down and packing it away, I could hear the owner walking up the stairs. Escaping is the order of the moment. The window is no use. It is too high up for me to jump down. Spraining an ankle or even breaking a leg would be the outcome if I jumped. As quietly as I could, I crept back to the bedroom door. I could hear the home-owner approach the door. I squeezed up against the wall hoping if they opened the door, they wouldn’t see me, and I could sneak out of the room before they turned and saw me. The doorknob began to turn. My heart raced. This is it.

  A cell phone rang. Damn, did I forget to silence my phone? “Hello, yes, this is Ms. Miller. Okay, I’ll be right there.” The doorknob turned back the other way. I heard footfalls heading back downstairs. The sound of the front door opening and closing came to my ears. I took in a deep breath of relief. Too close. What would I have done if discovered?

  I wouldn’t have harmed, her of this I am sure. Maybe I would say I had a singing telegram for her. If it looked like she bought it, I would break out into a show tune. “Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you. Getting to like you…” Rodgers and Hammerstein. Am I sick and twisted or what?

  The time on my cell phone is later than I thought. I had to make it back and pronto too. Exit stage right. I retreated out of the house and found a cab pretty quick. “Hey Buddy, I will make it worth your while if you take me to the gym on Washington and don’t spare the horses.” We tore out of there. He did not disappoint. I handed him the most generous tip I had ever given.

  “Thanks, but no thanks, bud. In ten years of driving a cab, I have never had someone say, don’t spare the horses. I have always wanted someone to say it,” he chuckled and drove away.

  In the gym’s locker room, I changed back into my workout clothes. I can’t go back outside without looking like I had the workout of my life. What to do? Ah! The memory of when I tried to do a half marathon should do the trick. Without any real training, the race was a disaster. By the end of the first mile, I was soaking wet in sweat and sucking wind. Oh, the stupidity of youth. As the memory came back, I began to sweat and hyperventilate. I stopped the heavy breathing, but my clothes are starting to sport a large cross of sweat on my chest, and my pits are equally sopping. A sports drink will complete the illusion, so I hit up the vending machine on the way out the door. I started guzzling it down as soon as I stepped outside. I sat in my car for a moment. I still had some time to kill, so I went to the park.

  Back to my favorite stand of trees and patch of grass in Balboa Park. In the middle of the trees alone, I lost myself in thought. The sign is right there back on my chest again. Yep, I’m a coward. What am I to do? I failed my wife, my child, and myself. When it came down to it, I couldn’t pull the trigger. Mark will eventually fulfill his promise. He will destroy me. He all but killed Charlene, and he will kill Moiraine. In an added bit of torment, he will do the deed in front of me. He will kill me too or worse. He will leave me alive to wallow in misery, knowing I let my family die.

  As I sat there with my head hung low, a pair of stylish sandaled feet came into view. The feet in those sandals turned, and the lady attached to them sat next to me on the grass. “I’m sorry, Ms., but if you don’t mind, please let me sit here by myself. There is a pretty piece of grass over there.” Without looking the lady in the eyes, I pointed to a patch of grass about ten feet away.

  “Well, you’re not being very social. Perhaps I wanted to sit next to you. Maybe I was going to flirt awhile with a handsome man who looks like he could use a friend,” the owner of the sandals announced.

  Her voice had a familiar sound to it, but I am in no mood to devote the necessary mental resources to search my memory. “So sweet,” I said then held up my left hand “but as you can see I am bound to the ring. One ring to bind me in the land of matrimony where the shadow lies. Well, you would see the ring if it had not been stolen from me.” I put my hand down. It feels like the ring is still there as if it is a phantom limb. The torture laughed at me as I tried to dismiss the sensation.

  A hand touched my chin and gently pushed it up. A jolt of excitement went through me like Charlene’s touch does. The hand looked familiar also. It is graceful and sported a French manicure. French manicure? I looked up startled to gaze into the eyes of a striking young woman. Her eyes are gray and had a softness to them. They also conveyed wisdom beyond the age of the owner.

  “Why so glum? Turn your frown upside-down.”

  Her voice echoed through my mind. My heart both dropped and jumped. “You’re the tow-truck driver. You also swapped a dollar with me so I could get a Diet-Pepsi. I sorely needed it then too. Next, you showed compassion at a funeral no one knew about. You left so quickly. I didn’t have a chance to thank you.”

  “You can thank me now.”

  “Thank you. I don’t understand why you have done all these things for me?”

  “Everyone needs a little help once in a while, and helping people is my job. That or giving people a little payback when they deserve it,” she giggled a bit.

  “How did you know I needed help? I understand you are a tow-truck driver. Be it the prettiest tow-truck driver I’ve ever seen. Your child must go to Greentree Elementary. Those are a couple of cases of being in the right place at the right time. But how could you even know about the funeral? My own family didn’t know about the funeral.”

  “First things first, for a man with old-fashioned ideals let me introduce myself. You can call me Karma.” Now that I can get a real look at her, I can see she is
tall for a woman this side of five-foot-eleven. Based on her figure, she could work the runway at any fashion show. She is young too. She is in her early twenties, I would say. Her golden blond hair is loose about her shoulders and flowing gently in the breeze. She is wearing bold black eyeliner. Her eyes jumped out at me when I gazed into them. Her lips are painted cherry red and popped as well.

  “Karma, it sounds like the name of a character from a bad urban fantasy novel. Let me guess you have sisters named Faith, Hope, and Charity.” She tilted her head and gave me an expression of displeasure. “I am sorry. I was a little snarky.”

  “Yes, it was a bit snarky, but I accept your apology. And no, I don’t have any sisters. I do have what you would call a cousin named Epiphany. I don’t like her. She keeps taking credit for everyone else’s ideas.”

  “Now that’s comedy,” I said with a smile on my face. “Why are you following me? Do I owe you money?”

  “I’m not sure you are ready to know. Let’s say you are a little investment of mine and leave it at that.”

  “Investment? Never mind my life has been so kooky lately what is one more kook?”

  “I am no kook as you put it. I have been following you, though. You have done me proud,” the Cheshire cat grin on her face said I know something you don’t. “You have a unique energy about you. Your energy is unfocused, but there none the less. It is what attracted my attention. From time to time, I have looked in on my investment. I lent a hand if you needed it. I only watched when you didn’t. You have not disappointed me. I think you will do swimmingly.” Her Cheshire grin of hers came back, and she looked as though she was holding back a laugh, “You must learn the ways of the Force if you’re to come with me to Alderaan.”

  “No. No. And no! You have it all wrong. You are supposed to be an old man, and I should be a young, naive farm-boy with wanderlust and a destiny to save the world. I am only a middle-aged, washed-up, ex-crossing guard with delusions of being a man.”