Manhattan, the land of milk and money. That’s the place to be. A magnet for people with hopes and dreams bigger than New York’s skyscrapers.
A magnet for people all over the world that are willing to test the boundaries of morality and decency in their pursuit of the Almighty Dollar.
The City is a spider’s web that people are entangled in. A fairy tale land where green unlocks the doors to a human utopia. And many people are trying to break through those doors.
In the middle of it all is the Spider. Wall Street. Spinning its evil web day and night. Fortunes are made and lost there.
It’s easy to get lost in New York. It’s easy to lose yourself. That’s where Maurice and I got lost. That’s where Maurice and I lost our Souls.
Maurice and I are getting married in the City. It’s been a year since we murdered my husband. Do we love one another? Of course not! Vultures like us are heartless. But we have to keep an eye on each other.
Don’t you realize that a corpse follows us around? My dead husband. I can still feel his breath on the back of my neck.
While Maurice and I are walking through the City streets and looking at the different shop windows… he’s with us. When we’re dining out… he’s with us. When we’re at a club and dancing… he’s with us. And before we fall asleep at night… the corpse is still with us.
I can see him in Maurice’s eyes, and he can see the corpse in mine. That uneasy feeling between us… that uneasy glance. That knowing look. Sometimes we just stare into space. Lost in our own thoughts. It feels like there is a wall between us. But it isn’t a wall. It’s a dead body.
The corpse is in our hearts and in our minds. Shutting out rays of happiness and sunshine. Taking its toll on our lives. And the fear of being discovered constantly gnaws at us.
Darkness is surrounding us. The lighting surrounding us is being displaced and lit up by darkness.
His family didn’t have the body cremated. They didn’t have it cremated. I didn’t put up too much of an argument about it. I didn’t want anyone to become suspicious. But I would have felt better if the body was destroyed. Will they one day have it exhumed? But what could they find?
Have you ever done something bad and regretted that you did it? But you can’t put the egg back in the shell. Neither can you put the Soul back in the body.
And you’re not repentant and sorrowful out of regret for the deed, but out of fear of being caught.
I still see my dead husband in cafes. In parks. In familiar places where we’ve been together. In the faces of men that look like him. And I see him smiling.
Waiting patiently for us to make a false move. Waiting patiently for us to make a mistake. Waiting patiently for us to crack.
And that is why Maurice, and I are inseparable. Our destinies are handcuffed together. It wouldn’t be so bad… just Maurice and me. But the corpse is also handcuffed to us.
People change over time. Sometimes they become repentant and want to confess. Other times the strain of life and what they’ve done, drives them crazy. Maurice and I had to keep an eye on each other. We had to support one another. It was a matter of survival… not love.
Did we have to keep an eye on Jarmon too? No! We soon realized, afterward, that the private investigator’s real business wasn’t private investigation, but murder for profit. He plays the part of a PI until the right opportunity comes along and then he plies his real craft. Murder! Maurice and I were the right opportunity.
He reminded me of a book that I read by Dr. Edwin M. Hale. It’s entitled, The Great Crime of the Nineteenth Century. It was published in 1867.
“The abortions occur most frequently among those who are known as the better class; among church members, and those generally who pretend to be most polite, virtuous, moral, and religious. A venal press — a demoralized clergy, the prevalence of (medical) charlatanism are the principal causes of the fearful increase of the abominable crime of criminal abortions.” (Section 1).
“In their advertisements, their harangues to the public, their conversations with private visitors, or in their lectures, they are sure to let drop some hint, by which the unprincipled may imply what their secret business consists of. Follow these miscreants to their private consultation rooms, and you shall see where the most disgraceful scenes are enacted, and where hands and souls are stained by the blood of unborn babies.” (Section 2).
Jarmon’s secret business, like theirs, was murder for profit.
Don’t ever become rich. If someone should offer you a million dollars… turn them down. Or you’ll never know who your real friends are again. Or loved ones. Is that hug and twinkle in their eye because they’re glad to see you or are they thinking about your money?
Don’t ever become rich. Or you’ll spend the rest of your life sleeping with both eyes open. And if you do fall asleep, don’t sleep too soundly. Or you’ll never hear your alarm clock ringing again.
Crime does pay. Don’t let them deceive you. And premeditated murder is almost impossible to prove. Premeditated murders made to look like random crimes, or accidents, or drug overdoses. They’re well-planned executions. All you hear about are the people that get caught. Dummies. Most of these crimes that are planned are never solved. They don’t even know that a crime took place. Does a tree falling in a forest make a sound if there is no one around to hear it?
Did you hear the one about the guy that accidentally fell in front of an oncoming train? Murder! Boating accident victim? Murder! Did you hear the one about the accidental drowning in the bathtub, and the victim had drugs nearby? She was high and fell asleep and drowned. Murder! Did you hear the one about the person, on vacation, that accidentally fell off a cliff or ledge while climbing or sightseeing? Murder! Someone accidentally falling overboard on a cruise ship? Murder! Someone accidentally drowning at the beach? Murder! Someone committing suicide in a jail cell? Premeditated Murder!
I could go on and on. Don’t ever become rich. Or you’ll spend the rest of your life sleeping with both eyes open. And if you do fall asleep, don’t sleep too soundly. And pay attention to what you’re eating and drinking. Or you’ll never wake up again.
The next day the cops will tell the news organizations that it was an accidental drug overdose. Or you accidentally took too much of a prescribed medication.
And the police have no problem going along with the narrative. They don’t have to investigate. They won’t look bad. They won’t look incompetent. They found the killer. It was the deceased. How convenient.
People are killers. Don’t be surprised that I believe that. Look at history. Look at all the wars. And don’t judge me and Maurice too harshly. We killed for a fortune. Many people kill their own babies to save a few bucks. Can you imagine what these people would do for a fortune? Don’t get sick or old around people like this.
Don’t ever become rich. Or you’ll spend the rest of your life sleeping with both eyes open. And if you do fall asleep, don’t sleep too soundly. Especially in your own home. You don’t want to be left alone with your relatives. Those that will profit from your death. Those that are in the Will. Or you’ll wind up like one of those rich stars… accidental drug overdose.
Would those rich stars still be alive today if they were poor? Without a doubt. Or do you believe that it was them – unnoticed, even though they were famous – that were standing on the street corners and buying drugs for themselves to use?
Did those around them give them the final injection or pills that would take their lives? They certainly didn’t stop it.
And let’s face it. If they spent as much time trying to get these stars off of drugs, as they did in acquiring the drugs for them… they would still be alive today.
Don’t ever become rich. Or you’ll spend the rest of your life sleeping with both eyes open. And if you do fall asleep, don’t sleep too soundly. Or you’ll never wake up again.
I’m tired. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a year.
Photo by Tsvetoslav Hristov via Unsplash
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/johnsaccone
Fictional stories by John Saccone 
Leave a comment