Cash Call, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 5

by William Manchee

  Chapter 25

  The Last Straw

   I arrived twenty minutes later. Rob and Don were sitting on the sofa. Jennifer was biting her fingernails as she gazed out the window. Don looked like he hadn't slept all night. He was sweaty and unshaven. His shirt was half untucked and he smelled like booze. A gun lay on the coffee table. I swallowed hard.

   "What happened, Don? You look terrible," I said.

   He looked up at me with pain in his eyes. "Oh, Stan. She's gone. Pam is gone!"

   "Oh no. I'm so sorry, Don. What happened?"

   "After our meeting I couldn't wait to get home and tell Pam the good news. After parking my car, I hurried inside. I searched the house but she wasn't there. I looked in the back yard but only saw Rip pacing back and forth at the back door wanting to get in. Then I noticed a note on the kitchen table.

  Dear Don,

   Donna, Greg and I have gone to my mother's. Like I told you, I just can't sit around here and watch our lives fall apart. I need some time to breathe. All the stress and turmoil isn't good for Donna and Greg either. Please don't be mad at me. I don't blame you for what happened, it doesn't matter who's at fault. I guess we had the good life and never really appreciated it.

  Maybe God is punishing us for taking for granted all the wonderful things He has given us. We had such a great life, didn't we? It seems now to be just a distant memory. No matter whatever happens to us I want you to know that I love you and if I die tomorrow, I'll die in peace because I had so many wonderful years with you.

  Love, Pam

   "I crumpled up the paper and threw it into the trash can. Then I went to the phone and called Pam's mother's house. The phone rang and rang but nobody answered. After twenty or thirty rings I gave up and slammed the phone down. Then I just collapsed into a chair in despair.

   "After awhile I got up and called American Airlines. I wasn't going to let my family slip through my fingers. The worst is over, I thought. Life would be back to normal soon. I was going to tell her how you talked Mrs. Windsor's attorney into dropping the wrongful death suit. I'd convince her to come home, I knew she'd listen.

  "I rushed into the bedroom and threw some clothes into a suitcase. I forced it closed and headed for the front door. Before I reached it, the doorbell rang. I stopped. What now, I wondered? My stomach tightened another notch. I put down my suitcase and opened the door.

  "A deputy constable stood before me holding some papers. It was a lawsuit by the landlord. He wanted two hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars. Can you believe that mother-fucking bastard?

  "I threw down the paper and kicked over a coffee table. My face was getting hot, and my head felt like it was going to explode. The I lost it. I just dropped to my knees and began to cry uncontrollably. I kept asking God what I had done to deserve such torture?

   "Then I remembered my gun. It was the ultimate solution of all my problems. I stood up and rushed into the bedroom and opened the drawer to the night stand. The Colt .38 revolver was under some t-shirts. I pulled them off and gave the gun a hard stare. My hands trembled as I slowly lifted it toward my mouth. I was sweating profusely as I felt the cold steel barrel on my lips. I closed my eyes. I was gonna do it. I tried to pull the trigger, but my strength was gone. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. I didn't want to live without Pam. I closed my eyes again and summoned every once of strength I could and with one last rush of adrenalin, I squeezed the trigger. . . but all I heard was a click.Then I blacked out.”

   "That's when we got here," Rob said. "The house was dark. I turned on a lamp and looked around. I yelled for him but there was no answer, we began searching the house. I went into the kitchen and saw the crumpled note on the floor. I picked it up and read it quickly. Panic overcame me as I feared the worst. I rushed back into the living room. Jennifer was holding the citation with a distressed look on her face. She told me the landlord had sued my father.

   "I continued to frantically search the house and found Dad lying face down on the carpet with the Colt .38 next to him. We turned him over and he began to stir. "'Pam? . . . Pam?'" he moaned.

   "'It's all right, Dad. Just relax. Everything's going to be okay.'"

   "His eyes began to focus and his memory began to slowly return. Then he mumbled. "'Shit! It wasn't loaded was it? Damn it! I always keep it loaded.'"

   "I asked him why he tried to kill himself? I didn't understand it."

   "He laughed. 'You don't understand it? What's not to understand. I'm ruined. Your Mom has left me. What's the point of enduring any more pain? Besides, I have a million dollar life insurance policy.'"

  “But it wouldn’t have paid if he’d committed suicide, would it?” Rob asked, looking at me.

  “Well, if it’s over two years old it would,” I replied. “There’s a no contest clause after two years.”

  Don shook his head. “Jesus! I can’t even commit suicide without fucking it up.”