by Lucian Clark
Evenings were spent watching Gideon hoping he would slip up, give himself away and somehow confirm my suspicions. His routine seemed unbroken by the untimely death of his husband. Neighbors and coworkers dropped by with gifts and kind words. There were a few I approached, asking them about that night. The shiftiness in their eyes as they answered my questions gave me more than I ever needed to condemn Gideon. Were they paid off? Living in this neighborhood meant they weren’t exactly hurting for money. Threatened then? Or was there blackmail involved? Everyone has their dirty little secrets, it would make sense that Gideon would know what leverage he had with everyone else.
During the month we had together, Jack had spoken frequently of his neighbors. He knew of Mrs. Reeves’s cocaine addiction, of Mr. Meling fucking Mrs. Roberts. Hell, even the Gordons were swingers who were involved with quite a few of the families on the block. Did Jack relay these stories to Gideon, as he had to me, and now Gideon threatened to tell and shatter their worlds if they dared threaten him? Blackmail wasn’t something that seemed to be below Gideon. In fact, it seemed right up his alley.
Talking to the Hendersons was the most revealing. She and her husband lived in a relatively small five bedroom and three bathroom two doors down from Jack and Gideon. She spoke fondly of Jack, who would often come over and help her with the rose garden she dutifully tended. They were one of the few families Jack had not told the secrets of. Either they hid them well, or they were the rarity on the block with none to tell.
“What an awful thing to happen. Poor Gideon.” She spoke softly as she poured me a cup of tea, her dark hands contrasting sharply with the plain white kettle. I swallowed large gulps of the tea in a poor attempt to quell my boiling stomach.
“If I remember, I saw you at the funeral, right?” She continued, lips drawn tight as she watched me chug the still steaming drink. “It was a beautiful if…nontraditional service.” She refilled it without me even lifting the cup again. I nodded wordlessly.
“Yea. A friend. My name is Judah.” I said, staring at her over the rim of my glasses. “Mrs. Henderson, can you tell me about that night?” I sipped my tea while she placed a hand on her chest and looked over at her husband. Mr. Henderson placed a hand on her knee and nodded solemnly.
“Sure. I mean, we were just home watching TV. It sounded like a car backfiring.” Mrs. Henderson said. “But louder.”
“What were you watching?” I asked, taking another drink.
“Excuse me? I don’t…exactly remember. Some late night show?” She sounded bewildered.
“At 6pm?” I pressed. Mr. Henderson squeezed his wife’s hand.
“I don’t see the point in this.” He interjected.
“I just want some closure, Mr. Henderson.” I smiled. “That’s all. Jack’s death was so sudden and I had just seen him, I just…I just want to put the timeline together.” It sounded convincing to me. Not entirely a lie. I wondered if they could smell the alcohol on my breath.
“It may have been a rerun. I’m not exactly too sure. I’m sorry I don’t have more information for you.” She spoke in a rush. Both of them kept looking at the door which was my cue to leave.
“Thank you for your time. I’m really sorry I dropped by so late, but I was in the area.” I spoke as I gathered myself to leave. Mr. And Mrs. Henderson watched with me a cautious regard, their worry reflected in the lines across their faces. “Jack just spoke so highly of you two, I just figured…” I trailed off as I realized that my platitudes were falling short. “Thank you again.” I said as I walked through the door, feeling the wind of it quickly closing behind me. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out, I grumbled to myself as I walked back to my car.
As I pulled out of the driveway, I could see them peering through the blinds. Mr. Henderson had a cellphone gripped tightly in his hand. Tea mixed with the acid of my otherwise emptied stomach hit the back of my teeth. Who was he calling? Gideon? My vision faded to white as the anger of betrayal blazed through me. Everyone was in on it. They all knew, but none of them dared challenge Gideon.
The familiar crunch of Cemetery Drive brought me back. In my fury, I had traveled to the only place that brought me solace now – Jack’s grave. The street lights cast long shadows from the gates making them appear to be looming. Menacing almost. I turned the car off and sat there, staring at the padlocked gate. Sitting in my passenger
seat was the local newspaper. Page 3. “Local Tech Hero Loses Husband in Shocking Suicide”. Not only was it wrong, but the same paper had published his obituary before, which talked more about Gideon than it did Jack. The truth was being buried along with Jack. After hearing and seeing the Hendersons, on top of the newspaper article, I knew more than ever that Gideon had murdered Jack. I needed to talk to Jack. He deserved to know that I knew. Sure, I had told him my suspicions, but now they were confirmed.
I picked the lock, a skill I had picked up as a bored teenager, before opening the creaking gates. The groundskeeper left at 8pm; I only knew that because one night while escorting me out he foolishly told me. Idiot, I thought as I shut the gates behind me.
The way to the mausoleum was long and winding, a concrete path that was only kept due to the money of the graves it led to. Other paths were dirt or barely visible under the weeds and overgrown grass. Large, ominous structures filled with the rotting and skeletal bodies of the rich. I snorted. What a joke. Death doesn’t care and we all rot the same. Monuments to money and arrogance, I thought as I passed between them. There were no lights here since the cemetery was not open at night. Memory took me to Jack and the stairs that led up to that white, green and gold structure. Even at night, the patina on the door was clear, but more sickly looking without the warmth of the sun. A wrought iron gate covered the door with another padlock keeping it shut until the next Bellview died.
Until the next Bellview died. The thought brought a smile to my face as I sat on the steps, leaning back against the cool marble. Gideon’s family was already gone and Gideon was the only remaining Bellview. He would be the last and that would be it. A truly wonderful thing!
The mausoleum was a simple structure, made of white and gray marble, with the family crest engraved above the door. The crest, a lion standing on two legs with two crossed swords behind, stood in stark contrast with the doves on the stained glass windows. Each dove, one on either side, held an olive branch in its dull yellow beak. Designed by Gideon’s great-great-grandmother according to the priest. For a family who came from money and continued to have money, it was one of the plainer mausoleums in this section of the graveyard.
“Jack, if you can hear me, I know he killed you.” The words sounded weird and strained against the silence of the night. Most of the time, I didn’t speak to Jack out loud. I figured if he was dead and there was really an afterlife, maybe it granted him the ability to read my mind. Plus, I didn’t want to get kicked out for being the crazy guy talking to nothing in the middle of a graveyard. The groundskeeper already gave enough weird looks as I drank on these steps day in and day out.
The tears came next. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop him.” I sobbed, taking a long drink the flask I kept on me at all times now. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry…I’m sorry you’re dead.” My whole body shuddered and shook as I sobbed. The first real cry since Jack had died. Sorrow ripped through my body uncontrollably. Every muscle in my body seizing and tensing with each breath and sob. I screamed. I smashed my flask on the stair repeatedly in a fit, hard enough to dent it. I wept. Emotions ripped through me, slipping away only to be replaced by a new one before I could even identify them.
“I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry.” The saltiness of tears and snot mingled with the whiskey in my mouth. I took another swig, gagging and vomiting as it got caught in my throat. My whole body ached and I felt so defeated. Jack was gone and all I had were the memories, a few of his things, and the ring.
Reaching in my pocket, I pulled out the ring, watc
hing it glimmer in the moonlight. Jack would have loved it. My heart ached at the fact that Jack would never get to wear it. Returning it was never an option. So, I held onto it. Rolling it across my fingers, I took a deep breath. What the fuck was I going to do? I stared at the ring I had never given to Jack. A broken promise…
Jack deserved everything in the God damned world and Gideon took that from him. Ever since the very beginning, Gideon destroyed any chance of a life for Jack. There was only one solution. One thing that would quell this duress and give Gideon what he deserved. Gideon had paid off the whole block or at least dangled blackmail in front of them. No one would say anything. He had the whole world fooled that Jack had killed himself. He didn’t deserve the peace and pity everyone was giving him.
I could still feel Gideon’s throat in my hands. The feeling of his throat bulging under my palms as he laughed and mocked me. A familiar and hot rage ripped through my gut as I felt the want to smash his head against the very stairs I sat on. Killing Gideon would have felt amazing. It wouldn’t bring Jack back, nothing would, but fuck it would have felt incredible.
Then it came to me again. Until the next Bellview died. Gideon would get a fucking bullet between the eyes. If there was a Hell, Gideon Bellview would be going there and I would personally see to it. Gideon didn’t deserve to live after what he did to Jack. I clenched my fists tightly and ground my teeth against the nausea rising in my throat. He deserved to die and I was going to make sure of it.
It would be easy too. Gideon had a gun. A husband so distraught in grief over his husband’s suicide that he kills himself too. Just like he did to Jack, only this time there would be no one to avenge him. No one who would know or even seek the truth. Poor Gideon, the words Mrs. Henderson has said earlier brought the bile to behind my teeth. Poor Gideon indeed.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I wished Jack goodnight and left. The security gate over the door felt supernaturally cold under my warm hand. The coldness of Death. I shivered despite the sweat dripping down my back and turned to leave. There were plans to be made.
From under my bed, I slipped out the sleek black case that held my handgun. Jack didn’t even know it was there. Something I had bought back in Georgia for “home protection.” It hadn’t been fired since the day I bought it and brought it to the range to test it, but I figured it would fire all the same now, right? It felt heavier than I remembered in my hands. The sleek black body reflected the light from the lamp on my nightstand, catching the subtle glow of the clock on my nightstand. That red gleam made it seem more sinister as my mind wandered.
I’d shove this gun down Gideon’s throat, like I believed he had done to Jack. Everything he ever did to Jack, I would relay it to him as I made him choke. The thought of Gideon’s eyes in these moments made me shudder with glee. I wouldn’t stop there. He would beg and cry for his life, just like Jack did. Hoping somewhere at the back of his mind and deep in his heart that I would spare him. That maybe he could make it all better with money or, knowing Gideon, threatening me if I did kill him. In reality, I would really make him experience the fear and terror that was a daily occurrence for Jack. Then, I would pull the trigger and bang, no more Gideon Bellview. The thought brought a smile and a chuckle as I shifted the unloaded weapon between my hands and appreciated its heft. No more Gideon, no more Bellviews, a legacy and a story coming to an end, as it deserved.
Revenge. Pure and simple. The need for revenge runs deep in people. A one-way street that supposedly led to families and victims sleeping better. Something that never made sense to me until now. But, the world would be a better place without Gideon. There would never be another victim like Jack, not if I had anything to do with it. Could this be called justice? I wasn’t so sure, but did it matter? There was no justice in this story. I grimaced. Jack deserved justice, poetic or not. Revenge doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t bring the dead back. Nothing does. Not the murder of one or a thousand evil men. And yet, here I was with a gun in my hand and planning to enact it.
One thing bothered me though. Gideon would be buried with Jack. He would die a mourning husband so stricken by grief that he followed his husband into death. Gideon would die someone worthy of being mourned and being missed. Jack’s suicide was something seen as unforgivable and Gideon’s would be seen as understandable. The thought didn’t sit right with me. There was no justice for Jack in that. Gideon needed his name destroyed, just like he had destroyed Jack’s life. That would be justice and not just revenge. Everyone needed to know the real Gideon, the Gideon that Jack and I knew.
A suicide note then, perhaps? Just like in the movies, written with a gun pointed at the back of his head. Maybe then, I could even get Gideon to commit suicide with his own gun and leave no trace of me behind. It seemed as foolproof as Gideon’s plan to kill Jack. Gideon deserved this. He deserved it long before he was able to carry it to its brutal end. Jack didn’t deserve all the pain and suffering Gideon brought.
Tears ran anew down my face as I thought of Jack and his life. The promise of our lives together had seemed so bright and promising. It seemed almost foolish that we believed we could escape it. Yet, what else did we have other than to try? The alternative was too painful to bear and yet, that was the reality I was left with. Not the apartment across the country. No pets to care for together. No white picket fence or playground with our kids – I didn’t even know if Jack wanted to have kids. All of it gone. No Jack. No future. Nothing but loneliness and whatever would come next.
“I miss you. I miss you so much.” I sobbed to nothing. To the darkness. To the ghost of Jack. Emotions swelled through me once again as they had in the cemetery. A poor attempt to fill the emptiness that had grown inside of me. An emptiness that felt like it was growing out of control and threatening to swallow me alive. Grief turned to loneliness turned to pain. Nothing fit and felt right. It all felt wrong, every single emotion trying and failing. There was another option I hadn’t considered, but that lurked dark in the back of my mind. Joining Jack and seeing whatever came next. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tears burning. No, now was not the time to lose myself to grief, I told myself. Not yet. Gideon needed to be sent to Hell first and if that damned me with him, I would face those consequences later.
XIII.
As I pulled up to the mansion, the clock on my dashboard read 9:42pm. Enough time to seem like I was just someone arriving late to a party or something and wouldn’t be strange if I left late too. I parked on the other block, making sure to park in an alley next to a house that still had their lights on. My many trips through the neighborhood helped me know all the weird alleys and side streets. Hopefully no one would think anything about it. The neighbors on the street Gideon lived on knew my vehicle by now. I would wait until later and hope that parking here and being here for awhile would be enough to give me an alibi if I needed it. Plus, no one would be awake still by the time I made my way to the mansion.
Waiting to leave the car, my mind reeled. Was this plan too complicated? Too simple? Too stupid? What if someone saw me just sitting in my car? No matter what I did I could not calm my shaking hands or anxious heart. Despite just sitting and waiting, I felt like I had run a mile. I was panting and wheezing, struggling to try and breathe. What was I doing here? Was I really plotting to murder someone? And yet, when the time came, I slipped out of my car and made my way to Gideon’s mansion. It was too late to change my mind now.
Every single light was on as I walked quickly to the mansion. There were lights on in rooms that probably had not seen another human in them besides a maid in years. Never mind that it was 2am on a Wednesday and everyone in this part of the neighborhood was asleep or out on a cocaine bender. At least, that is what I assumed rich business tyrants did on a Wednesday night. Tonight, Gideon was waiting for me, though I could not say for sure there was no cocaine involved in that decision.
The lights made the house glow eerily and making the windows look like the reflective eyes of a predator. So many eyes s
upernaturally bright in the night. All of them focused on me with a knowing gaze. Even the red door seemed to be darker than usual, almost black, under the porch light. My mind flashed to Jack sprawled across my bed, not asleep, but dead. The mansion seemed to breathe in anticipation of my arrival, expanding and contracting with each step I took towards it. A true house of horrors. I drained my flask in order to calm my nerves.
I didn’t even bother to try and sneak into the house. The doorknob tuned easily as the heavy oak door swung silently on its hinges, temporarily blinding me with the light held within. Gideon had left the front door unlocked. He definitely was expecting me, but how? Why? No one in the world knew my plan, besides Jack. How does that old saying go? Dead men tell no tales? So, how did Gideon know to wait for me? Unless, he saw me outside on those nights watching him. Even then, why was he ready tonight?
“Yes, yes. Come right on in, Judah. Make yourself at home!” Gideon’s singsong voice echoed from the kitchen. My fingers grazed the cool metal of the handle of the gun in my hand. The only other noise was Gideon rustling around in the kitchen with the faint clanking of glass giving him away. A rather lighthearted sound. As Gideon rounded the corner, a cocktail in each hand, I raised the gun.
The living room of the mansion was surprisingly sparse. A leather c