The garden of dead thoughts
Page 25
A phone uttered a sound in Margo’s bag, but she didn’t move, gazing at Frank as if he had deified.
“Do you want to check who it is?” Frank asked.
“I don’t want to spoil the moment,” Margo replied.
“What if it’s important? Listen, I’m going to pour you a glass of wine and grab another bottle of beer for myself. Later we can go out, we have to celebrate.”
“Great idea.”
Frank got up from the couch, taking the empty bottle of beer with him. He knew who it was.
When he returned, Margo had already put the phone down.
“Who was it?”
“It’s that old man. Mason. He invited us to his house again.”
Frank strained his memory, but couldn’t remember any old men with that name. However this didn’t stop him from agreeing to a visit. He handed Margo a glass of white wine.
“Are you okay with it?” she asked, taking the glass. “He’s just an old man from a restaurant. Practically a stranger.”
When Margo mentioned the restaurant, Frank remembered the strange old dude who sat down at their table. He remembered that he was alone and rich. Did this attract his beautiful wife?
“Why not? What if he likes us so much that he puts our names in his will? Then we won’t have to worry about money at all. He’ll kick off any day.”
“He looks pretty healthy.”
“Let’s go.”
“I’ll call him and tell him we are coming this Sunday. Fine with you?”
“Sounds great!”
Margo finished the conversation and Frank saw her eyes shine. What made her so excited?
“I heard him screaming with happiness from here,” Frank said.
“A poor, lonely creature.”
“This poor creature doesn’t know what to do with his money.”
He had to check one more time, just to make sure, but Margo didn’t fail him.
“I like the way you think,” she said. “Do you want to continue this conversation in the bedroom?”
“Is something good awaiting me there?” Frank asked. He knew this would come. This day wasn’t so bad even though his wife was just a whore.
“You deserve it, dear,” she said.
She was right and he intended to receive everything.
CHAPTER 16
Margo missed the first message, she didn’t even stir. Frank sent the message without getting out of bed. He went into the kitchen to send the second. He didn’t wait a long time and returned, only to see Margo putting the phone back on the nightstand. Her face was calm and indifferent in the light of the screen. It didn’t disturb her? Frank stopped and then Margo noticed him and cried out.
“I’m sorry, I scared you,” he said, almost angrily. She should have been frightened of the message, not him.
“Of course you did!” Margo screamed. “I thought you were in bed!”
“Sorry, I went to get water. Do you want me to bring some for you?”
“What time is it?”
“Almost six.”
Margo leaned back against the pillows.
“No. I’ll get it myself,” she said. “Are you going back to bed?”
“Yes, I don’t have much to do today.” He could leave, but then he would miss a lot of interesting things.
“Sleep then,” Margo said. “I’ll have some coffee. Or juice and I’ll do yoga.”
Frank returned to bed and stretched out with pleasure, watching as Margo grabbed the phone from the nightstand and left the room.
Frank smiled at the dark ceiling, at the round spot of light from the lamp on the barrier that fenced the pool from the canal. He would throw his wife into that canal with great pleasure. He sent her messages from the phone he bought yesterday and there was no point in sending them besides messing with her head and watching her reaction. She thought she manipulated him, used him in her small, dirty games, when he was the real puppet master.
Margo returned to the bedroom about half an hour later. Frank closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.
“Are you all right?” he muttered sleepily.
“Better than ever,” Margo answered in a rather happy voice. Frank frowned. It didn’t look like his messages hurt her. What was wrong with her?
“What happened?” Frank asked.
“Nothing!” Margo returned to bed and fell asleep after a few minutes.
During the day, Margo hadn’t mentioned the messages and behaved as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had happened for her and that was a sad reality. This bitch was made of iron.
Frank asked her about Daisy because he didn’t see her today and she answered that she had fired her. Frank didn’t ask more questions. They went to an Italian restaurant in the evening and he asked about her assistant again. Margo replied that Daisy was an idiot plus she had to pay her salary and that was a lot of money. They had to go into a saving mode before getting his insurance. Frank sneered to himself. They ate in silence for a while before Margo finally asked questions.
“Did you hear anything from your ex? From Marsha? Is that her real name?
“Yes. At least, I think so. Why are you asking?”
“You said she found your phone number and you had to change it. You were afraid she would find your new house.”
“That’s true.” Frank drank half a glass of wine at once. “I forgot to tell you. I met her two days ago.”
Marsha’s story wasn’t bad, but Frank wanted Margo to forget about her and switch her thoughts to something that interested him more now. That was why he told her that he met Marsha with a young guy and she didn’t want Michael anymore.
“Women are unpredictable,” Margo said thoughtfully when Frank finished, but he couldn’t agree with her. In his case, more often than not, he could foresee their every step.
“That’s for sure, but I hope to not get any surprises from you,” he said.
“I love you.” Margo smiled.
They finished the evening with meaningless conversations about Margo’s work, plus their plans for Sunday, a visit to the old man’s house.
Frank didn’t want to go and even thought about excusing himself and skipping the lovely dinner due to his work, but then decided not to give Margo such pleasure. She probably wanted to be left alone with the old man. When he saw her dress for the evening, her plans for their new friend were no longer questioned. She had a red dress on and he could even see her navel showing through it, that’s how tight it was. No one wore dresses like this for an innocent visit to an old man. His wife was in pursuit of a new victim.
The old man’s house was notable and Frank regretted that Mason wasn’t a woman. Only one of his lovers had something similar in the quality of housing.
“Grandfather has his shit right. They won’t have to twist my arm to make me live here,” Frank said looking at Margo’s ass. He grabbed it and Margo slapped him on the arm with all her strength.
Margo didn’t have time to press the bell before the door flew open.
“Here you are!” Mason exclaimed, walking out onto the porch.
He was also dressed up as if he was waiting for the arrival of his mistress. He looked younger than the first time they saw him, to Frank’s disappointment. “How glad I am to see you guys! Come on in!”
“It’s good to see you again and thank you,” Margo said, embracing the old man. She didn’t just hug him, but pressed her whole body against him.
Whore, Frank thought.
“You look good, lad!” Mason said.
“I wanted to change, but Margo said I didn’t have to.”
After Frank saw the house and the way the old man dressed, he decided to raise his shmuck talent to a new level. He recognized what Margo wanted and why she came here, so he decided to add a spoonful of tar into her barrel of honey. Let her be ashamed of him. Let her sigh and roll her eyes.
Mason, that was the name of the old man, showed them the house and Frank understood that the furniture from just one room could co
st more than Frank’s boat. He looked at his wife and saw the rapture and greed in her eyes. She was ready to exchange him for this old clown right now and he thought she loved him. She was such a bitch and he was so blind.
Mason treated them with wine and told some shit about vineyards and mold. Frank entertained himself by thinking what he would do if he lived in this house, if everything here belonged to him. Margo, for sure, also thought about it, but Frank wouldn’t allow it to happen. He tried to figure out how to spoil the evening.
The table was already arranged when they sat down and Frank swallowed saliva from all the aromas. He saw juicy pieces of meat on the table and something else that caught his attention. It was salad with shrimp. Frank’s digestive system responded to shrimp in an amusing way. He usually felt uneasy about ten minutes after consuming them, another five minutes and all movements in his stomach stopped, and for the grand finale, his stomach grumbled like a broken engine and spat out everything in one epic vomit. Frank ate shrimp three times in his life before he noticed the connection between them and his condition. He didn’t really want to fight the consequences of this strange allergy, but the first thing he did when he was allowed to start eating was to get this shrimp salad into his mouth. He ate about five shrimps to reinforce the result. About ten minutes later, he felt the familiar symptoms.
Mason was telling some boring story about his trip to France, when messages began to arrive on Margo’s phone. She took the phone out, although she hid it under the table so no one would notice. Frank tried to guess who it was, but Margo made a first-class poker face and he couldn’t read her emotions. She smiled, but the expression in her eyes didn’t change. She was concentrated on Mason.
“I wish I could see it,” Margo said. “I’ve never been to Europe.”
“You are still so young!” Mason answered. “Very young,” he said. He looked embarrassed.
“I love big cities!” Frank intervened in the conversation, trying not to pay attention to the rolling nausea, and urging it at the same time. “The bigger, the better.”
“You mean cities like New York?” Mason said.
“Yes, New York is a great city. Chicago, Boston! So much of everything!”
“Yes, fast cities,” Mason said. “I lived in Boston and Washington D.C. Spent some time in Philadelphia. People always in a hurry, rushing, can’t stop for a minute. They don’t understand that everything can end at any moment.”
“That’s true,” Frank said. “One second and you are history.”
Frank ate everything that was on his plate and looked at the carpet in the dining room. The fleece, long and fluffy. It would take a long time to clean.
“I hope you enjoyed this simple dinner,” Mason said.
“It was good,” Frank said.
“I’m glad. I really wanted you to like it. Now I want to show you the pearl of my house—my wine room.”
“That would be great!” Margo exclaimed.
“Yeah,” Frank said.
When Mason left the room, Frank grabbed Margo’s arm.
“I feel sick,” he said, holding his stomach.
“No wonder,” Margo snapped. “You guzzled like a pig.”
Frank wanted to break the thin wrist he held, but he knew that wouldn’t hurt her as much as what he was about to do.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” he said.
“I can’t believe you are acting like this,” Margo replied.
“Where are you guys?” Mason called from the other room.
“We’re coming!” Margo yelled.
Frank took a step from the table and stopped when he realized that everything he had eaten was quickly rising up, like a high-speed elevator.
Margo gasped when he threw up right onto the middle of an expensive carpet, as he had planned.
“What happened?”
Mason returned to the room, treading faster than before, and froze in the doorway.
“What is it?” he asked.
Margo looked at Frank with her mouth open. Now the expression in her eyes was clear. She wanted to strangle him, nothing less.
“Sorry,” Frank muttered.
Mason looked at Frank’s work of art and Frank was afraid the old dude would have a heart attack.
“I’ll clean it up,” Frank said. “Where can I find something to clean it up with?”
Mason raised his hands.
“It’s all right,” he said softly.
“He’ll clean it,” Margo said and stopped. Frank saw her face turning pale and thought that she felt sick too. It would be great if her stomach also spewed.
“Mason, thank you for dinner. Everything was amazing,” Margo said and hurried out of the room. She ran to the car and when they sat down, she leaned against the window and didn’t talk to Frank almost the whole way. When she turned to him, she scolded him, but Frank wanted to laugh. Evening went even better than he’d hoped for. Then a message came to Margo’s phone.
“Fucking Daisy.” She opened her purse.
“What happened?” Frank asked.
“I think Daisy ran away or something. I don’t know. Her mother is looking for her.”
“I hope she’s okay,” Frank said as he remembered the graceful body of the young girl, her tears on his skin, her hair on the surface of the water a second before she disappeared from his view forever.
“What would happen to her?” Margo answered.
These were the last words from Margo to Frank. She responded to the message, put the phone back in her bag then her eyes covered with a dreamy haze, and a faint smile appeared on her lips. Frank assumed what she was thinking about and he smiled too. Her dream would never come true. He could do anything about the insurance, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take money that she had or that she would live to reach old age. What a shame. She was a beautiful woman.
CHAPTER 17
Frank hadn’t decided yet how to help Margo to cross over to her next existence, but he knew that it couldn’t be done now. If anything happened to his wife, even if she died from a heart attack, he would still become a suspect. If they checked his I.D. as Michael Buckler, he was done. He had to wait. For how long? A year? Two?
Frank sat on the deck of his boat and examined the piece of land where the house used to stand. It was cleaned so fast, as if nothing had happened. Now next to the empty place was a column with a sign “Land for Sale”.
“That bitch will pay for what she has done to me.”
She had to pay and Frank wanted to see her eyes when he told her he knew everything about her game, and he saw through her like she was made of broken glass.
He didn’t want to go to Margo’s house. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to tolerate her and would strangle her during her next attack in his direction. He, a man who pretended for a living, was nauseated at the thought that he had to pretend. He had to go to the house that wasn’t his and Margo didn’t try to make him feel at home. She let him stay and she could throw him out at any time. To her, he was just an awkward loser that worked for her. For Queen Margo.
He collected all his willpower, didn’t even use alcohol for reinforcement, and went to his wife. The love of his life, which he was going to kill before she killed him, because now, Frank had no doubt that bitch killed her first husband without even blinking an eye. Now it was her turn and the pieces were already placed on the chessboard.
“Check and Checkmate, Margo.”
The first words out of Margo’s mouth when Frank entered the house almost turned him into a murderer. His hands itched with the desire to try the strength of her neck. Although, when he thought about it, he couldn’t turn into someone he’d been already. Now someone planned to kill the killer. It was the irony of fate in a practical and not very pleasant performance.
“What’s going on with the insurance?” Margo asked when Frank entered the kitchen. She drank tea. He knew what it was from the revolting herbal smell. He had memories connected to this smell. Tiffany drank a cup of tea that he
made on the last day of her life.
Frank heard the question, but didn’t answer right away. First he opened the refrigerator and examined its contents. He wasn’t hungry, but he had to find a reason not to look at his so-called wife. He gripped the handle of the refrigerator with all his might, examining the dull, empty shelves. Daisy no longer fed her boss, Daisy fed fish in the ocean.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“What do you mean? You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Margo asked instead of an answer. She no longer hid her emotions and didn’t try to pretend to be a sheep. She was a wolf, irritated and angry.
Frank looked at the empty shelves in the refrigerator for another minute then closed the door, and turned to his wife. He could set up her lover. It would take a fair amount of time to plan and implement everything, but this could be much more convenient and more profitable in the future. The idea of the lover struck him quickly and unexpectedly, like any brilliant ideas and he couldn’t wait to think it over. Of course! This would be an ideal option. He could throw Daisy in there for good measure and the boy would answer for everyone.
“Shall we order pizza?” Frank asked.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Margo put the cup on the table.
“What question?” Frank asked. He heard every word, but couldn’t concentrate.
Margo cleared her throat.
“I asked about insurance on the house.”
Frank held back with all his might.
“It was my house. What’s the difference?” he asked.
“What’s the difference?” Margo asked.
Her voice sounded as if she choked. Frank thought that now she would fling the cup at him or maybe a knife if she wasn’t too lazy to get up.
“What’s the difference?” She continued. “I don’t work and I have to pay expenses for the house. You live here.”
“But I’m your husband,” Frank said. He enjoyed her reaction and wanted to push it further. It was a hook he could get her with. “We decided to live in this house.”
Margo looked dumbfounded. Apparently no one had ever before told her anything like that. It was great, but he had to be careful. The real game had just begun and one wrong move could rob him of victory. It could kick his balls so hard, he would see the end of the world.