“It looks like a piece of flying M&M’s candy! It took you idiots four months to draw a picture of an M&M! You’re both lunatics!” Barbara couldn’t stand up from laughing so hard. She walked out of the office in fits of laughter, which were soon joined by the other employees. The two men were devastated.
What do numbskulls do when their egos are shattered by howling women? The two-man committee took their design to Man Child’s office and stared at their spurned design. For two full hours they stared at the design without moving or speaking. Occasional office laughter from the females still erupted, but it was finally dying down. Finally, the males’ tempers flared. Blame was passed back and forth; then punches flew and they shoved each other’s bodies around. Above the desk where they’d labored for months to create the flying M&M was mounted David’s biggest and heaviest trophy. It was the male lion’s head complemented with outstretched paws and claws, complete with open jaws displaying its four-inch canines.
Unable to contain his swelling rage, Muscle Boy blew his top. He let out a scream. “Fucking cunts!” he roared a few times, followed by a shout of “Fucking idiot!” Then he shoved Man Child into the wall, the force of his push reverberating throughout the room. The impact broke the wall and knocked the lion’s head off its mounting, which landed squarely upon Man Child’s head. It was head upon head, and neither had a brain.
Man Child was stunned and traumatized, the lion mount having almost knocked him out. Now it sat atop the flying M&M design, twelve inches from his face, and stared at him with its huge brown glass eyes. He was face-to-face with those terrifying teeth. His heart leaped to his throat as he screamed in absolute horror. The fight-or-flight response triggered his hypothalamus and primitive instincts overwhelmed the simple man. Instinct suddenly dominated all of Man Child’s cognitive reasoning.
Gripped by terror, his teeny mind completely lost control of his actions. He ran screaming into the hallway, terrified in flight from an imaginary raging lion about to bite his head off.
As fate would have it, David was in the hallway that very moment, walking in the opposite direction toward the very space the females cynically dubbed ‘Corporate Logo Headquarters.’ Man Child ran right over him, screaming at the top of his lungs in abject terror, breaking David’s glasses and knocking the wind out of him.
“You idiot,” David groaned. “What’s the matter with you?”
“It t-tried to k-kill me,” stammered Man Child, pointing with a trembling hand toward Corporate Logo Headquarters. He honestly believed the lion had resurrected somehow, his simple mind unable to grasp that he’d been bumped on his noggin by a deader head than his own. Eventually, the two men picked themselves up from the floor, regained their composure and pretenses, put their romantic feelings above their upsets, and sorted things out. The traumatized man was given three weeks paid leave to help him calm down. David bought a new pair of glasses.
The card-fed computer was another cause for crisis every time dividend and capital gains calculations needed to be made. One hot August afternoon, the internal system that supplied cooling waters to the air conditioner in old Sparky’s room sprang a big leak. Man Child, the beast’s attendant, was in the lunch room eating a sandwich and reading a comic book when the disaster struck. Not every woman on staff called the BlatherFlameer ‘Old Sparky.’ The newer ladies to the firm never saw it spark, but they did see it punch and shred cards, so BlatherFlameer was dually named ‘Old Punch and Shred’ and ‘Old Sparky.’
Man Child had Old Sparky running the annual capital gain and dividend computation unattended when the leak sprang. Without water, the air conditioner failed and the electro-mechanical beast quickly overheated. Soon Sparky was chopping the shareholder record cards into multiple pieces and spitting them up into the air. The record cards were shooting everywhere and then landing on the floor—or rather in the lake, as the floor was quickly covered in six inches of water. Then the big electrical fire happened. The computer began sparking and smoking. Before the fire alarm sounded and anyone noticed things were amiss, a torrent of water streamed down the hall into other offices and poured through the ceiling of offices on the floor below. Some water managed to find its way into the elevators and caused them to short-circuit, trapping passengers in the cars between floors and shutting down the office building. Sparks, smoke, fire, and water were shooting out of the computer room when the fire department arrived. Main Street was cordoned off and traffic rerouted around one block of the downtown.
All employees from all offices in the building were evacuated onto Main Street by order of the Plaintown Fire Department. Man Child stood crying next to Muscle Boy, who was also in tears. Both were afraid the firm would be closed indefinitely by order of Plaintown Fire Department. Where else could they go? What could they do? Rublina, still in her final week of paid employment, went to the nearest bar to avoid answering questions. Susan, Barbara, and Mrs. Rodriguez all sat on the sidewalk with their backs against the building across the street, reading paperback novels and newspapers while waiting for the all clear signal. David pleaded with the fire chief for forbearance, saying that it was all an unforeseeable mechanical failure and that it would be repaired by a competent air conditioning technician.
After order was restored and the elevators were working again, the task arose to figure out how much money needed to be paid out to each shareholder. David ordered an all-hands effort to tape the shredded and waterlogged computer cards back together. For the next three days, the entire staff was on their hands and knees on the floor, trying to match the torn soggy cards. When the effort concluded, everyone realized they had no clue as to who should get what. Some cards were torn while others were crumpled and warped, but still close to resembling something the machine could process. Some cards were reduced to shreds of soggy confetti. But hey, they could tell the Securities and Exchange Commission that they’d tried their best if anybody complained. Everyone just hoped no shareholder would do a personal calculation of their dividend and capital gains from their statement records and match it to what they were actually paid. David decided the distribution checks should go out based on pure guesswork as the optimal solution. If somebody complained, he instructed administration to tell the shareholder that their payment got mixed up with someone else’s, that it was the bank’s fault, and that they’d get it straightened out.
After every account was paid something, the firm’s bank checking account for distribution payments still held eight hundred and forty-six thousand dollars. The balance should have been zero. If the shareholder servicing agent bank noticed this discrepancy, the firm risked a regulatory inquiry. Something needed to be done quickly.
David had Rublina issue a corporate resolution declaring a long-time loyalty dividend to shareholders who had been with the fund since the day of inception. This would be only one shareholder, David’s mother Eloweiss, whose assets were held in trust with David as her sole beneficiary and sole trustee. Rublina signed a letter of resolution for the corporate records whereby she indemnified the trust account for any finding of wrongdoing. After all, she was still an officer and she had her errors and omissions insurance coverage for two more days. David ended up pocketing an extra eight hundred and forty-six thousand dollars. As a result of the fire and flood, the excess funds were reposed to his benefit.
The damage was repaired. There was some staff discussion and a recommendation to replace the old BlatherFlameer with a new computer called a PC, or personal computer, which did more, took up little space, required no elaborate cooling system, and required no cards to be punched. Bob told David the world was passing the firm by with the new technology of digital personal computers.
“We need to get rid of that thing. We could save office space, eliminate one employee, reduce our liability. It’s only a matter of time until Old Sparky sparks and floods again. What’s wrong with modernizing?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with modernizing. First, the new technology isn’t proven.”
> Bob interrupted. “The new computers don’t catch fire and flood buildings. What more proof do you need?”
“Don’t get smart about this. There’s one very good reason to keep this machine.”
“What could possibly be the reason?”
“It hasn’t killed anyone!”
“What?”
“Those new computers are made by the successor company to the ones that had the old punch card machines in Hitler’s Germany. Those punch cards categorized everyone so Hitler knew who was a Jew and who was a goy. He used the data on the punch card to hunt down German Jews and deport them to Poland and on to Auschwitz!”
“David, listen to yourself. These machines didn’t do anything wrong. It was their misuse that caused the deportations.”
“That doesn’t matter! We have a lot of old wealthy Jews as clients. If they came in here and saw one of those new machines, they’d remember the Holocaust and take their money elsewhere.”
“Where is elsewhere, David? Every elsewhere already has new computers. Where would they go and not see a new computer? David, this Holocaust thing is affecting your business judgment. These old clients you talk about already have the new computers in their offices and homes. I know. I’ve seen them. We need a new computer.”
“We’re not getting a new computer and that’s final! I will not even consider it until they start making the new computers bigger. Bigger is better! That’s always been true and it will always be true, everyone knows that. End of discussion. If I see a new computer in here, I will personally shoot it. No new computer!” David was beet red. His authority and reasoning was just challenged and he was like a bull seeing a red flag waving before his face.
Bob turned away and went to his office, throwing his hands in the air. There was no point in advancing a disagreement from an argument to a fist fight.
David vetoed the staff’s recommendation to replace Sparky. It was already paid for, he declared, and a valuable employee was trained to run it perfectly. It was integral to the firm’s record-keeping procedures, he explained. It would be like shooting a loyal old friend.
And indeed, the old BlatherFlameer was a great old friend to David, one that occasionally stole large sums on his behalf and paid him handsomely.
THE KEY AND THE BLADE
Sparrow waited until the Friday before a three-day Labor Day weekend. Everyone left the office for the last summertime break. Aspens were turning golden and beginning to shimmer in the late summer’s breezes. The big game animals, the bighorns, the elk, the Dall sheep, and the deer were all sizing others of their kind for the upcoming rut. Many of the office staff planned to make a weekend pilgrimage to the mountains for the animals and fall colors. David was making a big game jaunt to a Texas game farm to harvest a prime ibex, all the staff women planned to be away, and the office boys left earlier that morning to do whatever it was they did.
Sparrow assured Mrs. Rodriguez she’d lock up before she went home, but wanted to read some new regulatory releases before she surrendered to a mini vacation. There was nothing suspicious about Barb’s declaration; she was the notorious office workaholic. As employees filed out the door, she kept count until she was satisfied everyone was gone. Then, to be doubly sure, she went through every office in case she’d missed someone. Finally she was satisfied she was alone in the office with all the keys necessary to read the secret files in Debbie’s file room.
She went to the woman’s desk where she’d seen the brass key. It was there, right where she’d seen it that day weeks before. Barbara took the key and the copy key she had made from the wax imprint of David’s. Together she inserted the two keys into the file cabinet and turned the odd, specially made lock. One key turned clockwise, the other counterclockwise. The cabinet opened, exposing a set of files that contained the secrets of the firm. Barbara’s eyes widened as she read. Then she made copies.
One of the files contained the most peculiar invoices. They were for insect supplies. David routinely purchased tarantulas; emperor scorpions in shades of black, blue, and green; cockroaches; palmetto bugs; worms; beetles; grasshoppers; silverfish; ants; fleas; lice; and centipedes. After she’d copied all David’s files, Barbara called Chief. The situation was ideal. David was away, his wife was away to Europe with her girlfriend, and there was no one at his house.
Chief sent Guido ‘The Blade’ Checini to help his daughter the next night, Saturday. There was no time to waste. Blade and Sparrow walked to the perimeter of David’s property at dusk and waited in some shrubs until dark. Blade observed for a good hour to see if any shadows passed between the closed drapes and the inside lights. There were no signs of life except barnyard geese and possibly an inside dog.
Blade had been a cat burglar in his previous line of work, and his skills came in handy. He brought along three pounds of raw sirloin for any dog, complete with a sleeping pill powder rubbed into the meat. The two made their way to the house, staying low to the ground while approaching from the side opposite the ponds where the geese nested for the night. Blade had a master key ring, and one of them worked on a side entrance.
A friendly mutt of a dog came to the door and barked. Blade anticipated this and fed the dog the three pounds of sleep beef. Once inside, Blade quickly figured out the home had a sealed-off area and he searched for the secret way to open it. On a bookshelf, behind a Torah book, was a latch. He pulled it and the bookcase released from its wall fastener, opening to a secret room. It was pitch-black except for a small green glow that showed through the floor crack of a side door off to the right of the bookcase entrance. Sparrow sensed the smell immediately, the same one David had when he’d groped her. There was the pungency of decaying flesh and rancid ketones. The formaldehyde smell failed to completely mask the putrid scent; rather it mingled with it. They went inside and found a light switch.
Sparrow began taking pictures with her 35mm camera. There was an altar, complete with a gas-fueled Jenn Air industrial burner stove. Beyond the altar was a small recess with doors that latched. A small electric ten-watt light blinked over the doors. Blade opened the doors, revealing original Torah scrolls from a Polish temple that was destroyed during the Holocaust. They were probably hundreds of years old, complete with velvet covers in reds and blues and adorned with elaborate silver. Apparently the temple’s rabbi or cantor escaped Europe with the scrolls. Possibly they were a gift to Marvin from one of the religious leaders in Poland or Germany that he’d rescued from the Holocaust, and they were now owned by David.
Sparrow looked closely at the gas grill. It appeared that some skin was burned fast to it in one corner and not completely scraped off. It was…. Sparrow gasped. Could this be human skin? It was only a small fragment, but was too smooth and thing to be pig, cow, or chicken.
Off to the right of the altar was another larger recess into an underground wall. It had a louvered partition door separating it from the main room. A soft green luminescence glowed from under the floor jam. Sparrow sensed the smells came from behind the door. She moved forward with some trepidation, for this was not some ordinary closet light escaping. When she opened the louvered door to peer inside, a brighter green florescent light went on automatically, soft and ethereal. Her face was slapped by a sudden rush of humidity, her hair and body steeped in a languid soup of clouds and green light. Then the stench overwhelmed her. This was David’s chamber of death.
Rotted flesh and trace formaldehyde smells forced her to cover her nose and mouth to try to stave off the overpowering stench. As Sparrow’s eyes dilated to adjust for the semi-darkness, she noticed random movements on the wall in front of her. With her light-gathering peripheral vision, she detected movement on the side walls also. As the objects came into focus, she stepped back in horror and gasped, Blade steadying her. All around them were glass-partitioned walls with insects of many species.
There were cockroaches, palmetto bugs, worms, centipedes, and spiders. Blade shined his flashlight into the glass cages. Insects of all sorts were feeding
upon rotting flesh. In some of the glass cases were remnants of human hands and feet, along with multiple other parts and bones, all being methodically and meticulously stripped of all flesh. And there were three decomposing human heads with ants crawling into and out of the eye sockets, mouths, and ear cavities, obviously feasting upon whatever tissues remained within the cranium that they had not already eaten. Bold swaths of hair and scalp were missing from the grisly specimens, and swarms of silverfish tugged furiously at the hair roots seeking their meals. Ants did their work and silverfish did theirs, neither species interfering with the other in a nod to professional courtesy.
One head was smaller than the others, likely a woman’s. Sparrow recognized enough of it to believe it was Marty’s. In another separate compartment, there was a formaldehyde-filled jar containing a fetus of about three months’ gestation. Suddenly the rush of realization weakened Sparrow’s knees. The fetus was Marty’s. No wonder she had such a happy peaceful sheen on her face the last few times Sparrow saw her. She was going to be married and have a child. Sparrow vowed to keep all this to herself and never tell anyone, not even Bob. Revelation of the fetus could only cause more pain and sorrow for him and Susan. No one would ever know about the murder of this unfortunate creation.
The green room was beyond anything Sparrow could have ever imagined. It made a powerful lasting impression, like seeing Niagara Falls up close for the first time, only the wonderment she felt was the opposite of majesty. It was a look into the opposite of that, the unfathomable darkness of a deranged human soul. Sparrow was shocked as she grasped the enormity of the insect room and the depravity of its evil genius creator. She only had a glimpse of the middle phase of David’s body disposal operation. She did not see that she was in the midst of an ingeniously evil organic processing plant where rendered flesh was fed to the barnyard pigs; bones, cleaned by the insects, were removed and pulverized in David’s wood chipper to fine granules and powder then returned to the soil as nutritional supplements for the rose beds; and insects that were injured or expired were fed to the guinea hens and other insects. But, what she did see was horrifying.
When The Butterflies Come Page 27