The Homicide Magnet

by Matt Ferraz

  Antoinette swallowed. “I didn’t?” she said.

  Grandma Bertha shook her head. “Did you ever hear that story about the woman who cut her husband’s throat while shaving his beard? It was the first time I had seen a murderer. I saw her photo in the papers, and there was something different about her. She seemed strong and determined. Those are two things I think that a murderer needs to have: strength and determination.”

  Antoinette wasn’t sure if she understood what Grandma Bertha meant. “What are you saying?” she asked. “That I lack those things?”

  “I didn’t mean to offend,” said Grandma Bertha. “But come on, Toni! You’re a trophy wife. All you know about life is what you read in gossip magazines. You can have anything you want with a snap of your fingers. And, I’m sorry to say, you don’t live in the real world. I don’t think you have what it takes to kill someone.”

  Antoinette listened, thinking of the time she had pushed her grandmother under the wheels of a bus. Her impulse was to tell Grandma Bertha that she had killed before, and she was ready to kill again and again to get what she wanted. “I appreciate your insight,” she finally said. “And I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  Grandma Bertha smiled at her. “Of course, darling, that’s what it’s supposed to be.”

  “But if I’m not the murderer type,” said Antoinette, “then why were you so sure that I wanted to kill Richard?”

  “There are many ways to kill someone,” said Grandma Bertha. “Most of them don’t involve pulling a trigger. You can mistreat someone so badly that you kill them from the inside out. First you murder their heart, and them the body will follow.”

  “You’re saying I was going to make Richard kill himself?” asked Antoinette.

  “I’m saying you were making him unhappy on purpose,” said the old lady. “It’s not my job to say what you were trying to accomplish with that.”

  They stared at each other. One porter held Grandma Bertha’s stuff and three others waited with trolleys filled with Antoinette’s luggage. “You’d better go and listen to your radio,” said Antoinette. “I’m gonna have a drink and think things over.”

  “You do just that,” said Grandma Bertha.

  “Just be careful with that radio,” said Antoinette. “It can electrocute you if it falls into the bath.”

  Grandma Bertha smiled. “That’s not going to happen, love.”

  Don’t be so sure, thought Antoinette.

  8

  This is too easy, thought Antoinette as she walked down the hotel hallway, her key in hand. Far too easy. This is not how this woman works. She’s smarter than this. It had all happened in a very coincidental way. They had left the mansion at the same time. Gone to the same hotel. Had rooms on the same floor. Met in the lobby. The whole talk about the radio and the tub. Then the porter had given Grandma Bertha the key to her room. She probably lay in the tub right now, the huge radio by her side, ready to be murdered in the most clichéd way possible.

  Antoinette stood outside her room, wondering what to do. The police are going to be there waiting, she thought. That, or there will be cameras, or she’ll have a gun. It can’t be this easy!

  What should she do next? Go back to her room and wait for another opportunity to put an end to Grandma Bertha? But doing that meant showing Grandma Bertha how smart she, Antoinette, was. It’s better that your enemies think you’re stupid.

  There was one solution. Go to Grandma Bertha’s room, pretending she had gone to the wrong room by mistake. They even gave me the key to your room, can you believe that? Once she was inside, she would find out if it was a trap. If Grandma Bertha was in the bath, the radio by her side, practically screaming “Murder me!”, Antoinette would know that Grandma Bertha had planned the whole affair to catch her out.

  If not…

  She walked down the hall. She could hear the dogs sniffing behind the door of room 206. Antoinette put her key in the lock and turned it. The door was unlocked. She pushed it and went in. The dogs jumped around her and licked her hands.

  “Toni!” said Grandma Bertha. “What are you doing here?” She was sitting on the bed, a bucket of popcorn on her lap, watching a horror movie. She was wearing a bathrobe and a wet towel was wrapped around her head.

  Antoinette assumed her most innocent look. “I’m so sorry!” she said. “I must have got the wrong room! The door was unlocked and—”

  “Oh dear!” said Grandma Bertha. “Can’t believe I forgot to lock the door. Forgive me. I’ve just had a bath and was watching Psycho.”

  Antoinette turned her eyes to the TV, where a man being stabbed with a butcher knife. He rolled down a flight of stairs. “I don’t want to bother you,” said Antoinette. She hated horror movies. They reminded her of herself.

  Grandma Bertha was staring at her, showing her gums in a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen this movie a million times already,” she said, taking the remote control and turning off the TV. “Funny thing that you got into my room. Imagine if you had got into someone else’s…”

  “It’s not going to happen again!” said Antoinette.

  “But now that you’re here…” said Grandma Bertha, taking a piece of popcorn and throwing it in the air. It fell into her mouth, and she chewed while speaking. “I want to apologize for the way I’ve been treating you.”

  “There’s no need…”

  Grandma Bertha raised her finger. “I have to,” she said. “You need to know this, Toni – the awful things your husband said, they weren’t about you. At least, not directly. He sent you away because he wanted to propose to me.”

  Antoinette was so astounded, she almost couldn’t speak. “What do you mean?” she asked in a squeaky voice.

  “Silly, I know,” said Grandma Bertha. “Me being my age and all. But he said that a time comes in a man’s life when he doesn’t want a dumb blonde – his words – any more. He wants someone who can keep him company, listen to him, and talk about important issues. He didn’t have that with you. So, he decided…”

  Antoinette completed the phrase for her. “He decided he wanted you instead of me!” She sank to the carpet. “I can’t believe this!”

  “I know, right?” said Grandma Bertha. “Richard told me that after he asked you to leave. He said he wanted to put you in his past before making this sort of commitment.”

  Antoinette felt like throwing up. This was too absurd to be true! Or was it? Now that she thought about it, she realized that Richard was too fond of Grandma Bertha. Ever since she had entered their lives, Richard had been acting differently. He’d started saying no to Antoinette, standing up to her as he had never done before. Sure, she had thought that Grandma Bertha was a sort of mother figure to him. She’d never thought he had romantic feelings for her, the kind that lead a man to propose. But that could be the logical next step.

  “What did you tell him?” asked Antoinette.

  “I told him I wasn’t interested,” said Grandma Bertha. “I mean, look at me. I’m 74, my son is Richard’s age – and I still think of myself as married to my Wilson. I never thought of having another man in my life after he passed away.”

  Grandma Bertha was still chewing the popcorn. Antoinette, sitting on the carpet, had to look up to see her.

  “What do you think will happen?” asked Antoinette. “He’s going to see how wrong he is, and he’ll ask me to come back, won’t he?”

  Grandma Bertha stopped chewing. “Don’t be too hopeful, love,” she said. “Richard is ready to move on, and so should you.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Antoinette.

  “Well, a man doesn’t change his will if he’s not serious about leaving his wife, does he?”

  “He’s changed it?” asked Antoinette. “He’s cut me out of his will?”

  “He did mention he would give you some sort of settlement,” explained Grandma Bertha. “But only out of the goodness of his heart.”

  “He has to give me money,” yelled Antoinette. “It’s the law!”
/>   Grandma Bertha nodded. “Yes, darling, but he told me you were too lazy to read the small print in the pre-nuptial agreement and—”

  Antoinette leaped up so quickly that Grandma Bertha jumped back.

  “What the hell are you talking about, you bitch?” she yelled. “I took a good look…”

  “I’m sure you did, love.” Grandma Bertha got up off the bed, trying to calm her down. The dogs gathered around Antoinette, barking. Grandma Bertha yelled something and they all calmed down and sat in a corner. “Sorry about that. Want a beer?”

  Antoinette nodded. Grandma Bertha went to the minibar.

  “Are you sure he was serious?” asked Antoinette, wiping tears from her face. “About the proposal?”

  “He seemed pretty serious to me,” said Grandma Bertha. “I want to show you something. Could you get me the brown bag on the couch?” Antoinette picked up the bag and brought it to Grandma Bertha, who was holding two cans of beer.

  “Look inside,” she said.

  Antoinette took knitting needles and something made out of black wool from the bag.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Something I’m making for you,” said Grandma Bertha, sitting back down on the bed. “It’s a blanket for when you’re living on the street. You’re finished, Toni. You’ll end up in the gutter, and Richie is going to find a nice young lady and marry her. And you bet I’ll attend the wedding.”

  Antoinette stood as still as a rock. Her face was turning purple, and she was biting her lip so hard that it started to bleed. She pulled out one of the knitting needles and held it high, like the man in Psycho had held the knife.

  Grandma Bertha’s eyes went huge. The dogs sat still. Antoinette was going to kill them too. She was going to paint that hotel room in blood. And the first one to die was going to be that nosy bitch who had spoiled all her plans and had even dared to make fun of her.

  Antoinette stabbed the needle down, right into Grandma Bertha’s heart. Red liquid squirted out. Some of it dripped into her mouth. It tasted odd.

  “Strawberry jam?” Antoinette asked, confused.

  “It’s what they use for blood in movies,” said Grandma Bertha, giggling.

  Antoinette tested the tip of the needle against her fingertip. It was retractable, and squished red syrup when pressed.

  What should she do now? Maybe, if she had a second chance, she should just attack Grandma Bertha. But she didn’t have time. From inside the bathroom, someone yelled, “Hands up, this is the police!”

  They had cameras. They had filmed the entire thing.

  9

  The previous evening

  Grandma Bertha wasn’t sure if she was a detective, in the strict sense of the word. A detective is someone who collects evidence, makes inquiries and sits for hours, disguised, in a parked car to take photos of a suspect doing something suspicious. She couldn’t see herself doing any of that, at least not with the same style. Grandma Bertha had a very good nose for sniffing out evil. She could sense it from a distance, and could tell different types of evil apart the same way someone else could tell between different types of perfume.

  Antoinette Wood was different from everyone she had ever met. Grandma Bertha had to take every precaution while staying at her country mansion. She knew enough about human nature to realize how Antoinette was going to react. There’s an old proverb that says a scared rat will bite the cat that’s attacking him, and that’s exactly what Grandma Bertha expected.

  That woman, Grandma Bertha knew, was a schemer: the kind of person who liked to have everything under control and plan each step to achieve her goals. Grandma Bertha, on the other hand, believed in the power of improvisation. And she knew that schemers get scared when their plans are destroyed by improvisers, then they start doing stupid things.

  It wasn’t just a matter of predicting what Antoinette would do next. Even Antoinette herself couldn’t do that. There was a good side and a bad side to this. The bad side was that, since she was so unpredictable, she was much more dangerous. The good side was that, if she took more risks, she had more chance of being caught, and that’s what Grandma Bertha was counting on.

  She needed to catch Antoinette in the act. That woman had planned each murder in detail to make them look like an accident, not leaving any proof that the police could use to put her behind bars. Grandma Bertha needed something concrete: a gun with Antoinette’s fingerprints, a knife, an axe, anything that a jury would accept.

  But she couldn’t allow blood to be shed. There was only one way that this would work: if Grandma Bertha herself became Antoinette’s target. That way, she wouldn’t risk anyone else, and, at the same time, she’d be able to collect the evidence she needed. There was only one way to do it. Grandma Bertha needed to take her enemy into another environment, one where Antoinette wouldn’t be in control. Grandma Bertha realized she was going to have to make a plan and follow it through, just like Antoinette liked to do. The tables would be turned.

  The old lady was packing, lost in her thoughts, when Richard entered the guest room. The dogs wagged their tails, asking Richard to pet them.

  “Hey, Rich!” said Grandma Bertha. “So, how was it?”

  He shut the door behind him and said, “It was easier than I thought. Splitting up with Toni was something I never thought I’d do, even though…”

  “Even though?”

  “I always knew I should do it,” he said with a sigh. “She’s always been mean to me, and I don’t think she has ever loved me. When you’re rich, people expect you to have a woman you can show off at parties. I never liked the idea, but I thought I should have someone like that.”

  “You deserve better, Rich,” said Grandma Bertha. “You’re a nice, cool guy, and you deserve to find a super lady. I’m proud of you!”

  Grandma Bertha thought of that huge house, plus all the other huge houses that Richard Wood owned, and she thought how large and empty they would feel to him now that Antoinette had left. She had felt the same when her husband passed away. But her son had invited her to come and live with him and his family. Richard, with all his money, didn’t have that. It was going to be hard for him for a while, but it was necessary.

  “What now?” he asked, thinking of the strange arrangements Grandma Bertha had told him to make. Richard had taken the big step of getting rid of Antoinette. But Grandma Bertha still had a few more things she wanted to do before the story was over.

  “Did you send her to the hotel?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  Richard nodded. “Just as you said.”

  “And what about my room?” she asked.

  “I made the reservations,” answered Richard. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea…”

  “You have to trust me,” she said.

  Richard looked sad. He did trust her, but at the same time he was afraid for her. He was only just beginning to understand the danger he had been in, and realizing that the woman he had married was a monster. “The way she spoke…” he said. “I… I think you were right about her trying to…”

  “It’s not your fault,” said Grandma Bertha, sparing him from finishing the rest of that sentence. “You’re not the first good person to fall in love with an evil person. The only thing you have to do is pick a better girl next time.”

  “I might as well be alone,” he said.

  Grandma Bertha looked him in the eye. “We all think like that at first, Rich,” she said. “We think we’re no good and that we deserve to be alone. Don’t worry. It’ll pass. Things will get better. But we need to finish this part of the story first.”

  “You’re sure?” asked Richard.

  Grandma Bertha finished packing. “I can’t quit now, Rich,” she said. “You might have escaped her, but what about the next man she decides to marry? What if she decides to murder him? And what if she comes back to you? I need to make sure she won’t hurt anyone again.”

  “We should call the police,” suggested Richard. “Let them handle it.”


  Grandma Bertha shut her suitcase. “We have nothing on her yet,” she said. “No, Rich, we need evidence, and I’ll get some. All I ask is that you stay firm. Let your butler walk her out. Don’t talk to her again. She has the powers of a witch. If she sees you, you might fall for her again.”

  Richard looked at her in awe. He had never met anyone like her before. Part of him knew that letting an old lady go out and fight crime by herself was insane. He, as a man, should be protecting her, not the other way around. But there was another part of him that spoke louder and said that, whatever Grandma Bertha was planning to do, she was more than capable of doing it. It didn’t matter how fragile she looked; Richard was convinced that she could endure much more than he and Antoinette put together.

  “So, what are you going to do now?” he asked her.

  “I’m gonna leave first,” she said. “She’ll need more time than me to pack. Let her take everything she wants. I’ll get to the hotel first, check in and wait in the lobby. She needs to know I’m there, but she won’t do anything to me in front of other people.”

  “Then what?” asked Richard.

  “Then, I’m sure Antoinette will be glad that the person who ruined her plans is staying at the same hotel as she is. I’m going to become her number-one target, which will make everything much easier.”

  “It doesn’t sound easy,” said Richard.

  Grandma Bertha took his hand. “Don’t worry, darling,” she said. “I have her figured out. There are just a few ways she can try to kill me, and I’ll predict all of them just in time.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “That’s easy,” she said. “Because I’ll be the one who’ll tell her how to do it.”

  That only raised more questions, but before Richard could ask them, Grandma Bertha got up, seeming to have just remembered something. She opened the top drawer of her dresser and took something out. “I almost forgot,” she said. “I made this for you.”