CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO: Flat-line
Peter was resting comfortably in his hospital bed. The soft glow from the monitors, keeping track of his vitals, was a soothing sight. The morphine made him feel relaxed – almost in a euphoric state. He started mumbling to himself.
“So Harold won’t answer my call. That’s about right. It seems like everyone is trying to screw up this plan. I don’t care. Screw him. Carlos wants to kill me. I don’t care. Screw him. My dear wife is dead. I don’t care. Screw her. Jenson thinks she’s going to ruin my plan. I don’t care. Screw her. I don’t need anybody. I’m going to own this piss-ant town. Screw everybody.”
“That would be hard to do in your condition,” said a voice.
“Who’s there?” asked a surprised Peter. He glanced to the side and noticed a silhouette of a woman. The outside light from the window provided the eerie shadow.
“Who do you want me to be?” asked the woman.
“Why can’t I see you?”
“Because it is dark.”
“Well, turn on the goddamn light.”
“You do not need to use that tone with me. It will only make you upset and exacerbate your condition.”
“I don’t think my condition can get any worse.” He reached over to buzz the nurse.
“You shouldn’t make such sudden movements. Something terrible could happen to you.”
“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here.”
“I am here to make sure your plan does not follow through.”
“How do you know about my plan?” Peter started squirming.
“I heard you talking about it as I was standing here.”
“Well, you don’t even know what it is.”
“Let’s see – You have been hiding the fact that William Joseph Wainwright has been kept incapacitated for a year while you ruin his name and take over the firm he started with you. You’ve been using Carlos Verona, making him believe that he would basically own this, what did you call it, piss-ant of a town. You convinced the chief of police that he would get his share of the action if he would cooperate with your dealings. You promised Apocalypse Records to Harold Rogers as payment for working on this plan with you. You have been using Dave Peltier to keep the Wainwright secret from everybody, not realizing he would try to screw you over, the way everybody else planned to do.”
“Nurse,” screamed Peter.
“I guess you knew about Gary Bell, didn’t you?”
“Nurse.”
“He was waiting in the wings the whole time, waiting until the time was right to take over everything you’ve been working so hard for.”
“Nurse.”
“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about Carlos Verona, Harold Rogers, Gary Bell, or Dave Peltier. They’re all dead.”
Peter was stunned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t you even feel the slightest remorse for the loss of your lovely wife, Francine?”
Peter was about to open his mouth.
“Don’t bother telling me. I should not upset you anymore. You won’t even have to worry about Andie Jenson and Chief Bushman ruining your little plan. You are not going to live long enough to even see it through. Good-bye, Peter Grimes.”
Peter watched the shadowy figure leave the room. He tried to scream for the nurse again. As he raised himself in his bed, a blood clot lying near one of his crushed legs dislodged. It traveled to his heart, stopping it instantly. A nurse came through the door and saw the flat-line on the monitor.
The Devil's in My Bathroom Page 64