Chapter Excerpt

  To Sleep…Perchance to Die By Donald R. Grippo   Excerpt   ² Jake was on the sofa in Mai’s living room finishing his fourth beer and telling of Rachel’s demand. Empties sat on a side table. Mai was at his side nursing a cup of tea. “Her lawyer is drawing up the divorce papers. She promises to sign them when I turn over the money. Still insists on staying around until the end of my training, and I can’t dispute her story of leaving me. Everyone has to think I’m an insensitive son of a bitch who wants to stifle her career tract by setting up a practice miles away from where she wants to work.” Mai asked, “Did she really say that she deserves the money because you’re going to be rich someday?” Jake nodded, “She did.” “Are you going to be rich?”   He nodded again, “Most likely. Doctors generally make good money.” She hid a smile and asked, “Where will you get five hundred thousand dollars? From a bank?” “No. From my college roommate at Lehigh. Name is Carlton Benton, the Fourth. A real blueblood and filthy fucking rich. I did him a big favor once. Said he’d pay me back. Always saying it. Wants to clear his conscience, I guess.” “Try not to curse so much, darling. It’s unbecoming. You’re an educated man and know better. At least you should.” Her squeeze of his arm said she loved him in spite of his rough language. Jake’s tone softened, “Sorry, I’ll try to watch it.” Mai sipped her tea. “Do you think this Carlton person would be willing to give you half a million dollars?” Jake said, “I’m sure he’ll lend me the money. It’s pocket change to him. He has millions if not billions. Since Rachel wants to delay the separation, I can wait until I see him in person. In January we’re going ice fishing in Maine, and I’ll ask him then.” “Can you two live in the same apartment for another eight or nine months? “The fucking bitch . . . oops, sorry. Yeah, I can. She’ll try to make my life miserable, it’s just her nature, but we were married during my first year here, and it’s been bad since the get-go. I’ve suffered for more than three years. Another few months won’t kill me.” Mai extended her hand. Jake held it as he said, “To paraphrase you a few days ago, nothing will come between us. Not Rachel, not your parents or uncles, not my parents. I promise you.” Jake let go of her hand and got up to take his empties to the trash. “Don’t,” she said, “We can clean up later. There are some things I want to talk about.” Jake sat. “I’ve been thinking about our problem and have come up with a solution. I’m warning you, it requires great sacrifice from both of us, and we need the friend you’re always talking about. Bret Manley.”   Jake was against involving Bret in his personal affairs. As Mai revealed her plan, his incredulity grew with each sentence. When finished, she said, “What do you think?” After a period of silence, Jake said, “Are you fucking crazy? I don’t know how you can ask me to do that. No man would do it. And what about Bret?” He didn’t apologize for the profanity and Mai ignored it. “Don’t think about him. He’s not important. What’s best for us is what counts.” Mai persisted, “Besides, it’ll only be temporary until we come up with a permanent solution.” Jake straightened, sucked in a long breath and exhaled before he said, “I don’t know. I can’t even think about it at the moment.” Mai shook her head, “I wish we could simply go to some far off place where no one would find us, and we could live happily ever after. But we can’t. My upbringing and my family prevent it.” Placing a positive spin on her proposal, “What I’m suggesting allows us to be together. Out from under our parent’s yokes and, more important, away from the scrutiny of my hoodlum uncles.” Jake looked into Mai’s eyes. Shoulders slumping and voice solemn, he said, “You’re not kidding, are you? You’re willing to do this?” Mai pulled him into her arms. “It’s as big a sacrifice for me as for you.” He shut his eyes to block tears, and said, “I love you more than life.” Neither spoke as they held each other. After a while, Jake said, “When you began, you said there were things you wanted to talk about. What else do you have?” Mai shook her head and looked at the floor. “I don’t remember. It must not have been important.” Jake put a finger under her chin and lifted. “Sure it is. After what you’ve told me, I’m prepared for anything.” “Promise you won’t get upset.” His jaws clenched, “I promise.” Hesitating a long moment “Larry came over . . . my old boyfriend,” she said and paused as if waiting for Jake to say or   do something. He didn’t move, though she saw his clenched jaws. Mai continued, “He pounded on the door and insisted I let him in. When I wouldn’t open it, he threatened to break it down. Sound reverberates in the corridor, and the neighbor across the hall heard the commotion. He asked what the ruckus was. It quieted Larry in a heartbeat. He won’t risk a public disturbance. Too much danger of word about us getting back to the office.” Jake felt heat radiating from his body. “Did he leave after that?” “Not right away. He said he wanted me back and was going to do everything in his power to convince me he was a changed man. Promised he’d never hit me again and was sorr . . . ” “What’d you say? Jake demanded. “I told him we were through. That there was someone else. My neighbor had closed his door, but I guess Larry still wouldn’t risk a scene. He said he’d be there for me when I came to my senses, and left. I could tell he was seething. He’s an angry man.” Rage rolled into Jake’s chest, and his lips were a thin line. He was an angry man. Mai put a hand on his arm. “I shouldn’t have told you,” she said. “Listen. Please. I’m not going to give him an excuse to come back into my life. Sooner or later he’ll realize we’re over, though sometimes, the thought of him scares me.” She shook her head in frustration and said, “It’s not right to say it, but I wish he were dead. Hit by a car or something. Then, he’d be out of our lives for good.” Mai’s look fixed on Jake’s eyes. Jake had gained control. “For the time being we’ll forget about him, but if he comes back . . . ” Mai put a quick finger to his lips. “Shhh, he won’t. He proved he was a coward when he hit and bullied me. Now that he knows you’re in my life, he’ll be afraid to come back.”   ²     A northeasterly wind blew leaves and chilled the air. Late Columbus Day revelers wandered the streets in all states of inebriation. Their shouts and singing mixed with the ever present   noise of New York traffic. With the collar of his windbreaker covering his face, Jake Warden hid among the shadows of an alley. He was surveilling a brownstone across the street. To pass time, he rehashed Mai’s solution to their problem. It was what he had been doing since she proposed it, shocking him, and challenging every natural male impulse he had. A loud muffler returned him to the task at hand. Larry Reid lived on the first floor of the building. It was a block from the Hudson River, and river odor permeated the atmosphere. Mai had given him Larry’s address and photo when she told him about the beatings and humiliation she’d suffered. He figured knowing where the son of a bitch lived and what he looked like might come in handy one day. That day came when Larry went to Mai’s apartment and banged on her door. At nine-twenty, using a prepaid phone, he called Larry. When he answered, music, laughter, and boisterous conversation in the background told Jake the man was celebrating in a pub. Jake had said, “Sorry, wrong number,” and hung up. He broke the phone and tossed it in a storm drain. He was waiting for Mai’s ex-boyfriend to return home from whatever merrymaking he’d been involved in. Mai had told him Larry liked to drink, but not to excess. Jake hoped he’d be lucid when confronted. He intended to convince Larry to stop harassing Mai. Larry was intelligent, and if Jake was clear, a verbal warning would make him see the light. He hoped to avoid a fight, but if one was required, that was okay with him. Jake fingered a switchblade in his jacket pocket. There were other ways to get him to stop, if reason or a scuffle failed. One thing was certain, after this night Larry would be out of her life. To loosen the kinks in his back and shoulders, Jake shifted position and checked his watch for the umpteenth time. When he resumed his vigil of the building, he saw a man approaching on the opposite sidewalk. Dressed in slacks and a sports jacket, he wore a scarf wrapped in preppy fashion around his neck. An unsteady gait caused him to lean on a lamppost for support.   When the man reached the stairs of the brownstone, he stopped and moved his head in several directions like a buoy bobbing in the ocean. “He’s had more than usual,” Jake mumbled as he stepped from the shadows and walked toward the curb. Photo in hand, he confirmed Larry Reid was across the street. Larry walked to the brownstone’s steps and began to ascend them. Stout wrought iron railings were anchored in low stone walls on each side. He held the railing on the right with both hands as he climbed. Jake crossed the street on sneakered feet and reached him on the landing. Larry fumbled for the key to the outer door, and Jake stayed back as if he were another tenant waiting to enter. Larry looked at Jake, a question on his face. “Nice night, huh?” Jake said, smiling. “Sure ish.” The reek of alcohol hit Jake. Larry turned and opened the door and loosened his scarf as he entered. Jake followed and went to the bank of mailboxes on the far side of the main foyer. They were alone. Larry went to his apartment and placed his head close to his key as he inserted it into the lock. The door opened. Forgetting diplomacy, Jake rushed Larry and pushed the thickly-built but shorter man into the flat causing him to sprawl on the Persian rug in the hall behind the door. The scarf flew from his neck as if thrown. Jake stepped back to see if anyone was in the building’s foyer and looked to the outside entrance. No one. He slipped into the apartment, closed the heavy wooden door with a kick, and flicked a light switch. On his hands and knees and straining to look over his shoulder, Larry blinked and shook his head, “What the . . . ?” In a low, angry voice, Jake said, “Get up,” “Okay, okay, motherfucker. My wallet’s in my pocket. Take it and get out.” Larry stood on wobbly legs facing Jake. “Not why I’m here, asshole.” Larry’s eyebrows raised. “Whatdaya want?” “We’re going to talk.”   “Talk?” Larry’s arms motioned left and right, “You come in here pushin’ and shovin’ and you just want to talk?” “Yes. About a woman you’re never going to see again.” Larry’s eyes widened then sharpened. “You’re the one,” he said,“I’m gonna kill you.” Spittle flying from his mouth, Larry took a wild roundhouse swing that Jake side-stepped causing him to miss by a foot. Unable to stop his momentum, Larry spun around and fell to the floor. For the second time in a minute, he was on his hands and knees. He began to fast-crawl from the anteroom, mumbling, “My gun, got to get the gun. Kill him.” Adrenaline burst inside Jake, and he sprang and slammed Larry onto his back. He took the switchblade from his jacket. Straddling Larry with his knees, Jake pressed his left hand on Larry’s mouth, while his right laid the knife’s blade against his neck. Face contorted in rage, he growled, “Forget about your gun. Just shut your fuckin’ mouth and listen.” There was fear in Larry’s eyes. Jake’s anger rose to a fury that threatened his breathing and his reason. In order not to hyperventilate, he forced himself to hold his breath. Larry moaned and lost control of his bladder, soiling himself and Jake’s pant leg. His tears flowed onto the Persian rug. Jake’s exhale came out ragged, and he leaned to within six inches of Larry’s face. “You ever contact Mai Faca, I’ll kill you. You got that?” In spite of the pressure from the hand over his mouth, Larry nodded. His breathing was labored and his eyes bulged. A picture of Mai under this man, at the mercy of his abusive ministrations, brought an uncontrollable rage from the pit of Jake’s stomach to his strong arms and hands. He wanted to tear Larry apart. Jake plunged the knife into Larry’s neck slashing to the ear. Blood gushed as if from a fire hose. Larry went into a spasm that ended with his open, unblinking eyes fixed upon Jake. As if in a dream, Jake removed the knife from the neck and stared at the crimson blade. A lifetime passed before he blinked. Drenched in blood, he ran a forearm across the wet on his face,   and stained his sleeve red. With both arms he pushed off Larry’s body and stood keeping his feet in place. It occurred to him to check for a pulse, so he leaned and pressed a finger on the neck. A glop of dark blood oozed from the wound. Grabbing the dead man’s collar and shaking it, he said, “Shit. I didn’t mean . . . ” but couldn’t finish. What do I do? Call the police, say it was an accident. No. No one would believe me. Mai’s words came to him. She had wished Larry dead. Had it been his intention from the beginning to follow her command?

Author bio:

Donald R. Grippo, DDS, practiced oral and maxillofacial surgery in northeastern Connecticut for more than thirty years. His resume includes working as a dentist at the Tennessee State Prison outside of Nashville and as a guard at the Hartford State Jail in Hartford, Connecticut. 

 

These life experiences were drawn upon to tell a story and bring depth to the characters in To Sleep, Perchance to Die. Don is a native of Enfield, Connecticut. He went to Suffield Academy in Suffield, Connecticut, and Syracuse University, where he majored in psychology. He received his dental degree from Meharry Medical College School of Dentistry in Nashville, Tennessee, and his oral and maxillofacial surgical training at Weill Cornell Medical College/The New York Hospital in New York City. He has lived most of his adult life in Windham Center and Mystic, Connecticut. His current residence is Sanford, Florida.

To learn more visit http://dongrippo.com/. 

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Texte: Donald R. Grippo
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 11.11.2013

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