Dave Zeltserman - Small crimes

'I haven't traveled much either,' she said. I grew up in Toronto. Once, when I was a child, we went to Niagara Falls, and a few summer trips to Quebec City. But that's really been all. I haven't seen any other towns in the United States other than Bradley, and of course, yesterday, our trip to Burlington.'

'Would you like to see Europe also, Charlotte?'

She nodded.

'We could go there,' I said. 'There's nothing in the world stopping us.'

She laughed. 'Where would you want to go first?'

'I don't know. Italy, France, maybe Spain, it doesn't much matter.'

'I always wanted to see England,' she said. I would love to visit their castles, and see the Thames, and London, and the rolling countryside. Of course, Paris would be beautiful, too.'

'Why don't we do it, Charlotte?' I said. The idea of the two of us traveling off to Europe overwhelmed me. It didn't have to be the other way. I didn't have to force her into killing Manny. We could just go somewhere and leave Bradley far behind. Maybe they'd catch up to me eventually, but I'd get a few good months out of it before they did, and maybe more than a few. There were places where with some luck we could disappear completely. Maybe one of the Baltic states, maybe somewhere in East Asia.

I felt a dryness in my mouth as I asked her, 'What about it, Charlotte? We could drive to New York tonight and catch a plane. We'd be gone before morning.'

It got so quiet. I could hear my heart pounding as I waited for her to say something. She sat staring at me, trying to decide whether I was joking or serious. I guess she decided I was joking. She showed me a little smile as she reached across the table and took hold of my hand.

'That would be so nice, Joe,' she said. 'Maybe someday we'll be able to do something like that. I hope so.'

I forced myself to smile back. The idea had been nothing but an impulse, and a crazy one at that. Once it passed, I realized it would never have worked. We didn't have the money to make it work. And even if we did, we wouldn't have been able to survive together for very long. Not with her being the way she was and me being the way I was. The stresses of running and hiding would've been too much. As it was, I knew she was borderline psychotic.

And there were my daughters. Once I started thinking of them, the idea crumbled into dust around me.

There was only one way out for me, and as much as I hated the idea of what I was going to do to her, I had no choice.

We finished dinner, and afterwards Charlotte made coffee and brought out an Italian dessert, tiramisu, that she told me she had prepared during her lunch hour.

I waited until we had finished the dessert and coffee before asking her, 'Charlotte, how come you've never asked me about my being in jail?'

She seemed taken aback by that, almost as if she'd been slapped hard across the face. 'It's not important,' she said. 'You don't have to tell me about it.'

'It is important, and I do have to tell you about it. I did some pretty bad things years ago when I was cop. Stabbing and maiming Phil Coakley was only one of them.'

I felt something in my throat, and stopped to drink some water. There was a pleading in Charlotte's eyes for me not to say anything more, but it was too late. I looked away from her, though. I didn't want to look at those eyes.

'When I left jail,' I continued, 'all I wanted to do was lead a quiet existence and never harm anyone again. The problem is Manny Vassey knows enough to send me back to prison for a long time.'

'He might keep quiet.'

'He's not going to. I already know that. Phil has worked out a deal with him, and the arrangements are going to be finalized Wednesday.'

'But he's dying. Why would he make a deal?'

'For a bunch of reasons that don't make a lot of sense. Partly to protect his son, mostly to try to save his and his son's immortal souls.'

I couldn't help myself. I looked back over at her. Her face had become dead white and her eyes were now nothing but small gray holes. It was almost as if she was wearing some grotesque Japanese kabuki mask – one that was locked in an expression of anguish. I could see her hands were clenched into tight fists as she waited for what she knew was coming.

I took a deep breath.

'I need you to overdose Manny with morphine,' I said. 'If you don't, I'm going to go away to prison for the rest of my life.' She just sat and stared at me. 'Charlotte, do you understand me?'

Slowly she shook her head. Almost as if she were in a trance, she said, I'm not going to do that.'

'You don't want me to go away to prison, do you?’

‘I'm not going to do that!'

'I'm sorry, Charlotte, but you're going to have to.’

‘I won't.' She was shaking her head harder, her face completely bloodless. 'How could you ask me to do something like this?’

‘Charlotte, please-'

'Get out of here. Get out now or I'll scream.’

‘You're not going to scream and you are going to make sure Manny dies of a morphine overdose.’

‘You're insane.'

'No, not me. And please, quit this act. I know about you, Charlotte. I talked with Dr. Henri Bouchaire. He told me about what you did in Montreal.'

Her mouth fell open. I watched the transformation as her face turned more into a mask of death.

She said, 'He lied to you. If he said I hurt anyone, he lied to you. They investigated those deaths. They checked the levels on the IV bags and saw that the machines hadn't been tampered with.'

'He didn't lie to me,' I said. 'He told me how you probably used a syringe to inject a fatal dose of morphine into the patient's IV tubing. I don't know if you were told this, but he marked the IV tubing on your last victim, and he knows you replaced it after the guy died.'

'He's lying.'

'He's not lying, and even if he's somehow mistaken, it wouldn't matter. If he talked to Bradley Memorial, you'd be finished here, and I guarantee you, no hospital in the States would touch you. And if any of your patients at Bradley Memorial died of respiratory failure, their cases will be reopened, and you'll be looking at murder charges.'

She started sobbing then. It was noiseless. Other than the tears and a slight heaving in her chest, I wouldn't have been able to tell she was crying. It got so quiet. As I watched, my stomach tightened into knots. I felt sick about what I was doing. I found myself wanting to comfort her. I leaned forward and tried to take hold of her hands, but she pulled them away from me.

"This is no big deal,' I tried to explain. 'You've done it before, you can do it one more time. And trust me, Manny Vassey is the most rotten sonofabitch you'll ever meet. He's not worth wasting any tears over. If anything, it's a shame you'll be putting him out of his misery.'

Through her sobbing, she forced out, 'You lied to me.'

'What are you talking about?'

"The only reason you wanted to see me was because of this.'

The knots in my stomach pulled tighter. 'Maybe at first,' I admitted. 'But Charlotte, I'm being honest now, most of what I've told you has been the truth. I have felt good being with you, better than I've felt in years. I don't know if you'll ever want to see me again after this, but if we can get past this, I think we could be good for each other. When this is all over, I'd like to keep seeing you. I promise you, everything I'm telling you now is the truth.'

'How am I supposed to get the morphine? The hospital doesn't leave narcotics lying around. You have to sign them out.'

'I figure you can siphon morphine from other patients.'

From the look that flashed across her face, I knew that's what she had done in Montreal. Then her eyes and mouth opened and her hands went to the sides of her face, and for a moment she was a spitting image of Edvard Munch's famous painting The Scream. She sat frozen like that for a horrible few seconds, and then she started sobbing again. Still noiseless, but more violent than before. Her whole body convulsed with it. Her face seemed to fold up into a mass of creases, her mouth now nothing more than a large gaping black hole.