Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 34, No. 5, April 1974

The lantern-jawed guy gave me the eye, then lifted his brows at Beverly.

“What is it?” she asked with that way of hers.

I stood there.

The lantern-jawed guy’s face was slightly red.

“What do you want?” Beverly asked.

“Well, all right,” the lantern-jawed one said. “I’ve got to ask, and I don’t like embarrassing you, that’s all.”

“Embarrass me?”

The plump one nodded. “D’you know an Albert Griner?”

I stood there. That was his name.

Beverly was plenty flustered. Her face was red, her neck red, her hands twining in front.

“No,” she said. “I don’t know any Albert Griner. Why should I?”

Smooth. She was suddenly like ice.

“Mrs. Hudson. I’m sorry, believe me. But we saw some letters at Albert Griner’s place. They had your name on them.”

She stood there.

“Mr. Griner didn’t show up for work today. His mother hasn’t seen him since yesterday noon. She’s worried. He’s just vanished. He’s nowhere.”

“Get out,” she said coldly, but fast.

“Mrs. Hudson,” the plump one said. “You’d better level with us. This is Sergeant Whitted. And I’m Roy Hasseker. We’re from police headquarters.”

She glanced at me and you could see it was all gone inside her. She gave up.

“I haven’t seen him.”

“Not at all? Not even yesterday?”

“Not even yesterday.”

“You’re positive?”

“I’m absolutely sure.”

“Well, thanks, Mrs. Hudson. We’ll be in touch.”

She closed the door and leaned against it and watched me. Her lips had a white ring around them.

“So his name is Albert Griner?” I said.

“Richard. I was going to tell you everything. Today. You’ve got to believe that. Listen, it’s all over. Did you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I might know you’d know.” She stepped up to me, trying to smile. “It’s all over, Richard. I don’t know what happened to me. I... I couldn’t control myself. Now it’s out in the open.” Her chin bunched up. “You’ve got to believe me. He just kept coming here, and everything. I couldn’t make him leave me alone. I was crazy, Richard — just crazy.” Tears squeezed in her eyes.

Billy and Ginny stood there, watching. Billy had his muff-whump, jiggling it. Ginny said something very softly, but I couldn’t say what.

“I’m supposed to believe you were going to tell me?” I said.

“You’ve got to believe that, Richard.” She was nervous as a cat. “You’ve simply got to. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He just kept coming.”

“Where were you planning to meet him, Beverly?”

She came on loud. “Don’t say that. It’s not true. It’s all over. I want you, Richard — just you — and Ginny and Billy. I want us to be a happy family. I made a mistake. You’ve got to forgive me, Richard. You’ve got to!”

I’m telling you, it was like fire inside me. I couldn’t control it. I hated her guts. I hated her so hard, I was all wild. She could stand there and look at me and lie. It was all through her, the lie. You could see it.

“I want us to be happy,” she said. She spoke quickly, now. “You’ve got to believe me. I want you, I love you. I’d do anything for you. We’ve got to preserve our marriage.”

“Quit it. I’ll bust out laughing.”

Her eyes were wet now. She stepped close. “Please, Richard. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid—” She put one hand on my arm. I threw it off with a jerk. I stared at her and this cold feeling went through me.

“Richard—”

“Bitch.”

“Don’t call me that, not in front of the children.”

She wrung her hands, standing there. Her eyes were plenty worried. She kept trying to say something, her lips moving, but she just swallowed and didn’t speak. Then she got it out. “I was weak, Richard. But it’s all over. He’s not coming back. I’ll never see him again. Forgive me.” She came toward me.

I gave her a swat that jarred her. I hardly knew what I was doing. I just knew I never wanted to see her again, and that I had to do something or go mad. It was inside me like a cold steel bar.

“Run to the kitchen and play,” I told the kids.

“Please, Richard.”

I started for the bedroom. Oh, I’d seen him close up one time, in a bar. He had curly black hair, and a pug nose. And he grinned all the time; a self-satisfied grin, as though he got everything he wanted.

“Richard. Listen to me!”

I didn’t even speak. I went over to the bureau, and took the Luger out of the drawer. I looked at her, there in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Beverly. But you did this to the wrong guy, see? I couldn’t live with you now. Knowing you’ll probably meet him somewhere tomorrow.”

She yelled it. “I’ll never see him again! I love you.” The words tumbled across one another. “Richard, you’ve got to believe me!”

“Good-by, Beverly.”

I shot her in the stomach. The gun made a hell of a noise. I shot her again. She just stood there, and another slug caught her in the throat. Then she fell down.

The kids came running. They looked at me.

“What’s a matter with Mommy?”

“She caught a bad cold,” I said, standing there, numb with it.

“Mommy,” Ginny said, squatting down by her. “Mommy.”

Billy said, “Daddy says she caught a cold.”

“That’s right,” I said.