Fish Farm, Walt Sautter [best story books to read .TXT] 📗

the information but why did you come over here at this hour to tell me?”
Hal paused for a moment.
“I just had a gut feeling that you should know” he replied.
“Just a feeling if you know what I mean” he repeated.
That evening proved Hal to be right. Jack heard the knock on the apartment down the hall, the muffled conversations, the door slam and then the subsequent knock on the next door. The sounds got louder and louder as they progressed towards his apartment.
Within several minutes, his door vibrated with a sound rap.
Jack opened the door to reveal three of the Firemen with the kid in tow.
“How about this dude?” they asked the boy.
The boy looked squarely at Jack, paused and shook his head and then stared downward.
Evidently, Jack’s disguise had been effective.
“I’m getting’ a little tired of this shit sonny boy” the leader said to the boy in a disgusted voice.
“You best be getting’ your memory straight or I’ll be beginnin’ to think you made at this shit up” he continued.
“We’ll be back next month and save up an extra ten bucks. Insurance premiums are goin’ up” he said with a scowl as he pushed Jack back into the room and slammed the door.
Jack sank back into his chair and shut his eyes.
“How much more of this could he take? How could he continue to idly watch everyone in the neighborhood being continually harassed, exhorted and intimidated by this group of thugs.
Not much longer” he thought to himself.
Jack arose and walked into the bedroom. His gaze passed over the dresser top and he noticed the plastic bag he had placed there several weeks ago. He picked it up and held it up to the light to more carefully examine its contents. It contained ten small white pills, those he had taken from Mrs. Murray’s apartment.
“Dioxin” he muttered to himself, “.500 milligrams.”
He paused in a brief thoughtful trance and then replaced the package on the dresser.
The next morning the library opened at nine A.M. Jack was waiting at the door. He immediately went to the computer bank and began his search.
He entered “dioxin toxicity” and carefully read the results.
“Oral doses effective after two hours. Lethal dosage 5 to 25 milligrams dependent on body mass.”
“Ten times .500 milligram gives 5.000 milligrams. It’s going to be close but worth a try ” he thought to himself as he left the library.
On the way home he stopped at the Lunch Box. He sat at the counter, ordered a coffee from Charlie and waited.
Ten o’clock, on the dot and in they came all four of them, sat at the same booth, in the same seats and spewed out the same profanity laden banter to each other.
He watched carefully in the mirror before him as DS eagerly withdrew five sugar packets from the container on the table.
“Let’s get that coffee over here right quick. Don’t be keepin’ me waitin’ and get me all pissed off at ya!” he yelled to Charlie as he slapped the packets on the back of his hand.
Jack continued to sit at the counter with his back towards them and watch Charlie scurry back and forth to fill their order.
After a few minutes, Jack reached into his pocket, withdrew two dollars, placed them on the counter, slipped several sugar packets into his pocket and left.
Back at his apartment, he took the ten pills from his dresser a carefully crushed them with a spoon into a fine powder. Then, he surgically opened one of the sugar packets with razor blade, discarded the contents and carefully poured the powdered pills back into the packet. He dipped the end of a toothpick into a drop of glue, applied it to the packet opening and skillfully resealed the package.
That night, sleep was brief for Jack. He arose several times, went into the kitchen each time and drank a beer, thinking maybe that would help. It didn’t!
Finally, the sun cracked through the window and Jack awoke from his last nervous attempt at sleep. His mind raced with the reality of what he was about to do.
“Forget the right and wrong of it, just do it and get it done” he told himself.
“What’s one more dead sewer rat anyway?”
As nine thirty approached, he stuffed the sugar packet into his pocket and headed towards the Lunch Box.
As usual, Charlie served him his cup of coffee and a bit of idle chatter at the counter and then disappeared into the kitchen to continue the day’s cooking. Jack immediately moved to the table behind him, removed all the sugar packages from the container and replaced but two, one being that which he had brought with him.
Then, he waited!
Nine fifty-five, the door opened and they all marched in with the usual boisterous profanity.
“Get your ass out here with the cups, Charlie boy” one yelled back at the kitchen as they slid into the booth.
Charlie emerged from the back room carrying four mugs and a pot of coffee which he placed on the table in front of them.
Jack watched them keenly in the mirror behind the counter. DS reached for the sugar, picked up the two packets, tore them open, pour the contents into one of the cups filled it with coffee.
“Hey Charlie man we’s need more sugar out here. It’s like my coffee like my ladies, hot, black and sweet if you know what I mean.”
With that one of them reached to the booth behind him and retrieved several sugars from the adjacent table and handed them to DS.
He poured the additional sugar into the cup and took a large swallow. Jack took in every move, more gulps and after several he saw DS reach for refill.
“It’s done! ” he thought to himself.
He sat patiently awaiting. An hour passed and Jack still waited.
He noticed DS becoming quieter than usual and soon silent while the others chattered on.
“Hey boy, what’s with ya” one finally said to him.
“Ya aint said shit and ya aint lookin’ that good either” he announced.
DS slurred out his response.
“I aint feelin’ so great somehow. I’ll be best goin’ home and getting’ a little nappy in.”
“You be needin’ some help?” asked one of the others.
“Since when does I need help with anything?” he snapped back in a labored voice.
With that he slid out of the booth and walked to the door with slow measured steps.
Jack immediately placed two dollars on the counter and left Lunch Box following the stumbling DS from a safe distance.
He made it about two blocks from his building and suddenly his knees buckled. He fell against a wall adjacent to the sidewalk and unsteadily supported himself trying to regain his balance. After a minute or so he proceeded onward with the same wobbling gait.
When he finally reached the apartment door he leaned against it and fell into the entrance.
Jack walked hurriedly towards him and arrived at the door to find him lying on the stairs barely conscious.
“Come on man! Let me help you up to your place” said Jack as he attempted to lift him into a semi upright position.
DS struggled to his feet and with Jack’s assistance slow moved up the stairs, one labored step at a time to his apartment door. Once there he fumbled for his key and vainly attempted to insert it into the lock.
Jack reached down and guided his hand and the door opened. He maneuvered him to the bedroom and dumped him onto the bed. He lay there on his back, taking deep, slow breaths, eyes closed bearing a pasty, grayish skin tone.
Jack sat down on the chair beside the bed and breathed heavily himself.
After several minutes, he summoned his strength, arose, walked into the kitchen and fished around for a garbage bag in each of the cabinets.
He went back to the bedroom. Nothing had changed. If anything DS’s breathing seems a little better than before.
Jack sat down on the chair again, this time clutching the bag in his hands.
Minutes passed and once more Jack thought he noticed improvement in the man’s breathing. Then, his eyelids began to flutter. One eye started to open.
A multitude of butterflies soared in Jack’s stomach as he arose, placed his hand behind DS’s head, lifted and slipped the plastic bag over him. He twisted tightly around his neck and held it.
Within seconds, the man’s legs began to quiver and after several more seconds, all motion ceased. His legs no longer moved and his chest failed to rise.
“It was done!” he thought and a strange calm came over him.
He rolled the body to its side and reached into the pocket to examine a large, bulging object that it contained. He grasped it and pulled from pants. It was stack of one hundred dollar bills folded in half and secured by a rubber band.
He rolled the body to the other side and withdrew another folded wad of bills from the left pocket. He shoved both rolls into his pockets.
“Now what?” he thought.
Should he just leave the body?
After DS failed to show up for a day or two, some of the gang would surely come looking. When they found him what next?
What would they suspect?
Heart attack?
He sure looked blue!
Drugs? Maybe?
He paused his thoughts for a moment and then continued.
“When they find him with empty pockets, no cash, that would definitely revival the real cause of his death – murder”.
Jack wasn’t about to put the money back, of that he was sure.
“The only other choice then is to make it disappear” he concluded.
He hesitated to reappraise his plan and then pulled the body from the bed onto the floor and dragged it to the closet door. He kicked the pile of dirty clothes from the closet floor out into the room and pushed the body into it. He proceeded to cover it with the clothes and then closed the door tightly.
Jack left the apartment locking as he did and walked straight back to his own house and called Petey.
“Petey – This is Jack. I’d like to do a little fishing tomorrow. What do you think? Up at Larry’s?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.
Petey could tell from of Jack’s voice that there would be no fishing, probably fish feeding. He had heard Jack say many times that he was tired of “takin’ shit” from the FM and it had to be ended. He knew intuitively from Jack’s sober tone that he had just taken some of the necessary steps of which he had spoken.
Then Petey stuttered out a subtle question hoping his suspicions were unfounded.
“Are going to bring the bait again this time?” he asked hesitatingly.
“I am” replied Jack.
“I’ve got to use it before it goes bad on me” he added.
“Well, I guess we got to go then. I’ll call Larry and I’ll pick you up at about nine o’clock.”
“No Petey, let’s make it about five so we can get the bait into the trunk without a problem.”
Again a short silence.
“Sure Jack, five it is.”
Jack put the phone down, reached into his pockets and pulled out the two large rolls of bill and put them on the table.
He began