“For whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap

I

“For whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.”

(Galatians 6:7)

The phone rang for a long time before Arthur Dixon heard it. He sat asleep in front of his computer in the shadowy office above his home. His head was tilted forward as he snored in stuttering phrases. The ringing pierced the fog of drowsiness and he awoke with a snap as if he had just been stabbed. With a jerking motion, he went for the phone, but his handicapped movements knocked the handset from the cradle. The handset hit the floor and bounced under the desk. With a groan, Dixon slid out of the chair and crawled under the desk.

The voice in the handset led his blinded hand to it. Dixon rejoiced at finding it and tried to stand up, slamming his head and back into the ceiling of his desk. He winced at his failure as he returned to his knees and backed painfully out from under the desk. Exhausted from the effort, he collapsed, leaning back against the desk. He wearily remembered the handset and brought it up to his head.

“Hello?”

“Dix?”

“Yes. What do you-.” He found it impossible to finish.

“Dix, are you awake?” A woman’s voice spoke.

“Yes. No, but I will be soon.”

“Can you come down to the Park Side?”

“Yes. Yes I can- who is this?”

“It’s Jan. Don’t you remember me?”

“Uhm.“ Dixon closed his eyes trying to summon forth a memory of the speaker.

“You don’t remember me.”

“No, wait I do. It’s-“ Nothing came. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Officer Janice Connelly.” Her tone was flat, Dixon decided she was either mad or in a hurry or both. Suddenly his memory jogged, an image appeared in his head.

“Oh! Jan- Darby’s new sidekick.”

“Yes, that is me, although you apparently don’t remember our earlier conversation either.” She was very mad.

“No. No I don’t.”

“Let me refresh your memory. We discussed the fact that I was Darby’s new partner- not his sidekick or his girl, but his equal. That is what partner means, Dix.”

Her words were sharp and Dixon paused.

Silence.

“Oops.”

“It’s okay.” She said, “I’ll forgive you, again.”

“Thanks” Dixon replied with relief.

“Look, the reason I called is that Darby wants you to come down to the Park Side right now.”

“Tonight?”

“Now. Right now.”

“Why?”

“There’s been a murder.”

That detail woke Dixon up, before that he was almost convinced that this whole conversation had been a dream, a bad one. Now it seemed to be a bad reality, and Dixon sat there wishing that it had stayed a dream.

“A murder? A murder at the Park Side?”

“Yes.” She replied. “Look I’ve got to get back, Darby’s giving me a signal and Steve’s getting restless.”

“What about Steve?” Dixon asked but she had already hung up.

the moment has arrived

Peggy shook Paul’s arm as the credits rolled and the house lights came up, but Paul didn’t respond. She sat back in frustration at him ignoring her again. She look up to his face, he was sitting there stiffly, staring at the blank screen.

“Paul?” she said softly. “I want to go home.”

“Come on Paul, be reasonable.” She began again. Peggy leaned over to kiss his cheek and froze as her lips touch his skin. She wanted to scream.

Paul Murray was dead.

next murder piece

Paul made his way back into movie with a drink in each hand, a tub of popcorn between them. This time he ignored the comments and hisses as he sidestepped over to his seat. He handed a drink to Peggy while holding the tub in his teeth.

            “Where’ve you been?” Peggy demanded as quietly as she could manage.

            Paul told his rehearsed lie, She seemed to believe him and fondly touched his wounded face Her thin fingers traced his cheek and then she bent over to kiss him, but he pulled back. She then made a pass for the tub of popcorn, but Paul pulled it away angrily. Peggy sighed and settled back to her original position, cradling her drink. Let him sulk, all he wants, she thought.

As he stuffed the warm popcorn into his mouth, Paul thought about the threat the thug had made. He flinched as he realized that he had put too much butter-salt on his popcorn. He felt chills, but couldn’t figure out where they came from. His wet pants clung to him coldly. The threat pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. The Grover case had looked open and shut- but now Mr. Hubert Grover had sent a thug to threaten him. Paul smiled as the thought of suing Grover for harassment and this theater too. The money floated around in his head. He happily stuffed more popcorn into his mouth, forgetting all about the dampness in his crotch and Caitlin’s attack.

            Peggy suddenly grabbed his arm and said, “This isn’t diet.”

            Paul handed Peggy the other drink and took another handful of popcorn. He arched his back as a stabbing pain reminded him of the force of that push into the urinal.

            “This isn’t diet either!” hissed Peggy with disgust.

Paul felt a wave of nausea as he put another handful of popcorn into his mouth. It had a metallic taste- maybe it was stale. The chills returned and Paul felt them race through his abdomen. The tub of popcorn dropped from his hand. It spilt all over Peggy’s lap and onto the floor.

            “Paul- watch out- you just spilt the ‘corn!” she said trying to squirm out of the way. She began to brush the oily popcorn off her jeans.

            Paul tried to turn his head to look at her but found he couldn’t. Brad Pitt had returned to the screen. He was saying something about death and taxes. Panic rose inside of Paul, and his heart raced. He tried to get up but he couldn’t feel his legs or feet. He tried to move, but his fingers went numb. It was as if his extremities had gone to sleep. He tried to call for help, but only managed to gasp. He blinked and realized that he was paralyzed. He blinked again staring at the screen and at Brad Pitt. Paul agonized at the thought of having to watch Brad Pitt until Peggy would notice and get help. Paul hated Brad Pitt, and having to watch him. Paul thought: I would rather die.