Scene From a Bad Crime Movie

Carl counted down from ten. When he got to zero and didn’t hear the door opening, he started over,

“Ten, nine, eight, seven six, fiiiiiiiivvvvveeee…”

Not even the sound of footsteps outside. The car door had opened. The sound of the lock, the double ‘beep beep’ had sounded. She could have gone to the neighbors. But he had assured Mr. Milde that there would be no problems. If she came back with someone else, or if she didn’t come back at all, there would be a big problem.

He opened and closed his fists inside the fake leather, stretching the gloves. He should have worn them at least a day or two before now to break them in. He put the rope back in his hands and pulled it taught.

The only window in the basement was dirty and narrow. Still, it did point towards the driveway. It would be foolish to exit through the back, someone might see him, one of her neighbors. His plan had been to stay in the basement until the middle of the night, so that he could escape under cover of darkness.

Looking out the little window, he could see the tires of her car, but nothing else. Maybe she was in the garage. It was all a waiting game.

Uncle Bob would be waiting for him in the Petro lot starting around one in the morning. It was a three mile jog, but Carl had been training. His calves hurt like nothing else.

“Thank god you’re here.”

A high pitched melodic voice called out behind him. As he turned, the bag of cleaning supplies fell from the top of the counter and onto the concrete floor.

There stood Nadine Milde in the basement door frame. She was just as she had been in the photos Mr. Milde had shown Carl; petite, button nosed, with sparkling blue eyes and curly amber hair. She was, to use the first word that came to Carl’s mind, beautiful.

“I’m sorry to have frightened you.” she said, crossing closer to him. “Landlords told me you’d be here soon but I wasn’t sure if you’d make it today. Is it going okay?”

She pointed to the corner in which a rusty looking water heater stood. Carl, with a bit of a stammer, was able to say only,

“Yeah, alright.”

“Is it the little gauge like he thought or will we have to order a whole new one?” she asked.

“Well..”

The plan was almost gone. He’d known the second he turned around that there was a slim to none chance he’d carry it out today. But the way she smiled at him and the way her small frame was outlined in light by the light coming in made her too real. She was a person now. And not just any person. A person he liked.

“It’s okay, I knew we would probably have to wait. I’m not gonna be mad about it. Would you like to come upstairs for a tea before you go?”

She pointed to the stairs which he had seen before in the pictures Mr. Milde had shown him. Carl hesitated. If he went upstairs then he knew he’d be visible through the big bay windows to anyone passing by. It was very important that he not be seen. He’d worked so hard on that part. Then again, if he left out the back, there was an equal chance of someone seeing him that way.

“I’ll come up, yes, if that’s alright.” he said.

The kitchen was spotless and the sea blue rugs looked like they had just been cleaned. On the walls, the refrigerator, lining the hallway, were pictures of little Margot.

It had been a stupid decision. He needed money, yet nearly every person in the world was in the same boat. Mr. Milde had painted such a vulgar picture of Nadine. She was supposed to be shrouded by an aura of black. She mistreated Margot, didn't really care for her. Nadine only thought of herself which made her a totally unfit mother. That was all according to Mr. Milde.

Nadine caught him fixating on a framed photo of Margot on a beach. Her red curls were whipping in the wind and Rebecca stood to the side as though she could block the wind that was assaulting Margot by doing so.

“This is my little buggie. Margot. She’s my whole world as you can probably tell. At her grandma’s tonight.”

"She's precious." Carl said. "She's a little clone of you, isn't she?"

Margot was a six year old carbon copy of Nadine. There wasn’t even a sniff of suggestion of Mr. Milde anywhere on Margot’s face.

Mr. Milde insisted otherwise. He had asked Carl several times during their meetings,

“Doesn’t she look just like me?”

While waving the photos in front of Carl’s nose. Mr. Milde didn't even have any hair, and when he had, it certainly was not the deep red of Nadine and Margot's. At the time the only thing Carl could smell was the thirty thousand, he didn’t care if he had to lie to the idiot through his teeth.

“A spitting image, no doubt about it.”

Carl had said several times.

Mr. Milde was not a wealthy man, no not at all. The thirty thousand had come from self garnishing wages, borrowing from a few friends, and a small personal loan. Carl had never really thought about it before, but how was Mr. Milde planning to care for Margot once she was in his possession anyway? Mr. Milde worked full time, he had no relatives, not even a girlfriend to speak of. Poor little Margot without a mother and all in the care of Mr. Milde. It was enough to make a man sick. Children are not objects to collect, children deserve selfless love. There was nothing selfless in the way Mr. Milde spoke about his paternal rights.

When Carl had first heard the story, all he could fixate on was the utter selfishness of both the Milde's. Bringing a child into the world with a person you hated, there was no other motivation. Now that he was here with Nadine in the shrine of Margot photos, he could see she was doing her best to make up for her selfish act. And if Nadine hadn't come to the basement, Carl would have been responsible for placing

“Could I use your wash room?”

Carl asked, already heading down the hallway to it. He turned the water on and crouched down after lifting the lid.

He didn’t have it in him. He should have listened to Uncle Bob. He should have listened to that palm reader all those years ago when she told him to go back to school. At least to get his GED.

He wiped his mouth and washed his hands, avoiding looking into the mirror. It was decorated with little crayon drawings, no doubt doodles done by Margot. It had been too long, too much time between when he had excused himself and his return. It was worth the slight embarrassment. Better spewing his guilty guts into the toilet then on Rebecca’s blue kitchen rugs.

“Are you alright Carl? You’re looking a bit pale. Have some tea.”

She turned to the kettle. Nadine was all kindness. And a good mom. The kind the likes of himself or a scoundrel like Mr. Milde could never hope to deserve.

“I’m sorry Ms. Milde, I’ve got to be going. On a bit of a time crunch. You understand?”

“I understand, although I do wish you’d stay. You sure you’re alright?” she asked as she swirled a silver spoon in her mug.

He had to go. It didn’t matter that it was odd. She could think him nuts if she wanted. He had to go. The feeling in his stomach was stronger than any desire he had to remain comfortable.

“I’ll be in touch.” he said.

She did not follow him to the door. Obviously she was shocked by his abrupt departure.

It would look too strange if he just started running. He did his best to walk, not too slow, but slower than his heart was throbbing. His breath came out in white clouds which nearly blocked his vision entirely. It was that dry quiet cold in the air that felt like it could slice you through if the wind were to pick up.

The streets were rounded and quiet. He hadn’t been in too many places that fit the description of quaint. He could see Nadine and Margot taking bike rides and evening walks through the neighborhood. In the summer it was probably quite lively. People gardening in their backyards, sitting on lawn chairs, all waving as you pass by.

It hadn’t been like that in the borough. It wasn’t like the movies when the poor people take care of each other. He had never known his neighbors, except Colonel Grey. And Colonel Grey was the one always trying to get them evicted.

He hadn’t even rounded the corner before the bath of lights began. They sounded the sirens only briefly, in a quick patterned warning that still was enough to have Carl halt in his tracks.

He saw Nadine watching through the front window. His thoughts were with the little envelope he’d forgotten to leave at home. The one with the photos of her and Margot inside. He kept walking and counted backwards from ten. He hadn't made it to five before the officers were out of the car and pointing their weapons in his direction.