Perfect

 

Bruce wiped off the sweat from his brow for what it seemed to be the millionth time. Any minute now.

Any second now he would be here…

And then…

His hands played a slight tap dance on the countertop of the table. He was nervous. Very nervous.

Never had he done such a task….but he had to do it.

Everything was planned perfectly.

Perfectly.

The clock gave off five strikes. It was five o’clock in the evening. Outside, the lamps had just lit up. The jungle remained in the darkness however…concealing it’s secrets, and it was over here…

Yes, Bruce Northgate remembered. Here it was.

The rifle bullet-

The rifle bullet which pierced…

Bruce got up. There were footsteps outside on the red gravel path.

(Footsteps not of a man, but of the devil, oh yes, the devil!)

Bruce shook of the uneasiness. This was it.

‘Knock, knock, knock!’ He heard three distinct raps on the wood. Bruce opened the door, and let in the visitor…

The visitor was wearing a velvet coat. He was a tall man, had blue-grey eyes and a smile which immediately will make someone think that this was a man who could be trusted…who was a good man…

(he was not. He is a cur. A spawn of the devil!)

‘Good evening, Mr. Northgate.’ The visitor said. Although it was a cool and alluring voice, Bruce felt that the greeting singed into his heart – as if a knife had just slashed opened that red organ and splattering blood…

‘Good evening, Michael.’

The visitor – Michael – looked around. The six lamps surrounding the room had been lit up, casting a pale, dull yellow shadow over the table situated at the centre. On the table there were two glasses, along with a bottle of Chianti. Bruce had imported it from Italy – about 4 cartons.

Yes, Bruce loved wine a lot. And it was this that…

‘Ha! Chianti again.’ Michael chuckled. ‘You still couldn’t get out of your old life, eh? Well, too bad…too bad you can’t…’

Bruce shook out of his reverie. ‘Er..hum? Oh yeah, yes. You know I couldn’t help but…’

‘But even subject a human being as a victim to your addiction?’ Michael replied. His smile seemed to pierce Bruce into pieces, who now sat upright, looking towards him. The blackmailer.

The Blackmailer.

(five hundred rupees.)

‘Mike, listen, I’ve….I’ve..’ he couldn’t finish his sentence…

Michael chuckled once again. Outside, nightfall had commenced. A strange unknown bird called out all of a sudden, which Bruce scream out what he had-

‘Mike, please stop it. I can’t do it anymore!’

‘Ah, ah, but my dear, you – are a criminal. Criminals couldn’t have peace anymore, you know…’

Then, picking up some dust which covered a part of the table, he said –

‘May 28^th, 1890. Renowned hunter and businessmen Bruce William Northgate had gone out as usual to hunt in the wild jungles of Jharkhand, to catch some birds or even, some tiger. But what does he shoot? What did he shoot?’

Michael looked up at Bruce, who was now unconsciously scratching away at the tabletop. His eyes were glowing

(with anger. He didn’t deserve this.)

with an unknown fury.

‘Instead of a tiger, he shoots down something else. Besides him, a man named Tuhin Ganguly was also roaming about at the same time. He was wearing an orange shirt…

‘Mike, I’m telling you, for the last time…’

Michael’s smile crept up again.

‘The rifle stained the orange shirt red, didn’t it Bruce? A high-powered military rifle, cutting through the green thicket…Ha! What a murder, what a murder!’ saying this, Michael Garreth laughed aloud. It echoed around the room. A flock of pigeons took off outside, being scared by this sudden laughter…

Bruce felt his ground moving away – he was being put down by something heavy…

Then, he stood up. Smiling, he said, ‘Well, I can’t change the past. So…how about you have a glass? I’m going in to fetch the money…

But Mike, look, can’t you stop it? You’ve got enough…’

‘Enough?’ Michael replied. ‘Enough, Bruce? You say this even after you take away my love of life? I’m unsatisfied, Bruce. I guess your personality and fiery nature made Wendy fall in love with you. She eloped just two months after we married. Enough you say, Bruce?’

‘Listen, I had nothing to do about it. She just came on her own. I told her to go back but…

Michael gave off a sigh. ‘When women are around you, they can’t go away. And thus, the hunter catches another prey…’

Then, putting on a serious tone, he said:

‘Listen Mr.Northgate, I’m currently having a mid-life crisis. I’ve lost my wife, my business is not going so well – there have been a couple of strikes at the cotton factory – and I’m currently in debt. Look at you now – a hunter and businessman just minding your own business until you committed the crime – the crime which made you stand in court and was nearly going to get a death sentence, had not I provided a fake story. I saved you, Bruce, I saved you from dying. But what does this to me? I’m still in a diseased position, can’t break free – and that’s why I collect the five-hundred rupees from you, just to sustain myself. Now, if you don’t give the material for sustenance, you know what happens right? The case is still a bit fresh, and if I tell the inspector- oh goodness, what would happen then? What would happen?’

Bruce saw flashes of red for a moment.

‘Don’t break this perfect system, Bruce. Now you fetch the coins, while I relish this Chianti.’

Bruce went in, took out the sum, and came out of his chamber. Unknown to the visitor, he had something in his right pocket.

(I’ll teach ya, Mike.)

‘Care to pour me some more? I had already one.’ said Mike, as he gave his now-empty glass to Bruce. He took it filled it with

(here’s my grief and revenge, you devil.)

wine and as he was about to give it to Michael, suddenly there was a loud commotion outside. There was a ‘CLANG!’ sound and a loud cackle which resembled that of a monkey.

Bruce ran out, leaving the visitor seated. ‘What’s going on?’ he cried out to his servant Tom, who was now returning to the cottage from the east.

‘A baboon, Sir. Was hollering about and may have smashed some more lanterns had I not fended the rascal off. Beasts!’

‘Truly beasts they are.’ Bruce replied. He had a little smile come up on his face.

(it was working.)

He returned to the table, where Michael still sat on the table, quite confused, and amazed at the same time. He saw that his wine-glass was still full.

(wait a minute.)

‘What happened? Primate problem?’ he asked.

‘Yes. A wild baboon nothing else.’ Bruce replied. He was suddenly feeling light

(but what if)

as if a dark cloud had suddenly lifted-

Holding his wine-glass, he sipped its contents in four gulps. Michael sat silently for some moments, then emptying the red liquid, he said, ‘Now, the sum, or my reason to visit would be unfulfilled.’

Bruce sat up. He had a wide smile up on his face.

(why am I feeling uneasy)

‘What sum, Michael?’ he replied.

Michael stared at the white, chiseled, sunken face of the man, and then said, ‘You’re on flames, Bruce. Think-‘

‘Oh, I’ve done more thinking than the devil could have done, Mike! Listen, this game of parasite ends now over here. You have no more the right to borrow or blackmail me, get it? After all…after all…af-after…’

Bruce stopped all of a sudden, His tongue seemed to wrap up. His words were getting tied…

‘N-now I ha-have y-y-you…’

Bruce tried to get up, but fell down on the wooden floor. He felt like the air on the room had dropped all of a sudden. Why was it-

(it was planned. Perfectly planned.)

Michael had a devilish smile lurking on his face. He now got up, and with a chuckle, said:

‘Strychnine poisoning. I knew it. I knew it from the beginning since I entered here today that you were going to do something to me. You knew that I’m also a wine-lover, and hoped that I would drink up the wine just as you would go outside to check the commotion.’

Bruce cried, ‘You in-infer-nal….aaaargh…d-de…’

‘The commotion was apparently staged – I presume Tom was the one who did it. I suppose that after I died, you would have passed on the case as an accident. No one would be sure who did it, and in that case, you would get off free. With one stone, you aimed for two birds: get rid off me, also stay honourable. A perfect plan, Bruce Northgate wonders, but he made one mistake…’

Bruce’s face now began to harden up. His eyes became redder than the setting sun.

‘He forgot that Michael Garreth was a one-time magician performing on the streets of Calcutta, and that he knew the art of switching objects from here to there very well. I had no suspicion – after that baboon incident – that you were trying to kill me. So, I switched around the glasses. What do you say about my magic, Bruce? My perfect shifting?’

Michael laughed. Then, he said to the nearing-death body, ‘I would say that it was a suicide. Yes, yes, that would be the most plausible explanation…it will also be known why…I’ll make up something…’

Bruce gave out one last cry of pain,

‘Y-YOU D-DEVILISH SC-SCOUNDREL!!!’

And then, he fell upon the floor motionless, his face twisted at the sight of an unknown horror.

Michael stared at the motionless horrified body of Bruce Northgate, then smiling, he went out of the cottage.

***

Tom met Mr. Garreth when he was about to enter the cottage. He was looking very pale and scared.

‘What’s wrong, Sir? Everything alright?’ Tom asked.

(did it not work?)

Mr.Garreth looked at him, and then blurted out.

‘Your master, I mean, Bruce has died, I fear.’

‘What? Master died?!’ Tom cried out.

(it failed?)

‘Yes. Apparently it seems that he has committed suicide, it seems. Please inform the authorities. Make haste!’

Tom ran off to make the call. Michael lit up a cigarette. Not bad, he thought. Everyone will assume it is a suicide, done by strychnine. It will also come into light why. Case closed, he gets off.

‘Everything is planned perfectly.’ Michael 'Mike' Garreth remarked, as his velvet coat swished lightly in the darkness of the night…

***

M.Macabre

02.07.2021