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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Crime
- Published: 11/24/2015
TAKE TWO...AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING
Born 1943, M, from San Jose, United StatesTAKE TWO… AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING.
Henry Biddle is fifty-two years old. He has spent half of his life working for the same company, Alliance Pharmaceutical, as an assistant researcher. His milquetoast existence consisted of being told what to do and what not to do. Promotions at work passed him by repeatedly. His working knowledge of the various drugs used by Alliance Pharmaceutical in their research was the only reason he was still there. Henry was content to be an assistant with no aspirations of climbing the proverbial ladder of success. He never had the courage to reach out and grab the gusto in life, until now.
Three weeks ago his wife of the same twenty-six years that matched those at Alliance, informed Henry that things were going to change for them. She had inherited the estate of an old aunt. Henry was ecstatic when his wife Betsy told him about the one and a half million dollars she received. There was a catch to it though… at least for poor Henry.
“Henry Biddle, you’re a mouse, not a man!” Betsy constantly nagged and reminded him. “If you had any backbone, you would stand up to those jerks you work for. You never say anything when they pass you up for promotions and pay raises. Well… don’t think that just because I have all this money now, that you are going to have it any easier. No siree, Bob! If you think that I’m going to support you…”
“Yes dear. I know dear.” Henry would say and say… and say.
“Don’t you ‘yes dear me’. I should have listened to my father twenty-six years ago. He knew…” On and on she pushed her nagging on him.
Henry longed for the hours he spent at work. People there also told him to do whatever he was doing. There was quite a bit of “Henry do this or Henry do that.” But there, people did talk to him about other things not just his work. Sometimes they stopped by just to say hello. His work load quite often took its toll on him, but, it was better than listening to Betsy and ‘Henry do this….’
Over worked and over wrought, Henry sat at his work table wishing and praying for the day when he would no longer have to hear the same thing every day from his wife. “Henry Biddle, I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Then one day it happened. It was as if the gods were listening to him. Henry Biddle had a way out of all of his miseries. A new drug had been recently developed in his lab. A potentially deadly drug if used improperly. Henry needed to hear more about it. He listened as two chief researchers were discussing the results of the drug that they were sure would work in combating the disease elderly people feared the most… Alzheimer’s. He listened closely, hoping to hear enough about it to maybe find out why it was considered dangerous.
“I’m not sure yet, about this thing. What happens if someone dies”? One researcher asked the other.
“I didn’t say we should try it out yet. I just said that the results look too good to pass up.” The second man responded. “I think we know what to look for in damaged tissue. I know that we both are highly qualified toxicologists. I know we can make this work, but what we need now is a test subject.”
The first researcher voiced his worries that the drug was too dangerous. “We can’t inject someone on just a theory. Besides, once it’s in the blood it shows the same signs as aspirin does. How do we detect it? How do we know how much is too much?”
What appeared to be a possible problem to the two researchers was something totally different to Henry. As they talked more about this new wonder drug, Henry’s mind started planning out a new life for this mouse of a man… without his nagging wife.
Henry spent the next three nights staying late at work. After everyone had gone home, he would go over the notes on this new drug. Satisfied that he could make use of it, he carried out his plans, step by step.
Making this drug into tablet form was step one. Being a chemist himself, it proved not to be a chore. Step two would be to replace the aspirin that Betsy took every day for her arthritis. He would simply make sure that the only pills left in her aspirin bottle were the two pills he made. Step three would be to make sure he was still at work when she took them. That wouldn’t be a problem. Everybody knew that he would often work late. Everything would work out perfectly.
The two pills that Henry made were a hundred times more potent than what the researchers put in the file as lethal. His calculations on how fast the drug would work showed that Betsy would be dead three minutes after swallowing them. By the time he reached home and found her body, the drug would have dissipated. The only thing that would show up in her blood would be as the research showed, a slight trace of aspirin.
‘Perfect! Perfect’! Henry kept running that word in his head. ‘This is perfect. I’ll have all the money and no Betsy!’
Knowing that she normally takes the aspirin with her midday tea was another bonus for Henry. He would be at work during the time she took her pills. He would simply work late an hour or so to be on the safe side, and when entering his home, find his poor departed wife’s body.
The day had come. Before leaving for work, Henry placed the aspirin bottle, as he did every day, on the kitchen sink-board for Betsy, with one slight difference. This time the pills would not be aspirin.
Her daily ritual was to take her two aspirins and vitamin tablets and then she would put them away, leaving only Henry’s blood pressure medicine out so he could take it before dinner.
Satisfied now that the scene was set, Henry left for work. He carried on as usual. Just another day in the life and times of Henry Biddle.
‘The day is almost over Henry my man’. He thought to himself, looking at his watch. ‘I think I have stayed long enough. Now it’s time to go home and discover poor Betsy’.
He occupied his mind while driving home trying to decide how he would spend his new found wealth… as a single man. He would be a happy man. A happy, rich man. Things seemed to be going well for Henry as he neared his home. Outside of a little nervousness he was doing fine. He understood perfectly well why his hands started to sweat. He expected his shirt collar to suddenly feel tighter than normal as he approached his driveway. He had nothing to fear. At least that’s what ran over and over through his mind.
With a shaking hand wrapped around the doorknob and a slight trembling in his knees, Henry decided to play the game through. He called out to Betsy as he entered the house. She didn’t answer. He tried one more time. “Betsy? Betsy dear, I’m home.” He played the game beautifully, he thought.
Convinced it was over, he made his way into the living room… expecting to find her lifeless body sprawled out on the floor. What he found instead were visitors waiting for him.
“Mr. Biddle? Mr. Henry Biddle? I’m Inspector Gwinn. This is my partner, Detective Holtz. We need to talk to you sir. It’s about your wife.”
Henry was completely taken by surprise. Before he could answer them, a disturbing thought raced through his mind. ‘My God!! She found out and called the police!’
“Mr. Biddle? Are you all right?” Inspector Gwinn moved toward Henry and helped him to a chair. “I’m sorry sir, to tell you that your wife is dead.”
“Dead?” Henry played along. “When? Where is she now?”
“She was taken to the morgue a few hours ago.” Detective Holtz answered. “We had no way of getting hold of you earlier. I’m sorry that we had to tell you this way. Are you all right, sir?”
“I… I need a drink of water. I think my head is about to split open from shock. Let me get my pills and water. Then you can tell me how it happened.” Henry was proud of the way he was playing the game.
“Here now! You sit there and relax and I’ll get the water and pills.” Holtz offered.
“Thank you. The pills are on the sink-board.” Henry pointed toward the kitchen.
Detective Holtz went for the water, and pills. On his way back to the living room, he heard Inspector Gwinn explaining how Betsy had died.
“… so that’s what happened sir. The witnesses said that as she crossed the street she stepped into the path of the bus.”
“When… what time was that?” Henry needed to know.
Holtz joined in as he handed Henry the water and two pills from the bottle in the kitchen. “About eleven thirty this morning sir. She had just come out from the drug store. All she had on her was a bottle of aspirin.”
Henry suddenly realized what he did after he swallowed the pills and water. He asked Holtz. “Where did you get these pills from?”
“From the aspirin bottle on the sink-board like you said. I guess that’s why your wife went shopping. She saw that you were almost out of aspirin. That was the last two out there.
Mr. Biddle? Mr. Biddle? Can you hear me?”
Gwinn shook Henry. Henry didn’t move.
“Wow!! What do you know about that?” Gwinn said, shaking his head. “I’ve heard of cases like this. He must have really loved her. The shock of her death killed him. Love is strange.”
THE END.
TAKE TWO...AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING(Louis M. Serra)
TAKE TWO… AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING.
Henry Biddle is fifty-two years old. He has spent half of his life working for the same company, Alliance Pharmaceutical, as an assistant researcher. His milquetoast existence consisted of being told what to do and what not to do. Promotions at work passed him by repeatedly. His working knowledge of the various drugs used by Alliance Pharmaceutical in their research was the only reason he was still there. Henry was content to be an assistant with no aspirations of climbing the proverbial ladder of success. He never had the courage to reach out and grab the gusto in life, until now.
Three weeks ago his wife of the same twenty-six years that matched those at Alliance, informed Henry that things were going to change for them. She had inherited the estate of an old aunt. Henry was ecstatic when his wife Betsy told him about the one and a half million dollars she received. There was a catch to it though… at least for poor Henry.
“Henry Biddle, you’re a mouse, not a man!” Betsy constantly nagged and reminded him. “If you had any backbone, you would stand up to those jerks you work for. You never say anything when they pass you up for promotions and pay raises. Well… don’t think that just because I have all this money now, that you are going to have it any easier. No siree, Bob! If you think that I’m going to support you…”
“Yes dear. I know dear.” Henry would say and say… and say.
“Don’t you ‘yes dear me’. I should have listened to my father twenty-six years ago. He knew…” On and on she pushed her nagging on him.
Henry longed for the hours he spent at work. People there also told him to do whatever he was doing. There was quite a bit of “Henry do this or Henry do that.” But there, people did talk to him about other things not just his work. Sometimes they stopped by just to say hello. His work load quite often took its toll on him, but, it was better than listening to Betsy and ‘Henry do this….’
Over worked and over wrought, Henry sat at his work table wishing and praying for the day when he would no longer have to hear the same thing every day from his wife. “Henry Biddle, I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Then one day it happened. It was as if the gods were listening to him. Henry Biddle had a way out of all of his miseries. A new drug had been recently developed in his lab. A potentially deadly drug if used improperly. Henry needed to hear more about it. He listened as two chief researchers were discussing the results of the drug that they were sure would work in combating the disease elderly people feared the most… Alzheimer’s. He listened closely, hoping to hear enough about it to maybe find out why it was considered dangerous.
“I’m not sure yet, about this thing. What happens if someone dies”? One researcher asked the other.
“I didn’t say we should try it out yet. I just said that the results look too good to pass up.” The second man responded. “I think we know what to look for in damaged tissue. I know that we both are highly qualified toxicologists. I know we can make this work, but what we need now is a test subject.”
The first researcher voiced his worries that the drug was too dangerous. “We can’t inject someone on just a theory. Besides, once it’s in the blood it shows the same signs as aspirin does. How do we detect it? How do we know how much is too much?”
What appeared to be a possible problem to the two researchers was something totally different to Henry. As they talked more about this new wonder drug, Henry’s mind started planning out a new life for this mouse of a man… without his nagging wife.
Henry spent the next three nights staying late at work. After everyone had gone home, he would go over the notes on this new drug. Satisfied that he could make use of it, he carried out his plans, step by step.
Making this drug into tablet form was step one. Being a chemist himself, it proved not to be a chore. Step two would be to replace the aspirin that Betsy took every day for her arthritis. He would simply make sure that the only pills left in her aspirin bottle were the two pills he made. Step three would be to make sure he was still at work when she took them. That wouldn’t be a problem. Everybody knew that he would often work late. Everything would work out perfectly.
The two pills that Henry made were a hundred times more potent than what the researchers put in the file as lethal. His calculations on how fast the drug would work showed that Betsy would be dead three minutes after swallowing them. By the time he reached home and found her body, the drug would have dissipated. The only thing that would show up in her blood would be as the research showed, a slight trace of aspirin.
‘Perfect! Perfect’! Henry kept running that word in his head. ‘This is perfect. I’ll have all the money and no Betsy!’
Knowing that she normally takes the aspirin with her midday tea was another bonus for Henry. He would be at work during the time she took her pills. He would simply work late an hour or so to be on the safe side, and when entering his home, find his poor departed wife’s body.
The day had come. Before leaving for work, Henry placed the aspirin bottle, as he did every day, on the kitchen sink-board for Betsy, with one slight difference. This time the pills would not be aspirin.
Her daily ritual was to take her two aspirins and vitamin tablets and then she would put them away, leaving only Henry’s blood pressure medicine out so he could take it before dinner.
Satisfied now that the scene was set, Henry left for work. He carried on as usual. Just another day in the life and times of Henry Biddle.
‘The day is almost over Henry my man’. He thought to himself, looking at his watch. ‘I think I have stayed long enough. Now it’s time to go home and discover poor Betsy’.
He occupied his mind while driving home trying to decide how he would spend his new found wealth… as a single man. He would be a happy man. A happy, rich man. Things seemed to be going well for Henry as he neared his home. Outside of a little nervousness he was doing fine. He understood perfectly well why his hands started to sweat. He expected his shirt collar to suddenly feel tighter than normal as he approached his driveway. He had nothing to fear. At least that’s what ran over and over through his mind.
With a shaking hand wrapped around the doorknob and a slight trembling in his knees, Henry decided to play the game through. He called out to Betsy as he entered the house. She didn’t answer. He tried one more time. “Betsy? Betsy dear, I’m home.” He played the game beautifully, he thought.
Convinced it was over, he made his way into the living room… expecting to find her lifeless body sprawled out on the floor. What he found instead were visitors waiting for him.
“Mr. Biddle? Mr. Henry Biddle? I’m Inspector Gwinn. This is my partner, Detective Holtz. We need to talk to you sir. It’s about your wife.”
Henry was completely taken by surprise. Before he could answer them, a disturbing thought raced through his mind. ‘My God!! She found out and called the police!’
“Mr. Biddle? Are you all right?” Inspector Gwinn moved toward Henry and helped him to a chair. “I’m sorry sir, to tell you that your wife is dead.”
“Dead?” Henry played along. “When? Where is she now?”
“She was taken to the morgue a few hours ago.” Detective Holtz answered. “We had no way of getting hold of you earlier. I’m sorry that we had to tell you this way. Are you all right, sir?”
“I… I need a drink of water. I think my head is about to split open from shock. Let me get my pills and water. Then you can tell me how it happened.” Henry was proud of the way he was playing the game.
“Here now! You sit there and relax and I’ll get the water and pills.” Holtz offered.
“Thank you. The pills are on the sink-board.” Henry pointed toward the kitchen.
Detective Holtz went for the water, and pills. On his way back to the living room, he heard Inspector Gwinn explaining how Betsy had died.
“… so that’s what happened sir. The witnesses said that as she crossed the street she stepped into the path of the bus.”
“When… what time was that?” Henry needed to know.
Holtz joined in as he handed Henry the water and two pills from the bottle in the kitchen. “About eleven thirty this morning sir. She had just come out from the drug store. All she had on her was a bottle of aspirin.”
Henry suddenly realized what he did after he swallowed the pills and water. He asked Holtz. “Where did you get these pills from?”
“From the aspirin bottle on the sink-board like you said. I guess that’s why your wife went shopping. She saw that you were almost out of aspirin. That was the last two out there.
Mr. Biddle? Mr. Biddle? Can you hear me?”
Gwinn shook Henry. Henry didn’t move.
“Wow!! What do you know about that?” Gwinn said, shaking his head. “I’ve heard of cases like this. He must have really loved her. The shock of her death killed him. Love is strange.”
THE END.
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