Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 41, No. 4, October 1977

He looked down franticly at the shag carpeting. Where can I step, he wondered. How can I tell where the floorboards will creak under my weight?

He waited until he heard the clapping sounds again, then placed one toe gingerly in front of him. Gradually, he eased his weight onto it and extended the other foot. No squeak. One more step. Laughter from the television rang loudly in his ears. One more step.

Now he was at the hall doorway, clinging to the wooden frame as if he were balancing on the ledge of a skyscraper. He breathed in and out slowly, consciously, trying to regulate his irratic pulse.

Why is she trying to ruin my life this way, he asked himself. Hasn’t she done enough damage to me already? I cannot even face my wife any more, without guilt lashing at me. I am sure that Helene knows about my affair with Marla. I am sure of it. Marla said she would tell her and I am sure she did.

What a meeting that must have been! he mused. Where did they meet? Here in Marla’s apartment, the scene of my adulterous crime? How did Marla tell Helene? I’m having an affair with your husband, Mrs. Tumwalt. Cream or sugar in your coffee? How awful for Helene!

Thank God she has not mentioned divorce. I could not bear that. I can live with her coldness to me. Certainly I could never blame her for it. But in time she will forgive me, I’m sure. In time she will warm up to me again.

He peeked around the door frame and saw Johnny Carson on the small screen. The room at the end of the hall was dark, except for the glow from the set. A platform of smoke hung shoulder-height in the den, fed by a ribbon of smoke curling up from the chair just inside the doorway.

It was a high-backed recliner, in its upright position, which hid its occupant from his view. But he knew she was there. He knew Marla was sitting right there in that chair, smoking, watching television, idling away her last moments on earth.

If only she hadn’t threatened to turn me in, he thought now. But she did. And I know she will carry out her threat if I don’t stop her, just as I’m sure she carried out her threat to tell Helene about us.

Slowly he slid his left hand down to his back pocket and pulled out the knotted nylon rope. He brought it forward, but the rope slipped out of his glove and he heard a loud thud as it dropped to the floor.

She heard! She heard! She...

No, he told himself. She couldn’t have heard. It made no sound on the carpet. He stared at the back of the recliner as he picked up the garrote. Why isn’t she laughing, he wondered. That joke was funny. He watched a puff of smoke rise from the chair, as he inhaled one last steadying breath.

He took a careful step toward the den and tried to remember if he’d ever heard the hall floor squeak. He took another step, Laughter. Another step. A deep breath. Another step. Another step. He closed his eyes in momentary relief at having made it unnoticed to the den doorway.

If only I hadn’t been able to cure her! he thought now. If only I had not erased her fear that she was turning homosexual, I would not be in this mess. But I did cure her. And she will tell everyone that I prescribed sex with me as her remedy. Lord, that sounds so debased. They would take my license away for sure.