Storymania - P.S.-I Love You by Pauline Annette White

P.S.-I Love You (1)
Pauline Annette White

“ P.S., I LOVE YOU “
BY PAULINE ANNETTE WHITE

Ever since Dell had gotten a job with a local law firm, as a Front Desk Receptionist, Frankie had had a feeling of foreboding. He was not the type of man who didn’t want his girl to work; it wasn’t that at all. He had teased her at first, especially after seeing her first pay check. She was making more money than he had ever made, on any job. She was smart alright, his Dell. This feeling he had was more like something evil was going to happen. A bad vibe in his gut, related to his girlfriend. He’d felt it so strongly these past four weeks, that one evening after he had gotten off work, he had gone by Dell’s job on the pretense of picking her up. What he wanted to do was scope out the premises for himself, to satisfy his curiosity and vibrations. The offices were in a tall building, in the downtown area of the City. In the past few years, this section had sprung up with all new enterprises on practically every street corner. Dell was employed by the Davidson Group, originally from Atlanta, Georgia. These guys were sharp, as far as Frankie could tell. There were eight of them, all young, all lawyers with degrees plastered on their office walls. Dell worked for the CEO of the company; a man named George Terrell. Sometimes she did little chores for the other men, too. Typing up transcripts, or trial records, but her basic job was to make sure that Mr. Terrell was a happy camper, not loaded down with all of the technical stuff that made his business run smoothly. He had praised Dell to Frankie, telling him things about her that he had known for years. He’d felt a slight twinge of jealousy while listening and watching this suave young guy talk about his woman, but he pushed it to the back of his mind; labeling it silliness on his part. Dell was not the type to run around on him. They had been together for over eight years now, ‘happy as clams in a single shell‘, as his Daddy would say. The only thing missing from their union was a child. They had tried to make a baby. Oh, God, yes had they tried. He smiled to himself as he thought of the many hours that they had made sweet love over the years. Frankie had been in the service, in Japan at one time, and those Geisha girls were something else, it was true. But, there was no one on earth to equal Dell in his book. She could be so soft and tender at times, then rough and forceful at others. He never knew what she would be like in the bed, and that was so exciting. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her, in or out of the bedroom. Out of all of the women he had had in his forty years, she was the only one who could make him blush like a boy by just whispering in his ear. He loved her with all of his heart, simple as that. This was the reason why his bad feelings were such a bother to him.
Frankie came from the Deep South. His people had lived in Clark’s County, Mississippi for over a hundred years or more. He had relatives all up and down the state. His people believed in the hoodoo of signs and portents. His Granny had said he was born with a ‘veil’ over his head. Granny herself was good at telling the weather, who was pregnant, and who was going to die soon. People paid good money to her back home, when she was alive. Frankie had been afraid of his father’s mother as a child. She’d been a powerfully built woman, at least six feet tall in her stockings, with arms like a man. she was very strong, too. He’d seen her once, take a chicken by the neck, and just twist one good time, breaking it. She’d seen the nervousness in him, so she shook the dead bird right in his face until he’d run into the house, screaming and crying at the top of his lungs. His Mamma hadn’t liked that; but she kept silent because she, too, was a little scared of his Granny. No one wanted a ’hex’ put on them by old lady Dell was a big city girl, from the shores of New Jersey, near Atlantic City. They had met at a dance sponsored by the Veteran’s Association of America. She was the daughter and ex-wife of vets, and on the welcoming committee. Frankie had never been to New York before. The dance was held at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, with veterans from all over the country coming in for the weekend. He and Dell had hit it off right away, laughing at the antics of the mostly drunken ex-soldiers who were having the time of their lives. When the dance was officially over, he had taken her for a walk in the pre-dawn light, still talking up a blue streak. He’d never said so much in so short a time before. She just listened to him rambling on all night long. They ate breakfast at a fast food joint on Broadway; then he had taken her home to the Bronx, where she was staying temporarily with a friend. As his Mamma said, ‘and that’s all she wrote’. Living in Detroit together had been the best thing that had ever happened to him so far. Dell was the one for him. He had always been handy with cars, tinkering with them as a teenager back home. When a job became available at a motor company in Michigan’s Motor City, Frankie had quickly sent in his application, and was hired right away. He’d written to Dell, who by then was back in New Jersey working as a Clerk for the DMV. You could have knocked him over with a stick when she replied that she thought it was a fine idea to live together in Detroit. He had wanted to do it right, marry her and all. she explained to him that she had already been in one failed marriage. She wanted to take it real slow this time; to be sure he was the one for her. He accepted, of course. By then, he was so smitten; he didn’t care what her rules were, as long as she came to him. Eight years, and three proposals later, they were still doing fine. Until now. This stupid feeling would not go away. He waited for Dell each night. He wasn’t completely satisfied until he heard her key in the door to their four-room bungalow. They took turns cooking. He was the better chef, he thought. He liked simple meals; steak and potatoes and stuff like that. Dell wanted to try every new recipe in the cookbooks. She mixed up things that he could not say, much less eat for dinner. Artichokes and Brussels sprouts for one example, yuk!! Once, she had surprised him with a dish from his home. She and his Daddy were pretty close. He wished that his Mamma had lived to meet her. She was the girlfriend she’d always wanted him to have, even though she came from the City. She had secretly written to his Daddy, asking for his favorite meal. She wanted to make it for his birthday, when he turned thirty-eight. She was heavy on the salt, but they were the best smoked pig tails and collard greens he had had in a long while. ‘Made with love’ she’d said that night. She was full of little saying like that. She even wrote down remembrances sometimes. In the evenings, when he got home all tired and ready to just about fall out on the couch to wait for her, he’d go into their kitchen and see a note attached to the refrigerator with one of those tiny vegetable magnets. “ Hi, Baby, Don’t cook anything tonight. I’m bringing home a little something from the restaurant down the street. Bye. P.S. I Love You!!.” That ending always made him forget how tired he was.
After three months on the job, Dell was hired permanently by the law firm. She was so happy that night that Frankie put aside his book and decided to take her out for a celebration. They had been saving their money frugally over the years. Not having many expenses other than their car payments, they could afford to splurge sometimes. Both had credit cards, and were well represented at their bank with a joint account, and two separate savings accounts. Long ago, Dell had made him go to the bank, open both type accounts, then put his own hard earned cash in it each and every week, no matter what. She had sat in their kitchen late into the night for a week, almost, until she’d figured out a workable plan of action. Those were her exact words, ‘workable plan of action’. She had made notations about his salary, his raises each year, and reached the conclusion that he should deposit one-third of his pay check each week. He thought she was crazy then, later he realized she was crazy-like a fox. At present, eight years and some months, he had over fifty-thousand dollars in his own account. The joint account had close to seventy-two thousand. They were rich as Hell, by his standards. Dell, on the other hand, kept saying that they needed to buckle down and save more. Save, save, save; for what? The way she thought, somebody would believe she was talking about people nearing their sixties and retirement. He felt that he had at least a good twenty years left in him for working on a full time job. There were days when he wanted to stop cold, spend what they had already and hope for the best. Dell said that was the reason why she was their personal accountant, and not him. He had to agree, on the days when he wasn’t yearning for a new basketball or bowling shoes with his initials engraved on the side. Sometimes he did act like a kid; he had to agree with Dell on that point. It was just that the thought of all that money lying there in a bank vault, when there were so many things that they could be doing with it out in the real world. But, Dell was adamant about it. No. No. No. Save, save, save. He couldn’t win with his baby. So, they were rich, and he couldn’t spend a dime of it until she said so. As long as they would do it together, he really didn’t care. He was always afraid that she would leave him one day. Another of his premonitions.
Today, he had been worried since the early morning. At his job, he could hardly concentrate on the work. By one in the afternoon, he had to get away or go crazy wondering about Dell. He didn’t call her office, she never wanted him to do that unless it was a dire emergency. He certainly didn’t want her scared out of her wits, too. Bad enough that his own nerves were jumping around like Mexican beans. He decided to go by Dell’s office; just to see what he could see. It was her lunch time, one o’clock. Maybe she had gone out; down to a restaurant in the area. If George saw him, he’d say he was looking for Dell, but he could not wait. He wasn’t a very good liar, but this was important.
At the building, he parked the car, went around to the rear entrance that was used only for freight deliveries. There were two huge elevators there, empty at this hour of the day. He couldn’t have had better luck if he’d planned it all in advance. With his work clothes on, no one would question him, even if he was spotted. All the way upstairs, Frankie wondered what he would do if Dell was still in the office for whatever reason. ‘People who go looking for trouble usually find it’, his Daddy said. Dell would be so angry if she knew that he was here on a stupid hunch. But, it was just too strong to ignore. Blame it on the country boy in him. He was brought up in the middle of all types of superstition; what did she want from him? At least he loved her enough to investigate. He kept repeating these possible excuses to himself. The more he let his imagination run wild, the worse he felt. By the time he reached Dell’s floor he was a wreck inside of his head. His hands actually shook as he opened the office door. Dell was not at her desk-a good sign for him. All of the doors leading into the lawyers’ inner sanctums were closed, too. It was very quiet, for an office in the middle of the day. They must all be in court, except for Dell. Her desk had papers strewn about, some had fallen on the floor. Frankie thought that it was odd, Dell was so neat at home. She made him pick up after himself, like his Mamma used to do when he was a boy.
All at once, Frankie felt queer. A pain hit him in the back of his head. He turned around fast, thinking someone had crept up on him and landed a blow. No one was in the room, except for him. Something was wrong here, very wrong. He stepped forward slowly, going towards George Terrell’s private office. Bam!! It happened again! This time the sharp blow landed on the other side of his head. This was not funny. Frankie was getting scared. He almost turned around to leave, but something told him to open the door to the office of Dell’s boss. Something literally told him to do it. It was hard to describe; he could almost hear a voice talking to him in his ear. Just barely, he could just make out the words it was saying.
Frankie reached out his left hand for the door knob, touching it with shaking fingers. Turning the knob slowly, he pushed inwards on it until the door opened up. The room was empty, or appeared to be from where he stood. He gasped aloud and grabbed his chest convulsively, stepping backwards. He tripped over something hard, almost falling to the floor. Righting himself quickly, Frankie turned to see a large silver paperweight near his foot. There was blood on it, too. Finding his voice, he called softly into the room. “ Mr. Terrell? Della May? Are you here?”. No one answered, so he gathered his courage and entered the office, moving around the room towards the windows that covered the entire wall behind the big desk. The swivel chair behind the desk was turned to the windows, which were opened wide. Air was blowing mildly, stirring some papers on the desktop. The computer was on. The blue light gave off a glow that made Frankie’s neck hair stand at attention. Reaching the windows, he turned to his left and saw the first body. Stuffed under the massive oak desk was George Terrell.
Frankie’s first reaction was to get the Hell out of there, but it was quickly followed by the question-where was Dell? Heart pounding, sweat pouring off of him, Frankie began to call out louder for his woman. He was becoming panicky. He could feel his heart beating in his ears. It sounded like rushing water. Where was Dell? Oh, God, if anything had happened to her he would die. No! He refused to think in that frame. She was at lunch; maybe doing a little shopping for herself, or even for him. Father’s Day was coming up. They had a joke going; she bought him a gag gift every year for that holiday and he bought her one for Mother’s Day. They promised to do this until the year that they would both earn the titles rightly. In that year, Frankie had promised himself, he would buy Dell the biggest bouquet of red roses she’d ever seen in her life outside of a florist shop. Balloons that said ‘Mother’ and ‘Congratulations’, and a gold engagement ring with matching band for the big day. She just had to marry him then, if they had a baby. He’d use the argument that they didn’t want to bring a child into this cruel world who was going to be labeled a bastard. Dell would certainly go for that one. Frankie just knew that she would be the type of Mamma who would not want anything on earth to hurt her baby boy or girl. Some people called that ‘over-protection’, but he thought it was just loving your own.
He knew he wasn’t thinking straight. He should have called this in by now, but he had to find Della first. George Terrell was past caring what time the cops showed up. He was careful not to touch anything in the office. The door knob couldn’t be helped. If he started to wipe it off now, the police would get to thinking that he had done something to hide. It always happened that way on the television shows. Some poor guy had a record for a misdemeanor when he was nineteen, walked into a situation like this one, then the cops locked him up for everything they could think of because he had wiped his prints off the knob in his fright. Glancing at his watch, Frankie figured that he had been in the office for over fifteen minutes. He had better place the 911 now. Too long and the forensic man would make the time of death, and it would not come close to his time of calling in the murder, or whatever this was. Who was he kidding? George Terrell surely didn’t climb under his desk, have a heart attack and die. Someone hated the man. Where was Dell? Frankie’s mind asked again.
The creepy voice he had heard or not heard earlier had been a woman’s voice inside his head. If it was his Della, where was she hiding? The whispery way it had sounded could have really just been a muffled sound. Like coming from behind a closed door, or a closet.... This office was large enough to house a secret room, or an extra large closet space. Dell may be inside now, scared out of her wits by the killer. She might even think that he was the killer, come back for her. No. She would have recognized his voice when he was calling her before. Still, he tried again. Calling her in a loud and clear tone, as he walked around the room slowly, touching the walls for a panel or something. On the left rear wall, there was a handle. Just a handle, hanging there with nothing else around it. Frankie pulled down on it, stepping back enough to give the door that appeared in the wall room to open wide. He smiled slightly as he thought of himself as a private eye. Old Sherlock Holmes ain’t got nothing on me!! was his first thought. When he saw what was behind the hidden wall space, his second thought, before he fainted, was clear, crisp, and full of regretful sorrow. “We never had any children, Dell”.
When Frankie woke up, only minutes had gone by. Miraculously, there was still no one else in the offices. He felt light-headed, as if he were dreaming. Hopefully, he glanced over at the walled in secret room again, but his beloved Della was still there, dead, with eyes staring through him. His own eyes misted over, and he jumped up off the floor, backing away. He reached for the desk phone, dialed 911 and anonymously called in the two murders. The operator tried to keep him on the line, but he quickly hung up the phone and left the office before the police arrived.
At a snack bar two blocks away, Frankie sat nursing a coffee until he heard the sirens of the police cars in the distance. About half an hour went by, then he called Dell’s office from a phone booth. A harsh voice answered, identifying itself as a detective of Homicide. Frankie played along, asked the correct questions. He didn’t have to fake his grief, it was welling up inside of him quickly. Only when the cop asked him to come to the office did he back off. He couldn’t go there again, not yet. He wanted to go home first. He had to go home first. That was where Dell lived, with him. He drove slowly along the city streets, thinking about her. At their home, he parked, got the mail and entered the kitchen. Throwing the letters and junk mail on the table, he sank into a chair, lowering his head onto his arms, and cried. He cried for a long time; for himself, his loss, but mainly for Della. He felt sorry for her. She was so vibrant and beautiful inside and out. To be cut down like this, so early in her life was tragic and unfair. Teary eyed, he tried to fix himself some food before the police arrived. He made a fast sandwich, headed to the livingroom, and threw himself onto the couch to think. He knew that the police would show up sooner or later to question him about Dell. Their relationship. Once they found his fingerprints around the office, they would put him on the top of the list of suspects. Even without the prints, the other law partners would certainly mention him. He’d been there a couple of times lately, because of the ‘feelings’ he’d been having. What would the cops think of that? A crazed country boy, claiming second sight, comes to his woman’s job to verify these weird-assed vibes and finds... what? All of a sudden, Frankie heard a soft rustling in the kitchen area. He listened, staying stock still, cocking his head to the side like a hound dog. There it was again, louder this time. By the fireplace, an iron poker stood alone. Grabbing it for a possible weapon, Frankie crept to the doorway leading into the other room. He took a deep breath, counted to three, and charged into the kitchen with the poker raised over his head. Nothing. There was no one there. Turning around and around, he wondered if he was in shock from Dell’s death. things like that could happen, he’d read somewhere. If you loved a person enough, their death could make you go off your rocker.
As Frankie stood there, thinking, his eyes roamed to the refrigerator. Just that very morning, Dell had left one of her famous notes for him. She’d reminded him to bring home a loaf of bread, rye, and a bottle of her favorite champagne. She’d hinted that there was a celebration due for some secret reason. At the bottom, as usual, was the post script-‘p.s. i love you‘, in small letters, printed at the very bottom of the page. He still had the note in his breast pocket of the jacket he’d worn today. But, here, on the fridge was another note, dated today also, in Dell’s handwriting. What the Hell was this? Frankie’s body froze. His heart slowed, almost to a stop. Reaching out for the paper, his hand shook uncontrollably. From where he was standing, he could barely make out the words on the note. It read, ‘ Hi, honey. I’ll be coming home late tonight, around nine or so. There was a double murder today, right at the office. I’m involved in this situation, but I won’t talk to the police. I can’t. I’m sorry that this will put a serious damper on my surprise. Might as well tell you now. Hold on to your seatbelt!! I’m preggie!! That’s right. We are going to be parents, finally. Yes, I’m sure. Yes, I’ve already been to a doctor. See you around nine tonight. Tell you all about it then. Destroy this note, hon. We don’t want the cops in our business. p.s.-i love you. ‘ Frankie fell to the floor, snatching the note off the fridge as he went down. His hands were shaking so hard that the paper rattled loudly in the quiet room. ‘No’, he thought aloud. ‘No. No. No’. This was not possible. All of the years that they had really, really tried to make a child and nothing had ever happened. Now, after a crazed killer had took her life, Dell announces that she’s pregnant? It was impossible to believe. Sitting on the cold, hard tile of the kitchen floor Frankie rocked back and forth, back and forth as if hypnotized. His grief was now twofold. A baby! So long they had waited, hoped and prayed for this day to come along. How far was she? Could the baby still be alive? He’d heard cases where they had saved the baby, after the mother was dead. But, it depended on how many months she had been. Dell wasn’t showing, that he knew for sure. Her stomach had been as flat as a pancake, which meant that she’d only been a few weeks, a month at the most. Frankie got up. took the note to the sink and turned on the cold water. He found a book of matches in his back pants pocket. Lighting one, he set it to the edge of the paper and watched it go up in flames. Dropping it into the sink, the water doused the fire, and the ashes went down the drain. Turning off the tap, Frankie walked away, out into the living room, through it to the bedroom. Lying down on the double bed, he pushed off his left sneaker with his right foot, then reversed the process. Now, shoeless, he curled up into the fetal position and, drained from the day’s activities, went swiftly to sleep. His last focused image was of the digital clock on the night stand near the bed: the glowing numbers read 6: 27 p.m.

The Homicide Squad of the Twelfth Precinct consisted of only five detectives. Their area, or district was only within a ten block radius. Theirs was a small precinct, but fully operable and very high-tech. Having the center of the business industry as their patrons, with some of the best restaurants and stores in the city within its confines, the “ 1-2 “, as it was called by insiders, was well-known and highly regarded in the community. Of the five ‘d.t.s’ on the roster, four of them had degrees in related fields. Detective Second Grade Baxter Franciscan dabbled in Behavioral Science and Profiling as a hobby. He had a degree in the former, and a huge interest in the latter. He often regretted not having gone to medical school, to become a neurosurgeon. The intricate workings of the human brain fascinated ‘Bax’ to no end. This case that he had drawn from the 1-2’s list had aspects of a real nut running around loose in his district. He had every available man and woman on it. There were fingerprints all over the place. As lawyers, these men had been affiliated with all types of people. They represented criminals who wore white collars, as well as blue. The inner office, belonging to one George Terrell, the alleged CEO of the firm, had sets of prints belonging to himself, his secretary and her boyfriend Frank, among others. To Bax, it appeared odd for the boyfriend’s prints to be in there at all. Why was he inside his girl’s boss’s office in the first place? He wanted to see this guy; wanted to see him badly. Bax decided not to call Frank at home. He wanted to sort of sneak up on him; catch the ‘grief-stricken’ man by surprise. Something wasn’t right with the whole case, and he meant to find out what it was-fast. It looked like a double murder, smelled like a double murder, but... One of the lawyers, a partner named Vincent Brandt had made a remark in passing; about Della the secretary’s boyfriend Frank. Just a tiny thing, but it nagged Bax to no end. “ This guy comes across as a ‘good ole boy; real country, down to the accent, you know? Everybody’s pal, but the eyes...they tell another story to me,” was what Vincent had stated during his taped interview at the stationhouse. When asked if there had been anything going on between Della and George Terrell, Brandt had actually blushed, then said quickly, “ I wouldn’t know about that. I just started here three months ago, and I’ve been too busy with courtroom antics to check out any office romances.” The way he said it though...., Bax thought. Quietly, as if he would be overheard. By whom? The dead couple? All of the other partners had clammed up. They more or less stuck to the same story between them. Bax guessed that they had had a meeting somewhere, to address the issue. The firm had been established by Terrell, and all of the young lawyers should be grateful for their chance to work there. The place was high finance and got good references and revues from everyone Baxter had spoken to so far. They could manage to keep the firm going without George Terrell at the helm. Any one of the young men was more than qualified to run it from his desk. But, if it was tainted with a double murder that had its origin in an office romance it would put a damper on things and ruin them all. Obviously little Vincent had not been privy to any inside info, or coached in his dialogue for the cops. Either that, or he was just a loose cannon, determined to say what he wanted to, regardless. Bax hoped that that was it; maybe he could use the boy later on in this investigation.
Right now, he needed to see the boyfriend, Frank. As he was leaving, his aide, Norman Dowling came running up excitedly waving a paper. As Baxter read it, he bagan to smile. Placing his finger to his lips, to signal silence, he and Norman left the building quickly.
Frank woke up at 8:45 on the nose. He sat up groggily, wiping matter from his eyes. They were swollen from crying earlier. They felt puffy in his face and his head hurt terribly. He padded to the bathroom in stockinged feet, searching in the cabinet for aspirin to ease the pounding in his head. He felt drunk, but he knew that he hadn’t been drinking that day. Then, all at once it hit him. Dell! Dell was dead, and so was George Terrell, her boss. Something about a baby and a note from Dell. Oh, my God. It came rushing in on him like a wave from the ocean. He swayed slightly, leaning against the bathroom door for support. He found the aspirin bottle, shook out three pills, and swallowed them down with water from the sink. He could smell himself. He began taking off his clothing right then and there. He turned on the shower water, adjusting the valves. Naked, he went back to the bedroom to find clean underwear and a tee shirt. The police would be coming soon, he knew. He didn’t want to appear to be a slob. He wouldn’t sully Dell’s memory by doing that. While the water ran, he took a quick inventory of the house. Everything was in shape. There was one plate in the sink, left there from breakfast by yours truly. He’d better wash it before Dell got home. She’d raise Holy Hell with him about... Dell. Ah, shit!! How was he going to get through this? He left the dish there, in the sink unwashed and started back to the bathroom, and his shower. On the refrigerator door was another note. Snatching it down, he read swiftly, ‘Hi! I’ll be home at nine sharp. I managed to finish things up at the office faster than I thought possible. I can’t wait to make plans for the baby. See you later, Dad. p.s.-i love you. ‘ This was becoming too much for him. Either someone was playing an elaborately cruel trick on him, or he was losing his mind. He grabbed a beer from the box, and practically ran to the bathroom, popping the top on the way.
Bax and Norman hadn’t eaten all day long. Figuring that Frank wasn’t going to leave the house, they stopped for dinner on the way there. They talked in whispers at the table as they ate their food. They were planning strategies together. The old ‘good cop, bad cop’ thing worked well for them because they were so in tune with each other. They’d been partnered early on, and had managed to stay together through political upheavals and office transfers for over ten years now. This case was just another chance to prove how well they worked as a team.
His shower over, Frankie put on his underclothing, then searched his closet for some dungarees and a sweatshirt. Dressed, he went into the livingroom to wait for what, he did not really know yet. The police were surely do at any time. He tried to think of any enemies that he or Dell may have made since they were together. They kept mainly to themselves, which made listing enemies a hard thing to do. At nine on the nose, the hall clock’s chimes bonged loudly through the house. Frankie jumped up, then sat again. He’d finished his beer, and went to get another from the fridge. He had left the last note on the table, where it still sat, crumpled. He wasn’t surprised to see another one in its place on the door. Dell seemed to be trying to tell him something. He definitely believed in ghosts and haunts. His upbringing had conditioned him for any possibilities in life. Tales had been told by his Granny and his Daddy, about un-natural things happening to people that they had known. His own small ‘powers’ of second sight were miniscule in comparison to his grandmother’s, but they were there, just the same. He read this new note, ‘ Hi. I’m home, honey. Time to talk about the baby. Time to settle things. p.s.-i love you.’ Something inside of Frankie snapped then. He laughed out loud, turned back to the living room, forgetting his beer. With the note in his hand, he entered the room, stood in the middle of the floor and started to talk, softly at first. “ Dell? Della? I know you’re here, honey. This is enough playing around. I get the hint. I know you’ve always thought I was stupid, but I’m not. Not really where it counts. Guess you know that now, huh? Old Frankie is not the fool that you and Lawyer Georgie -Porgie thought he was, huh? Is he there, with you? Tell him Frankie says ‘Hi’.” Frankie laughed loudly, turning around to face the bedroom door. He lit a cigarette, picked up an ashtray, and with it in his hand walked to the window. Staring out into the night, he began to talk again. His voice was harder now, with a harshness filled with pain and longing. “ Yeah, Della. You and old George thought you had me good. Truth is, you did, for awhile. I tried to warn you many times, Dell. You always laughed at me about my second sight, didn’t ya? My ‘voodoo hoodoo’ as you called it. I bet you and George had a good laugh about the old fool Frank, and his country ways. Well, it was those same country ways that led me to thinking about you and George in the first place. Those feelings I kept complaining about? Something happening to you? Something bad? That was my way of telling you to STOP IT RIGHT NOW!! Stop it before something bad happened to you...and to him. I don’t know how many times I saw you two in my visions. All hugged up together in his office. All over each other like snakes in a nest. “ Frowning slightly, Frankie turned once again towards the bedroom door, taking a long drag on his cigarette, he began to shout. “ I LOVED YOU GIRL!! DON’T YOU KNOW THAT? THAT LAWYER DIDN’T LOVE YOU LIKE I DID. NO, SIR. I COULD HAVE FORGIVEN YOU ANYTHING. I JUST WANTED TO BE WITH YOU, LIKE WE USED TO BE BEFORE YOU GOT THAT DAMN JOB.” He heard a car pull up into the driveway. He ran to the front window, saw two men standing, looking up at the roof of the house. The cops! Walking into the bedroom, Frankie opened the small drawer in the night stand, taking out a gun. In a normal voice, he started to speak to Della again. “ Well, Dell old girl, guess it’ about that time. I know we won’t be seeing each other. Huh. Not likely, where I’m going to. Like Granny used to say,’ I made my peace a long time ago.’ Well, you got who you wanted anyway. Georgie the Lawyerman. Now you two can be together for all eternity. And the baby, too of course. Oh, yeah, the precious baby. Even in the end, you tried to scam me with the baby. Guess what, Dell? Awhile back, oh, some two or three years ago, I think, I went to me a doctor for men’s troubles way upstate. I told you that it was a trip for my boss, remember that time? It was right around when you and that other fella were carrying on. What was his name again? Hal? Yeah, Hal Marshall from your other job at the bank. Anyway, the doc told me that I couldn’t make any babies! How’s that for a kicker, Dell? Truth be told, up til then I thought it was your fault. Sure did. Sorry about that. ‘Cause you sure proved to be a fertile one, didn’t ya, girl? How old would that baby of you and Hal’s be now? Two? I think so. You was so sick, I almost felt sorry for ya that time. I still took you back, though. See, that’s how much I love you. I saw it all, Dell. In a voodoo hoodoo vision. Is Hal there, too? Must be awfully crowded wherever you all are. He was easy. Much as he loved that old car of his. I just had to do a little fixing on his brakeline, and bye-bye Hally-Boy! I hated the way you moped around the house, scared to death ‘cause you didn’t have him no more. And pregnant, to boot. ‘A visit to my sister’s ‘ you said. I knew you had to have an abortion. That man’s red hair might have come out, and then where would you be? Too risky. A bird in the hand, huh, Della?” A quick knock on the door made Frankie come out of his reverie. “Coming”,he called, all the while heading in the opposite direction. In the kitchen, he placed both notes on the table side by side, sat down in a chair, and placed his gun to his head, near the temple.
Outside, the two detectives were beginning to suspect that things were not right inside Frank’s home. Baxter Franciscan held the notation from the police computer in his left hand, as he pulled his gun from the shoulder holster with his right. The proximity of the two deaths of men that Della had worked for was enough to take Frankie in for questioning. He’d probably get away with it, but there was nothing wrong with harassing him a little. He may even break down. Who knew? Stranger things had happened in their line of work.
Frankie didn’t even acknowledge the knocking at the front door the second time. He was beyond caring. He and Dell were conversing in his mind. She was sitting across from him there in the kitchen, sipping tea in her favorite cup. Holding the gun steadily, Frankie picked up the notes on the table before him. The words blurred, but he recited the last line aloud. “ p.s.-i love you. “, he said with a final smile just before he pulled the trigger. As his head jerked backwards, he glimpsed the final note, on the door of the refrigerator. The two detectives read it over and over again, trying to understand what it could have meant. Only the last line made any sense to them. ‘ Hi, honey. You and me, and baby makes three, or four, or five. Who knows? p.s.-i hate you.

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