ALMOST-A-MURDERER: Backfired (Prologue & Chapters 1-5) Mystery/Fiction/Chapbook
Prologue
“Sure, I knew he was capable of murder… I’d groomed him to be,” admitted Micah’s mom as she struggled with the rope binding her hands behind her back; puzzled: “Doesn’t every mom wish their son could commit murder for them?… I just didn’t think in a trillion years it would be mine… How could he?… Surely he can’t or he would’ve done it by now, right?” she mouthed under her breath.
“But he can’t! No! Surely not. Not after all I’ve done for him!”
And he could have gotten me a more comfortable chair, she thought as she winced and whined; struggled until both her wrists and ankles were chafed; burning because of her constant irritated shifting. Micah had looped one end of the thick new rope imprisoning her palms between the four legs of the wooden straight chair. Positioned her far enough back from the small circular attic window so that if she tried to escape or attract attention she would tip over and he would hear her.
Toting her comatose body had been quite an ordeal. Although he was strong and he had flipped her over his shoulder like a sack of old potatoes the staircase was narrow and warped. He’d not been sure about both their weights on the creaking stairs. And after he had plopped her onto the wooden seat and roped her up just before he’d thought she’d come to Micah found himself sweating profusely and quite famished.
He figured that he still had a few hours before enacting an idea he’d been toying with for weeks. Though truthfully that desire had been simmering in his subconscious for years. For his mom had taught Micah to think only of his desires; after hers, of course. That ‘sentiment’ was useless; was for fools. And that only extreme intelligence could propel one into an exciting and successful future. And didn’t she have a way of letting him know that he was inept; more than a tad deficient? That the intellectual reigns of this family were held solely in her capable hands.
Plus: “Look at who you married!” was always her final toss of ice-cold water as a ‘wake-up’ into his face. “Don’t you dare believe that wife of yours can stand on the same stage as me. Let alone share my limelight!”… As far as Micah’s mom was concerned, his wife, Rachel, had no ‘concrete’ value if she couldn’t continue to pull her weight….“And having your first baby in your fifties! What a disgrace!… My lawd! Even if conceived during a pandemic. She gets no crying privileges!”
So when Micah’s mother started feigning chronic illness she had no idea that it would backfire.
CHAPTER ONE
While quickly downing a beer before ripping off a bright yellow wrapper on his deluxe chicken sandwich, Micah thought about the best way to set his grandmother’s old wooden house ablaze. “The wiring is ancient,” he mumbled through the huge spicy bite he had taken, glancing around at discolored outlets along the chipped dusty baseboards of the kitchen and on the back wall of the small yellowed linoleum counter. It was a tiny room with a dirty white four-burner gas stove and a mismatched black heavy refrigerator digging into the sagging floor.
He became quite efficient doing electrical and carpentry work on homes since his mother learned how to ‘flip’ old houses when his dad fled to Florida with her male workmate on his arm. At that time, Micah’s mother was a young tired waitress assisting her constantly griping ‘husband’ with overdue credit card payments jointly made. So Micah learned his craft as a sad young lad tagging along behind many skilled laborers who traded their professional labors for ‘physical’ favors from his mom as repayment. She had no idea he was well aware of her ‘business’ connections.
So that day, they’d planned to do a walk-through so that she’d have a good idea of what price she’d quote if deciding to sell her mother’s home in the condition called ‘as is’. But Micah had determined that she would not see that accomplished after the incident. He vowed it would be her last time to belittle him.
It happened so fast… Wearing her tan linen pantsuit and elevated three inches in beige pumps, Gloria, Micah’s mom, leaned her shoulder against the living room door frame with arms folded beneath her breasts and a black mask dangling from her fingers. She repeated: “What did I ask you to do?… Can’t you get anything right?” Her eyes bore into her good-natured, good-looking, bearded, forty-nine-year-old son. She didn’t want to spend any unnecessary funds on the house.
He’d turned his back on her to continue examining the floorboards to see if he’d need to lay down another floor. Or could he get away with just removing a few damaged boards and refinishing the whole?
“Mom,” he said, “It won’t take much effort or money to at least make the house presentable. You’d get more money in the end. I can have it finished next weekend.”
“If I needed you to think for me I’d have asked,” she flipped back. “And when have I ever asked you what you thought about anything?… I don’t need a man, let alone my ignorant son, to think for me.”
At that point, Micah spun around and slapped her so hard that her head hit the frame. She immediately slid to the floor. He’d felt that it would eventually come to this; though not this soon. Why he was able to calmly stroll out of the front door and down the three chipped cement steps to his truck parked in front of the house. He unlocked the backdoor and from the back seat removed the rope that he’d bought weeks earlier when visiting a Harold’s hardware store in the city.
When indoors, he grabbed her up, slung her over his shoulder, and used the skeleton key to open the attic door. He flipped the switch on the wall, carefully taking the weak steps slowly and gently up until he entered the cluttered area under the cob-webbed rafters. He’d already cleared an area out for himself months earlier as he’d often need to get away; a break; to hide out for brief moments. So there was a wooden chair centered under a single dangling blinking bulb.
Micah had no idea how much longer she’d be out so he quickly dropped her onto the seat; grabbed her hands and tied them behind her, threading the rope around and through the legs to the front of the chair. Then Micah kept it pulled taut while binding her feet. Dripping sweat he slowly returned downstairs; decided to leave the light on, but still locked the door and put the key into his khaki pocket.
Earlier, he’d had purchased lunch for himself and his mom at the corner deli and had put it and a case of beer inside the refrigerator they had picked up at a repair shop a couple of years back because Gloria had used the house initially as a start-up real estate office. She said the bleak atmosphere of her childhood residence would be enough to propel her to soar above her tragic past. She wanted no reminders of it. And neither did Micah.
As he polished off the remainder of his lunch in three more bites he reasoned: “It would be easy enough to overload the circuits;” wiping the crackling paper across his mouth. And swiping the crumbs onto the floor. Grabbing his last beer from the refrigerator he dropped back onto his seat at the table.
Running his hand across the top of his head he looked around the outdated kitchen of his mom’s old home actually surprised that he had any fondness of memory there as a child. His mind conjured up a vision of a giant man tossing him into the air, riding him on his back like a pony, and this same man bouncing him on his knee. He shook his head as the memory fled; was forced from him.
He glared instead at the ceiling for he heard his mom trying to scoot; scraping the old wooden floor with her chair. A tick began pulsating at his right temple. Shutting tight his eyes for a moment he also clenched his teeth; squeezed one fist into the palm of the other. He forced a stillness upon his rising anger.
Micah knew he had to quiet her before the first-time home buyers appeared. If they appeared. A young couple interested in purchasing a ‘fixer-upper’ thought they’d be able to stop by before twelve. If they did he’d send them apologetically away explaining sickness as to the reason for his mom’s absence. But Micah had forgotten Gloria’s parked Mercedes further up the road beyond the thick bushes. She wanted to avoid stepping into any mud. Even after a bright sun quickly dried up the rain water always seemed to puddle at the curb in front of their house.
Micah’s thoughts left the couple and returned to his mother; he felt that Gloria would soon be hungry, but thought he’d make her wait until she was good and thirsty as well.
“I’ll nuke a sandwich for her and pour her a coke,” he said aloud.
He also planned to add her sleeping meds which usually put her out for hours. Ever since he could remember she could not sleep. But that was never his problem. He laid his head down on his folded arms to think. In no time at all, he was fast asleep and snoring.
CHAPTER TWO
Gloria was furious. The air in the attic was humid; muggy. Though the dust dried out her mouth. Caused her sleeveless silk shell to stick to her sweaty flesh. If only she could tear off the jacket, hold it up to wring out her blouse until drips fell to moisten her tongue.
No… Honestly, what Gloria really wanted was to run down the steps, kick open the attic door, and wring her only son’s neck. Then she’d happily stroll to her car, pop-open the trunk where she always carried bottled vitamin water inside a canteen mixed with vodka, and she’d drink greedily. Afterward, she’d enter her car and blast the air-conditioning until she was suitably frozen before thinking of how she would dispose of her wicked son’s body.
Those thoughts kept Gloria occupied for a good hour. Until anxiety raised her blood pressure; causing an increase in oppressive body heat. She felt her energy level sinking fast. Unfortunately, she began to weep; wasting even more fluid.
While inside her vehicle, every fifteen minutes or so for the past forty-five minutes, Gloria’s phone would ring. Usually, on the weekends, her phone was pretty silent. Just spam calls. And she hadn’t been too optimistic regarding the young couple stopping by. The plans they’d mentioned for their morning, she believed, would prevent them from viewing the house. So it was her daughter-in-law, Rachel.
Rachel knew that her mother-in-law was friendless. Therefore, on the occasional Saturday, she’d check in on her. See if she’d agree to stop by and share a meal with her and her desultory son, Micah. Rachel decided against leaving another message; thinking: “She’s probably showing the couple the house and she or Micah will call when they’re through… I’ll just be obedient and do as the doctor says, ‘stay off your feet.’ At least until one of them gets here.”
Sliding past the glass coffee table, Rachel eased her increasingly heavy frame onto the floral sofa, slipped off her house shoes, then raised her thickening legs, sighing. She recalled the night she’d gotten herself into this situation. Usually so careful, knowing that menopausal women often got pregnant, Rachel allowed her body to comfort a sorely distressed Micah increasingly venting acid anger at his mother’s frequent abusive comments. So with no time to take precautions Rachel still acquiesced even as she believed that moment would cause her life to take another drastic turn.
And her premonition proved correct. A doctor’s appointment a month later confirmed what she knew; a baby grew inside her. But as time went on she did not allow herself to know the gender of their child. And Micah didn’t concern himself with that knowledge either. It was just as well.
Rachel picked up the magazine Psychology Today, then continued to read an article she’d started earlier about caustic mother and son relationships. She sort of hoped that their child would be a female. Not that she wouldn’t love a son. She just didn’t know how she and Micah would perform as parents of a male.
Would Micah be interested in him? Or would he be jealous of their mother-and-son bond?… Could he even love him?
Those questions constantly plagued her. But, Rachel knew that for the safety of her child’s disposition she’d need to concentrate on pleasantries. So she closed the magazine and picked up another one given to her earlier by an attractive middle-aged couple. The magazine was entitled AWAKE!
The couple briefly highlighted its theme: Wisdom for Life and Happiness.
And ‘yes’, she answered them, the Table of Contents interested her:
Page 3. Wisdom for Life and Happiness
Page 4. Wisdom for Family Happiness
Page 6. Guidance for Peaceful Relationships
Page 8. Keys to Contentment
Page 10. Why Do We Suffer, Grow Old, and Die?
Page 12. Teachings That Give Hope
Page 14. Knowledge That Draws Us to God
Page 15. Wisdom Within Your Reach
Page 16. Would You Like to Learn More?
“Actually, I would,” Rachel thought but didn’t vocalize. Though the couple’s unexpected visit had given Rachel a much-desired lift. Especially since they were so kind. For when about to depart they made a congratulatory mention of her pregnant state. Something she’d not heard sincerely. They also took the time to show her a two-minute video entitled: Little One. Said she would find it endearing. And she did.
When leaving they left a card directing her to where she could again locate the video and other children’s videos like it for the family’s enjoyment; she thanked them. Though Rachel wondered: What family? as she laid back on the sofa pillow, took her phone, typed in: www.JW.org, then typed ‘Little One’ in the search box.
“There it is!” she cried out loud to the empty house. Outside clouds over her house began to block out the sun attempting to bring back the darkness that always seemed to descend into the depths of her being upon contemplation of Micah and his mom’s relationship. Yet, the continued playing of the sweet little song caused her despondency to recede. Rachel repeatedly played it until she soon knew it by heart. Until she finally fell off to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
Both Mike and Carol held their tongues as they left Micah’s porch with Rachel, his wife, courteously watching until they safely reached their car. Carol turned to wave one last time before walking around the back of their rental to enter and take her seat on the passenger’s side; lowering her mask after buckling in she began to speak before Mike pulled away from the house.
“Micah’s wife. I’m a little worried about her–Rachel… She did say her name was Rachel, right?” asked Carol, angling her body to slightly facing Mike.
“Yes… Why are you worried? I didn’t see anything particularly alarming.”
“Particularly?” Carol repeated.
Mike quickly looked at Carol with a little smirk on his face before focusing on turning onto Main Street with its increasing traffic. Though, not too heavy since the massive swell of Island vacationers had gone.
“Before we begin this discussion, are you getting hungry?… I was thinking of a deli sandwich.”
“So I’m thinking you don’t mean the one around the corner,” Carol noted.
“You got it, babe!”
“Fine by me… Okay… Particularly?” she asked again, glancing over to read his expression, although Carol had settled back into her seat since they chose to drive the extra ten minutes to a little spot they knew would serve them up right. She also watched the traffic because she felt two sets of eyes were always better than just the driver’s.
“No, nothing ‘particularly alarming’… Seems to me, ‘young lady’ that you’re getting a bit rusty with your sleuthing.”
“Rusty! I just told you that I’m concerned about Rachel and you call me ‘rusty’!”
Mike lightly drops his hand onto Carol’s arm to calm her down, all the while laughing. “Hold on. I’ll grant you your powers of observance regarding Rachel since I didn’t see anything unusual with her besides the fact of her being well along in her pregnancy. And maybe a little tired-looking. But two months away from the agency has dulled your once keen canine sense,” he ended with a grin.
“Must I remind you, kind sir, that we are both on vacation? And this little side job you’ve taken on can be handled by you alone with you just exerting the effort found in your little pinky.”
Mike’s ego was suitably stroked. It was true that this new client hired him in regards to Micah Givens, and the task didn’t seem too difficult of an assignment for him to handle. And Mike took on the client, more-or-less, as a favor to Carol’s aunt who seemed to be taken with this owner of a small chain of hardware stores similar to Ace’s.
“Okay. You’re off the hook for now. However, I need you to hone your skills and keep them honed… You never know when I’ll need you back at the agency.”
Although Carol was flattered by Mike’s words, she’d rather hoped that Mike would be joining her in her new line of full-time service called ‘Pioneering’. A form of detection was needed to reach hearts in that work too. But, Carol chose to smile rather than reply to his statement. Instead, she asked, “Soooo, what did I miss?” She didn’t chide him for his lack of sympathy for the woman they just left.
Micah’s wife, Rachel, looked as if she needed to get to the hospital yesterday. As she stood with the screen door slightly ajar, Carol could see a bit of perspiration on her nose and above her lip, although she and Mike were quite enjoying the pleasant breeze while on her porch. She appeared to be interested in their questions, but she seemed to find it difficult to focus as she squinted as if her head ached while she held her belly with one hand and leaned heavily against the door jam. And lastly, while it is true that pregnant women swell in their face, hands, and feet, Carol has seen more than enough relatives who’ve had Toxemia during their pregnancy, to wonder if Rachel was not experiencing the same. Being a mature woman with no visible evidence of other children or adults to assist her around the home put her life and that of the child at great risk.
“Wow, Carol, I must’ve missed a lot. Here, I’ve been chatting you up for the past five minutes and you haven’t interjected a word,” Mike said breaking into her thoughts.
“Oh, oh… I’m sorry, honey… I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t miss anything… She just looked very tired and a little worried.”
Mike loved Carol’s natural concern for people; especially since these ‘last days’ put ‘unnatural affection’ and ‘lovers of self’ perched high as a crow’s nest above ‘love’. So he didn’t harp upon the fact that she missed his thoughts about where to now begin searching out Micah.
While Carol was observing Rachel, Mike noticed no visible sign of Micah’s presence. No coat tossed upon the floral sofa or tan leather lounge chair. No metallic black 2018 Toyota Tundra licensed QT-Cu2 out front and no word from his wife suggesting he’d just left or when he’d return after Mike casually asked about speaking with him.
Amazingly, Rachel didn’t ask about who they were and why they were looking for Micah. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for uninvited Carol and Mike to be at her door. It seemed to be a moot point that they used their ‘being’ Jehovah’s Witnesses, although the ‘Witnesses’ as a group had not been at anyone’s door since Covid began. Matter-of-fact, that part of the conversation seemed to fly right over her head.
Mike was about to relay this to Carol when he spotted a metallic black 2018 Toyota Tundra licensed QT-Cu2 swerving over to pull alongside the curb outside Pete’s deli.
“Well, look who we have here, my dear. I had just been wondering where to begin my search. And lo and behold… I think I’ll make our sandwiches to go.”
So Mike jumped out of the rental to be there at the counter to observe Micah’s arrival.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mike got to the deli door before Micah exited his truck since Micah seemed to be deep in thought as he mumbled to himself words Mike couldn’t comprehend. So Mike let go of the handle to enter for the bell had alerted Pete to his presence.
Arriving from the deli’s back Pete called out: “Well, hey, Mike! I thought you’d gone back to Boston. Good to see ya!”
“Good to see you too…No, Pete, man. I and the Missus decided to visit with you Islanders for a bit longer. We are loving your Vineyard… What would you say if you saw us popping in here regularly?“
“I’d say: ‘Do it!’… We’d love to have good people like you around… So what’ll you have today,” he asked as the bell finally jingled announcing Micah’s stumbled entrance over the threshold.
While replying, “Just two of those delicious tuna subs with two small bags of kettle chips to go…” Mike took in Micah’s rumpled appearance and muddy boots, thinking that the afternoon sun had practically dried up the pavement after a brief morning shower. “I’ll grab two ice teas from the cooler now if you just want to go ahead and ring it up… I don’t want to hold you up from your customer. Plus, Carol and I have taken a bit of a detour to come to you,” he finishes grinning and walking away.
“But we must get back on track,” he finishes, returning with the bottles.
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by… Hey, Micah. What can I do for you?… You mean to tell me, you and Gloria finished off those chicken sandwiches already?” Pete asked Micah while putting together Mike’s subs.
“Wheat bread, Mike?”
“Yes, definitely! Glad you remembered,” Mike said.
This added conversation with Mike allowed Micah to regain his composure to answer Pete. Laughing a little Micah slowly said, “Pete, those chicken sandwiches were so good, mom wanted me to pick up two more so that she’d not have to cook anything.”
By this time he was leaning against the glass where Pete was finishing up making Mike’s subs. “I think I’ll take one of them that you’re making there too–for myself. Okay, Pete?“
“Sure, man! I’ll get started soon as I ring him up,” he nods towards Mike.
“Oh, sure. Sure… I’ll just sit down while I wait.” Then Micah slumped into a chair at one of the tables; put his head down, and in a second was asleep.
Pete said to Mike, “Poor guy. He must be wiped out… He and Gloria, his mom, flip houses and sell them here. They don’t do huge business, but they do okay… It’s difficult to stay afloat with real estate prices driving the little man off the island… If you’re thinking of buying here, Mike, I don’t know…”
Mike takes his bag from Pete’s extended arm. “Thanks, Mike, for this,” he said as he held up his purchase, “and for the heads up. I’d heard about how property values have soared to high heavens… If you aren’t a million or billionaire in this world–. But you seem to have the perfect set-up here with living over your business… If Carol and I do anything, it’ll probably be along these lines,” he admitted from the doorway.
“I’ll see you later, Pete,” he finished as the door closed on the two men left inside. He saw Micah raising himself slowly.
Mike hurried to the car to wait on Micah’s exit. He thought that with the swiftness of Pete’s work it wouldn’t be too long in coming.
“Carol, I said my own silent prayer on the way back to the car,” he said to his wife as he handed her their lunch. “Seems our Micah is a bit out of it,” he also mentioned as he adjusted himself behind the steering wheel.
“I understand what you mean and I saw him,” she countered. “But it looks like he’s a little more than just tired,” she concluded while still holding the bag.
“I agree… When he comes out I’ll follow him… In the meantime, whip me out one of those sandwiches and a bag of chips, dear.”
Carol laughed, “moving a little too slow since we’ve got ‘places to go’?” as she began unwrapping his sub and handing him one half with the chips. “Give me a second to twist off the top of your drink… Oh! And look. There’s your man.”
“Yeah. I see. But he seems to be headed over to that liquor store… Do you think he can stand anymore?“
“Barely. Since you asked me,” she said taking in Micah’s gait.
“Yes I did,” Mike interjected, winking.
“So I guess you might get the opportunity to wolf down the remainder of that sub!” she said as Mike laughed, licked his fingers, and leaned over to kiss Carol’s cheek while grabbing the bag from her lap.
“You just worry about you,” he said, reaching in to get the other half of his sandwich; handing hers back to her. Then he focused his gaze back onto Micah’s wobbly walk while another tipsy customer patiently held the door for him.
“So you see. Chivalry isn’t dead,” Carol said as she took a generous bite herself of the delicious tuna sub… “Do you want your pickle,” she asked.
“Yes. And yours too… That is if you don’t want it.”
Carol giggled, handing him both.
It didn’t take Micah too long to pick up a case of beer and return swaying with the lovely breeze to his truck. Traffic was also kind to him; so he arrived at its door with no casualty. After unlocking it he crawled into the truck past the steering wheel and put his packages on the passenger seat.
And when he finally pulled away, Mike was right behind him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Since the house was small, Gloria heard Micah go into their refrigerator a few times. So she assumed correctly that he must’ve consumed all the beers. And being a ‘realist’ Gloria realized the actual danger of her situation. So when she heard Micah rattling the attic’s doorknob she found herself holding her breath. “Please keep him downstairs,” became her inward request.
All the previous noisy scooting while struggling with the ropes Gloria had done earlier exhausted her and proved to be of no avail in shaming Micah into feeling sorry for her. Then freeing her. So she wept quietly; waited for him to leave before frantically beginning again trying to free herself.
After a while, Gloria figured Micah had fallen asleep when she didn’t hear any more activity downstairs. But she remained quiet; pondered:
“What happened? Where did I go wrong? What did I do to deserve this?”
For as far back as she could remember, Micah had been obedient.
“He was such a sweet pensive child… Never one to give her trouble.”
Unlike her actions with her mother.
Gloria thought back to her childhood and how in a hurry she was to leave everyone and everything behind. This she did; convinced the first willing male in high school to set out on an adventure with her; off their little island to a place far away called Atlanta. Never conceiving in the possibility that she’d end up right back in the same attic of her adolescent plans of escape now turned into a present-day nightmare with the same purpose–survival.
She’d never dreamed that her son Micah would desire to hurt her, then somehow manage to climb the same steps of her childhood toting her unconscious body. Binding her in the same attic where she hid from her mother in an attempt to get away from constant scolding and abuse; mirroring her mother’s treatment by her husband.
Still, Gloria dreamed of a perfect marriage with her own home. Planned to hold on to her man. Not nag in constant anger as she heard her mom do with her dad. She would keep a clean home and cook delicious meals since she remembered her dad’s bitterness about the lack of it in their house.
Initially Gloria thought: It probably was the reason why her parents would physically come to blows in this house. Probably why her father chose this spot. So as not to be embarrassed. So as not to disturb any neighbors in their blazing battles.
Why Gloria had come to hate her mother. She didn’t then know about her father’s long secret love for alcohol. But then Gloria got herself a ‘man’. Then she began to relate with her mom; began to understand. Then she began to hate her father and all men. Except for her son…
She would groom him to become that one male she could depend on.
Initially, Micah showed her that he could be counted on. Even to the point of silent consent with her illegal plans to claim insurance money for accidental fires… Then came Rachel… Then came his marriage to Rachel.
Why couldn’t he have married someone more like them? More like me wondered Gloria… Sure, she was pretty enough, but where did she come from? Who were her people? Why did they have to come to the Vineyard?… And, my lawd, why was she so quiet?
More than anything else that bothered Gloria was that fact: Rachel was too quiet. Gloria felt that she was always watching. Probably judging them… Why didn’t Micah see that he couldn’t trust her?
But, more importantly, when and why did Micah lose trust in me? was her present concern. And how do I get it back? she pondered. For if she couldn’t control him, who would take care of her when she couldn’t take care of herself?
Gloria sobbed since her present situation showed her a reality that she hadn’t fathomed: Michal didn’t want to take care of her. Not anymore.
For hadn’t it been hours since they’d arrived at the house and had he brought her anything to eat or drink?
***
The moment Gloria heard her son slam the door on his truck she wiggled both feet out of her pumps hoping to be able to slide her nylon covered feet against the rope until it loosened. She wiggled and scooted; wiggled and scooted until she tipped over as Micah had predicted she would. But he’d already driven off; did not hear. So Gloria laid unconscious after hitting the back of her head on the attic floor.
History continued with a little more of the Given’s family blood shed; bled from a violent past into the present dilapidated structure of Gloria’s childhood home.
***
If you would like to finish BACKFIRED you can pre-order the complete story at Amazon’s Kindle Store available on May 2, 2022.
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ITH & SB 