An Inedible Wife

An Inedible Wife

By John W Drake

He took a slurp from his mug of coffee.
“Jack must you make that noise?” Yvonne said, not lifting her gaze from the Barbara Cartland in her lap.
Jack removed his reading glasses. He neatly folded the Sunday edition of The New York Times. He gulped the remains of his coffee, burning his throat on the way down, then stood up and called “Chester, come here boy.”
“Where you off to?” She said.
“I don’t know, but Chester knows, don’t you my boy?” He said, ruffling the short tan and white coat of the eager Jack Russell terrier.
“Don’t forget your jacket, it’s getting cold out, also don’t forget Joe and Marge are coming for lunch and also don’t feed him hot dogs. You know it makes him runny.”

Jack attached the lead to Chester’s collar, and then tucked the folded paper under his arm.

“You love hot dogs, don’t you Chester?” he said while closing the door to his third floor apartment and the scowl from his plump, middle-aged, wife. Chester’s stumpy tail wagged in agreement.

Chester marked his territory at the end of the wrought iron banister that led from the main door of the apartment building.
“Save some for Joe,” said Jack.

- - - - -

Who calls their kid Joe, Jack thought. What does the idiot want, money probably, or maybe he has gone and gotten Marge pregnant, the little shit. I’ll kill him if he has. He has no job, no money, and no chance of getting either. He has my daughter shacked up with him. He calls himself an artist, who’s going to buy a sculpture from a guy called Joe.
I never wanted to name my daughter Marge either. That was Yvonne’s idea. I remember the day that she came home from that damn public school in tears.
‘Marge, Marge extra large. She stinks as bad as a garbage barge.’
Those were the words. She told me through her nine-year old sobs. She wasn’t even fat, slightly plump, baby fat. The smell was from the penicillin. She had to take it for her rheumatic fever.

Cruel kids in public schools. If I had earned more then she would have been in private school sooner. Things improved at Westinghouse, but by then damage was done.
She bathed twice a day at home and took three showers at school. She wasn’t even taking the penicillin anymore.
The anorexia started at thirteen. Doctor Sacks helped, twice a week.
She only started to shine when she joined the swim team. She probably started it to lose weight. She got good at it. She won the four by 100m individual medley three years straight. Coach Waters taught her. She told Marge to focus on the techniques, to perfect each stroke.
Other swimmers could beat her in freestyle or backstroke, breaststroke or butterfly. However, in the medley, they all had a weak stroke. Marge did not. She won a sport scholarship to attend U.C.L.A.
Then Joe came along. He ended that.

- - - - -

They arrived at Central Park. Jack sat down on the green park bench.
He unclipped Chester from the lead and unfolded his newspaper.
Chester hopped onto the bench beside Jack. He pawed the pocket of Jack’s brown corduroy jacket, eager to start the game.
Jack tossed the tennis ball and Chester flashed after it.
Chester was fast. He wrestled the ball to the ground and returned quickly.
He dropped the ball in the narrow gap between the slats of the bench and muzzled it towards Jack. He wanted his friend to put the life back into his prey. Jack obliged and Chester took off after it again.

A young couple, strolling hand in hand, him carrying a heavy icebox and she a picnic basket, found a place on the grass to spread their blanket.

One throw was too close and the young man, who had removed his too tight t-shirt, caught it. He began to tease Chester with the ball.
The young woman, more sensibly dressed in denim and a pink sweater, gave the man a playful punch on the shoulder and held up a finger admonishingly.
Chester of course saw it all a game and dodged around the young man yapping. He was even more delighted when the young woman started to make a fuss over him. The young man pitched the ball and Chester raced after it.

The ball hit a stone on the bicycle path and bounced into the nearby bushes, Chester dove in after it.
His nose should have found it by now, though Jack, as he headed to the spot where Chester had entered the bush.
The young man, at the insistence of his girlfriend, started to rise to come and help, but Jack waved him off.

“What you got there boy, you find a bone?” said Jack peering into the bushes.

Chester stopped his frantic digging at the sound of Jacks voice.
Jack stooped to miss the low branches and walked closer awkwardly.
He picked up the muddy ball at his feet. In the loose earth where Chester had been digging he saw the body, mostly covered by leaves and dirt.
She was a young woman, naked. Quickly revolted he grabbed Chester and hurried from the bushes.

He attached the lead to Chester and waved to the young couple with the ball in his hand.
“Come boy!” he said to Chester straining at the lead “It’s not our problem, we are late.”

- - - - -

“Jack, look at the state he’s in, he’s filthy. I don’t know what you let him get up to; really, you’ll have to wash him later” said Yvonne.
“Joe and Marge are here already, we almost started without you, but Joe said we should wait.”

“Hello Daddy” said Marge throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek.

“Mister Talon” said Joe shaking hands formally.

“I need to wash, excuse me” said Jack.

Jack splashed his face with the cold water from the white basin.
After drying his face and hands, he examined himself in the mirror. His temples seemed greyer, the lines around his mouth and blue eyes more deeply etched.
I am getting older he thought.

He paid little attention to the Yvonne’s nattering during dinner, nor the occasional word from Joe or Marge.
His thoughts were on the body. It was only when Marge said, “Joe and I have some news” that his attention returned to the present.

“Joe and I are pregnant”.

“That’s wonderful, a grandchild.” said Yvonne.

“Yes wonderful, tell me Joe, now that you are going to have a wife and child, how do you plan to support them?” asked Jack.

“Joe, tell them the other good news,” said Marge.

“No Marge, I told you it’s not final yet,” said Joe.

“Well if you won’t I will. Joe is having an exhibition, a solo.”

“Not final?” asked Jack looking directly at Joe.

“It’s ninety percent,” said Marge, “at the April Kelly Gallery on Broadway.”

“An exhibition, how exciting, I always said Joe would make it, didn’t I?” said Yvonne.

“Well”, said Marge, “Some of Joe’s work is unfinished because his welding plant is broken. His pickup needs a new clutch as well. We need $ 4000 to fix then. And we offered to help the gallery with the exhibition costs.”

“Where is the money coming from Joe?” asked Jack.

“That’s the other thing we need to ask you. Joe said we shouldn’t, he is full of silly pride. But we need your help.” said Marge.

“Of course we will help,” said Yvonne.

“How much Joe?”

“Only five thousand, you are in advertising dad, you know how important it is to get the word out, and people expect champagne at an art exhibition”

“Ok, I’ll write out a check,” said Jack more for his daughter’s sake than for Joe’s.

“Joe, I will consider it a loan.”

“Thanks dad” said Marge.

“That’s not all, I have spoken to Rudy our creative director, he says he is willing to give Joe a try in the art department. It will be a junior position. If you don’t sell anything then I expect you to give it a try Joe. Do you agree?”

“I will mister Talon,” said Joe.

“When is the exhibition?” asked Yvonne.

“Thursday after next, I do hope you will come,” said Marge.

“I am sure we will,” said Yvonne.

After Joe and Marge left, Yvonne said, “Jack, I hope you aren’t going to hold Joe to this bargain.”

“Why not?”

“He is an artist Jack, you will stifle that in him, can’t you see that.”

“No Yvonne, Marge is what matters not Joe.”

“If he gives up his art, he won’t be happy; he will resent her for it. I am concerned for their future.”

“So am I. Come Chester time for you bath.”

- - - - -

Jack was plagued, that week, by intrusive thoughts of the body. The days dragged at Blue Zephyr, the agency where he worked. The nights at home were restless, his sleep fitful. He knew he should have reported the body, and felt guilty.

“Look at this. It’s so terrible” Said Yvonne handing the Sunday newspaper to Jack as he sat down to eat his breakfast

Jack took the paper, saw the picture of the crime scene, and knew that she had been found.
He put on his reading glasses.
“It says that she was only twenty-three, a college student, named Sylvia. Marge is only two years older.”
He read aloud “…when veteran detective Mike de Bonna was asked if he was the investing officer he offered ‘no comment’ and referred us to police spokesman Mr. James Kelly.
Mr. Kelly said ‘Police detectives are investigating some promising leads and ask the public to come forward with any information that may assist’…”

“They don’t have anyone in custody yet,” he said.

Jack finished reading the article, put down the paper, and removed his glasses. He poured milk over his cornflakes, smothered them with maple syrup, then lifted a spoonful to his mouth and started crunching. He felt relieved.

- - - - -

“That will be eight seventy-five,” said the swarthy cabbie as he pulled up on Broadway avenue outside the April Kelly gallery.

“Thanks, keep the change,” said Jack reaching over the front seat and handing him a wrinkled ten dollar bill.

“Well here we are,” he said holding the cab door open for Yvonne. “I hope this is worth missing my poker game for.”

“Poker, you never win anyway Jack. You guys just sit around eating crisps and talking football,” Yvonne said as they entered the gallery.

“Mom, Dad I am so glad you made it. Please have some drinks and snacks,” Marge said showing them to the tables.

One table was set with canapés, an assortment of cheeses cut into cubes, crackers, cocktail sausages with toothpicks stuck in them, and other tasty looking cocktail fare. The promised champagne was missing, instead a Grgich Hills Chardonnay from the Napa valley and a Cedar Knoll Sauvignon where standing on a table that served as the bar. Jack was pleased to see a bottle of Chivas Regal and an ice bucket next to the wines.

“A glass of white wine and a scotch on the rocks please,” said Jack to the neatly dressed bartender.

Three ice cubes clinked into the tumbler. “Say when,” said the bartender as he poured the scotch.

“When,” Jack said as the level reached a solid three fingers.

Maybe this evening won’t be so bad after all, he thought. He picked up the scotch, took a sip and swirled it around in his mouth, savoring it, then went to find Yvonne. She had wandered off with Marge.

He saw them amongst the sculptures and nodded politely to the other guests and patrons as he wended his way over to them.

“Here you are,” he said handing Yvonne her glass of wine.

They were examining a piece called ‘A Fireman at Rest’. It was a five foot tall chromed cross, at its base, also in chrome, rested a fireman’s axe and helmet.

“Thank you,” said Yvonne as they moved on to the next piece. It consisted of a gold plated dinner plate on a burnished steel tray. On the left of the plate was a chromed ball-peen hammer, on the right a pliers. The plate was filled with small nails, nuts, bolts, and rivets. It was titled ‘An Inedible Wife’.

They met up with Joe beside his most controversial piece.

“Good evening mister Talon, missus Talon. Allow me to introduce you to April,” he said indicating the stylishly dressed blond woman next to him.

“I take it you are the owner of this gallery,” said Jack extending his hand.

“That I am,” she replied.

“Tell me, what do you think of this piece by our Joe,” she said pointing to the sculpture.

Jack looked at the sculpture. It was a depiction of the crucifixion, but instead of a cross, Christ was nailed to a six foot aluminum dollar sign. It was titled ‘Jesus Saves”.

“I think it is controversial,” said Jack.

“That it is,” said April “It is a comment on the exploitation of faith for material gain.”

“Joe could be accused of the same thing, if it sells,” said Jack.

“He knows that,” she replied “that is why the proceeds from this piece will go to charity.”

Jack nodded, and then took another sip of scotch. His glass was almost empty.

“Excuse me,” he said holding up the glass, “time for a refill, your wine, Yvonne?”

“I’m fine,” Yvonne said, indicating the half full glass.

- - - - -


“Rudy, I am surprised to find you here,” said Jack as he encountered his colleague at the bar.

“No more than me. I’ve never seen you at one these before,” said Rudy, “tell me is this the same Joe that you spoke to me about?”

“One and the same,” he replied as he put down his glass and indicated that he wanted a refill.

“Well, I doubt he will be working for Blue Zephyr any time soon, his work is excellent, thought provoking, I’ve no doubt he will be a success.”

“That good eh,” said Jack, with a fresh scotch in hand.

“Sure, better than that nonsense a few years back. Stick a dead cow in formaldehyde and call it art, give me a break” said Rudy.

Inevitably, Jack and Rudy started talking shop and drinking scotch. He had started his fourth when Yvonne caught up to him with Marge and Joe in tow.

“I should have guessed I’d find you here, it’s getting late, I think it’s time to go.” She said.

After saying good bye to Marge and Joe, Jack hailed a cab. Yvonne and he headed home.

- - - - -

Shortly after 2:00 AM the phone rang.

“Hello,” said Yvonne stifling a yawn.

“Joe is that you, calm down, I can’t hear, what. No she isn’t here.”

Jack woke up and reached an arm over his wife to hit the button for speaker phone.

“It’s Marge, she won’t answer her phone,” said Joe.

“Wait Joe, start at the beginning, why isn’t she with you?” asked Yvonne.

“I don’t know; it was after you left the gallery. I got to talking to Rudy. He told me about the position at Blue Zephyr. He said that if I got the job, it was on merit.”

“I told Marge that I was considering it, that’s when the argument started.”
“She accused me of being a martyr, and then she left, angry.”
“I tried to stop her, but she said no, she said that she would see me at home.”
“But she isn’t here and she won’t answer her phone. I just want to know that she is safe.”

“I can’t get through either,” said Jack clapping his cellphone closed, “I’ve just tried her number, twice. The first time it rang, then went to voice mail. Now I can’t get through at all. Someone must have switched her phone off.”

“Maybe she did,” said Joe hopefully.

“No, Joe. I know my daughter, if she saw my number she would have answered.”

“He is right, Joe” said Yvonne.

“She took a taxi; maybe she left her handbag in it, with her keys and cell-phone. She might have gone to a friend when she couldn’t get inside,” said Joe hopefully.

“That is possible,” said Yvonne.

“I think we should start phoning her friends,” said Jack.

“Joe, I hate to say this, but she may have had an accident. Will you phone the hospitals, and Jack and I will phone her friends. I have most of their numbers,” said Yvonne.

“I will,” said Joe, “and please, call me if you find her.”

“Of course Joe, speak to you later, Bye.”

“Bye.”

Yvonne picked up the organizer that lay next to the phone. She opened it about halfway and ripped out the pages A through L, handing them to Jack. “You call that half; Marge’s friends are marked with an m in the column.”

Jack took the stack from Yvonne and began dialing numbers. Each call began with an apology for the early hour and ended in disappointment. The pile of called numbers grew, Jack’s worry matched it page for page. The dreadful whisper as she turned each page tore at Yvonne’s peace of mind.
More that an hour later they ran out of numbers, but not of hope.

“I think we should call Joe,” said Yvonne already dialing the number.

“Hello, Joe here.”

“Hello Joe, it’s Yvonne, we haven’t had any luck I’m afraid.”

“I’ve just finished as well; she isn’t in any of the hospitals. Do you think we should call the police?”

“No Joe, I think that we should go there and report her missing. I’ll meet you at your place,” said Jack.

“Thank you,” said Joe, I’ll wait for you.”

- - - - -

Joe dropped Jack off at his apartment in the late afternoon. They had spent the morning at the police station, and the rest of the day visiting New York’s taxi companies. They handed out fliers with Marge’s picture and the phone number at Jack’s apartment. None of the taxi companies had Marge’s belongings in their lost property; Joe’s theory was looking less likely. Jack and Yvonne spent the rest of the day manning the phone, and took comfort from each other that night.

Saturday dawned cold and wet, Marge had gone shopping and left Jack at home manning the phone. The buzzer to Jack’s apartment rang. He headed straight down to the main apartment door, expecting to find Yvonne loaded with bags of groceries.

“Mister Jack Talon?” asked the tall raincoated detective flipping his badge open.

“Yes”

“I’m detective Mike de Bonna, NYPD. I’m afraid I have some bad news about your daughter.”

“Is she hurt?”

“I’m sorry mister Talon, she is dead.”

The news thudded into Jack’s ears, the words no parent should ever hear. He grabbed the wrought iron banister to steady himself as he closed his eyes against the news.

“Are you alright?” the detective asked placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“I will be, just give me a moment”, Jack said.

Detective de Bonna waited until Jack looked recovered.
“Do you think you will be able to come with me to identify her”, he asked?

“Yes, I think I am ok now”, Jack said.

“Can I help you get to the car?” Detective de Bonna asked, supporting Jack by the elbow as he led him to the maroon sedan.

Detective de Bonna turned the ignition key and started the engine, then pulled out into the traffic.

“Please, tell me what happened?” asked Jack.

“You remember the student that we found in the park a couple of weeks back, it was in all the papers. Well this guy, Willy Fergus, he left his DNA at the scene. He was out on parole for a rape he had committed in Florida. He skips, comes to New York and hooks up with a buddy that he met in prison.”

“We arrested them last night, they confessed.”

“I am sorry that it took us so long to find them mister Talon. The lab is not like on TV. It took too long to match him to the DNA from his rape in Florida.”


“It wasn’t entirely our fault; a young couple came into the station after the story about the student hit the news. They said they saw an old man go into the bushes to find his dog. The guy must have seen the body. But you know people in this city, not my problem, don’t get involved. If he had come forward we may have had enough time to save your daughter.”

The maroon sedan pulled up outside the coroner’s office at New York Presbyterian Hospital.

Jack slumped in the passenger seat, a fatal stroke.

THE END


Thanks to everyone that gave reviews and suggestions about this story. This is now the second draft and I will welcome any feedback.