Neon Pink

         Natalie woke up that morning as she did every morning. She took a shower with warm water; not hot. She brushed her dark blonde hair down straight. It was long, reaching midway down her back. She polished off her glasses, put them on, and then went into the kitchen to put the coffee on. She never ate breakfast, hadn’t since she was a preteen. She grabbed the newspaper off the welcome mat to her 7th story studio apartment and sat down to her coffee.

         After she had perused the headlines of the stories, none particularly interesting that day, she grabbed her spring jacket and took the stairs down to her car parked next to the building. She sat down in the cramped civic’s driver’s seat and flipped down the mirror. She brushed her bangs across the top of her glasses to the right slightly; good enough. She stared into her own reflection for a moment, then reached down to her bag. You don’t need a reason to wear lipstick some days, she thought.  She reached into a small pocket on the front of the beige satchel she brought to work. She was surprised to find what met her hand. Next to her compact there was not the usual one, but two tubes of lipstick. Perplexed, she grabbed them both. There in her palm, next to the usual tan tube of sorbe lipstick (a very reserved color) was a black tube, with a gold rim on the cap. Natalie couldn’t recognize it at all. She removed the cap and was astonished. The color was, as she would describe it, neon pink. She nearly dropped the open tube of lipstick in her lap. She was confused and even worried. She had no idea how something like this could’ve gotten into her purse, something she would never buy.

         She decided someone must have mistaken her purse for theirs and tossed it in by mistake. She threw the tube out the window, started her car, and took off for work.

         Natalie worked as a speech therapist at her town’s middle school. She liked her work, and did it sufficiently. She tried to participate in some of the school’s events, but generally kept her free time and work time separate. In fact, the only meaningful interactions she had at the school, aside from with the students, were with the chair of the special ed. department. He was a similarly mild mannered man who believed in serving the children to the best of their abilities. Neither were particularly gifted conversationalists, but they both appreciated accomplishing tasks, and they often discussed tasks they had accomplished in the previous week on Friday afternoons during their planning period.

         That day, after arriving to work and shaking off the strange lipstick incident, which she thought perturbed her more than it should have, Natalie went through her usual ritual. She met with the scheduled kids for that Friday, and carefully noted their progress, or lack thereof when the lesson was through. When 1:30 came around, she walked to the faculty room for her usual informal meeting with the department chair, Terry. She smiled as she approached the table. Terry looked up and mirrored her smile.

“Having a good day Nat? You didn’t have John Lund this morning did you?”

“Oh, Terry, he really isn’t that bad, he just needs a little more support. But yes, my day is going fine, how about you?”

“Same old, no complaints. I’m just finishing up the new girl’s IEP. The psychologist’s recommendations got to me this morning.”

“She’s not going to need any speech therapy, right?”

“No, not this one, mostly test stuff.”

“Hmm” She murmured, sighing and looking to the floor.



_



         Natalie spent that evening cooking spaghetti and retiring to her sofa to read War and Peace, wrapped up in the soft blanket she got from some sidewalk sale. She didn’t really trust sidewalk sales, but this one had worked out. As night fell she began to doze in the middle of sentences. She wasn’t particularly tired, but the novel was boring her to sleep. She wasn’t deeply interested in the story, however she felt that reading lengthy classics was the responsible thing to do, despite passing out on the couch, glasses on.

         She woke up the next morning around nine, sun was pouring in through the slatted shades. She noted that she really enjoyed the half-light of a shaded morning room. She watched the dust particles swirl in the silver blades of light that fell on the comforter over her legs. She suddenly wondered how she had awoken in her bed. She remembered laying the book down and succumbing to overpowering sleep on the couch the night before. She shrugged. She decided that she must have gotten up in the middle of the night and gotten ready for bed without being conscious enough to realize or remember it. She owed the useful phenomena to her careful preservation of routine; second nature.

         She rested her eyes for another moment or two, then got out of bed. She carefully replaced the covers and grabbed her glasses off the nightstand. She walked into the kitchen and prepared her coffee and skimmed the paper as usual. While she read she thought about what to do that afternoon. Seeing the light beaming through her kitchen window, bathing the counter in an orange glow, she figured a walk through the nearby park and a sandwich at a diner was the best plan for a sunny day in the small city.

         After watching morning weather forecast, assuring herself that it was as nice a day as it seemed, she walked back to her bedroom to pick a dress to stroll in. She pulled open the doors of the closet and drew her hand across the neatly positioned dresses on their hangers. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a dark mass tumbled from the shadows of the upper shelf. She took a step back, shocked that she couldn’t recognize what had fallen. It looked like a small shaggy animal. She picked it up, a black haired wig. “How in the heck did this get here?” she wondered out loud.

         After a few moments of failing to place it with Halloween costumes from years past she resigned to not caring. She tossed the wig back up on the shelf after patting it down into its original sleek, short, modern appearance. She grabbed a floral print dress and white cardigan from their hangers. She folded her pajamas neatly and placed them on the edge of the bed.

          Natalie crossed the bustling street through the crosswalk. She looked up into the blue sky completely devoid of clouds. She wished there were a few white puffy clouds though, something to break up the vastness. After walking a block she was faced with the openness of the park. She passed through the gate and into the path which cut straight through it. She passed by families playing with their kids, musicians collecting coins, and other soloists just walking as she was. She worked hard not to look at anyone too long, lest she be labeled a pervert.

         Halfway through the park, while enjoying the jubilant sounds which contrasted her silent apartment so much, she noticed some of the maple leaves were turning already. It being early September, she knew the yellowing leaves were the last signs of good weather and the first signs of chilly mornings.

She stopped by the small pond on the other side of the park. There were a few geese on the opposite bank, picking through the grass. She was careful to watch her step for goose droppings. White keds show goose poop too much.

As she exited the park she was presented with a few options for lunch. She settled on the standard lunch diner and ordered a turkey sandwich. Lettuce, tomato, American, light mustard. She sat at a wire table for two in front of the restaurant facing toward the street. She picked up one half of the sandwich, which was sliced in two, and began eating. When she finished the half, her phone began to ring. She grabbed the gray Motorola flip phone from the pocket opposite her makeup, she looked at the number in the small screen on the front. It wasn’t in her contacts and she didn’t recognize it, but the area code was local. Worrying about missing something urgent if she declined to answer, she flipped it open and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, how are you this mornin’?”

“I’m fine; may I ask who’s calling please?”

“Is this Roxy?”

“N-no, no this isn’t she, I’m afraid you have the wrong number sir.”

“Bitch said she wanted to see me again then gave a fake number, brilliant. Oh well, sorry to bother ya’”

“Oh, that’s alri- “

There was a click and silence before she finished her sentence. Natalie was slightly concerned with the man’s choice of words, but continued to eat without any issues. The second half of the sandwich tasted even better than the first. She practically scarfed it down before finishing her single serving skim milk carton and tossing the trash. She headed home through the park thinking hard about whether she knew any Roxys.

That night Natalie tossed in her sleep. Plagued by feverish dreams and nightmares she awoke almost every hour. She was afflicted and tortured every time she drifted off, and decided after 5 or so hours of fear and disorientation to take the night off from sleeping. She turned on the lamp next to her sofa and sat down with War and Peace. While she read she tried to figure out why she was sleeping so badly. She looked back on the day and realized the only thing out of the ordinary was the stop at the diner. She wondered how they could get away with selling bad turkey for so long.

As she continued to read of Nicholas’ inexplicable marriage to Mary in the massive tome, she thought about the dreams she was having earlier. Only one remained in her memory, only a fragment really, but it was so jarring that she couldn’t forget it. It didn’t take place in a dungeon, and there were no monsters, but it was the essence of distress. Nothing threatening surrounded her, she was simply sitting in an empty waiting room, but the air was thick with a palpable sense of dread, more off-putting than any demon could be. Suddenly, in the dream, she heard a voice over a PA system, or perhaps just in her head. It told her she could come in now, and she knew it meant into the office behind the closed door across the room. On the window was a yellow cut-out smiley face, and she got the impression that the extreme unease would fade if she just entered the room. But as she stood to walk over, she turned away from the door. She immediately felt as if her life was ending, but she had no control, and started to walk away into a pitch black corner of the room. She tried to call out, but only a muffled murmur escaped her lips. She couldn’t speak or turn around, and she began to panic, unable to call out to whoever was in the office, and unable to stop her approach of the dark corner. When she was nearly into the blackness she lost the ability to breathe, choking on her muffled screams, and she awoke.

This dream had played out twice, perhaps more, in the short hours she attempted sleep. Natalie was perturbed, but felt much safer in the comfort of the yellow glow of her lamp, keeping the darkness at the corners of the room away, holding out the immense blackness of the night pressing on her windows, while she perused Tolstoy’s masterpiece.

When Natalie awoke to her phone ringing, a little after 9, she didn’t remember falling asleep, but was glad that she had gotten a few uninterrupted hours. She set the open book down from her lap onto the coffee table, careful to note the page. She hurried to the phone on the kitchen counter. She glanced at the caller ID, no name, just a local number. Reminded of the wrong number the day before, she eased away from the phone and let it go, she was just about to head into her bedroom when the answering machine picked up the call. A familiar voice filled her apartment.

“Hey Nat, it’s Terry, I was just calling you to see if-“

She hurried over to the phone. “Oh, hey Terry, sorry I didn’t answer, you weren’t on the caller ID.”

“Oh, screening your calls I see, well I’ll take it as a compliment that I made it through.”

“Ha, yeah, well I’ve been absolutely assaulted by  wrong numbers lately, I just wasn’t really in the mood for another.”

“Ah, I see, well anywho, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up around noon. I know we live across the park from each other, maybe we could take a walk there or go get lunch or something?”

Natalie wasn’t sure how to answer. She had just done the exact thing the previous day. But she decided that she’d gotten along with Terry for almost five years, if he wanted to relax and take a stroll she would be happy to accompany him. “Sure Terry, that sounds great, where and when did you want to meet?”

“Well anytime’s good for me, want to meet at the duck pond at noon?”

“That would be wonderful Terry, I’ll see you then.”



_



Natalie opened the door to her apartment around three; she had forgotten to lock it when she left. Luckily burglars didn’t often strike in broad daylight. The afternoon with Terry had gone off without a hitch. They walked through the park much as Natalie had done the day before. Terry talked about music groups and artists Natalie didn’t know from genres she had never heard of. They stopped by a charming little bistro where Natalie had a turkey wrap and Terry had a Caesar salad. They discussed the progress of some of Natalie’s students, and some movies Terry had seen. Terry walked her home back through the park and they quietly said their goodbyes. Before turning to leave Terry leaned in for a hug. Natalie returned the hug but noted that Terry held on a split second longer as she pulled away.

The next day Natalie woke to her alarm for work. Her head was pounding. She got out of bed and stood, and immediately felt ill. She ran to the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, feeling ready to vomit. She didn’t though, and the heavy sick feeling didn’t dissipate. She reeled over the bowl for a few more moments before deciding that she needed to get ready for work. As she undressed she glanced at herself in the mirror. Neon pink lipstick was on her mouth; identical to the color she threw out the window days before. Her eyes were heavily shadowed. Her mouth trembled as her brow contracted. She stood in the shower, feeling awful and cold, but choked by the steam from turning up the hot water. She scrubbed at her face vigorously. When she was through she dried off and headed to her closet. When she opened the doors she let out a small shriek and jumped backward, stumbling into her bed. All of her clothes were tossed on the floor of the closet in a heap. In their place was a new wardrobe of clothing she had never seen before. Her hangers were adorned with slinky dresses and aggressive colors. None of the skirts would reach anywhere near her knees. None of the shirts would leave much of her chest to the imagination. She didn’t have any explanation for how this could have happened, and she was terrified. She sat on the bed as the sight of her unrecognizable face sunk in. Her head throbbed and reeled for answers, just some way to rationalize the shock and horror away. She had no explanation, and she began to sob.

She decided the illness and shocking discoveries were reason enough to call in to work. She hadn’t used any of her sick days that year anyway. She turned on her cell phone which was laying on the night stand. She immediately dialed the school and informed the necessary people of her absence. When she hung up she was shocked to see seven messages and three voicemails on the phone’s display. She wasn’t feeling ready to deal with the happenings yet. She got up off of the bed to put coffee on and to make sure her front door was locked.

As she walked to the kitchen she wiped away a tear escaping her eye. When she looked up she saw a half empty bottle of vodka sitting on her kitchen table. She let out a frustrated shout as she charged over to the table. She grabbed the bottle and forcefully threw it into the trash. Natalie was appalled that liquor came into her house, and more so at the realization that she had probably drank it. She checked the door, locked. She fumbled with the coffee pot but got it brewing despite her shaking hands and uneven breath. She sat down at her kitchen table and took her cell out of her pocket. She was borderline sobbing but knew she needed to get to the bottom of the matter.

She read through the messages. Four were from a number not saved in her phone. They were from 12:51 to 2:22. The first read ‘Hey where you run off too?’ and continued like that to the last one which read ‘Okay, I’ll hit you up tomorrow, stay sexy’. She covered her mouth and began to cry again as she opened the other messages. Two were from someone saved in her phone as Georgio, they were thanking her for another fun night. The last was from a non-local number saying they had gotten her number from a friend and wanted to see if she wanted to party.

Natalie was in near hysterics and was entirely unwilling to listen to the voicemails. She stood up and felt extremely sick again, except this time the vomit was definitely coming. She didn’t have time to run to the bathroom and hurled in the kitchen sink. She washed it down the drain sobbing as the coffee finished. She grabbed a cup and tried to drink it without her shaking hands spilling it. Then she noticed one message on her answering machine. She thought she should listen to it, that perhaps her home phone would be immune from the strangeness occurring on her cell. She pressed the play button and listened.

The machine beeped and the automated voice shouted ‘One new message, 4:09 AM.’ Natalie groaned uneasily, mortified at what she might hear. But then a familiar voice filled the room. ‘Natalie, hellooo, what the hell girl? You tossed my lipstick, that shit costs 35 bucks a pop. Don’t fuck with my stuff or I’ll start fucking with yours, you got it? Okay… I’m sorry that ugliness had to take place, but now we can put it behind us. Don’t eat too much okay? We aren’t gonna stay hot forever.’ Natalie stood in silence by the phone. She couldn’t form a reaction to the message, her brain had taken a break from the overload. She knew that voice, she had been hearing it most of her life. She recognized her own voice.

She slowly walked into the living room and laid down on the sofa. She closed her eyes and focused on the pounding in her head until she fell asleep.

She woke up and turned over. She was disappointed to see that night had fallen while she was out. She walked over to the table and sitting next to her cell phone was another one. It was white with colorful flower stickers on its face. On the back, ‘Roxy’ was stamped in pink plastic jewels. The display read 10:02, she had slept for almost 16 hours. She hurried to the door, still locked. She realized that the phone was evidence that she hadn’t really been sleeping. Or rather, that she had been sleeping, but some part of her wasn’t.

She leaned against the counter and took a deep breath then let it out slowly through pursed lips. She tried to assess her situation. She admitted that she had some sort of split personality. One that drank and made her look like a skank, staying out ‘til all hours of night partying with men. She was appalled at the idea of herself parading in seedy night clubs. She wondered if anyone she knew might have seen her, horrified at the possibility that someone from the school might recognize her. She mulled over what to do about it. She decided that a psychiatrist would be a waste of money; that they drug you up and you don’t get any better anyway. She had always been self-reliant and a loner, so she settled on resolving it herself. She knew she could overcome it, and decided it was just a phase, some short psychic phenomenon.

She set the phone to silent and placed it in the cabinet that she didn’t use. She went back to her room and gathered her clothes off of the closet floor. She folded them and set them on the rocking chair in the corner. She settled on the couch and decided to continue reading War and Peace until she could get ready for work.



_



The week went by quickly. Each time a phone rang she panicked, but there were no signs of Roxy. Friday came and she chatted with Terry in the otherwise empty faculty room.

“Say, you doin’ anything tonight?” Terry asked.

“No, nothing in particular.”

“Oh, well in that case, why don’t you let me take you out for dinner?”

“Ah, yeah, actually that sounds great. What time did you have in mind?”

“I’ll come by your place around 7, is that okay?”

“Yeah, works for me. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Ok, it’s 702 right?”

“Yep.”



That night, the two went to one of the ritziest restaurants in town. Natalie was aware that Terry must have made the reservations long before asking her to go.

“Nice atmosphere, huh Nat?”

“Yeah, I’ve never been here, it really is wonderful.”

         The waiter approached with their meals. He set them down, chicken parmesan in front of Terry and spaghetti in front of Natalie. The waiter’s eyes met hers as he was bending up.

         “Roxy? Hey, fancy seeing you here, I love what you’ve done with your hair. How are ya’?”

The color drained from Natalie’s face immediately. She straightened in her seat as she searched her mind for something to say, but no words could come out. She began to feel sick again. She could feel herself start to sweat. She sat there in silence for what felt like hours, trying to avoid the smiling waiter’s face.

“Hey pal, I think you’ve got the wrong person. Her name’s not Roxy” Terry chimed in.

“Oh, my mistake. I think you might have a twin out there ma’am” the waiter replied, trailing off as he turned and walked back to the kitchen.

Terry looked back to Natalie, “That was strange, huh?” Natalie forced a laugh but remained silent.

Later, when she was finished and Terry was nearly done with his meal, and after Natalie had recovered the power of speech, Terry’s tone changed.

“Well Nat, how long has it been since you joined our team at the school?”

She thought for a moment, looking up to the ceiling, then responded “I think it will be five years in two months.”

“Wow, maybe I shouldn’t readily admit this, but I’d say you’re one of my oldest friends.”

“Oh, well I’m glad to be your friend Terry. We really do get along.”

“Yeah, we do. That’s kinda why I asked you out tonight. Ya’ see, we get along real great, and you’re so beautiful, and you help me out with my work and keep me sane at the school, and I feel like I could repay the favor. What I mean to say, I mean, I really can’t think of anyone else I’d rather, I mean, you’re the person…” He picked up his napkin and wiped his brow, Natalie smiled warmly as he continued. “God, I’m stammering like an idiot. I’m trying to ask you to marry me Nat, I love you.”



_



The next week they had work off on Tuesday for some religious holiday. Natalie decided it was a good time to sort things out. Her hand, adorned with a modest diamond, clutched a black garbage bag. She hadn’t, to the best of her knowledge, been visited by Roxy since the phone showed up the week before. She walked to the closet with resolve. She felt she needed to stand up to Roxy’s things. She grabbed the clothes and the wig and stuffed them in the bag. On her way to leave the garbage out front for the collectors she remembered the phone in the empty cabinet. She opened it and swiftly grabbed the phone and shoved it into the bag. She didn’t want to see if there were any messages, it would just disturb her.

The next day she woke up with a pounding headache. The second she realized the familiar feeling Natalie’s heart was racing, her breathing was erratic. She stumbled out of bed and wobbled as she stood. She was still drunk and charged clumsily into the bathroom. She collapsed in the doorway when she saw the mirror over the sink. Written in neon pink lipstick on the mirror was the message “You’re fucking with my shit again?”

Natalie broke into hysterics, crying madly she thought that she needed to go outside, to get some fresh air. She hobbled back into her room and flung open the closet. There, crumpled on the floor were all her recently replaced clothes. The hangers were laden with Roxy’s finery that she thought she had done away with. She fell backward from the closet, regained her footing and headed into the kitchen to try and make a cup of coffee to hopefully clear her head. The black wig was sitting on her kitchen table.

She cried ever harder, truly terrified of herself. She walked over to the wig and picked it up, turned it over in her hands, then immediately dropped it. She caught sight of herself in the small mirror hanging by the door, her face was practically plastered with makeup, the sort of decadent makeup scheme that Natalie thought only a whore would wear. She rushed to the sink and attempted to wash it away more vigorously than her streaming tears had tried to. She noticed the answering machine’s light blinking near her. One message. She knew who it would be from, she pressed play. ‘One new message, 5:19 AM’

“Natalie?! Do you have any idea what a hassle it was to go downstairs and find my fucking bag of clothes? What do you expect me to wear, your grandma dresses? I’m not a prude lunatic like you Nat, I can’t just do that. I thought we had an understanding? I even got a new phone so they wouldn’t bother you. I was nice, you bitch, but I can see you’re not willing to be. So ya’ know what? I’m hitting back. I don’t think you give me enough respect around here, I mean, I never asked you for much, so I’m done with you. I warned you, but now I’m gonna start fucking with your shit. If you try a stunt like that again you’re done, you read me? Them’s the breaks, deal with it bitch.”

Natalie was infuriated. She couldn’t remember the last time she was actually angry, but she knew she hadn’t been this angry in a long time, if ever.

The next day Natalie called in sick to work. She told Terry that she had a stomach bug and that he shouldn’t visit her since it was probably contagious. She gathered Roxy’s ever expanding collection of items and tossed it into garbage bags. She went to the dump and recycling center on the edge of town. She didn’t have a pass, so she had to spend time getting registered for a dump card. The attendant punched a hole and let her through to the compactors. There wasn’t a soul around on a Wednesday morning. She grabbed the bags from the back seat and tossed them into the massive metallic pit. The bags skittered down the slope into the smaller hole at the bottom. She watched and breathed easy as the bags entered the gnashing compactor one at a time. She was very content in knowing that Roxy’s existence was pinched into a space less than 3 inches thick.

After tossing Roxy’s stuff, she drove to the school. She waved and smiled at the people she encountered in the halls on her way to Terry’s office. She knew he would be there at that hour. She approached his door, comforted by the cut-out smiley face on the window which had been there since her first day on the job. She pulled the door open and entered. The secretary was out of the room and Terry was sitting at his desk looking through a packet of papers.

“Oh, hey hun. You decided to come in today after all, huh?”

“Not really. Terry, I need a favor.”

“Nat, you don’t ask me for favors. I’ll do anything, what’s up?”

“I had a rough morning. I…I am just really sick of my apartment. I know we thought I would finish out the month, but I really want to move in with you now, if that’s at all possible.”

“Baby, of course. I’m actually really glad you want to.” He rose from his desk and embraced her. She placed her face against his chest and wrenched her hands trying not to sob. “Is everything okay Nat? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened, I just don’t like how crowded my apartment feels. I want to stay with you”

“That’s perfect. We’ll move you in this afternoon.”



_



         Natalie was happy living with Terry. She felt like the ordeal with Roxy was years of stress and that the week at Terry’s had dispelled it all. They awoke to the same alarm, enjoyed a cup of coffee and chatted each morning. Then they headed off to work together in Natalie’s car, which was more comfortable than Terry’s junker, and came home together in the afternoons.

         Natalie was so relieved by the stress-free situation that she went days without even remembering that Roxy had ever existed. At night, while Terry watched the news in the spacious living room of the far more luxurious apartment, Natalie curled up near him with War and Peace and thought about how well things had worked out.

         Natalie went days without thinking about Roxy, but the memories of that terrible phenomenon still frightened her now and then. She was still jumpy around ringing phones, and never answered to unidentified numbers or people.

         One night Terry surprised her with a date to see a movie. They went out to see a generic romantic comedy then stopped for a small meal before coming home. They chatted about work and fixing the leaky sink in the bathroom. When they got home Terry sat down to watch the news. Natalie was exhausted and went to get ready for bed.

         “I’ll be there in a little bit hun” Terry shouted to the back of the apartment.



_



         When the news was over Terry went into the kitchen. He washed out the cups left in the sink, locked the door, and turned off the lights. He looked out the window into the street. The puddles of a midday rain shower lay in the road and on the sidewalks reflecting the orange of the street lights, giving the dark quiet street an air of life. He wondered how everything in his life had worked out so smoothly.

         He smiled and chuckled to himself under his breath as he turned and walked back to the bedroom. He could hear Natalie in the running shower, singing some song he didn’t recognize. He went into the dark room and laid on the bed waiting for her. He dozed for a few minutes, drifting halfway into sleep; enough to begin to dream, but not enough to hear Natalie tip-toe to the edge of the bed.

         Terry didn’t quite feel her hand rest so gently on his shoulder, but he was viciously reefed out of the peaceful dreamland by the fiery pain exploding in his back. Natalie kept a firm grip on the steak knife and drove the blade in six of its seven inches. Terry’s left lung was punctured right next to the artery Natalie severed. He attempted to scream as his lungs filled with blood, but all that came out was a gargling cry spattering his pillow with red. He rolled over to see Natalie walking out of the room through the blade of light from the hallway.

She turned and looked back at him, whipping her freshly dyed black hair out of her eyes. Terry looked at her in amazement as her bright pink lips contorted into a mocking smile.

         “See ya’ later tiger” was the last thing Terry heard as he groaned fighting the blackness pressing in on the edge of his vision.



_

         The detectives had a clear cut case when they found Terry. It is always much simpler when the murderers confess. It didn’t take them long to find the answering machine message left shortly after the killing.

         “Well Natalie, I gotta tell ya’, this really isn’t the way I wanted things to go. But you know what? You left me no choice. You really are a fucking idiot aren’t you? I told you time and time again not to mess with my shit, but you did it anyway. You thought you were throwing me away, huh? Well I’m not that easy to get rid of, and I always have the last laugh. Rotting in a mental hospital for a few years is really gonna suck huh? Well I’ll be here waiting when you get out. Tell Terry I said hi…”