Neil Sterling didn't believe in fate, he didn't believe in magic; in fact, he didn't believe in much of anything except work, family, and the good life. As a middle-class, middle-aged, assistant postmaster, the only real worry he had was the recently enacted rule about no smoking in the workplace.
Thinking about the new ruling prompted him to reach for one last cigarette as he came down the off-ramp and merged with surface street traffic.
"Damn," he started checking his other pockets.
"What's wrong?" His carpool buddy, Phil looked up from his folded newspaper.
"I'm outa cigarettes, I'll just be a minute." Neil pulled over to the curb in front of a tobacco shop, left the motor running, and ran into the shop. He stood waiting impatiently as the clerk slowly approached.
Drumming nervously on the counter with his fingertips, he waited...
"Gimme a pack of Winstons," He ordered. The man turned, retraced his footsteps, and reached under the counter. He came up with a package of Winstons
. "That'll be $1.21," he drawled, "and y'all best slow down or you'll be given yerself a heart attack."
Neil threw down a dollar and a quarter and started to hurry out the door. He was jerked back abruptly by a grip of steel holding his wrist. He was suddenly frightened. The man was so strong, he felt helpless.
"You forgot your change, mister, and I told you to slow down, ya hear! Now listen, your change is in this here little sack along with a note. It's the most important note yer ever gonna get, so read it and pay attention. It just might save yer onery hide." The man placed the sack in Neil hand and released his grip. Neil scooted out the door and ran to the car.
"What took you so long? I was getting worried." Phil's concern was evident. They had been carpooling for two years, and although they didn't socialize they had become very good friends. Phil was an attorney and worked in the building across from the post office.
"The guy working in there was some kind of nut case. He started lecturing me about my lifestyle, my health, and then damn near broke my arm to get me to take a lousy four cents in change. That guy's spooky. He should be locked up before he hurts someone."
"You going to report it to the police?"
"Don't have time right now. Maybe, after I get to work, I'll phone in an anonymous complaint. That way I won't have to file charges and go to court. After all, he didn't actually hurt me. It was almost lunch time before Neil remembered the sack with his change. He pulled it from his coat pocket and dumped the contents onto his desk blotter. There were four pennies and a plastic card. He picked up the card and read:
A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS
Give one of these pennies to a friend or an enemy. If they hold it for two minutes, it will read their thoughts or feelings about you. Use the pennies wisely for they are coated with a chemical which quickly loses it's properties.
Neil laughed as he read and thought about how great it would be if they really worked. It would be really neat to find out how his friends really felt about him. As he sat fantasizing about the potential uses of his pennies, he was jarred into reality by Bertha, the jeep driver.
"Lunch time, Mister Sterling. Here's your order -- one cheeseburger, one large fries, and a pint of milk. Right?" She dropped the white sack on his desk, counted out forty cents in change, and was turning to leave when Neil grabbed her hand and put one of his pennies in her palm. He smiled at her and said, "A penny for your thoughts, Bertha."
She stood looking at him as time slowly ticked away. The situation was rapidly becoming embarrassing as his smile became frozen on his face, and he continued to hold her hand.
"Mister Sterling, if this is an excuse to hold my hand, it's a pretty stupid way to make a pass at a female worker, and if that penny is supposed to be a tip; you've got to be the cheapest bastard I've ever worked for. Now let go of my hand or I'll go to the union about this."
When he released her hand the penny fell to the desk pad. He had just enough time to see that her hand was unmarked before she spun around and hurried from his office. Damn, he thought, what a stupid thing to do. Now the word would be all over the station that he had put the make on fat Bertha. Nobody would believe her, but someone could have walked in on that scene and then he really would have some explaining to do. He should have known that the pennies were just pennies.
He sighed and picked up the phone. He was facing a very disagreeable task, and he knew he couldn't delay it any longer. He spoke into the phone,
"Sally, please locate Karl Anderson and have him come to my office right after lunch. Thank you, Sally." He munched away not really tasting any of his food ... He and Karl had started working for the Post Office, the same week, fourteen years ago. He had progressed slowly through the ranks until now he was assistant Postmaster. Karl, on the other hand, had decided to become active in the union and had organized several walkouts and demonstrations.
Neil hadn't been told as much, but he strongly suspected that this was the reason Karl was still sorting mail. He and Karl had always been good friends and bowled together on a Saturday league. Now, he had to confront Karl with a copy of a surveillance tape that showed Karl opening mail and stealing checks and credit cards.
He had been instructed to confront Karl, give him the opportunity of making restitution, and then resigning or being fired and going to jail immediately. He knew that Karl would think that he, Neil, had set him up and would probably blame him for the whole situation. He didn't look forward to the interview, but he knew that it went with the job.
Karl entered the office and with his customary familiarity dropped into the chair across from Neil, leaned over picking up the forgotten penny, and started flipping it into the air as he greeted Neil, "Hey Buddy, what goes?
"Give me a minute here, Karl." Neil hastily wadded up his lunch papers and stuffed them in the waste paper basket.
"I need your help with a delicate situation."
"It's not like you to ask my advice during working hours, but if yer really stuck, old Karl's here to please."
Neil didn't answer. He just flipped the switch on his console and the video screen unrolled in front of the blackboard, and as the film started he dimmed the lights in the office.
After two or three minutes, he heard Karl's strangled voice, "That's enough! you sneaky, Son-of-a-Bitch. How long have you had a camera on me? I thought we were friends, but no, you had to ruin me. Damn it Neil, how could you?"
"I didn't -- It wasn't me, Karl. The main office had so many complaints that they didn't trust any of us. They installed the equipment over the holidays and never told anyone until they got all the evidence they needed. You only have yourself to blame."
"Bullshit Neil, you had to know -- you had to be in on it!" He was practically screaming at Neil.
"Karl, I've been instructed to tell you that if you make full restitution and resign, they won't file formal charges and have you arrested. If you don't agree, they'll be filing against you tomorrow. What's it going to be, Karl?"
He stopped talking and stared at Karl. All during the meeting, Karl had been nervously playing with the penny; now, he was franticly trying to get the red dye off his hands. Some had even transferred to his lips when he had rubbed his mouth with his hand.
"What's this!" Screamed Karl throwing the penny down, "Another one of your crummy tricks? What'd you do coat some social security checks with red dye? You Bastard.
"I'm going home. I'll be back tomorrow and give you my answer about restitution -- gotta see how much dough I can come up with." He got up and stormed out of the office.
Neil however, hardly noticed. He was staring in total fascination at the penny lying on his desk pad. Good God, it really worked.
He was so excited at the discovery and shaken from the intensity of Karl's emotional outburst that he automatically reached for a cigarette. He was about to light it when he remembered the new ruling and decided to go behind the building to have a quick smoke.
He lit up and inhaled deeply as he closely inspected the penny. He reread the card -- this time, on the back side, he read the following words:
A red spot means they resent you and blame you and everyone else for their failures. They are unstable and dangerous when they are rejected.
He was standing in the alcove that held the trash containers and was holding the penny up to the light looking for the source of the red dye when he heard the first shots. They came from very close inside the building and were so loud that he dropped the penny and dived between the trash dumpsters. He huddled there shaking with fear ... listening to screams and then more shots; suddenly, there were police running up the alley and approaching the building.
He heard, "You there -- by the dumpster, put your hands on the top of your head and come on out." He did as he was told and after several steps, he was grabbed roughly and forced to the ground. He was held there until his hands were cuffed behind his back.
By the time he was able to convince the police that he was the assistant postmaster; then, explained his reason for hiding in the dumpster alcove, his interrogators got the word over their walkie-talkies that it was all over inside.
The grim faced sergeant of the SWAT team unlocked the handcuffs, shook his head, and grunted,
"First time I ever heard of a cigarette saving a guy's life. You gotta be just, plain lucky. Do you know a Karl Anderson?"
Neil nodded his head and answered, "Yes, I had a meeting with Karl just a few minutes ago. Why?"
"Well, evidently this Karl Anderson went crazy. He shot up the whole damn place, killed two supervisors, wounded three other employees. He musta been really pissed off at you, 'cause he shot your office all to pieces. Those AK47s really do the job. My guys had to kill him. Got any idea what his problem was?"
Neil told him about the meeting, and what Karl's choices were. He was careful not to mention the incident with the penny. The penny was gone anyway, he had seen it drop through the sewer grating when he dropped it.
They closed the post office for the day, the police were busy cleaning up the scene, and the employees after giving their statements were allowed to go home. When they finally let Neil go, he was surprised to see his wife Marge sitting on the hood of her little red Fiat. She had a black silk blouse tied around her middle, and her black jeans looked like they were painted on.
He saw Phil standing near as he walked up to the car.
"Marge, what are you doing here? You couldn't have come all the way from home." Phil moved a little closer.
"I wasn't home silly, I was shopping for an outfit for the Harrison's party tonight, and I heard about the shooting over here. I thought I'd better drop by and see if you were going to be tied up here, or if everything was still on for tonight?"
Neil wasn't surprised. He'd known that the twenty-five years difference in their ages would eventually present problems, but he hadn't expected her to lose interest so soon. Oh well, "No Honey, you go on home. I'll drop Phil off and join you shortly. Lay me out a change of clothes for the party and, maybe, a quick sandwich and a glass of milk."
He watched sadly as she gunned the little sports car to attract attention and burned rubber out of the parking lot. He turned to Phil. "And what brings you out in the middle of the day?"
"Christ -- Neil, I was worried about you. We could hear the shots from across the street. Sounded like a Goddamn war, you coulda been killed. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you." He caught himself, obviously embarrassed, grinned, and joked, "I'd never find anyone else who could stand my driving. Shit, my gasoline bill would double and so would my parking." They both laughed, got into Neil's car, and headed for home.
Neil parked his car, entered the house, and flopped down at the kitchen table. He didn't see his sandwich and hadn't really expected to find one. He stacked some bologna and cheese on a slice of french bread, slopped on a thick layer of mayonnaise; and had to settle for whole wheat for the other side of his sandwich. He opened the spout of the quart of milk and was just taking a drink when Marge entered the kitchen.
"Neil, must you eat like a pig? How gross! We've got glasses, you know." When he had his mouthful of sandwich chewed down to where he could talk, he mumbled, "Don'cha wanna hear what happened at the office? Karl went off his rocker and tried to kill me."
"What'd you do to make him that mad?"
"I didn't do anything. The main office caught him stealing social security checks and credit cards."
"Big deal, couldn't you just give him another chance? After all, he was one of your oldest friends."
"I didn't have a say in the matter. They told me to show him the proof and give him the option of making restitution or going to jail. Hell! I'da helped him if I could."
"It still doesn't sound fair to me. In a way you're responsible for his problems and now his death. Did the cops have to kill him?"
"Yeah, they said he wouldn't stop shooting people. And how am I responsible for his problems?"
"He was obviously stealing because he needed money. If you hadn't been so damn tight with his raises and promotions he wouldn't have had to steal, so you see -- it was all your fault."
He was watching her as he talked and chewed. She had changed into a stunning white outfit for the party. Her hair was a golden halo around her perfectly shaped face, and her white jeans were, if anything, even tighter than the black ones of the afternoon. He felt like the ugly toad with the fairy princess.
"A penny for your thoughts," he smiled as he handed her a shining copper penny, folded her hand around it, and kissed her on the forehead.
"I think we're gonna be late if you don't get your ass upstairs and get dressed. You got mayonnaise on my forehead, now I'll have to redo my makeup, and damn you and your sick jokes! How am I supposed to get all this damn black dye off my hand? There -- now I've got it on my forehead, too. Damn you Neil, your such a slob." She ran over to the sink and started scrubbing her hand.
Neil stood up slowly. Thinking quickly he said, "Marge you go on to the party without me. I've been trying to tell you, but you wouldn't let me get a word in. The cops want me back down there this evening while they package up all of our evidence and Karl's stuff from his locker. I have to be there to record their signatures, sorry."
She didn't even turn around as he left the room. Her parting remark was, "Damn you, I coulda left for the party two hours ago if you had just phoned."
He didn't answer as he hurried to his car. He put the key in the ignition and leaned back, his head against the headrest ... Was he really ready to pull out that card and read it's message? Did he really want to know? Why not just throw the damn card away, go on to the party with Marge, and forget all this nonsense?
He turned on the dome light removed the card from the sack and started to tear it, but his hands wouldn't obey and he knew why ...
His eyes were brimming with tears, but he could still read as he glanced at the back of card:
A black spot means that this person hates you and is planning to murder you.
............................................................
On the way into town he contacted the Murphy Detective agency. They said it was late. He said it was urgent. They said it would be time and a half. He said money was no problem. They said come right over. When he arrived, there was a young, bearded, hippie-looking fellow waiting for him.
"Come right in Mister Ah -- what'd you say your name was?"
"Sterling, -- Neil Sterling, and you're Murphy, right."
"That's right Mister Sterling. Now, what's this problem that couldn't wait until morning?"
"I have good reason to believe that my wife is planning to kill me, and I want you to prove it. I want you to go to my home and bug it. Go right now while she is at a party. You must hurry. Then I want you to keep a watch on her and find out what she's up to -- I just found out tonight and after what happened today at work, I'm scared half to death."
Murphy wanted to know how Neil had found out about the plot to kill him, but Neil would only assure him that the information was reliable. He had Neil sign authorization for installing surveillance equipment, told him to calm down, stop worrying, and leave everything to him. As they left the tiny office, he punched Neil playfully on the shoulder and joked,
"Neil, you just go get yourself some dinner, have a few drinks, and go on home. If anything happens, I'll be listening; just don't forget and get too frisky 'cause it'll all be on video tape."
The next day he rode with Phil. Phil sensing that he was troubled, drove with a minimum of conversation. He figured that when Neil was ready to unburden himself, he would do so voluntarily. He didn't need anyone prying into his personal affairs.
The day passed slowly, and although, he knew people were speculating over the cause of Karl's fit of rage, no one approached him with any direct questions. He was glad because he didn't have any good answers to give them.
That evening Marge complained of a headache and didn't seem bothered when Neil told her that, once again, he had to go back to the post office to take care of unfinished business. In fact, she appeared glad to be left alone.
Murphy opened his office door at the first knock. Neil entered quickly, and Murphy closed the door and locked it.
"Sterling, I don't know who your source is, but he was right on target. Do you know anyone by the name of Nick? A dark, curly-haired guy about thirty -- he's about six foot tall, and he's got a tattoo of a knife on his arm."
"Yeah, he's my sister's kid, my nephew Nicky. What about him?"
"Well, you hadn't been gone for much over a half hour this morning, when he drives up. Five minutes later, he's in the sack boffing your old lady. Boy, have I got some great dirty movies for you." He stopped talking when he saw the expression of pain and anguish on Neil's face.
"Hold on there fella, don't be wasting you tears over that black-widow spider. She and your nephew spent most of the morning discussing the best way to rid themselves of your unwelcome presence on this here planet. "Seems like they need your insurance money and the estate in order to live happily after you're gone."
"God, it's just so hard to believe. I've known little Nick ever since he was in diapers, and Marge -- Marge was so innocent, so beautiful, and we were so happy; I just don't know what happened."
Neil was interrupted by a light knock on the door. Murphy jumped to open it, and two men entered silently, sat down and opened their briefcases.
Murphy was the only one standing, he turned to Neil and started with, "Mister Sterling, these two men are Los Angeles police officers. I've called them in for an off-the-record meeting because the information I've gathered has convinced me that your life is in imminent danger. If you should be murdered, and it was proven that I had prior knowledge, I'd be in deep shit.
"So, I'd like to play my recordings for the group; then perhaps, we can come up with a plan that will put these people out of business, and keep Neil Sterling alive at the same time, okay?" The two men nodded, and although, Neil hated the thought of these strangers seeing his wife in bed with his nephew; he was becoming angry enough and frightened enough to agree to any proposal that would punish his betrayers. He muttered, "All right Murphy, let's get this over with."
The two officers were tactful enough not to comment during the video, and listened intently as Marge and Nick argued, during a rest period, about various methods of finishing off poor Neil. Neil was sick, ashamed of being so gullible, and trembling with suppressed rage by the end of the film. The lovers had finally agreed that each must have an unshakable alibi; therefore, Nick would have to find a professional to do the job. Marge told Nick that she would weasel the front money from the old goat.
She laughingly said it was only right that the cheap old son- of-a-bitch should finance his own execution.
One of the cops saw the look on Neil's face and grabbed him by the shoulder, "I know what you're thinking Pops, but just forget it. You leave those ass-holes to us. We'll take care of them. I know where that Nick hangs out, and I can guarantee that if he tries to locate a pro out of the Italian Grotto, he'll be hiring one of our team. So, stop worrying. All we'll need from you, after we get hired, is a realistic photo of your dead body. We prove you're dead, they pay us, and bingo! They're busted and will do at least twelve years for conspiracy to commit murder."
--------------------------------------------------
It took about two weeks for it all to work out exactly as the officer had predicted. At Neil's request, he was allowed to sit outside in the police car while the trap was being sprung on Marge and his nephew Nick. She was screaming and fighting mad as they escorted her down the driveway to the waiting police cars.
When she saw Neil leaning against the black-and-white, she exploded in a fit of rage. She tore free from the grasp of the officer and rushed toward Neil screaming, "You're supposed to be dead! you rotten bastard. You set me up -- God, how I hate you. When I get out, I'll come back and do it right next time." She lowered her head and tried to butt him. Neil stepped to the side and laughed uproariously as she slammed her head into the side of the police car. He felt better than he had in days.
The following Monday, as he drove to work, he told Phil the whole story; from the day he was given the four pennies to the point where they took Marge and his nephew Nick into custody for conspiracy to commit murder. Phil sat quietly listening, and when Neil was finished, he spoke,
"Christ Neil, what a ghastly set of circumstances. It's a wonder you didn't go out of your mind. How can you just calmly pick me up and head for work like nothing has happened?
"Phil, I think work's what has kept me sane through all of this; If I had to just sit in that empty, lonely house, I would go bonkers." Phil looked at Neil, looked away nervously, then looked back again,
"Neil, there's something bothering me. You tested those pennies out on several people, but you never tried one out on me. Why, Neil? Why not me? We ride together every day, so I'm the logical choice. C'mon Neil, why not me?"
Neil glanced sideways at Phil, hesitated, then spoke,
"After Karl, I didn't want to know. I didn't want to invade your privacy. I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship." Phil stopped him,
"Neil, give me one of those pennies."
"No!"
"You must. It's gone too far now; we can never be good friends again until you know for sure. It didn't matter when you didn't have the power to find out, but now you do, and it will eat at you until your suspicions destroy our friendship, so give me the goddamn penny, okay?"
Neil's shaking hand dropped the penny into Phil's waiting palm. He closed his hand firmly around the penny, waited until Neil was on the off-ramp, and then opened his hand. Neil stopped at the stop sign at the bottom of the off-ramp, and looked over as Phil held out his palm covered with bright blue dye.
"You see Neil, I could never do anything to hurt you. You have nothing to worry about; or is the knowledge itself going to destroy us? Are you worried about someone finding out?"
Phil's voice was getting shrill, and Neil could tell he was on the verge of panic. "Damn it Neil, say something! Nothing's changed between us, I'm not asking anything of you, except to just keep on being my friend. So, my hand turned blue, what're you going to do?"
Neil nervously felt for a cigarette; finding none he pulled to the curb in front of the tobacco shop, left the motor running, and yelled, "Be right back, gotta buy some cigarettes. He put two dollars in the sack containing the plastic card and the remaining penny.
The proprietor slowly approached, "Aha, I see your back. What'll it be this time?"
"Gimme a pack of Winstons."
"Still smoking, I see. Bad for your health, you know. That'll be a dollar and twenty-one cents."
Neil threw down the sack with the two dollars protruding from the opening and snarled, "Keep the F---king change and your advice to yourself." He spun on his heel and hurried from the store.
He jumped into the car grinning at Phil like a lunatic and chuckled, "Well, I just got rid of that last damn penny. I don't ever want another penny.
"In answer to your stupid question, Phil old buddy, I never did look at that damn card, so I have no idea what the color blue means nor do I want to know.
"Now how about answering a question for me ... how would you like to cut down on expenses? I'm rattling around in that big house all alone, I can't cook, and I've got this extra little, red Fiat sports car that needs to be driven every once in a while. What do you say --you want to give it a try?"
Phil blushed and replied, "I've been packed ready to
move for the last three days. I thought you'd never ask."
{end}