Edward Cox

Mike lay at Oscar’s feet, his dark hair glistening with wine, blood, and shattered glass. Oscar waited until he was certain Mike wasn’t getting up, and then dropped the broken bottle. The bathroom door opened behind him, and Oscar turned as Dr Saldon appeared with a spectre’s grin. The ghost floated over to Oscar, and nodded approvingly at the downed man at his feet.

  “You done a very good thing here, Oscar,” Saldon said. “Quite justified.”

  “You think so?” Oscar grumbled.

  “Bloody hell, yes! Your vengeful ways are quite something to behold, my friend.”

  “What about her?” 

  Together, they looked over at the small figure of Maggie, gagged and tied to a chair beside a bed. There were tears in her wide eyes as she stared at Mike’s still form. She was mumbling something over and over, the words indecipherable.

  “Well, I don’t think you should tell her Mike is dead just yet,” Saldon said. “You’ll get nothing coherent from her if you do.”

  Oscar pursed his lips. “Explain?”

  “If she thinks he’s alive, she might beg and plead.”

  With a grin, Oscar walked over to Maggie and ripped the gaffer tape from her mouth.

  “Please,” she said, instantly. “Don’t do this.”

  “You’ve really let yourself down, Margaret,” Oscar said. “All cosy with your boyfriend in a seedy motel room . . . what were you thinking?”

  Maggie shook her head desperately. “This isn’t how you think it is!”

  Oscar snorted and looked back to Saldon. “Can you believe her audacity?”

  “I know!” the ghost chirped. “Cheeky little minx, isn’t she?”

  Maggie gazed around the room, confused and fearful. “What are you doing?” she said. “Who are you talking to?”

  Oscar swung back on her. “I need to understand something,” he said, and kicked Mike’s body. “Why choose this turd over me?”

  “What?”

  “Mickey-boy . . . do you really think he could make a better husband than me?”

  “A valid question,” Saldon whispered in his ear.

  “You need to talk fast, Margaret,” Oscar continued. “Or lover boy dies!”

  “Please, don’t kill him.”

  “Then give me a reason not to!” 

  Maggie started to rock in the chair. “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do this anymore, I . . .”

  Saldon stifled a laugh.

  Oscar rolled his eyes. “So much for the pleading,” he sighed. “Margaret, I’m willing to forgive you here. Please, do yourself a favour. Forget Mike.”

  “But we haven’t done anything wrong,” Maggie sobbed.

  “You’ve been caught red-handed,” Oscar said, dangerously. “Now pull yourself together and face facts.”

  Maggie began rocking again.

  “I’m willing to hear her out,” Oscar told Saldon. “But how can I if she won’t talk to me?”

  “I’d save your breath if I were you,” Saldon said. “She’s an untrustworthy slut. She doesn’t deserve your understanding.”

  “Don’t say that!” Oscar warned. “You don’t know her!”

  Saldon sighed. “Oscar, you can’t trust this woman. She already ran away from you once, and you’ve just killed her lover. Trust me. She won’t play ball. The fist chance she gets she’ll turn you over to the police.”

  Oscar shook his head uncertainly. “She wouldn’t do that.” He turned to Maggie. “Would you?”

  By this time, Maggie had stopped rocking. Her eyes scoured the room with a troubled frown. “Who are you talking to?” she asked, her lips trembling.

  Oscar gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. His face turned a furious red. “How could you? After all we’ve been through.”

  “Stop it!” Maggie whimpered, and shied away from Oscar’s wrath.

  “You bitch!” Oscar roared. “We’re married, for God’s sake! We have a daughter!”

  Maggie’s eyes suddenly burned with rage. “You bloody fool!” she screamed. “I am your daughter!” 

  As the situation took its toll and Maggie resumed rocking, the wind abruptly left Oscar’s sails and he stepped back, gazing uncertainly at the woman before him. “What?” he whispered, and a memory flashed in the back of his mind.

  The ghost of Dr Saldon cleared his throat. “A minor technicality, Oscar,” he said. “But she’s quite right. You killed your wife, Margaret, a few years back . . . right after murdering me for boning her.” He motioned to the girl in the chair. “Your daughter, Maggie, has been running away from you ever since . . . Mike’s your son-in-law, by the way.”

  Oscar’s face had turned white. He looked at his hands. They were shaking. “I remember,” he said. “My god, Saldon, what have I done?”

  “The sins of the mother have passed to the daughter. Or something like that.”

  “She doesn’t deserve this.”

  Saldon smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about it, you big silly. There’s a tumour the size of an apple in your head – a real juicy one. Give it a moment and you’ll forget everything.”

  Oscar cocked his head to one side, and his eyes flickered rapidly. The colour slowly returned to his face and finally the maniacal glint to his eyes.

  “And there it is,” Saldon chirped. “Welcome back.”

  Oscar shook the fog from his head, and looked down at Mike’s crumpled body. “What’s going on here?” he said.

  “You’re about to punish your wife for being unfaithful,” Saldon said. “ . . . Again.”

  Maggie was still rocking and moaning in the chair and Oscar grinned. “This’ll teach you,” he growled, and moved towards her.