Indebted

“Met at a killer dance party. Could really use your murderous moves again soon. Don’t be a stranger. Reach out cutie.

From, Blue Canary”

And post. Then Ron reread the post and realized he probably should have drafted this. It was the perfect balance between blatantly unsubtle, yet bafflingly cryptic. “No way a regular person would know this is for a hitman. I called them cutie” he thought… He was either going to be arrested on the spot, or find a new dance partner. Neither he needed.

Ron was in deep debt. Gambling, student loans, and an incoming divorce all sucking his wallet. He was most certainly about to get fired for using his work computer to do online poker. Someone must be able to get rid of the people he owed. And a recent scratch card gave him $20,000 to pay with. So he looked at his post’s replies.

“How about a striptease, handsome?”

“Leave your basement, fuckface.”

“Wanna suck my dick at the disco?”

To be expected from missed connections. Next one.

“Hiya Blue Canary!

I think I may be your only friend you’re looking for! Getting together again could leave the right people breathless. Come for a walk with me in the Public Garden. I’ll be waiting for you now, so come quickly! Two killer peeps like us deserve to meet up!

Huggies and Kissies,

Particle Man.”

Either this was an awful undercover cop or a deductive hitman… only one way to find out...

The Public Garden had an aura of panic. Of paranoia. Nobody was walking faster, or out of place, but every moment they were unknowingly getting closer or farther from a killer in the crowd. Ron sat on a green wooden bench, looking side-to-side for any suspicious figures. “Particle Man” never said what they looked like, nor how to contact them. He thought about running back to the cafe and asking in another quick post.

A woman sat on the bench next to him. Ron cursed to himself and kept his head stiff and forward. He needed to look for the assassin, but didn’t want to creep her out. No need to bring unnecessary attention to himself. Yet he must have looked sickly because she began to stare at him. He kept looking forward till she spoke.

“Excuse me, Blue Canary?”

Ron turned to face her. She was extending her hand toward him. “I’m Particle Man, nice to meetcha.” Ron slowly reached his hand and reciprocated the shake, shifting around the pocketbook that slung over her shoulder.

“How did you know it was me?” asked Ron. Maybe she really was an undercover cop. They had tracked him here. Maybe through some signal on the computer that was close to his phone- he should have put it on airplane mode. Ron started thinking of ways to convince a judge this was entrapment.

“Because you’re the only one here who looks like they’re plotting a murder…” said Particle Man, running fingers through her bright red hair, “...speaking of which.”

Ron shifted his body towards Particle Man. She reached into her pocketbook and Ron tensed up as she rummaged around. Was every murderer this collected? Was she on drugs? Did each murder jade you more and more till it was just like any other job? Ron could have asked himself more questions like this, but was pulled out of thought and jumped when she put her hand on his shoulder.

“Canary, I’m going to need you to cut the jittering. You might show up on the Richter Scale”. Ron became stiff as the bench they sat on. Particle Man then brought out a small, black notebook and opened it to a page.

Particle Man clicked her purple pen and let the ballpoint rest on the page. “So first things first, I’ll need some names. Full names. No need to be vague” she said, demeanor like a therapist.

“Um, does this need to be written down? I don’t want anything leading back to me…”

“Canary. I’m good at killing, not memorizing. I keep all my dealings in this notebook. You think you’d get in trouble if this was found? I’d get the death penalty I’d say…” Particle Man scanned through the pages on her lap “...ooh, about thirty times over. If you get caught, I get caught. So stop acting shy around the assassin you sought for and help me, help slash kill for you. ‘Kay? Starting with full names.”

Ron breathed in, then exhaled the names.

“Robyn Cornell. David Cornell, and Steven Crawford”. Particle Man jotted these down. “Okay, and their relationship to you?”

“How is THAT relevant?”

“This is for your benefit. There’s a family and friends discount. Meaning that if they’re your family or friend, I’ll kill ‘em at three-fourths the price.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, Robyn is my wife. David is my father. Steven is my boss.”

Particle Man wrote and spoke. “You would not believe the number of spouses I’ve killed. No judging, of course. I’m sure she has it coming”. It sounded like she genuinely believed this. Then she looked Ron dead in the eyes and slapped the black notebook shut.

“You’re just doing her before she does you. Now as far as payment goes; its $7,000 per head. However, applying the discount to two of the three, .75 times 7,000; that's 5,250. Times 2, plus the regular 7,000. That's $17,500. If you’d please.”

Ron reached into his jacket and brought out the scratch ticket. “I have $20,000 on this ticket.”

Particle Man grabbed the ticket to inspect. “Lucky you, huh? I stopped buying these. Never seemed to win ‘em. You do though! Looks legit, no scratches on the void.”. She slipped the ticket between the pages of her notebook. “This’ll work!”

She put the notebook back in her pocketbook and began to leave. Ron spoke up.

“Well, wait! When will this be done?”.

“I’d say 2-6 business days. And it's a Tuesday. You’re in luck.”

“And… my change?”

“I’ll mail it to you. You take care now, Canary!”. And she walked away. Eventually, so did Ron.

As he arrived home, Ron could see Robyn moving through the windows, carrying folded clothes to the same spot. When he opened the door he noticed there was a small suitcase resting on the ground. Robyn looked over at Ron and sighed. “I was going to tell you once I left, but something came up. I have to leave for a few days. I’m taking Lindsey to stay with her grandfather.”

“Oh.” said Ron, “Um, which one?”

“My father. Unless you think you could pick her up from school”

“I can't,” said Ron.

“We… should talk about things when I come back. We can’t prolong this. We’ll figure it out, money wise”. Ron picked up her suitcase and handed it to her.

With a nod to Robyn, and a kiss on the cheek to Lindsey, Ron saw them off. He sat on the couch, and eventually just fell asleep.

Ron went to work per usual and heard that Crawford was on a surprise business trip. Ron thought he might have been killed, but there were still memos coming from him, as far as he heard.

Friday came around, which was a tiring. There was a whole weekend to debrief from work, and Ron was looking forward to just lounging around by himself. He arrived home, grabbed the mail, and went inside. He thumbed through credit card bills, promotionals from grocery stores, his W-2s- wasn’t that swell. Tax season was near. One envelope felt different from the others- its crease felt thicker.

Picked from the pile, the manilla envelope had a slight heft to it. No stamp, no return address. Just a name, written large and elegantly.

“Blue Canary”

Ron looked outside his window to see if anyone was watching for his reaction. Noone. Then his thumb dug into the top and ripped a line through the envelope.

Inside was Robyn’s wedding ring. And $2,500 in cash…

On a business trip some years later, Ron sat on the sands of Hawaii. Diamond Head stood tall on the shores.

Work had promoted Ron to sales. A few thought it might be for the hard work he put in the company, most had other speculations… to avoid a PR shitstorm.

Years back, it had been found out that Ron’s wife had been having an affair with none other than his boss. Something that could have gone further unnoticed, had their bodies not been found naked and dead- shacked up together in a hotel room.

“Heart attacks, the both of them. Most likely from insanely intense orgasms” said the county coroner in his report.

To keep an employee from bad mouthing- and possible legal action- they offered him the manager’s position that was previously Crawfords. No one wanted to upset Ron, especially since this was the week his father had passed, too.

Ron was doing quite well, and recovering from his grief. Student loans were no longer a worry, and the inheritance he received from his father helped to pay off some of the remaining outstanding debts.

Everything was in its right place, and had just gotten better. A gorgeous, redhead had taken the lounge chair next to him. Ron was about to strike up a conversation, but she beat him to it.

“Enjoying your vacation?” she said.

“This is a business trip, believe it or not. You should see me on vacation” said Ron.

“Aw, you’re flirting with me, Blue Canary.” she said, and Ron turned fully toward her. She was no stranger. “Or can I call you ‘Ronald’? I like the nickname better. More playful.”

“Wh-why are you here?” asked Ron. “Can’t a friend visit another friend?” said Particle Man. Ron looked around for law enforcement. None were in sight. “Are… are we friends?”

Particle Man put a finger to her cheek and pursed her lips. “Not really, but we know each other's biggest secret. That has to count for something. So who better to ask for help?”. “What could I possibly help you with? A murder? I’m no murderer!”

A laugh erupted from Particle Man’s belly. “Of course not, you’re just a poor widower whose father died, right?” she mocked, “you’re no murderer. No, you just pay for that. Same way I’m not a landscaper, yet I get my grass cut. Anyways, its not a murder. I need your help finding something...”

Ron was silent.

“You remember my black notebook. My work one?”. Ron nodded. “Well, I seem to have lost it.”

“Okay” said Ron, “why do you need me to help find it?”

Particle Man stood up in Ron’s face. He would have screamed- he certainly tried- but no one could hear it with Particle Man’s hand covering his mouth.

“Do you think that's a sketchbook? It's a planner. There’s plans in it. Very detailed plans on how I killed your wife. And father. And boss. With details of your conspiracy. See where I’m going with this?”. Then she tightened her grip on Ron’s face and shook his head vertically. It might have been forced, but he understood.

Help her or die. Either by her, or by injection. Or maybe even beaten to death in prison,

“Good” she said, and took her hand away from his lips. “Finish your business, or whatever the hell this is, by tonight. I’ll be waiting in your hotel room. If anyone asks how I got the key, I’m your escort. Just don’t think it's for real. We need to get that book back as soon as possible- and I got a few job sites I think I might have left it…” And she walked away. Ron watched, wishing it was forever, but knew it wasn’t. He had no clue where he would be going. Or how long it would take.

All Ron knew was he would have the time for it. And the funds.

It's not like he was in debt anymore.