jack of diamonds

ii

Gabrielle sat on a small bench outside the hospital, huddled tight against the cold. Just another late night worker waiting to start her shift, she told herself. And what sort of a job would that be, she asked herself? She had the look of a woman waiting for the sun to drop below the horizon—or so she hoped. She knew there was no knowing what anybody thought if they happened to see her sitting as she was. Her breath came out in small white puffs, only to be lost on the wind like the distant cry of a child. She began blowing on her hands, at the same time looking up at the third story windows of the hospital across the street where the setting sun reflected off the dirty windows. She was wondering if there was any way she could climb up the fire escape without being seen.

It’s a simple enough thing, she told herself.

The idea of holding a pillow over Anatoly’s face while he thrashed about as she slowly suffocated him was something she’d been toying with for hours. She could also see it was something better left for the cover of night. She knew she’d be able to reach the bottom rung of the fire escape once she dragged over one of the bins under the stairwell. Standing on them would be a lot easier than jumping up and missing the bottom rung, she told herself—a lot less frustrating, as well, she reminded herself. But what if someone heard her dragging the bins over?

Do I really want to follow through with this?

She’d felt a certain thrill pushing Anatoly from the railing he’d been stupid enough to climb up on. Seeing him look up at her and memorize her face from where he lay on the floor didn’t concern her, either. She’d wanted him to know it was her. Still, if he woke up and saw her standing over his bed with a pillow in her hands, she was certain he’d call out. All the more reason to do it under the cover of night, she told herself. Any nurse on duty would think he was simply having a bad dream—how many patients had bad dreams as they slept?

Besides, she could hide in the shadows when the turned the lights down.

A shallow gust of wind worked its way up the narrow lane, rooting along the curb side as if it was a living thing, collecting dust and loose papers before slapping up against her legs, going around her—going through her, she thought—as she pulled her coat tighter.

She saw the familiar figure of Chernetsov’s wife leave the hospital, walking down the front steps. She looked taller than Gabrielle remembered her. She looked stately in a matronly way—almost regal—wearing a long fur coat with her hat pulled down at a jaunty angle against the sun. The cobblestones were slick with the evening’s dew—reflecting the sun’s last light to the point where it was almost blinding—and Gabrielle could see the sheen off the cobblestones glaring like so many tiny mirrors, so much so that she had to put her hand up to shade her eyes. Chernetsov’s wife paused before attempting to cross the street, holding her own hand up as a shield against the harsh sunlight.

There was a man across the street smoking a cigarette next to another collection of garbage bins. He offered a mock salute to her and Chernetsov’s wife turned away, ignoring him, and Gabrielle saw the man laugh. She watched the woman’s breath steaming out in gentle plumes, and Gabrielle thought it was uncanny how the woman didn’t let the cold bother her—and why would she, wearing a coat like that, she thought.

For some reason, Gabrielle found herself watching the man across the street. He didn’t seem to be doing anything, he was just watching her, which Gabrielle found curious. Most of the people about her were making their way home after a long day, but he was standing beside three garbage bins, smoking a cigarette and waiting. That was when Gabrielle realized he wasn’t looking at her, but Madame Chernetsov. Gabrielle watched the man slowly reach back and pick up one of the three lids, placing it on one of the two other lids to his left.

It was something meant to draw her attention away from the window, Gabrielle reasoned. Madame Chernetsov looked at the man when she heard the banging lids, and just as quickly looked away when she saw the man smile at her. At the same time a lorry came speeding around the corner. There seemed to be plenty of room and plenty of time, but the driver turned the wheel at the last moment, and Gabrielle watched in horror as Chernetsov’s wife was struck, her body sent airborne where it landed on the curb side, broken and bloodied.

There was a scream from several of the pedestrians nearby.

Gabrielle watched the man at the garbage bins place his hands in his pockets and walk away.