The Short Wait
Entry in the diary of Harland Gofourth:
Thursday, March 26, 1987: As I write this I know I'll be gone when this is read. I'll be dead; dead by his hand or dead of fright. You probably have already noticed the shaky handwriting.
I did a little writing in high school, so I hope I can express myself properly. I'm awfully nervous. Keep that in mind.
You probably wonder why this is the first page of a new diary. It's simple. It's been many years since I felt the need to write my thoughts down. Now I'd better. I want it known what is about to happen to me.
Some years ago, I took money from the New States Pension Fund. You may be aware that the New States Driver's Union (NSDU) is strong in the east, with a membership of thirty thousand members. I was the treasurer of our local and, at that time, we maintained a balance of $250,000 in our account. Our president, Billy Friend, helped me transfer the bulk of this sum into a joint account with him, presumably to keep it in this account for only a few days until we could restructure our local's financial portfolio. You may not be familiar with this story here in Colorado, but it was big news in Trenton twenty years ago. Look it up. To make a long story short, he took the fall, and I took the money. The investigation uncovered many of Billy's other activities, and he was put away for a long time. Billy was released several months ago and that's when it started again.
If you're reading this then you know I lived by myself and was a paraplegic. Should have had a housekeeper but didn't. That's just as well. Wouldn't want anyone else involved in this. You've also noticed that this place sits way back from the road. Neighbors are good to check on me but I am very much alone here. I liked it that way until a few days ago.
They say that what goes around, comes around. That's sure true of my relationship with Billy Friend. I screwed him big time, and he's been paying interest on it ever since. Haven't been able to walk in fifteen years because one of Billy's drivers ran me down. Tried to kill me but crippled me instead. He doesn't know it but that's been punishment enough.
Eight years ago, Jane was robbed and beaten up in a grocery store parking lot. Being my wife took its toll on her, and she wasn't in robust health to start with. I'm certain the trauma contributed to the stroke that killed her a few weeks later. Billy knows I know. I helped beat a driver or two in my time, always robbing them first and usually in a parking lot.
Billy is playing his last card now. Someone (maybe him) has called every night for the last two weeks, talking nonsense. Except for one night when he told me to stay up late and watch my porch catch on fire. I did stay up late, and it did catch on fire. A small bomb had been placed under the boards. Guess I don't have to say how that scared me.
I'm writing this now because of this morning's call. The caller told me I'm going to have a visitor soon and that I will die and the score will finally be settled. It's just starting to sink in that maybe this isn't such a bad thing after all. I wish I'd never known him and sure wish I hadn't sold him out, but it's way too late to try to atone for a life foolishly lived. I guess I'm writing this as much to calm myself as I am to set the record straight. You'll never be able to tie Billy Friend to my death. You better know that I'm terrified.
Have you ever been terrified? Really and truly horrified? I never was until today. It's a strange feeling. It gives me a sense of lightness; like I could get up from this chair I live in and float around. My senses are sharp, or seem to be, and this kind of fear has a taste - tastes like copper pennies and the aftertaste of a low voltage electrical shock. Being crippled, I have trouble controlling body functions but now I've lost all control. They say this kind of fear has smell. Maybe the smell is on me but I can't tell. I'm scared out of my mind but can think clearly, (At least I believe I am thinking clearly. Doe sit seem to you I am?), and am ready for anything, I guess. I'm ready for action but am incapable of action. He has me where he wants me.
Will he kill me slow or quick? It'll be quick. He's mean and ruthless but not sadistic, at least not in this sense. He'll want this job done fast and clean with nothing for the police to find. I guess it won't hurt to say I've been involved in these kinds of jobs, too.
Asking the cops for help was a joke, but I know they don't owe me anything. They've always resented my presence here but couldn't do anything about it. When the FBI talks, these types of jerks have to listen. I can't run, fight, or get help from them. I'm sitting here waiting. I've danced around the law all my life but I'm not dancing now. I guess I know what a convict on death row feels like, a convict with a short wait.
If I'm still around, I'll write more tomorrow.
Epilogue
"Sarge, come here."
"What?"
"I guess this is Mr. Gofourth." The man in the wheel chair was dead with a bullet hole in his skull.
"Fine way to start a weekend. Been dead long?"
"Yeah, maybe a few hours, maybe a full day. He's cold."
"Least he doesn't stink too bad. If Mrs. Mabry hadn't called, he may have sat here a long time."
"Sarge, there's a book under his butt." Young Officer Ellison struggled to remove it from under Gofourth's body. It smelled of feces and dried urine. Ellison wiped it clean with a damp paper towel from Gofourth's small kitchen
"Let me see," Sgt. Folgate ordered after the diary was sufficiently clean.
The two men quickly read the new diary with the single entry for Thursday the twenty-sixth. Two days ago. "Whoa," Ellison whistled, "this guy was involved with Billy Friend?"
"Guess so," Folgate answered, slowly. "If he was behind Gofourth's murder, Gofourth was right. We'll never tie him to it. The only thing Friend ever got nailed on was the embezzlement scam. The other stuff would never have become known if the Feds hadn't started looking."
"There's got to be evidence in here somewhere," Ellison said, excitedly.
"Don't bet on it," Folgate remarked, dryly. "I bet this poor bastard did die of fright as much as he did the gunshot. If I knew somebody like Billy Friend was coming for me I'd be plenty scared." He sighed, "Damn, and trapped in a wheelchair and no one around to help. He was right. None of the old timers cared for him, too much of a smart ass when he first got here. But, I don't think any of us could have protected him from Billy Friend forever and I'm sure he knew it." Folgate paused and took a deep breath, Officer Ellison hanging on his every word, "At least he was fortunate in one way. His nightmare was as bad as any I can think of but he was right. He had a short wait."