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Revenge
by
Sheldon Cohen
Copyright 2012 Sheldon Cohen,
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0741-8
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
CHAPTER 1
You’re number one, Dr. Mark Harrison. Soon you’ll die by my hand. I know who you are, what you do, and I know what you did. That’s the most important thing…what you did. All I know is that you have to die for that one great mistake of your life.
How long have you been in practice? Thirty-five…forty years about, and you’re still working? Three days a week now is what I heard. That’s all? In your case, that’s more than enough. You’re too sick for more than that. It’s a wonder you can continue doing what you do. Everybody knows that that you have inoperable coronary artery disease, and I have to tell you, you might as well try to keep busy; it’ll keep your mind off your misery. I’ve been waiting for you to drop, but you don’t, and I’m glad because that’s a privilege that belongs to me. Well, we’ll see what we can do about that. It’s getting time to act. People with medical problems as bad as yours should quit and enjoy what life they have left. Why you continue to stay on as chairman of the Department of Internal Medicine, is beyond me. Running that department must be a real pain-in-the-ass, with some of the wierdos you got in there. The Medical Executive Committee is no piece of cake either, I’m sure. Who needs all that aggravation? You sure as hell don’t.
My planning is over. I know just what I have to do. I’m going to get you before you get yourself. When I do my thing, everyone will assume your heart caught up with you. Your patients would understand that. I bet your wife is expecting you to drop any time. I don’t want to disappoint her. You’re the perfect number one.
I’ve watched you come home at 6:00 sharp every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. I’ve got a perfect view from where I sit here in my car right across the street from your fancy condo on North Clark Street. Yes, I…wait, let’s see…someone’s coming out of the front door. Who? Ah…that’s your wife, Doris, the nurse, and she’s carrying a suitcase. She’s going to the car parked in front of the condo. She’s putting the suitcase in the trunk. This could be the break I’m waiting for. Is she leaving town? I’ll follow her and see where she’s going. I’ll hang right on your tail, madam. I don’t want to lose you in traffic.
So far so good. She’s heading west on Fullerton Avenue. If she turns on to the Kennedy Expressway it could mean that she’s headed for O’Hare field. Sure enough, the Kennedy it is. If she takes the O’Hare exit I’ll follow her and see what she does. Her suitcase is a small one so it looks like she won’t be away too long. Yeah, she’s parking in the O’Hare garage. I better follow her into the terminal just to be sure she leaves town.
That’s it. She’s at the ticket counter. Now she’s heading through security. You’re in for a surprise when you get back, Doris. Tonight is the night he gets his. The conditions are perfect. He’s alone now. For weeks I’ve had him under surveillance, He’ll pay for his mistake. Better late than never, and the old score will be settled. His patients should be grateful to me for getting him out of their lives. Guys like that should be out of medicine long before they become menaces to society. Well, like the lioness going after the sick water buffalo, I’ll cull that flock.
He’s home tonight. I saw him arrive. I’ll wait until dark and at least about 11:00 o’clock. He’s got a cylinder lock on the front door. I know the type. It’s a pin and tumbler design. Those are the easiest to pick. It’ll be a cold day in hell when I find the lock I can’t pick. First, I’ll go home and change into my new jogging suit that I paid cash for. It’s still bagged. I’ll change into the suit in the garage. They say you can’t walk into a house without leaving a trace of yourself—like fibers, so I’ll get rid of the suit when I’m done. I’ll wear the shoes that are two sizes too big. Latex gloves will ensure I don’t leave any fingerprints, and the facemask for a disguise. Then I’ll destroy the gloves and shoes and mask. The only thing I’ll need is the chloroform soaked hand towel. I’ll get rid of that when I’ve done my good deed for the night.
It’ll be easy if my prey is asleep. Even if he’s not, he’s such a little guy that he’d be no problem to handle. This is going to be a piece of cake. The street’s deserted. It’s now or never. The lock, what a breeze. It’s dark inside. Is the place empty? Yeah, there’s a flickering light in the back. It’s a TV in the bedroom. Are you watching it or are you asleep, Mark? Either way doesn’t matter. Let’s see. There you are facing the wall sound asleep. First, the chloroform over your mouth and nose. Bear down hard. Turn over. Let’s get this pillow on your face…hard…hard. What? Moving your arms in the air? Is that all the resistance you can come up with? Come on, fight a little; at least a little. Nothing? Number one, it’s revenge time. I hope you don’t get too lonesome where I just sent you, but if you do, I want you to relax and be patient because I have plans for some of your friends to join you there. It won’t be long. As far as this earth is concerned, I’m the last person you came in contact with. We have bonded together for all eternity.
CHAPTER 2
Doris returned home the next night at nine. She had spent the day at a church ceremony in Wisconsin in honor of her octogenarian father. He was eighty-eight years of age and frail, so she wanted to be sure to visit with him. Her mother of eighty-two was in excellent health and a fine caregiver, so Doris was confident that her father was in good hands. Doris was reluctant to leave Mark, but he insisted she visit with her father. They both knew he was living on borrowed time.
On returning to Chicago, she entered her darkened home. She heard the television in the bedroom. She didn’t call out to her husband so as not to awaken him; he needed all the rest he could manage. Upon entering the bedroom, she froze. By the light of the flickering TV, the nurse in her knew what she was observing. The wife in her cried out in anguish. Her first reaction was to pick up the phone and dial 911 for the paramedics. Then she looked at her husband again. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open, his skin was blue-gray, his arm felt cold and hard. She noted his dilated pupils, but wiped it from her consciousness as she did the other signs of death. Striking the front of his chest with a closed fist, she started CPR on her husband’s lifeless body. She pressed her fisted hands over his sternum, counting one…two…three…four…five, and up and forced her breathe into his mouth even though she had read recently that the chest compression was the thing and the breaths were less important. She kept this up for what seemed like hours until the paramedics knocked on the door. She stepped back and watched as they took over and placed electrocardiogram leads on her husband. Her eyes opened wide as the tracing came out of the machine. It showed what she knew she would see: a flat line. Doris could see the hopelessness written on the paramedic’s faces. She screamed out, “Give him more CPR. Take him to Covenant. Try and save him, please.” At the same time, the nurse in Doris knew that her words were futile.
The paramedics continued working and rushed him to Covenant Hospital. As soon as they were in the ambulance, they were in direct communication with the ER. Doris followed in her car. They arrived at the emergency room and the paramedics wheeled the patient to a room prepared for cardiac resuscitation, Doris heard the
