Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 50, No. 1 & 2, January/February 2005

Payback by Shirley McCann

“Is she dead?”

Jack slipped into the dark booth and flagged down a waitress. “I’m afraid so, Fred.”

Fred Owens lowered his face into his hands. “I don’t know how it happened. One minute, Molly and I were arguing, and the next thing I knew she was lying on the floor.” He glanced up. “I didn’t even touch her. She just tripped over the coffee table.”

Jack ordered a drink, then waited for the waitress to leave. “You didn’t tell anyone else about this, did you?”

Fred shook his head. “I just straightened the table and picked up in the living room, hoping she would wake up. But she didn’t.” He pulled his eyes tight as if the image was too horrifying to relive.

Jack accepted his drink from the waitress and took a sip. “Don’t worry about it, Fred. It’s all been taken care of.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack leaned forward. “I mean why should you spend your life in prison for something that was an accident?”

“It was an accident! I swear it.”

“You and I know that,” Jack said. “But the police may have other ideas. So why take the chance of spending the rest of your life paying for it?” He gulped his drink. “As long as there’s no body, there can’t be a murder.”

Fred’s eyes widened. “You got rid of the body? How? Where?”

“That’s not important,” Jack told him. “The important thing is that you won’t be arrested for murder.”

Fred exhaled and folded his arms across the table. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“That’s easy,” Jack remarked. “I did you a favor, now you’ll do a favor for me.”

“Anything. Just name it.”

“Kill my wife.”

Fred gasped. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“But why? Marge has already filed for divorce. She’ll be out of your life soon enough.”

“With half of everything I’ve worked hard for during our twenty-year marriage.”

Fred put up his hands. “I can’t do it. I’m no murderer!”

“But you are, Fred,” Jack reminded him. “And if it weren’t for me, you’d be facing a murder charge.”

“Is she dead?”

Fred slid into the booth and lowered his head into his hands. “She’s dead.”

Jack expelled a long breath. “How did you do it?”

Fred rubbed both hands down his long, haggard face. “I almost couldn’t go through with it,” he told Jack. “But when I went home and realized what you’d done for me, I knew I had to repay you.” He glanced up, meeting Jack’s gaze. “The police will think she was shot during a burglary.”

Jack slid back against the booth. “You did the right thing, Fred. Now we can both put this ugly mess behind us.”

“Is she dead?”

Crossing the motel room, Jack scooped Molly into his arms and twirled her in the air. “She’s dead.”

Molly released herself from Jack’s grip and pirouetted across the room. “I can’t believe how easy this was. You were right about everything. When I told Fred I was leaving him for another man, he went crazy. For a minute, I thought he might really kill me. But as soon as he started coming at me, I pretended to fall over the coffee table. I stayed on the floor until he left.”

Jack pulled her close and kissed her. “You did great.”

“I’m just glad it’s over,” she said. “I was so nervous, I had to pour myself a drink just to calm my nerves until you arrived.”

Jack laughed. “Well, it’s done. Once I get home and discover the body of my dear wife, it will be just a matter of time before you and I live happily ever after on Marge’s life insurance.”

“What about Fred?” Molly asked, her eyebrows drawn. “What if he talks?”

“He won’t. He can’t go to the police without implicating himself.”

“You’re alive!” Jack stood in his living room, shocked and angered at seeing his wife standing upright. “If Fred were here now, I could kill him with my bare hands,” he screamed.

Marge poured herself a drink. “Too late. Fred’s dead.”

Jack stared. “You killed him? Why?”

“To frame you and Molly, of course. I’ve known about the two of you for months.” She sipped her drink. “The way I see it, now you’ll have to give me everything. And if you don’t, I’m going to the police and have you arrested for Fred’s murder.”

“The police aren’t stupid. They’ll figure out who really did it.”

“Maybe,” Marge said. “But are you willing to take that chance? After all, you’re the one sleeping with his wife.”

“She’s alive?”

Jack nodded.

“But Fred killed her.” Molly slumped against the bed.

“Well, apparently he bungled the job. But Fred’s dead.”

“Fred’s dead? Who killed him?”

Jack’s eyes misted as he produced a gun. “I’m afraid you did, Molly.”

Molly backed away. “You can’t be serious. We love each other.”

“But I love my freedom more. It’s the only way, Molly. The police will think you killed Fred, then took your own life in a murder-suicide.”

As soon as Jack pulled the trigger he heard the pounding on the door.

“Open up! Police!”

“You’re alive?”

Fred stood beside Marge outside the jail cell. “That’s right, Jack. I knew you had set me up as soon as I returned to the house after you supposedly removed Molly’s body. That’s when I noticed a wineglass on the table with Molly’s lipstick on it. Since I had cleaned the living room before I called you, I realized Molly couldn’t have been dead.”

“So we set you up using your own plan,” Marge added. “After twenty years, I knew you’d kill Molly if it meant saving your own neck. As soon as you left the house, we followed you, and then called the police.”

Marge wrapped her arm around Fred. “Once we collect Molly’s life insurance, Fred and I will be living in luxury.”

Jack pulled his eyebrows together. “So you two are...?”

Fred kissed Marge’s cheek. “That’s right, Jack. And to think, we owe it all to you. I don’t know how we’ll ever repay you.”