Death And The Marigolds

June 1st, 1999

Beneath a near-endless sky of thick, gray clouds, in a city surrounded by a vast forest of green that only gapped for streams, trails, and highways, people wandered the streets as the day turned to night. The Wabash Festival was an annual festival that stretched from city hall to Wabash Lake on the south side of town. Along the side of the lake a carnival was set up, a Ferris wheels' lights visible from the front doors to the Wabash City Government Complex. It was a beautiful place, with quaint restaurants, shops, and friendly people wandering the streets enjoying the festival and the attractions that came to town. Everybody was excited about the big fireworks show at the end of the night.

Walking down the street, wearing my black business suit with a black shirt and tie, I stopped to enjoy a latte' from one of the city's shops. It was a smaller shop, a mom-and-pop kind of business, the set up a stand along the main drag of vendors that came in for the festival. Damn, it was the best latte' I have ever had in my life. In all of the places I have ever visited, of all the latte's I have ever had, it was the absolute best of them.

Sipping my latte' I wandered around the festival, enjoying the music, enjoying the vibes of the celebration. Having time to kill, I decided to take a ride on the Ferris wheel. As the music from a cover band played, echoing across the lake. From the top of the Ferris wheel, the view was spectacular. Lights flickered off the rippling waters of Lake Wabash, then they started the fireworks show and I had the best seat in the house. From atop the carnival ride, I felt like I could reach out and catch the bright reds, blues, oranges, yellows, greens, purples, and pinks that were a part of each explosion. I truly felt like a kid again, the excitement of being in that moment overwhelming me.

By the time the ride was over, I had forgotten for a moment why I was in Wabash. As much as the city was quaint, the people were wonderful, and the atmosphere around the cities celebration was magical, I had a job to do.

Walking back to the Wabash Government Complex I made my way up the stairs and into the concourse of city hall. They truly knew how to decorate, I thought, as even the interior of their government building was beautiful. Working my way toward the elevators I considered buying a house in Wabash, but after I retired. Pulling a slip of paper out of my pocket I was going to the third floor, office six. The office would be sparsely populated this time of night, especially with everyone from the city working the festival.

The elevator ride up to the third floor took just a minute and as I popped my head out, looking down each side of the corridor, I saw office number six on the east side of the building. Walking through the dimly lit hall as I headed toward the door, I knew that nobody else was there. When I arrived at the entrance, I slowly pushed the glass door open and entered the reception area. Things were quiet, very quiet, so I had to make sure that I didn't alert anyone to my presence. The last thing I needed would be someone knowing I was there before I was ready.

When I found my way to the corner of the building I read the name on the office door. 'Chief James Bent' was who I was there to see. I undid my jacket and knocked at the door, hearing an almost immediate, "Come in. As I entered, I saw the old chief of police sitting there at his desk. I looked around the room, making sure that we were alone.

"Hello, are you Chief James Bent?" I inquired, wanting to be sure I was speaking to the right person.

"Yes," he smiled and stood up, his hand outstretched to shake mine, "Yes I am."

I was in the right place. I smiled at the chief as I entered his office, turning to close the door. Taking a deep breath I turned a smiled. I shook Chief Bents' hand and introduced myself, or at least pretended to introduce myself. As he sat back down I noticed that he probably wasn't single. The way his desk was decorated with pictures of a woman holding a child and the floral arrangement on the corner of his desk I pictured him being a family man. The vase full of marigolds certainly wasn't something he picked out for himself.

"So, what can I do for you?" he asked me, a curious look on his face.

Three shots echoed through the empty office on the third floor as the chief's body lurched slightly before his body slumped forward, his face making a thump on the table. Blood rushed out through the hole where his right eye was just seconds ago hidden behind his glasses. I stood a moment, making sure the man was dead, as blood poured out, covering his desk.

As calmly as I walked in, I turned around and walked back out the door after picking up the three shell casings that ejected from my gun. Tomorrow, when the city hall opened, the city would have to find a new Chief of Police. Maybe they would find one that didn't go poking his nose into bigger issues and paid more attention to the borders of his jurisdiction. I didn't really know. For the rest of the night, however, Wabash could continue to live in the blissful ignorance of thinking everything was going just fine in their sleepy little city.

June 1st, 2019

I'd lived in Washington, just outside the city of Wabash, for nearly twenty years. After visiting the town and falling in love with the city and its' people I moved to the Wabash area in August of 2009 and never looked back. It still, to this day, is every bit the peaceful little town I remember it being on that very first day. The crime rate in the city seemed to be non-existent. There was the right number of people to the right number of jobs, and the city continued to host its' annual five-day festival between Memorial Day and the citys' anniversary, always culminating with a June 1st Fireworks show.

Every year, on June 1st, I would gather up a small arrangement of marigolds. I would always take them with me to the local coffee shop, McClure's Coffee, and order a latee'. From there I would drive to the other side of Wabash and visit Oak Park Cemetary. It seemed fitting since it was Chief James Bent that brought me here.

Stopping at his grave, I would set the flowers down, cross my heart, and stand there a while. I never got to know the man, but after putting him here learned a lot about who he truly was. His, was the only kill I ever regretted, the only contract I wished I could have turned back the clock on. We don't tend to get the chance to go back in time, however, and I hoped he understood that from where he was in heaven.

"Well, Chief, I'll see you next year," I told him as I started to consider going home.

A small red-streaked marigold appeared over my shoulder. It looked blood-stained, almost like a blood-orchid. I took it from the hand of the person behind me, putting it to my nose and breathing in the sweet smell of its' nectar. When I turned around I recognized the eyes looking back at me. Twenty years ago I saw those same eyes as they stared briefly into mine, asking me what he could do for me. I suppose I should have considered this outcome. The picture was right in front of me that night, sitting on the desk next to the vase of flowers, next to the marigolds.

It was starting to get dark outside. I could still see the steely gaze of the woman in front of me. All of twenty-three years old, standing there filled with the venomous hatred I instilled in her years ago.

"You killed my father!" she angrily yelled.

I took a deep breath. "I know."

BANG! BANG! BANG!

With those three shots, only one person walked out of the cemetery that evening. Twenty years passed since I killed James Bent, only to come face to face with his daughter twenty years later. Maybe she would bring marigolds and put them on my grave.

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