Story #75 - Package Deal

Package Deal

Blood quickly pooled beneath him thanks to the one, well-aimed shot, giving Julius time for a single cohesive thought.

It was all the mailman’s fault.

A lazy Monday morning had begun the sorry tale, a morning that found Julius relaxing in his study. Enough days off earned meant he had to start taking some or get paid out for them, and he was finally at a point where he felt comfortable enough at home. Alone.

Several Mondays in a row had been a test run of sorts, a way to determine if he could handle the creaks and cracks of the house without her around. A good book helped, but didn’t quite mitigate the wispy feelings of regret that washed over him each time he went to call out to her, holding back the words with an effort.

At 11:30 sharp the mailman rang, which was odd.

Gerald was a perfect post office employee, which meant that interaction with customers was at the lowest tier of his preferred activity. He was efficient and precise - not once in ten years had Julius found the mail to be late, and the lack of camaraderie with Gerald had never given him a moment of bother. It was odd, then, that Gerald had to ring.

He opened the door slowly, just enough that he could meet the older man’s eyes. Silver hair marked them both as past their prime, but Gerald was still long and lean, years of walking around the neighborhood giving the man strong legs and a tight frame, although his eyesight had began to fade and his steps had become slightly less sure. Julius had let himself go in recent months, moving from a place of occasionally trying to watch what he ate to one where he’d consume whatever he could get.

A wisp of wind chilled his belly and he pulled his robe tighter around his waist; Gerald had no need to see that.

“Mr. Julius Clark?” Gerald’s voice was clipped.

“Yes.” Further words would be pointless; they both wanted Gerald off of the property as soon as possible.

“Here.” A package was produced from a large canvas bag, thin enough to fit through the small door gap, and it was followed by a small electronic pad with attached pen. “I need a signature, sir. Thank you.”

Julius scribbled out his moniker quickly and passed the pad back – who would send him a registered package? Her? That was unlikely, given the way it had ended, but stranger things…

He passed the pad back, and without bothering with thanks he closed the door. Hurrying back to the study, he threw the package on his desk, sat down, and pulled a letter opener from the top drawer.

The package was no larger than a standard document envelope but slightly fatter around the middle, speaking to a number of bulkier-than-paper objects inside. Leaning forward, Julius brought the letter opener to bear.

A quick cut and a shake, and three objects tumbled onto his desk. The first was the most obvious and certainly the most odd – a small wheel of orange cheese with one quarter-section missing, still firm and without a hint of mold. Next came a scrap of paper, colored on one side and blank on the other, and finally a small metal button with a pink heart on the front and a pin clasp on the back.

What on earth?

Setting the strange trio aside for a moment, Julius took a better look at the envelope.

Julius A. Clark. 126 Brixton Street, Clandau, 87543.

A? He was Julius R. Clark – and the address wasn’t quite right, either. The code was on, but he was at 126 Buxton, not Brixton. Gerald had made a rare mistake, and Julius had compounded it by not looking at the envelope well enough.

He shook the package again, but nothing else came out – no note of explanation, no letter of intent. Presumably, Julius R Clark would know what all of these items were for, without the need of any further documentation.

Brixton wasn’t too far off, but he’d need to at least shower before he went to re-deliver his unintended gift. He could ring the post office, of course, but his curiosity had been piqued – what sort of man got partially-eaten cheese as a package?

A sound outside the study brought his head up. Most clanks and clonks in the house could be attributed to Jasper, a fat cat with a large tail and small brains, but this had been sharper, more distinct than the noises the feline typically made.

“Hello?” He called out, then cursed himself under his breath. Idiots in films always did that, letting a prospective burglar know just where they were in a house and he’d always been sure he’d never be so stupid. Julius shook his head; this wasn’t some spy thriller; the odd items in the package had his thoughts twisted up, and coupled with a severe bout of boredom they made interesting bedfellows in his mind. Standing, he made for the doorway and ducked into the hall.

Everything seemed in order; the front door was still tightly locked and the back patio appeared undisturbed. A sharp gust of wind from the stairwell sent a shiver down his chest; he had been sure he left all of the upper windows closed.

Dashing to the kitchen, Julius had no time to see the man in black come around the corner at him. A fist to the face sent him to the ground, and a masked visage appeared above his own.

“Really, Julius?” The man said in a graveled voice, “no button? Getting quite cocky, aren’t we?"

“No, I’m not –“ rational speech was cut off as the black-suited man took a silver handgun from his pocket.

The other man laughed. “I’d heard a lot about you, Julius – they said you were clever, said you’d figure it out before I got here, that you’d prove a challenge.”

He is clever, Julius thought, you have no idea.

A ripping sound tore at his ears and he twitched on the floor, one well-placed shot causing blood to pool quickly underneath him.

This was all the mailman’s fault.

- D