Village Squire, 1980-06, Page 13marriage Harold had always entered the
main part of the home by the front or back
door. A dart of suspicion struck him in the
pit of the stomach and began festering like
an ulcer. Long after he'd put young Harold
to bed, he sat in the library thinking. Surely
his own brother and business partner
wouldn't cuckold him. It was unthinkable,
even accepting Harold's rather wild ways.
Always cautious, Frank decided to lie low.
Fortunately the library of the big home
was his favourite retreat. so it was simple to
test the lock each day without Dolly
wondering about his affinity for that room.
The following week Frank found it securely
locked when he returned from a church
meeting. He knew now his wife was
unfaithful, but this still wasn't positive proof
of the paternity of the boy. If anything, the
situation was worse, for if he changed the
lock on the door the other two would be
.ayvare that they'd been discovered.
He had to admit candidly to himself that
he had a low sex drive. Was it possible this
could be linked with impotence? The thought
had never occurred to him, for at all times
he'd enjoyed the best of health. It was
something he could check discreetly on his
next business trip to the city.
The following week was the annual
hardware dealers' convention. It was Frank's
turn to attend and he made an immediate
appointment at a medical clinic.
Much to his chagrin the doctor informed
him that hehad a zero sperm count.
"Could this be a temporary thing?"
Blackstone asked.
The doctor was sympathetic.
"I don't like to discourage you, but from
my findings, my judg .ment would be that in
your case it has been congenital."
The evidence was all in, but the last thing
Frank wanted to face was public exposure.
Financially he was in a position to buy his
brother's share in the business. He gritted
his teeth. He could see the smile on Harold's
face as he pocketed the money. His son's
face and Harold's sudden exit would set
tongues wagging. Also second only to his
son Frank was devoted to Dolly's parents.
He was certain of only one thing—he'd
destroy his cheating brother. Just how he'd
go about it he didn't know. Frank lacked the
killer's instinct, but he was consumed by
hate.
From that day on "the older brother"
began his quiet search. He read every book
on murder that he could get his hands on, as
well as scores of "whodunnit" novels. He
studied books on poisons. Each plot real and
supposed was carefully examined, and each
set aside as he detected a possible flaw. It
would be the ultimate ignominy to be caught
in his own net.
Frank even thought of hiring the services
of a paid killer, he a man with no more
contact with the underworld than a field-
mouse. Frank lost cotint of the times ht.
almost summoned up the courage to act. The
thirst for revenge never slackened due to
that wretched door leading to Harold's wing
of the Blackstone house.
By now it was the height of the local
baseball season and young Dale, their senior
clerk in charge of produce and frozen foods
was eager to leave early Saturday for
practice before the visiting team arrived.
Harold, always good-natured and willing tc
co-operate with the staff, chased Dale off to
the baseball diamond with the promise that
at 6 o'clock he'd move the frozen foods back
into the big locker.
When the staff trooped out at closing
time, Frank cleared the tills and made the
final entries for the week in his ledger. As he
shut the book and started to return it to the
safe, he heard a pounding, followed by a
muffled shout, from the back of the big
store. Frank dropped the book and went to
investigate.
Again he heard a muffled shout.
"Frank! Frank!" Then he remembered
hearing Harold's promise to shift unsold
meat from the display case to the big walk-in
locker.
Heedless as usual, his brother must have
failed to set the catch on the massive door.
That door, eight inches thick and metal
sheethed, had closed, trapping Harold in the
locker's sub -zero bowels.
A thin smile crossed Frank's handsome
face. He stepped forward and touched the
light switch.
"Freeze in the dark, you bastard," he
whispered softly. Next he set the thermostat
to its minimum reading before leaving the
store.
"All that reading and study for nothing,"
he mused. "All one needs is the help of
fate."
Young Dale found the frozen body
Monday morning, beside a frozen quarter of
beef. There were great dints on the inner
surface of the door where Harold had made a
final attempt to batter it open before the
frost crept into his veins.
Both before and during the large funeral,
Frank watched Dolly narrowly. She betrayed
nothing, playing the role of the bereaved
sister-in-law with more skill than she had
ever displayed on the town hall stage.
A few weeks after the funeral, Frank
became aware that Dolly's trips to the city
had almost doubled. It was simple to put a
detective on her trail. As he suspected,
she'd found a new lover elsewhere.
Unhappily, divorce was still out of the
question. Frank's position in the community
and in the church would suffer. The Givens
were in frail health. Frank couldn't dream of
having young Harold grow up to the
knowledge of a wayward mother.
Always a patient and methodical man,
Frank would bide his time confident that the
same Fate that had delivered his brother into
his hands would in due time provide a pit
into which he could tumble his unfaithful
wife.
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VILLAGE SQUIRE/JUNE 1980 PG 11