by Maureen Mancini Amaturo
She killed him. And soaking up the sun in Lido di Bellagio felt no worse for it. Mallory glanced at the calm water. So, this is what a new beginning feels like.
She killed him. It was all an ocean away now, and from her redwood chair on the shore of Lake Cuomo, Mallory wondered if anyone had found him yet. David was her husband, and she had suffered so much because of him. Fair trade in her mind.
When Jenna — his sister, his own sister — once told her and others that she wanted to kill David and actually had a plan, Mallory was only half surprised. Jenna’s past — drug-addicted, felony-dotted, in-and-out-of-jail lifestyle — made her threat believable. Having been Jenna’s victim herself that night when Jenna, in a drugged paranoia, drove into her, pinning her against the garage door to prevent her from running away, causing her to lose her baby, Mallory envisioned payback for her, too. That night, Mallory never intended to go to the police about either of them. She just wanted out.
She was grateful Jenna agreed to smuggle David’s own gun from the garage, grateful Jenna was so gullible. Looking back, she was grateful that David, too, was an addict and twisted enough to pull his sister down with him. David was facing financial ruin and had a long list of haters. Mallory sipped her wine. So much to be grateful for.
She knew David had been stealing from his dad for years, whittling away at the family business since long before his mother died. When he slipped that one time and left evidence causing his dad to confront him, David blamed Jenna. Dumb bastards. They didn’t know their own son.
Mallory’s family, on the other hand, knew from day one that the man their daughter married was no better than a case of sepsis. His long absences, drinking and drugs, her bruises — so many times, Mallory made excuses for him. She tried, whenever he was sober, she tried. He needed someone to hurt; she was too afraid to leave. Thoughts of his temper, selfishness, and cruelty came to mind. “For a bully, he was such a coward,” Mallory said aloud, no one near enough to hear. She adjusted her sunglasses gently. Her broken nose was not yet healed. The small jolt of pain reminded her that she did the right thing. His end was her beginning. All for the best. She refreshed her glass with a new rain of Barolo.
Reclining beneath the glow of the golden Lombardy sun, Mallory replayed how easily the whole plan came together. She toasted herself. After tearing a piece from the crusty bread in her market basket and pouring olive oil on it from the small bottle she had wrapped in a checkered napkin, she leaned back and closed her eyes to savor the bread and the afternoon. She was finally free.
When planning the murder, Mallory remembered how deeply her dad had hated David. Every broken bone, every stitch, every bruise upped his hate a notch, but Mallory knew he’d never go along with something like this. Better Dad is already in Heaven. She smiled. He and David won’t run into each other there.
As Mallory dozed in the shadow of the Alps with the soft sound of lake water kissing the shore, the irritating buzz of her phone jolted her. She knew it would be Jenna and didn’t look. Jenna had been texting and calling for the past two days. “It’s not where I put it. Call me!” Mallory ignored the voicemails, too. “Urgent! Call me!” She was too comfortable with a fluffy towel rolled behind her neck, the warmth of the sun, and the soothing Barolo.
That evening, while unpacking her bread basket, she saw Jenna’s latest text. “They think I did it! They heard my voicemail on David’s cell. You have to explain!” Mallory laughed.
After a long, warm shower, some prosecco, and a 6pm massage, Mallory dressed for dinner. She found Detective Dunmore’s card. Smiling, Mallory remembered promising him, “I’ll call if there’s anything else.” She had tucked his card into her purse, next to her passport.
“Help me.” Jenna again.
Dinner left Mallory in a state of delightful exhaustion. The night would have been exquisite if it were not for the incessant buzzing from Jenna’s texts. When Mallory returned to her room, she decided she’d have to get rid of that woman. Everyone knows she’s crazy. She had had enough of all of them. She unlocked her carry-on and unwrapped the mini security camera that once perched inside the garage door at home. The footage of Jenna taking David’s gun from the cabinet shelf just before David’s death would be a nice gift for Detective Dunmore. “I’ll take care of this tomorrow,” Mallory promised herself, “when I get back from the Torre delle Arti.”
Morning espresso, a day at the museum, a savory lunch. Walking to her hotel, she passed a man half asleep in a doorway — filthy, smelling of urine and grappa. He held a sign. “Senzatetto. Per favore aiuto.” Mallory reached for her phone, searched Google translation. This could work. “Ti aiuto. Tu mi aiuti.” She lifted the little package wrapped for mailing from her tote.
That lazy afternoon, when the streets were less crowded, she walked to the ufficio postale with him. Mallory waited outside. He gave her the receipt. She gave him the euros she promised.
Having slept so well that night, she almost missed her flight to Athens the next morning.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Maureen Mancini Amaturo, NY-based fashion/beauty writer with an MFA in Creative Writing, teaches writing, leads the Sound Shore Writers Group, which she founded in 2007, and produces literary and gallery events. Her fiction, essays, creative non-fiction, poetry, and comedy, are widely published appearing in: The Dark Sire, Every Day Fiction, Flash Non-Fiction Food Anthology (Woodhall Press,) Things That Go Bump (Sez Publishing,) Film Noir Before It Was Cool and Attack of the Killer (Weasel Press), The Year Anthology (Crack The Spine,) Little Old Lady Comedy, Points In Case, and others. Maureen was nominated for The Bram Stoker Award and TDS Creative Fiction Award in 2020 and 2021 and was awarded Honorable Mention and Certificate of Excellence in poetry from Havik Literary Journal in 2022. Her work was shortlisted by Reedsy and by Flash Fiction Magazine for their Editor’s Choice Award. A handwriting analyst diagnosed her with an overdeveloped imagination. She’s working to live up to that.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Kelsey Erica Tran is an aspiring photographer and poet. Studying photography for two years in high school, she developed a passion for the art and hopes to turn it into a future career. Her first piece “Illuminate” was published in Apricity Magazine.