Mister Dingledine by Robert F. Clifton (short novels in english .TXT) 📖

it soon. I’m getting older each and every day. I want a husband and children. You do want children, don’t you Herbert?”

“Of course dear one. Of course.”

“Fine. Now, I fancy a light lunch with a cup of tea. Come, we’ve seen enough art for one day.”

After a day out Alberta returned home. When she entered the parlor she was met by her mother. “How was your day dear?”. Asked her mother.

“Fine mother.”

“A young man called for you while you were out.”

“Really, who?”

“A Mister Alistair. Homer Alistair.”

Alberta stood thinking for a moment trying to remember the name and attempting to connect the name with a face. Then, she remembered. The young man was a substitute teacher who had taught at the high school a few times replacing members of the faculty who were either ill or not able to teach on any particular day for any reason. As she recalled, Alistair was tall, muscular and had dark hair. He was clean shaven and handsome. Still, he wasn’t what she wanted in a man. To her, he was too young. Good looking young men did not have the patience or the will to do as they were told by a young woman. Young, single men could play the field. She wanted a man who wanted her, desired her, needed her and was willing to do anything just to be accepted and gain her love. She wanted a man like Herbert Dingledine. At present, she enjoyed the game she was playing. She was winning the game.

That evening she sat in the rocker, this time in the dark. There were times when she enjoyed the darkness. This was one of those times. Darkness had the illusion of aiding sorcery, something that unknown to others Alberta studied from time to time. It was the reason that made her want to control men, older men. Right now, she was in control of Herbert. He was bending to her will. Soon, very soon, he would bow to her wishes. He would divorce his wife, be forced to give her everything. Then, practically destitute he would be forced to come to her. It would be on her terms. When he was finally broke of finances, property, and reputation she would turn him away. By then he would have nothing left to offer her, only his love. She could find love anywhere and anytime she wanted it. She smiled to herself in the dark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

Death

 

On a Saturday when Alberta made no plans for them Herbert sat in his living room reading. Across from him seated on the sofa, Ethel watched him. “So, you’re staying home on a Saturday. What’s wrong? Is the brothel closed?,” she asked.

Herbert looked at her astonished that she would ask such a thing. “I don’t know what you are talking about and I certainly don’t visit brothels,” he answered.

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re whoring around. You leave here on Saturday mornings and come back smelling of Lily Of The Valley. I do not use fragrance, so you can’t say you picked up the aroma from me.”

“Ethel, you’re being foolish.”

“Foolish am I? You forget that I know how long it takes you to develop a lesson plan. This one that you’ve been working on has taken almost two months. I might be ill, but I’m not stupid.”

“For you to even suggest such a thing is not only wrong  but it’s insulting.”

“Hogwash!”

“Have it your way, but if I was being unfaithful I would have plenty of reason to do it. You aren’t the most romantic woman in Philadelphia.”

“Here we go again. You, making the demands of a husband. I will not be a slave to your depravity.”

“Depravity? All I want is the normal relations between a husband and his wife.”

“Sure, you’d like to see me die in childbirth, wouldn’t you?”

“ Woman, I don’t care how you die. I just want you to die,” he thought.

“Ethel, I’ve heard enough. Think what you want, even if you’re wrong. I’ll be outside in the shed.’

“Fine, run away like the weak individual you are. Just make sure that you’re back in time to make supper and put down more poison at the back door.”

Still angry, Herbert opened the door to the shed. There he had an old kitchen chair that he used when he had to sit and work on a project. He took a seat and began to think. “What a terrible life I lead. A shrew for a wife. One that stands in my way of happiness , perhaps with another woman. A woman who shares my interests in the arts, music, theater, literature, with the same religion. I’m stuck with a woman who does nothing from morning to night, except whining about her imagined health problems. If she were really ill from all of the sicknesses she has claimed over the years she would have been dead by now. Oh, how I wish she were.”

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard his name called. “Herbert, nice to see you home on a Saturday at last. What have you been up to recently?’, said John Kramer, leaning over the fence.

“Hello, John. To tell you the truth I’ve been at the library on Saturdays doing research for a new lesson plan I have in mind. How have you been?”

“Not too bad. How’s Ethel?”

“The same, always the same.”

“So, what brings you out to the shed. Your garden days are over until Spring,” said Kramer.

“ Just rearranging things and taking inventory. I have to buy more Paris green,” Dingledine answered.

“Does that stuff really work?”

“So far it has, I use Bergers. It’s supposed t be the best.”

“In my opinion poison is poison.”

“Yes, but I think there are different kinds and strengths. I want to be sure that it works.”

“Did it solve all of your problems?”, asked Kramer.

“Almost, not quite. You know Ethel. She needs more.”

“Well, good talking to you Herbert.”

“Stay well John.”

After spending two hours in the shed doing nothing more than killing time Herbert looked at hs pocket watch, noticed the time and decided that it was time to begin preparing the evening meal. He closed and locked the shed door then made his way to the backdoor. He entered the laundry room and then the pantry.

In the pantry, he removed a Mason jar filled with green beans and a jar of yellow beans. He then carried both into the kitchen.

“It’s about time you came inside and got supper ready. It’s not going to cook itself, you know,” said Ethel loudly.

“It’s early yet. Besides, what I have in mind won’t take long,” he answered.

“What are we having, may I ask?”

“Pork chops, boiled potatoes and string beans.”

“You say string beans. I hope to heaven that you mean green beans when it comes to me.”

“Naturally.”

“I didn’t hear you mention biscuits.”

“I didn’t make biscuits.”

“Why not?”

“First of all I didn’t think of biscuits and second of all I don’t have time to make them.”

“You could have taken the time to make them. No, you have to sit out there in your shed doing God only knows what. Two hours, that’s how long you were out there. Two hours that could have been spent making and baking biscuits. You know I like biscuits, but do you care? I don’t think so Herbert.”

“You’ll just have to be satisfied with bread and butter. Anyway, I usually make biscuits for the Sunday meal. I’ll make them for you tomorrow.”

“Oh no. I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way just to please me. Forget it. I'm used to going without.”

“Tell me please, just what do you go without? I wait on you hand and foot. I cook your meals, clean the house and even make the bed in the morning before I go to work. On my way home from work I do the shopping. If I’m not buying groceries I’m at the pharmacy purchasing headache powders, lotions or lineaments. You’re either constipated or have diarrhea. I have to spend time telling the druggist that you either need something to make you shit, or to stop it. Headaches, pains, upset stomach, dizziness, you have them all. Funny, your doctor has never once diagnosed one particular disease that you’re suffering from. And, speaking of doctors, you’ve had three different ones in two years.”

“They were inferior.”

“I’ll tell you what’s inferior, your mental state.”

“Well, if you don’t think I’m I’ll, try this. I’m sick of explaining everything to you. Just call me when supper is ready.”

Forty minutes later Herbert said in a loud voice, “Dinner is ready.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I just hope that I don’t fall in my weakened condition,” said Ethel.”

“I hope you don’t fall either. As fat as you are I’d have to replace the floor boards.”

“Oh, you’re cruel Herbert Dingledine, cruel.”

“Just sit down and eat.”

“Very well. Pass me the green beans.”

It was shortly after midnight when he heard Ethel call to him. In a daze while half asleep he realized that she wasn’t in bed. “What’s wrong?”, he asked.

“ I can’t see. Everything is a blur. My fingers and toes are numb and I’ve been on the toilet since ten o’clock.”

“Here we go again. It’s nothing new for you Ethel. Your vision is always blurred. That’s why you have three pairs of eyeglasses which may I say never work.”

“Herbert, please don’t scold me. I’m sick really sick. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Herbert got close to her and took a good look. This time she appeared different. First of all, she was wet from perspiration. Her lips were blue an indication that she wasn’t receiving enough oxygen. “Can you make it back to bed?”, he asked.

“I’ll try.”

“Here, let me help you,” he said putting his arm around her waist. As he did he noticed her trembling, something she had never done before. With her in bed again he noticed her difficulty in breathing. He knew what he had to do.”I’ll be right back Ethel. I have to wake the Kramer's and have them call for an ambulance.”

“Hurry Herbert. Please hurry.”

Still dressed in his nightshirt, Herbert raced next door and began banging on Kramer’s front door with his closed fist. “John! John! Wake up. I need you! I need you to call for an ambulance! Ethel’s very sick.”

Herbert saw the light go on, but it seemed like hours before John Kramer opened his front door. “Ethel, you say? What’s wrong?”, asked Kramer.

“She’s not breathing very well. Please call an ambulance. You have a telephone. I don’t.”

“Very well, just calm down. I’ll call. You go back to the house and stay with your wife.”

“I will John. I will. Please ask them to hurry.”

********************

Hours later Herbert paced back and forth in the hospital lobby. He was confused. Wanting her to live meant continuing to live with her in the same manner. Wanting her dead was unchristian, something that he might face later in the hereafter.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a voice say, “Mister Dingledine?”

Herbert turned to see a man dressed in a white surgical gown. “Yes?”, said, Herbert.

“Mister Dingledine. We did everything we could in an attempt to save your wife. I’m sad to tell you that we lost her.”

“My wife is dead?’, asked Herbert.

“Yes, sir. You have my deepest sympathy.”

“Herbert fought the smile trying to form on his lips and hoped that the doctor didn’t notice. “Do you know what caused her death?”, asked Herbert.

“Right now it appears to be the result of botulism. Do you know what she had to eat last?”

“Pork chops, potatoes and green beans, bread and butter and coffee.”

“I assume that at this time of year the beans were canned, not fresh.”

“That’s correct. I canned them myself,” said Herbert.

“Yet, you didn’t seem to be affected”, said the doctor.”

“I didn’t have the green beans.”

“I see. Well, with your permission we will run some tests in order to make a determination. We’ll let you know of our results. Should you need anything, records or anything feel free to call me. “I’m Doctor Francis Pittman.”

“Thank you, doctor. First, I have