text: It was hot as hell and we had the big fans going in the garage the day she stepped into my life. I was finishing up underneath a beat-up ‘37 pickup. It needed much more than the oil change I was giving it but what the hell, it wasn’t my problem. I slid out from under the truck, wiped my brow and hands with a dirty rag, and there she was. She and Manny, one of the other mechanics, were talking over her car. She was wearing a tight striped sleeveless blouse and shorts that barely touched her thighs. Her blond hair was pinned up and she had on these big gaudy sunglasses. Her lips were bright red and she had dark sweat stains under her arms but even so she was an absolute knockout. I took her to be a few years older than me, maybe 25 or 26. She looked like she’d probably done a stint at the university, or anyway she probably came from money or had plenty of it. The car alone was enough to tell me that. It was a year-old foreign model and it looked like the kind of thing a diplomat would drive. Like what you’d imagine Katharine Hepburn or Cary Grant riding around in. Whatever this girl’s problem was, I knew I could solve it, so I sauntered over and stuck my nose into her business. “Hey, Manny, what goes on here?” “This lady, she says there’s something wrong with the brakes. I was just going to--” “Brakes, eh? Go take a powder, Manny. I’ll handle it.” When he was gone I turned to the lady and said “Sorry to horn in like that but a woman of your class deserves the best, and I’m the best grease monkey in the joint.” “Really it’s no bother.” She smiled at me and removed her sunglasses, holding the stem between her teeth. The same red that was on her lips was also on her long tapered fingernails. “My husband said that the brakes were acting up, and based on the harrowing drive I had over here I’d have to say he was right!” “Husband, eh? That’s a shame.” She chuckled. “Well, let me take a look.” I climbed into the driver’s seat and pumped the brake pedal a few times. Sure enough there was something screwy. Too much give, no pressure at all on the pads. I got out and slid under the car to take a look at the brake line. Sure enough, it was busted. Clean cut straight through. Someone had been tampering with it. I slid out from under the car and gave the lady a long hard look. “Yeah, you’re leaking fluid there. Lucky your husband noticed or else there could have been a real bad accident .” I looked her right in the baby blues on that last word. She shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, that would have been dreadful. I’m so glad he’s safe.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well listen, it’s going to be a while before I have this thing ship-shape again. Why don’t you leave your information at the desk inside and I’ll give you a ring when she’s ready to be picked up? We can call you a cab to get you home in the meantime.” She agreed. “Say, I haven’t asked your name yet, have I?” “Oh, it’s Mabel. Mabel Llewelyn -- er, Smith. I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to this new name. And you are?” “Frank. I guess you haven’t been married long then.” “No, just a few months.” I nodded and showed her to the desk. Then I wheeled the car into the garage and got to work. *** Later that afternoon I called her up. “Hello?” “Mrs. Smith?” “This is she.” “It’s Frank, from the garage. Just calling to let you know that your car is all set.” “Oh, marvelous! I’ll be by in about an hour. Oh shoot, will you still be open then?” “Yeah, that’s fine. Say, are you alone?” “Yes, my husband is still at the office. Why, what is it?” “I know what you did.” There was a long pause on her end. I would have guessed she’d hung up but I could still hear her breathing. “I don’t know what you could mean,” she said, finally, cold as an eskimo’s nose. “Well ma’am, someone cut the brakes on that car. Your husband have any enemies?” “Well, no, but --” “Look Mabel. I can sympathize. A dame like you shouldn’t be tied down like you are, but offing your husband?” Another pause, then “How could you tell?” “Brake cables don’t just break like that. A little leak sure, a puncture maybe. But a clean cut through and through? Not in a million years.” It was a while before she said anything. I could hear her tsk ing on the other end while she thought. “Well then, Frank...How would you go about it?” That took me aback a bit, but I couldn’t say I didn’t see the question coming. “What would be in it for me if I was to tell you?” “My husband has a generous life insurance policy, and of course I’ll inherit much of his wealth. I would gladly give you a share.” “I want half.” She mulled that over for a bit. “Fine.” *** I kept the car overnight so I could put in a little more work. The lady wanted her husband to have an unfortunate accident, and that’s just what it would look like. She was smart to go for the brakes, she just went too far too fast. I sanded down the brake shoes just to the point where they would still work fine but if anything were to happen they’d be the number one suspect. For good measure I rigged the brake cable to leak ever so slightly. Nothing that would arouse suspicion. I gave her a ring when I was done. “Yes?” “Mabel.” “Is it finished? My husband was complaining this morning about having to take the bus again.” “Relax, it’s all taken care of. Now listen, here’s how it’s going to go down. In a few weeks you’re going to get an invitation to join a new country club up in the mountains, and you're going to persuade your hubbie to take you to the big enrollment party. Where do you usually park the car?” “What? Why does that matter?” “I’ll get to that. Driveway or garage?” “The driveway, usually, unless it’s going to rain.” “Okay, that’ll have to change. Is the garage attached to the house?” “Yes, but why should the car go into the garage?” “So we can move the body without being seen. And you’ve got to create a pattern now so there won’t be any suspicion on the big night.” “Yes, I see...” “All right? So the night of the party you’re going to leave your back door unlocked. I’ll be there around 7:30, so don’t you leave before then. I’ll sneak in and off him and then we’ll put him in the car. You with me?” “Yes.” “Fine,” I said. “Well Mrs. Smith, your car is all set. Sorry for the delay. Come by anytime and pick it up.” After I was off the phone I flagged down Manny and got him to sign the invoice for the repair. I told him I was sorry for stealing the job out from under him and that he could handle the pick-up and collect my pay from the job. I wouldn’t miss the money anyhow, and now the “botched” brake job wouldn’t have a paper trail back to me. *** I had the phony invitation printed up nice and dropped it in their mailbox myself. I trusted that Mabel could convince the husband to go, but even if she didn’t she knew enough to spread the story around the neighborhood that they were going away to the mountains. He wouldn’t put up much of a fight once he was dead. The night of the “party” as soon as I was off work I hoofed it over to their house and hopped the back fence. I had to crouch in the bushes a while because I could see them through the glass door having some kind of argument. It was my first time laying eyes on the husband. He was a fat balding man close to 50 if he was a day. I guess the big dope didn’t want to treat his wife to a night out after all. I waited until his back was to the door to creep over right next to it against the wall of the house. I reached out and tried to push it open without it making a sound. It was unlocked, just like we planned. I peeked around the corner to make sure he was still facing the other way. I could tell that Mabel saw me from the way her eyes got wide. I slid the door open and slipped inside and socked him hard on the head with the steel rod I’d brought. He went down like a sack of spuds. “Oh did you have to hit him so hard?” Mabel asked. “What does that matter? He won’t be feeling it for long.” “I know, but --” “Now don’t you go getting cold feet on me now. We’re in this thing too deep as it is.” She pulled herself together. I sent her to fetch a blanket and while she was out I finished the job with a sharp twist of his neck. I met her in the bedroom. She looked faint, like maybe she was about to scream. I pulled her to me and kissed her hard on the mouth to shut her up. She wilted in my embrace, then pulled back. “It’s done?” “Yeah. Now go put that blanket in the car while I get dressed.” “Get dressed?” “Yeah. I’ll put on one of his suits and drive us out of here. It’ll look to the neighbors like he’s behind the wheel. You got the bags packed like I said?” “Yes, they’re in the closet there.” “Fine. Real fine.” She went out to the car and I put on one of the fat man’s suits. I had to fill it out with a pillow to complete the illusion. I grabbed the bags from the closet and took them out to the car. Then I went back in and grabbed the husband. He was heavy, but I was able to drag him out to the garage. It took just about all my strength to heave him into the back seat. It’s amazing how much heavier a body can feel when it’s limp. We covered him with the blanket and set out for the mountains. One of the neighbors was out walking a little dog and I gave them a friendly wave. On the way out of town I stopped at the garage. Mabel got in the driver’s seat and I got in my own car. I led the way the rest of the way to the mountains. After we were a good distance out of town, high in the mountains on a good secluded stretch of road, I kept an eye out for a nice sharp curve. I found one a few miles past a filling station with a payphone out front. Even with good brakes this curve would put hair on your chest. I pulled over on the far side of the street and signaled Mabel to stop behind me. I got out of my car and went to talk with her. “Here’s good,” I said. “Help me get him in the driver’s seat.” I grabbed the husband under the arms and she took his legs and we carried him around the car and sat him upright in the driver’s seat. We were both breathing heavy by the time we were done. When he was seated properly I clipped the belt across his waist. That bit would be useful for our story. I got the car in neutral and nudged it over the edge. It went over easy nose first and crumpled about 30 feet down. “All right,” I panted. “Now come on.” Mabel and I slid down the cliff on our rears. I checked on the husband. His head was resting on the steering wheel, and it looked like his nose was broken in the crash. Anyway he was still dead. We had to make Mabel look like she was in the crash, too, but the official story would be that she jumped clear before the car went over the edge. She just couldn’t come out of this unscathed. Luckily for us she got scraped up on the arms and legs pretty good on the way down. She was certainly dirty enough. For extra realism I tore her dress a little and gave her a tiny bruise on the cheek. She was a good sport and didn’t make a sound when I clocked her. We climbed back up to the road. Right when we crested the rise another car came around the curve the other way and caught us in the headlights. That had me worried for a second but I figured it wouldn’t matter much. The driver couldn’t have gotten a good look at us, he wouldn’t remember exactly where it was he saw us, and anyway we’d just look like a young couple that snuck off to have some fun in the woods. We got in my car and I drove her back the way we came. We rehearsed the story that she’d tell the police: Her husband was taking her away to the mountains for a few days; he’d complained of brake troubles but she’d had them fixed; the car had come to this curve and wouldn’t stop; she was able to jump clear but only because she wasn’t wearing her seat belt; she never trusted them. A little ways before the filling station she got out. She’d walk the rest of the way. It would be pretty suspicious if someone at the station saw her getting dropped off at the payphone. I waited a while to give her a head start, then started the car and headed for home. When I passed the filling station I could see her in the phone booth. It looked like we were in the clear. Everything went off without a hitch. *** Naturally there was an investigation. The insurance company especially wasn’t about to pay up before they ruled out foul play. Some stuffed shirts came by the garage one day and grilled Manny pretty hard about the repair job he’s supposed to have done. He tried to shift the blame back to me but I played dumb and the paperwork backed me up. The owner was scared that lawyers might get involved. Mabel I guess seemed like the type to sue over negligence of this sort. Sure, if she had been the greedy type she could have, but she was looking forward to a big payday already. But Manny was let go anyway, and I was sorry that I got him canned. It’s been a month since the crash now, and everything’s pretty much quieted down. Mabel assured me that the insurance policy ought to be paying out and the banks ought to unfreeze the husband’s bank accounts soon. Until then I’ll be waiting here in this motel room every Friday night for her to come and give me my share. Just like we planned.