The noir of Fury

No Fury Like That is the reason I started investigating noir. As I mentioned in my intro piece, I was a little taken aback by the fury in Fury! And I wondered, is it noir? And, if so, what kind of noir is it? And that question led to all sorts of interesting research and discussions! 

I'd like to post this excerpt from No Fury Like That and I hope you will enjoy the read!

48. Reunited With Junior

The following evening, shortly after sunset, I wait in my rental car in the parking lot. I have checked out of my hotel and I am waiting to hear from Junior’s escort.

I’ve never been a nail-biter but I am chain-smoking cigarettes one after the other, and I am snapping gum so hard my teeth hurt. I am going crazy waiting for the call. As it gets closer to the time, I haul the suitcase out of the trunk and I lock the car. I approach the hotel, wheeling the large suitcase, with my phone in hand and finally, the call comes. Game on.

I wave off the bellboy who offers to help me with my luggage and I make my way up to Junior’s room. The escort I’ve hired opens the door. “He’s out cold,” she says. “He drank the champagne like it was a soda, didn’t notice there was anything in it, and then he fell asleep.”

“Thank you,” I tell her and I pay her.

She picks up her purse and leaves. I had told her I was Junior’s wife and that I wanted to catch him cheating so he wouldn’t be able to lie to me any more. She had nodded casually when I told her to put sleeping pills into his drink, and I realized the less said, the better; all she cared about was being paid.

I had pulled a classic switch hustle. I had sent the glamour shots to Junior and Teddy and those were the girls they had spoken to on the phone. But a second, different set of leggy women arrived for the hookups. There were no glamour shots of these girls and no one would have any idea who they were or where they could have come from. I instructed the first set of girls to be in the public eye during the time the whole thing was going down and, when questioned, they were to say yes, they had dropped their shots off, and they’d spoken to the guys on the phone but neither Junior nor Teddy had set up an actual date. The second girls would be ghosts in the night and as for the concierge at the Bellagio, he had seen exactly what I wanted him to.

I look at Junior who is lying on his back, snoring.

I pull him across the bed, using the satin coverlet to drag him and he flops easily into the suitcase. I tuck him in, all nice and cozy and I hope he will have enough air. I don’t want him to suffocate before I have the chance to kill him.

I also hope he won’t wake up in the elevator and start banging around.

I slap some duct tape across his mouth and bind his hands and feet. Granted there is not much space inside the suitcase for banging or thrashing around.

I ease the suitcase upright on its wheels and I give the room a careful once over. I have removed the girl’s glamour shot and I wear gloves the whole time I am in Junior’s room, but I am still worried. Did I miss anything? I can’t torment or second guess myself. I have been careful and cognizant; I need to trust the plan.

The ride down in the elevator takes a lifetime. I am joined by an elderly couple and a family with four young kids who are excited by the prospect of a buffet dinner. It is a tight squeeze and my breath is trapped in my throat until we reach the ground floor where I exhale and take a big gulp of air.

I exit through the main doors and I am relieved when none of the porters or valets stop me and offer to help. I wheel the suitcase to the car and I open the rear passenger door.

One thing I have not calculated is how heavy the suitcase would be with Junior in it. After a number of tries, I realize there’s no way I’ll get be able to get it onto the back seat. Sweat is pouring down my face and I wipe it away. I’m stuck, and I have no idea what I am going to do.

“Want some help?” A burly man stops.

“Yes, please,” I say. “Too much shopping. And my trunk is already full. I know I should have split this into two smaller cases, but this just seemed easier. Thank you for your help.”

By the time I am finished babbling, the man has hefted the case into the car and he shrugs and smiles.

“Piece of cake,” he says.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I tell him as he leaves, and I am well aware of the irony of what I have just said. I wipe my forehead with a tissue and I drive away with Junior in the suitcase on the backseat of my car.

I drive until I am out of central Vegas, and I pull into a dimly-lit side street and turn off the engine. I get into the back of the car and open the suitcase without too much difficulty, having practiced this maneuver.

To my relief, Junior is still breathing, and he is out cold. I roll the suitcase out from under him and he falls onto the backseat, and I check the bindings on his hands and feet.

For good measure, I stretch the seatbelt around him and manage to get him buckled in, just in case he wakes up and gets any ideas about trying to lunge at me even with his hands tied.

I cover him with a blanket, and he looks like a sleeping kid.

I put the suitcase into the trunk of the car and I hit the highway and drive into the desert, taking my carefully mapped out route. My car is full of gas and things are going well.

But I start shaking uncontrollably. My whole body is vibrating, and it is hard to breathe and my chest feels tight. I am overcome with dizziness and I can’t see and there is a loud, high-pitched ringing in my ears. I pull over onto the dirt and lean my head on the steering wheel.

I have missed something. I know I have. I’ll be caught, tried for murder, and put away for the rest of my life. And what on earth am I thinking? I have a man bound, drugged, and gagged in the back of my car and I am planning to kill him in cold blood. I can’t do this. This is wrong, evil, on so many levels. I’ll have to drop him off somewhere off the Strip and hopefully when he comes to, he’ll just think it was a sex game that went wrong or something. There’s nothing that will lead them to me. I’ll leave Vegas and get on with my life and put this whole mess behind me.

But then I turn and look at Junior on the backseat and it all comes back to me. The humiliation, the beating, the pain, my ruined face, my damaged body. His phone calls, his brutality.

No. He is not going to get away with it. He’s not going to win. And if I let him go, he’d come after me again, no doubt about it. I have no choice. I have to kill him. I can do this. I will do this. I repeat my mantra again. And I tell myself the same thing I told myself in the hotel, that I need to trust myself, my plan is sound. I take a few deep breaths and drink some water. My head clears and my heart slows down and I feel resolve settle into my bones. I sit up straight and start the engine.

And I carry on driving, out into the desert.

-.-

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Pic credit: Vecteezy