My Name is Jane

written by Christine Unger



It was a beautiful evening. The little sailboat bobbed atop the sparkling crests. Patrick couldn't believe his luck. Spying on Dick and Jane in California was the sweetest gig he could imagine. No way was Santa right. No way would Dick hurt Jane. He'd known the guy a long time. Joy was just a fling, he was sure of it.

"Just keep and eye on them, If I'm right, Dick is ready to cut us loose. He'll do it California. Lucky Dick's been out of the loop so long he doesn't know how connected we are."

Bandy legged from too many years on a motorcycle, arms covered in tats, Patrick looked out of place, even for a tourist. Lucky for him, being unusual was the norm here. His friend Matthieu, a resident with a few bad habits and some debts to pay, maneuvered the boat a little closer to shore. Dick hadn't spotted them, Patrick thought it would be good to get a little closer, maybe they'd hear something.

He dropped the binoculars for a minute, taking in the glorious scenery. Nothing had happened for hours, for days, really. Jane was some kind of tenatious bitch. How important could this one picture be. He'd been watching M keep that camera steady for hours. His own neck ached at the thought of it. He closed his eyes for a moment, turning his face to the sun. I'm never going back, he promised himself. Why the hell does anyone live in fucking Val-David, in Québec, for Christ's sake. It's always too cold or too hot. When this is done I want a permanent transfer to some place like this. I deserve it. I brought Dick back in. I brought them Goldie.

He turned his head back to shore and casually sighted the binoculars back on the beach, then nearly dropped them into the ocean. Dick was running down toward the beach, shouting. M was wading through the water and Jane, Jane was slumped onto the side of boat. She didn't look good. What the hell! You take your eyes off things for one minute... Tabernac! How the hell did Santa always know.

He watched Dick and M push the boat out into deeper waters. Dick grabbed something out of the bottom of the boat and ripped a small whole in the bottom. "Damn, that's cold," muttered Patrick, "I don't like my old lady so much but Jane don't look dead yet. Well well, you're not so smart as you look Dickie boy."

Patrick lifted up the radio and made the call. "Goldie's in the bowl boys, we'll watch her for a bit. get ready, when it's dark you pull her in, look after her, don't tell her nothing. just let us know what she does. If she's dead you dump her someplace deep, we don't want no one finding the body," There was a crackle and an affirmative. It was almost dark already, they wouldn't have to wait long.

"What about Dick and the other guy, do we pick him up now?" asked Matthieu. Over the past few days he'd sort of gotten into the spiriti of it. He liked playing bad guy.

"You keep your mouth shut, right, you didn't see nothin" threatened Patrick, "Santa will know what to do. He always knows."