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The slimmer man wore a black bowler hat, like his colleague and, as it slipped off his head he went to reach for it, momentarily forgetting that he had a rope in his hands.



Panicked, he reached for the loose rope, just before his eyes… then, it was hanging no more, as inertia took over and, the piano plummeted earthward, just as Bertram chose to walk beneath…





Epilogue:



Needless to say, no-one thought to question Bertram’s death. After all, there had been little left of him, bar his head and a lot of blood on the sidewalk.



No-one thought to question the serene smile on his face; nor did they perform an autopsy. After all, what else could have killed him, but the piano?



A simple incision and exploration might have shown something completely different though: it would have shown the bleed to the front of his brain, caused by Mickey Dee’s knuckle-duster, that day on Laura Mae’s porch steps…

“It’s rigged?” she then in turn, trying to decide what to do next.



“Rigged?” Bertram muttered, closed eyes fluttering, as he fought his growing headache, “I don’t think history would record the first Miss America pageant as rigged, now do you?”



Laura Mae reached for the teapot on the table and asked Bertram, “Any tonic?”



Chapter Eighteen - quothe The Raven



Finally she awoke, realising from the growling in her stomach that much time had elapsed – and, Bertram had left his apartment.



Laura Mae rose quickly and descending the stairwell at speed.



She was panicking, aware that Bertram could be anywhere and doing anything…

after becoming quite unpredictable of late.



And, as she stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to his brownstone building, Laura Mae almost felt liking weeping: ‘sure he’s been a meal-ticket for me,’ she reminded herself; “But, I kinda like the little guy!”



She looked left and right, wondering where he might be…



As … At that moment, Bertram manoeuvred his way through the crowded sidewalk, heading away from his home, the theatre and all the voices, the images and noise, knowing that soon, his endless headaches would end…



Yet so intent was he on what had been before, that he was oblivious to the importance of what was happening before him: Two men were manoeuvring a baby grand piano, via a rope, through two green doors open on a first floor, via a winch and pulley.



Both men wore dust-covered suits and leather aprons and sweated as they toiled.



“To you,” the larger of the two men called, as the piano swing toward the slimmer man in the doorway, pulling on a short rope, that helped direct the piano inward.



The slimmer man wore a black bowler hat, like his colleague and, as it slipped off his head he went to reach for it, momentarily forgetting that he had a rope in his hands.



Panicked, he reached for the loose rope, just before his eyes… then, it was hanging no more, as inertia took over and, the piano plummeted earthward, just as Bertram chose to walk beneath…

COMMENTS

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Voelk
01:48 Jan 10 2017

The first 3 lines slightly resembled Trump & Hillary each claiming that the election was rigged. lol

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