Hitchcock's Knife

This was my entry for TOIWriteIndia contest for Chetan Bhagat. I did not win,of course, but placing it here for posterity.

 Hitchcock's Knife

‘Now Ms.Javovich, we are willing to not report matters to the authorities or to the family. However you must come clean with us. I would ask you again, is the artefact stolen?’

She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. She put down her cup, wiped the lipstick smudge off the brim and started gently tapping the tip of her index finger on her cup. Her mouth was slightly opened, she was breathing calmly and her eyes betrayed no emotions. She appeared to be in control however close observation would give her away. Her left hand placed on her lap was twitching at a rapid pace, her heels were dug too deep into the carpet and her neck felt warm and moist. She was hoping the lawyer at the other end of the table was also as anxious. This disclosure had pissed on all her plans and preparations. However, being a smart woman, she figured out a self-serving strategy. She took the stray strands of hair off her face, placed them behind her ears and cupped her face. She looked directly at him and replied with conviction – ‘Yes, I accept. It is stolen.’

The lawyer took a deep breath and smiled.

‘So, what do we do now?’

‘That is completely up to you and your client Mr. Wagner. I, for one, am hoping I have not been wasting my time. ’

‘Well, I think it’s the other way around. In case the knife is stolen property, we are afraid we are unwilling to proceed. My client is a man of repute, you see. I don’t see him tarnishing his image at the cost of his connoisseurship.’

‘Mr.Wagner, I do not recall mentioning at any point that I am representing the family. I have not alluded to be representing any agency either. You and your client have never questioned the origin of the sale. I believe you already suspected the sale is not from the original owner. I further believe your client has been involved in such transactions in the past. This is our fifth meeting and I was hoping it to be our last. Either ways, I can assure we are never meeting each other. Threats of exposure do not worry me Mr. Wagner. You see, I too am a woman of repute. However, I do not shy away from tarnish. ’

‘Of repute you say! Ha! That would have sounded more sincere a minute ago Ms.Javovich.’

She did not react. She was prepared for negotiations and she knew not to pander to deliberate slights. She had not expected to be confronted with the truth, but she also knew that Mr.Wagner had been able to authenticate the artefact and was prepared to make an offer. Nobody wastes time and money on a lawyer for a transaction they are not willing to undertake. She was also ready to bolt if situation went further south. She could always reach out to Marko and he would be able to help her.

The tiny one minute of silence between them seemed like hours. Mr.Wagner was the first to break.

‘This is what we know so far Ms.Javovich. We believe that you are who you claimed to be. We have also run a background check and we are glad that your personal credentials are smirch free. However we also know that you worked as a member of cleaning staff in the holiday home of Mr.Brandt in Sun Valley. We have confirmed the same with your previous employment agency. We have also confirmed with the studio and remaining kin of Mr. Hitchcock that indeed, it was a gift from him to Ms.Leigh. We also have reason to believe that the artefact was never kept at the family’s Los Angeles home but resided in their Sun Valley house along with Ms. Leigh’s other awards and memorabilia. We believe you took opportunity of your employment and have stolen a prized possession and are now attempting to sell it off to the highest bidder. You yourself confessed a while back’

‘Mr. Wagner, this is what I know so far. Your client was the very first to respond online and he is the only one who has come this far. I also know that the authenticity of the item has been verified, you yourself gave away that information in our last meeting. I also believe that the children of Ms.Leigh are not interested in selling this knife and your client is very interested in having this as part of his prized collection. You will not report me to the authorities or to the family out of unsolicited generosity but because, doing so will bring you no benefits. ’

‘Yes, we do believe that the knife is authentic. Our experts have been able to date the artefact and we have also been able to authenticate that the blood on the knife is indeed Bosco chocolate syrup. You see, chocolate syrup appears more realistic than stage blood in black and white films. The material used is balsa wood and it is of the same category as the other shorter knife which is currently housed in the museum of Movie Madness. We have no doubts that this particular knife is indeed the butcher knife used in the shower scene of Psycho.’

‘Awesome, I am glad to know you have covered your bases. So what’s next?’

‘Like I said Ms.Javovich, we are not prepared to buy a stolen article.’

By the time negotiations completed, she was completely drained. She ached for a cigarette and right about then she could have also made use of some whiskey. She had always known she would never get the price that Marko had made her quote. Best case scenario, she would get maybe fifty percent. However she had to settle for $15k in cash up front and a post-dated cheque payment of remaining 25k. Before leaving, she handed over her scarf to Mr.Wagner. He took it and deftly placed it in his duffel bag. No one at the café would suspect a knife was being bought and sold. Let alone Hitchcock’s knife.

It was pretty late in the night and she was on her 16^th Marlboro of the day. The effects of the last coffee had withered away and she could feel her eyes getting heavy, her entire body felt sluggish. The cold breeze slapping at her face and the lights from incoming traffic was keeping her from falling asleep. She had been driving for 4 hours now; she needed to recharge her cell phone, she needed clean drinking water, she needed a shower, she needed some mouthwash and a deep sleep. She knew she had to wait till morning for all the things she needed. There was no stopping on the highway. She slapped her steering wheel and let out a loud cuss. She slapped her face twice and kept opening and closing her mouth at even pace. She had learned this trick to stay awake from her mother. Cheek exercises and reminders of life’s many irritations are the sure fire ways to stay awake. She kept regretting the decisions she had taken earlier in the day. She couldn’t shake off the thought that maybe she had been taken for a ride. There were so many things she could have done differently. There were so many things she wished she had done differently. She should have called up Marko and asked for his advice. She should have delayed the transaction. She should have lied and mentioned about all the other interested parties. She never should have confessed and she shouldn’t have accepted that pitiful amount. Nothing sucks as bad as twenty-twenty hindsight.

Maybe, just maybe she did the right thing. It is definitely not the money they had in mind but it is a start. Marko could make good use of it. He always knew how to make more money. She hated that the only problem between them was always money, or the lack of it. His marital status never posed a problem, her neediness never caused issues. All they wanted was to ditch their existing lives and run away together. And all that stopped them from doing so was money. Forty thousand dollars was a start. Yes, it’s a good start. Besides it had come cheap. She didn’t have to take any pains to steal. She knew it would be a long time before the family realized the original had been replaced by a normal stage prop. She never felt guilty about the theft, she figured this world had it coming. It isn’t fair that a wooden prop was valued so high in a world where she, and many others like her, had grown up and still lived in squalor.

The loud honk from the 16 wheeler woke her up. For no plausible reason she swerved wildly to her left and realizing her mistake she took a hard right. She did not crash but the car fishtailed for quite a distance before coming to a screeching halt. She should have pulled over but she knew she couldn’t. She could not afford cops. She picked up speed and drove away. Her heart was racing and her hands were shaky. That is when she realized she needed to sleep. If she rested the night and started the next day she could still reach Pennybrook by mid-afternoon.  She decided she would spend the night at the nearest motel. After driving for 5-6 miles she could see the tell-tale signs of a highway motel. She could read the words ‘Vacancy’ blinking in bright yellow. She drove up and parked her car. She walked up to the office and found it empty. She thumped at the call bell empathically and getting no immediate response she sat down at the lonely sofa opposite the reception desk. She stood up on hearing footsteps rushing towards the office door. A young man, skinny and tall stood at the door.

‘Hello Ma’am. Welcome to Crane Motel. How may I help you, are you looking for directions?’

She found him a little too endearing. A smile that was a little too broad, eyes which were a little too bright and a voice a little too reverential.  It was not the normal fake respect that the hospitality industry throws at their customers, it was something more. He was wearing a dark jacket and was helping himself to handfuls of candy from a brown bag.

‘Oh I am sorry Ma’am would you like some candy?’

‘Actually no, I would like a room for the night. The sign outside said vacancy available.’

‘Yes, yes we have rooms. Twelve rooms, twelve vacancies. They are always vacant. You see, the new highway really did me in. I have been struggling since. Anyways, would you mind signing the register?’

She signed a fake name. Marie Samuels. When she was asked for her id, she lied about leaving it in her glove compartment. He didn’t seem too concerned, she guessed he was simply glad to get a customer. He recommended the room right next to the office and she nodded. He led the way, walking with a steady pace and talking the entire time. As he was explaining the many facilities offered at the motel she asked him his name.

‘My name is David Ma’am.’

‘And do you own this motel David?’

‘No, my mother owns this motel. She and her ex had built this place with their life savings. I look after the place. My mother is too old and sickly, you see.’

‘Well you are a kind man David. Thank you for showing me to my room. I think I would like to sleep now.’

‘Yes, yes absolutely. I would leave you alone. If you need anything just pick up the phone and press hash. Goodnight Ma’am.’

‘Goodnight David.’

She locked the door after he left and took a look around. It was a very basic setup, one single room with a bed, a bedside drawer, a small bureau and a bathroom at the end of the room. Geometric patterned light blue wallpaper covered the room and a pair of rudimentary sconces on opposite walls completed the décor. The room smelt musty however she found the bedspread and bathroom to be clean. She took off her blouse and jeans and lit a cigarette. She sat at the end of the bed, inhaling long and deep. She looked at her cell phone, it was still dead. She threw it away in frustration and lay down on the bed. She tapped her cigarette against the side table, leaving clumps of ash on the carpet. She felt really tired and hungry. She decided to get a shower and then call David to ask for some food. She stripped and proceeded towards the bathroom. The bathroom mirror told her how haggard she looked. Her hair was sticking to her head, her eyes had deep angry circles around them and her lips were dry and cracked. She stubbed out her cigarette on the sink and let the butt drop down the drain. She turned on the shower and adjusted the mixer taps till she was satisfied with the temperature. She got in the tub and drew close the shower curtains behind her.

The water felt soothing on her skin. She rubbed the water around her eyes and across her cheeks. She bowed her head and let the water flow down her neck to her back. She rubbed her neck and massaged her strained shoulders. Her hair still felt sticky. She opened up the small motel provided bottle of shampoo and poured it all on her head. She stepped out of the shower and started scrubbing her hair. She took clumps of hair in her hand and applied the wash right till the ends. She dug her fingers in deep, massaged her scalp well before entering the shower.  She closed her eyes to prevent the foam from stinging her eyes. Had she not, she would have noticed the silhouette of a lady standing in her bathroom. Had she not, she would have noticed the knife coming at her.