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SUMMARY: This is part four. Have you ever hated your boss so much you had to kill him?

The Aptness Murder

By Richard Ridyard

Robert Beck was tired of being intimidated and humiliated by Mr. Walsh, his boss, so one Friday Robert shot him.
It was really quite easy.
Robert had decided on this drastic course of action after a particularly unpleasant Tuesday. Everything he did that day was wrong in Mr. Walsh's eyes: His figures on the Coty account were wrong; his check of the Benson work was late; his handwriting on the Waters case was illegible.
This tirade would almost have been tolerable if Tuesday hadn't been the tenth anniversary of Robert's joining the firm. Did he get a congratulations? Did he get a thank you for ten years of loyal service? Did he even get a hello? No. All he got was insulted and degraded.
That's when the timid Robert Beck decided to fight back. That's when he decided to kill his boss.
The plan came to Robert easily. Almost too easily. As if, subconsciously, it had been taking shape for a long time.
Mr. Walsh had to be killed on a Friday. That's when he was alone in his office all morning. He played poker with some business associates every Thursday and came to work hung over every Friday. He'd instruct Janet, his secretary, that he would be busy and wanted absolutely no interruptions until noon. Busy! Humph! Everyone in the office knew he was sleeping off Thursday night's whiskey.
Yes, on Friday while Mr. Walsh was sleeping, that's when Robert would kill him.
Friday morning came and Robert crept into his brother-in-law's room. The lazy waste of space hadn't worked in years. He slept till noon, sat around all day eating and watching television, and then went out partying all night, living off Robert's generosity. Robert never could figure out where he got the money for his nightly ventures out. He was totally worthless - up until now, that is.
Worthless Phil kept a loaded pistol in his bureau under his socks. Robert quietly pulled open a drawer, rummaged around for a few seconds, and then slid the drawer shut, having removed a small handgun. As he left the room he looked back at his brother-in-law. Still asleep, naturally.
Breakfast went the way breakfast usually went on alternate Fridays. Robert kept his nose in the newspaper while his wife ranted about the bills that were due, the groceries that had to be bought, and the repairs that had to be made.
"And don't forget to cash your cheque right after lunch and deposit the money in our checking account. I don't want any of our checks to bounce. And don't spend any more than you have to on lunch. Last time you bought lunch for your friends at the office and threw our budget way off. When do they ever buy lunch for you? And another thing..."
At least the drive to work was smooth and quiet that day. Robert parked in his space in the basement of the office building and walked up the stairs to the eighth floor where he worked.
Robert had been afraid of elevators ever since he was stuck in one as a child. He was only 8 years old at the time and it was the first time he had ever been in one. What seemed quite exciting and a new adventure turned into his worst nightmare, for when the elevator got half way down it jammed suddenly.