Snatches

     Bill was late. He joined the crowd at the corner, twenty people on a hot, muggy sidewalk, waiting like cattle for the "walk" sign to flash so they could amble across the street like sheep. 
     He adjusted his tie. It was always tight, no matter what he did. He hated wearing one, it always felt like he was choking. He hated wearing a suit too, but like all the other monkeys in the tall, steel trees in the middle of the city, it was what you did. Monkey see, monkey do, or monkey not get paid. 
     Next to him, an attractive Hispanic woman with long black hair and dark eyes wearing a crisp blue suit talked to another woman, a red haired shorter girl who looked to be only twenty-something wearing a red dress suit that didn't suit her at all. 
     "So did Matt like the concert last night?" The red-head asked, looking at the dark-haired beauty and smiling. 
     "We went to the beach afterwards and watched the sun set. We had margaritas and the best seafood I've ever tasted, at a little place called, "Hondos on the Beach."
     Why did everyone else's life always sound so much better than his, Bill thought. What did he do last night? Oh yeah, watch a rerun of MASH while eating leftover spaghettios. Where does the blue suit work, he wondered, and should he interrupt to try to get to know her? 
     Behind him two men walked up, one portly in a striped suit, the other lean and muscular, the annoying jock type. 
     "...what she did to me made her constant talking worth it."
     "I love the desperate types. All they want is a little love."
     "I'm seeing her again tonight. We're going to a movie. Maybe she'll shut up at least while the movie's going. She doesn't even stop talking while we're doing it."
     Bill tried to walk a little further away so he didn't have to hear them, only to be assailed by another conversation by two other men in suits. 
     These guys looked like your average businessmen. One was short and round, with curly hair, an Italian maybe. The other was tall and thin, like a beanpole, like one of those freaks in the side show. They didn't see Bill, he was behind them. 
     The tall man said, "So, you're really going to do it?"
    The short, round man answered.  "Tonight."
     "What if they find the sleeping pills in her system? Don't you watch those shows like Forensic Files?"
     "I won't give her enough to look suspicious, just enough so when I put her in the tub she won't wake up."
     "That girl must be something else, you're willing to risk the death penalty over her."
     "Just getting rid of Lisa is worth it. I can't wait to see her dead body floating in the water."
    Bill stared at the men, not believing what he was hearing. Surely they were rehearsing some scene from a movie, or joking around or something, but no, they looked totally at ease, as if they were discussing the local sports team.  
     Could he really be hearing a guy planning his wife's murder? And what could he do about it? 
    The light changed. All the sheep started across the street. Bill followed the men, in a daze, as if he'd been hit by a baseball bat, not sure what to do. They walked up to a building and headed in. Bill, feeling helpless and silly, followed along, trying not to be spotted. 
     The men were still talking, but Bill was too far back to hear them. They both smiled, but there was something dark and cold in them. Bill began to believe that yes, the man was planning on killing his wife. 
     The men headed to the elevators. Bill followed, acting nonchalant, and got on with them. The short man pushed the button for the tenth floor, looked at Bill. 
     "Same for me." Bill said, trying to act casual. 
     "Oh, are you new to Superior Casualty and Life?" The man asked. 
     "No, just visiting a friend," Bill said, lamely. He was going to be late for work. He felt like an idiot. 
     The man stared at him for a moment, and Bill began to wonder if the man was suspicious, but then he looked straight ahead, like all good elevator people should. 
    The doors opened on the tenth floor. The two men got out, still talking. Bill walked to the door, peeked out, watched them walk down the hallway. Then they parted as the short man went into an office. 
     Bill snuck out and read the name on the door. "Phil Snyder, Inusrance Agent". Bill stood still for a moment. 
     "Now what are you going to do, detective", he thought; "go to the police? Tell them what you heard?" 
     Bill thought about it. Guys talk all the time, it was just goofing around, he was sure. So he'd go to the police, and they'd write it down, smiling at him, and he'd feel like a fool. He'd waste a whole day of work, lots of money, and it was probably nothing. 
     Bill walked back to the elevator, a battle going on inside. He wasn't sure who was going to win.