JOKERS WILD
by Jan Christensen

The clang of metal on something hard sounded in the warm summer air. I paused while spooning sugar into my decaf. It came again. A shovel digging?

At three o'clock in the morning?

Barefoot, I padded over to the open kitchen window and looked into our neighbor's yard. The four-foot hedge separating our lawns allowed me to see Michael from the chest up in the moonlight. Shirtless, he indeed wielded a shovel. A frown of concentration wrinkled his dark brow, and the muscles rippled in his arms as he lifted the tool rhythmically up and down.

I got my coffee and stood sipping it while watching. Oh, no, I thought. At this time in the morning, what else could he be doing but digging a grave? Josh, my dear, delightful husband, must be at it again. It was his turn, after all, to stage the next huge practical joke.

Michael faced sideways to me and never looked in my direction. Finally, he stopped shoveling. He bent down, and it looked as if he picked something up then lowered it into the hole. The shoveling began again. I watched, mesmerized by the rhythm until he paused. Instinctively, I ducked away from the window.

When I looked again, he was bent over, lifting, placing, stomping. He straightened up, and I moved away from the window once more.

The next time I looked, he was gone.

Silence seemed to hang in the air for a minute, then a cricket sounded, and another.

Thoroughly awake now, I went back to the bedroom, and climbed into bed with Josh. I couldn't get to sleep for about another hour.

* * * * *

When I got up, the clock read ten a.m. A bright Saturday morning greeted me, and the smell of real coffee enticed me to the kitchen. Josh always made sure there were at least two cups left in the pot.

After pouring some, I went to the window. Josh leaned on a rake at the hedge talking to our neighbor. Michael stood just where he'd been at three a.m. Looking up, he saw me and waved. I moved my fingers in his direction and gave him a weak smile.

Josh said something to him, then came loping up the back porch steps and into the kitchen.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked. We went to sit at the kitchen table.

"Not good," I replied.

"That's too bad," he said. "Poor Michael buried Raven last night. He seemed upset."

"Really? I never thought he liked that cat much." I took a sip of lukewarm coffee. "He buried her at three in the morning?"

"How do you know what time it was?"

"I was up. I saw him digging over there."

"Oh. Well, he didn't say what time."

"I imagine," I said. "Where's Miriam?"

"She went to visit her parents. That's why he's upset--he hasn't told her yet."

"When's she coming back?"

"Mike didn't know for sure."

Josh is good, damn good. I couldn't tell if this was another of his famous elaborate practical jokes, or if something serious was going on next door. What could I do except wait and see? You can't call the cops to report that you saw your neighbor digging in his yard at three in the morning and his wife supposedly went to visit her parents.

Why would I jump to the conclusion that Michael might have killed her? Because if he found out about Miriam and Josh, all hell would break loose. I'd known for over a year, but poor Michael never had a clue. After I found out, I started a revenge affair with Mike--no hardship. He's tall, dark and handsome, and except for being slightly wimpy, a rather interesting guy. Unfortunately, one of the more interesting things about him is that he's married to Miriam. She's beautiful and smart, damn her. Hell on wheels, she'd make Macbeth's three witches cringe from fright. Why are men so often attracted to women like that? I plan to take bitch lessons soon. I guess part of the reason Mike had an affair with me was the contrast. It must be a relief for him to snuggle with a kitty cat instead of a tiger.

Anyway, I was sure Josh and Miriam never knew about Michael and me. I was the only one with the whole picture.

Last week Michael broke up with me. If he ever found out about Miriam and Josh--

". . . you thinking?" Josh was asking.

"What? Oh, remember the time Raven brought the mouse to Mike at the barbecue he had for all the people at work, including his boss? I've never seen Michael so embarrassed."

"Yeah, he didn't like Raven much to start with, and after that he really hated her," Josh laughed.

"I know. Well, what are we going to do today?"

"The vegetable garden needs weeding. If you'll do that, I'll mow."

"Okay," I agreed.

Josh and I had an agreement. Several agreements, in fact. Every other weekend, one of us chooses what we'll do. Sometimes we divide up chores, other times we go places. He does the outside work and household repairs. I do the inside work and the cooking. Anyway, he wanted help with the outside chores this weekend. I didn't mind. I like digging in the garden.

We'd been out there about an hour when I saw a black cat on the gate at the hedge. A cat that looked suspiciously like Raven. I got up, a little stiff, and went to her. Josh had gone inside to get a cold drink. As I got closer, the cat waved her furry tail and cleaned a paw.

"Raven," I called. "Raven." She stopped moving and watched me approach. A triangular wedge was missing from the cat's right ear, just like Raven's. But when I got too close, she took off in the direction of Michael's front door. I knew it would be useless to follow.

When Josh came back outside, I said, "I just saw Raven. So why was Michael digging in the back yard this morning?"

"Oh, come on, Lois. You must have just seen a cat like Raven. Why would Mike lie about a thing like that?"

"How many black cats do you think have pieces out of an ear that would perch on Michael's gate?"

It was beginning to feel more and more like a practical joke. Josh would be feeling the pressure of it being his turn, after all.

Last week I'd called his secretary and persuaded her to type up a bogus letter of resignation, effective immediately. At the office's busiest time of year, it would be disastrous if she really quit. She'd left it on Josh's desk at five p.m., knowing there'd be no repercussions from Josh. Another of our agreements was that anytime we got someone else to help with a joke, that person never got in trouble because of it. Little did we know. . . Josh had stewed all night about it. I, of course, played the sympathetic wife. The next day after his secretary showed up at work, he called to congratulate me. I graciously accepted his accolades, and now it was my turn to be wary.

Michael and Miriam had been in on some other jokes in the past. I'd just have to wait for further developments.

* * * * *

Two a.m. found me making decaf again. The moon, still almost full, had just a small sliver missing. I took my coffee to the window and stared out. No shoveling this time.

Instead, a figure in white appeared above the place where Michael had been digging early yesterday morning. She seemed to be floating behind the hedge. I almost spilled my coffee. The face, deathly pale underneath the white shawl, was in profile to me, and I could see that it was Miriam. I began to laugh since I don't believe in ghosts. She went back and forth over "Raven's grave," pacing. I giggled and stared, enjoying the show. Suddenly pulling the shawl over her face, she disappeared. By that, I mean she slowly wavered downward until I could see her no more.

After I stopped laughing, I dashed outside barefoot and stumbled the few feet toward the gate in the hedge. Wrenching it open, I rushed to the spot where I'd seen Miriam. Of course, she had vanished.

"Damn," I said aloud. I stood there a moment, listening. Not even a cricket chirped. I examined the ground but could see nothing unusual.

Padding back to my house, I went and washed my feet in the bathtub. I was not particularly quiet, but Josh didn't stir as I crawled under the covers. Listening to his even breathing, I almost convinced my logical self that everything I had seen these last two early mornings had been a part of a huge practical joke.

Sunday, I woke early, for me, and got up. Josh sat at the kitchen table with the paper. After he'd finished the sports section and the front page and I'd had two cups of coffee, I asked him, "Is this a practical joke with Michael and Miriam? Josh, I really need to know. It's not funny, and I'm losing sleep."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He lowered his paper and got up for more coffee.

"Last night I saw Miriam out in the yard, wearing something ghostly. Then she disappeared, and when I went to find her, I couldn't."

"Lois, I think you need to see a doctor about your insomnia. It sounds as if lack of sleep may be making you hallucinate."

"Really, Josh, you've had nothing to do with this?"

"Really."

But could I believe him? "I want to quit, Josh. Can we stop?"

"You like it as much, if not more, than I do. We were doing this before we got married, remember? I didn't think you'd ever want to stop."

"We used to do it together. To other people. And lost several friends, too. Oh, let's quit. Please." I remembered how upset he'd been when he thought his secretary had resigned. I remembered how my heart had almost dropped out of my chest at the restaurant where the waiter announced that a new red Mustang had been broad-sided in the parking lot. We were there to celebrate my purchase of a new red Mustang. Of course, Josh had set the announcement up with the waiter. The car was fine.

Had these silly jokes led us to being callous toward each other, to care less for each other so that we could almost casually have affairs as sort of the ultimate joke? Sighing, I put my head in my hands, wanting this to be over, wanting us to be a normal couple, not two people always out to best the other. Why hadn't I ever imagined the harm this might be doing to us before now? The distrust, the rivalry, the pettiness and meanness?

Looking up, I studied Josh's face. He seemed genuinely concerned, but he had become such a good actor that I couldn't tell for sure.

"If this isn't your joke, Josh, then what are Michael and Miriam up to?"

Josh sighed. "Nothing, Lois. You've been dreaming it all."

"Consider for a moment that I'm not."

Josh folded the paper and stood up. "I'm going to wash the Jeep," he said. In other words, the conversation was over.

When he went out, I did up the dishes, then checked to see that I had a blank tape and that the video camera's battery was charged up.

Video at three, I thought as I joined my husband in the driveway to wash my red Mustang.

* * * * *

Exhausted, I slept through Sunday night. Monday the insomnia hit once again. Josh had left our bed so I went looking for him. When I couldn't find him, I went to the kitchen window. Pretty soon, I saw movement. The waning moon made it harder to see, but as the figure came closer, I could tell that it was Josh. He held a shovel and began digging right where Michael had three mornings ago. I grabbed the camera and began shooting. He never looked in my direction, just kept his head down, excavating. After a while, I got tired watching, so I took out the tape and put the camera away.

I'd been in bed almost an hour when Josh came back. He took a shower. When he got into bed, I pretended to be asleep.

Josh called from work the next day to tell me he'd be late for dinner. I got home at my usual time. Soon Michael pounded on the back door.

As I let him in, I noticed that he looked like hell. Frown lines creased his wide forehead, and he'd obviously been pulling his hair--it stood almost straight up. I took his hand and led him to the kitchen table, then went to pour us both a stiff drink.

"What's going on?" I asked.

He took a long swallow of his bourbon and said, "I don't know where to begin."

"Anywhere."

"Josh and Miriam know about us."

"Oh," I said. "And?"

He closed his eyes a moment.

"They planned this elaborate joke for you. It started when I thought Raven died. I couldn't sleep, so I went out to dig her a grave. Just when I finished, she regained consciousness. I picked her up, but she jumped out of my arms and ran off. Didn't come back until the next day. When I told Josh, he decided to use it as a joke."

I nodded.

"He figured you'd see the cat around, and it would bug you. He liked it even better when he found out you'd seen me digging. So then he and Miriam decided to take it a step further. When you got up in the wee hours the next morning, he called her, and she staged that show for you."

Michael took a paper napkin from the holder on the table and wiped his brow. So far, I wasn't surprised by anything he'd said except that they now knew about us.

He gulped another swallow of his drink, then took my hand. "I heard them talking late last night. I think your insomnia is catching. We all seem to have it. Anyway, they were in the game room talking softly when I got up. I went to the kitchen, and could hear them through the air duct as plain as anything."

He stopped speaking and finished his drink. I stood up to make us both another. A sense of dread overcame me as I put ice in the glasses, added the liquor and a splash of water. Something had gone wrong, I could tell.

"Lois," he took my hand again when I sat down. "They were plotting to kill you."

I laughed. "Oh, Michael. Come on."

"Really. They discussed in detail how they were going to do it, and bury you in Raven's grave. You didn't happen to see Josh out there last night making it bigger, did you?"

That stopped me, but not for long. "Michael, listen. They knew you could hear them. It's just more of the joke. It has to be."

For a moment he considered this. Then he said slowly, "No, this isn't funny. They weren't laughing and joking around like they would be if this were just a set-up."

"But how were they going to get away with it?"

"I was to be the scapegoat. They'd swear that I killed you. That way, they'd both get revenge."

"Michael, this is incredible."

We talked for a long time. One minute I'd believe him, the next I knew it was just a joke.

Finally, he convinced me.

"We need to make a plan ourselves," he said.

We plotted until we heard Josh's Jeep drive into the garage. Michael made a quick getaway out the back door.

All my acting skills came into play as I greeted my husband as if nothing were wrong. Neither of us mentioned his digging in our neighbor's yard at a strange hour of the morning.

* * * * *

That night, Michael and I put our plan into effect. We were afraid if we didn't act right away, Miriam and Josh would beat us to it.

I woke, got up and went to the dressing room to change into jeans and a t-shirt. Grabbing a large, battery-operated lantern, I made my way to our neighbor's back yard.

Michael had propped a shovel against the hedge. I set the lantern down and began removing the sod, a not-too-difficult job since it had been dislodged twice before.

I was about halfway done when there was a commotion at the back door. I could barely make out two figures approaching.

Just as we planned. Michael was to tell Miriam that he saw me outside digging in their yard, then they would come out. We'd kill her and bury her in the already dug grave. We'd accuse Josh of the murder, using the videotape as evidence. Not a scenario original to us, but it should work.

I absolutely hated the thought of killing anyone, even Miriam, but I didn't know what else to do. I was sure the police couldn't protect me. I'd heard all the stories about people being stalked and the police can't do anything until a crime has been committed.

It was kill or be killed.

But I was scared. I didn't realize that my heart would pound so loud that I could barely hear. And my hands sweat so much, I was in danger of dropping the shovel from my nerveless fingers. How I longed to be in my cozy kitchen, drinking decaf.

As they approached, I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my shaking hand.

As if from a distance, I heard Miriam say, "Lois, what in the world are you doing out here?" She had on pink satin pajamas and satin slippers with little flowers on top.

The only thing I noticed about Michael was the gun he held. It looked big in his hand. Why was he carrying it where Miriam could see it? Didn't she wonder why he had it?

I stared at them stupidly a moment, my mind churning as I realized the gun was pointed at me. "What are you doing?" I asked Michael.

"Just keep digging," he told me.

"Michael wants me to take him back," Miriam practically sang. "I told him he had to do me a little favor first. Get rid of you."

Feeling as if something had struck me in the chest, I almost fell. I used the shovel as a crutch, hanging on for dear life. It couldn't be.

"You need to keep digging, dear, like Michael said." Miriam smiled merrily at me.

Time, I thought numbly. I needed time to think of something. Anything. Slowly, I began lifting up a square of sod.

"Then Josh wasn't in on any of this?"

Miriam laughed. "No, dear. He just wanted to play his little jokes on you."

I paused in my shoveling. "What do you mean?"

Her voice grim, Miriam said, "I found out about you and Michael when he confessed to your despicable affair. I told him if he wanted me back, he'd have to kill you. So we made up the story about Josh and me plotting to kill you to get you out here. It worked, too," she added brightly. Her voice hardened when she said, "I don't want you around to seduce my Michael again."

"Like you seduced Josh?" I asked. I figured that Michael still didn't know.

I was right. He jumped and turned toward Miriam, the gun now pointing at her.

Ball in your court, lady, I thought with satisfaction.

"Don't point that thing at me," she screeched.

"You and Josh?" Michael's deep voice vibrated with anger.

"Of course not. Can't you see what Lois is doing?"

"Just telling the truth. Why else do you think I'd want your husband? Payback is hell, you know."

"Bitch," she screamed and ran toward me. Maybe I don't need lessons after all.

Instinctively, I raised the shovel like a baseball bat and swung at her with all my strength. It connected with a sickening thud just as the gun went off.

Miriam sank into a pink bundle on the ground right next to the sod I'd so carefully laid aside.

Michael and I stared at each other, speechless. With horror, I watched him raise the gun slowly, inexorably, to point once again at me.

A voice from the gate yelled, "Drop it, Mike. I've got a gun, too, and if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

Josh's voice had never sounded so good to me. With the shovel still raised as if I were at batting practice, I watched Michael slowly lower the gun. And his head. The weapon fell to the ground, and he put his head in his hands, sobbing.

I didn't, couldn't, move until Josh stood beside me. Gently, he took the shovel from my shaking hands and set it next to the hedge. He picked up the gun and went to Miriam.

"She's dead," he told us. "From the gunshot. The shovel got her on the shoulder."

He held the lantern over her, and I could see the hole in her temple. Quickly, I looked away.

I called the police while Josh watched over a broken Michael.

* * * * *

Josh and I agreed to a moratorium on extra-marital affairs forever, and another one on practical jokes at least until Michael's trial was over and we were settled into our new home.

It's been eight months now. I still have no desire for another affair, but I do kind of miss the jokes, much to my surprise. It would be my turn, after all, and I've been thinking about one involving some whipped cream and a bus.