Chapter Seven

Edward Buckland watched in frustration as his employees left for the day. It was payday, and he didn’t have the money to pay them. Most of them would not be coming back. The ones who would, those who were most loyal to him, would expect to be paid eventually.

Edward had a gambling problem. He’d lost a lot of money, and now, he was struggling to keep his business going. He knew that his luck would change some day, that he’d win big, but in the meantime, he was almost completely broke. He found it impossible to look his employees in the eyes as he told them there would be no pay today.

After the company’s bills were paid, Edward had only four hundred dollars left. He needed at least fourteen thousand to make payroll. He went to the bank to ask for help, but the banker denied him a loan.

This wasn’t the first time that Edward hadn’t been able to make payroll. He figured he owed his employees over sixty thousand dollars, with another twenty thousand in debt to suppliers. Edward would need a miracle to come up with that kind of money.

His financial troubles had not happened overnight. A series of losses at the track had led to Edward covering his gambling debts with funds from the business. He regretted ever making the first bet. As the losing streak continued, Edward became disillusioned, then depressed. He started drinking and then used business funds to cover the expense of alcohol.

To make a bad situation even worse, his liver was acting up. His skin was starting to turn yellow, and his “beer belly” was getting bigger. He had trouble breathing when he walked too far, and manual labor was out of the question. His clothes were too tight, and he knew he needed to buy new ones, but he couldn’t afford them. Not anymore.

He wasn’t an easy man to find clothes for to begin with. Standing 7’2”, his suits had to be custom tailored anyway. That made them even more expensive. Edward shook his head in despair and embarrassment.

He turned his attention back to the ledger on his desk. There had to be a way to come up with the money he needed to pay his employees. He started adding up the balances of his customers’ outstanding accounts. If he could collect on those accounts, maybe he could keep his business afloat.

The problem was that Edward wasn’t as intimidating as he used to be. When he was in his prime, and he showed up at a customer’s place of business to collect on a debt, he would usually get paid right away. He attributed that to his physical appearance, as people were intimidated and threatened by his size alone. Over the years, his customers had realized that Edward was all bark and no bite. Payments slowed, and collections became all the more difficult. Now, in his fifties with serious health problems, Edward was not able to get his slow-paying customers to speed up, not even a little.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Edward called out. No doubt it was an employee, wanting to complain about not getting paid. Edward was filled with a sense of dread, and he was deeply embarrassed. The door opened, and his secretary, Doris, walked in.

“Mr. Buckland, I would like a word with you.”

“Go ahead, Doris. I’m listening.”

“I just want to say how sleazy I think it is of you to let us all keep working, thinking that we were going to get our pay, and then tell us at the last minute on Friday that there’s no money. I came in here every day this week and worked my butt off for MY money, which you now refuse to give to me. You could have at least told me on Monday, so that I wouldn’t have had to work a full week with no pay. Your gambling and drinking, and whatever else you’ve been doing with your money, has caught up to you. But I’m the one who has to suffer, Mr. Buckland. How am I supposed to buy food for my kids this week? My babies are going to go hungry because you bet on the wrong horse one time too many. You are a sleaze and a sorry scoundrel, and you should be ashamed of yourself.” After finishing her rant, Doris stormed out of the office.

Edward sat in his chair and hung his head. Doris was right. She didn’t know that Edward had struggled all week to come up with the money for payroll. She didn’t understand that he had tried for enough sales during the week to pay the bills. In the end, though, none of that mattered. It wasn’t enough.

Edward needed a drink. His nerves were frayed, and he felt himself beginning to shake. Doris’s tirade was the last straw. He pulled out the ledger and started calculating his total debt. Including this week’s payroll, the total came to eighty-two thousand dollars.

The only thing he had that was worth that much money was his life insurance policy. Edward wondered if he could borrow against the policy. It wouldn’t save his business; it was already too late for that. When word got out that he had missed payroll again, everybody in town would know that he was struggling, and they would find somebody else to do business with. No, the business would close. But with the life insurance money, Edward could at least pay all of his suppliers and employees.

He picked up the telephone and called the insurance company.

“This is Edward Buckland. I’d like to know if I can borrow money against my life insurance policy.”

“Sure, Edward. Let me get your policy and check.” Mr. Harris sounded positive and upbeat on the phone. Edward felt hopeful for the first time all week.

“Okay, Edward. It looks like you can borrow up to ten thousand dollars against your policy.”

“Is there any way I can borrow more? Somewhere in the neighborhood of eighty-two thousand?”

“No, I’m sorry. The only way you could get that much money is if we paid out the full policy. That would only happen if you were to die, either by natural causes, accident, murder, or suicide.”

“Okay. Thank you for your help.” Edward hung up the phone. He sat there for a moment, grinding his teeth while thinking about what Mr. Harris had said. He had done business with Mr. Harris for years, and he had paid religiously on that life insurance policy. He had never missed a single payment, and it was one of only a few bills that he could say that about. Yet, when he relied on Mr. Harris the most, he was useless.

Edward counted the cash in his wallet. Four hundred dollars. A night at the Silverwood Manor was ninety-five dollars, and there was a bar right there in the hotel. He could easily drink three-hundred-dollars-worth of expensive alcohol. His only comfort now would be found in a bottle.

He closed up the office and drove directly to the hotel. He checked in at the front desk and got the key to his room. The key tag had the room number 331 engraved in big numbers. Edward made his way to the bar and sat down. The bartender had seen Edward so often, he knew instinctively what the order would be. He poured a glass of whiskey and placed it in front of Edward.

Edward tossed the entire glass in one gulp. He signaled the bartender for another, which was promptly poured. Edward was also known for tipping well.

“Rough day at the office?” the bartender asked.

“You have no idea.” Edward stared at the second empty glass in his hand. He didn’t even remember drinking a second one.

“Another whiskey, coming right up.” The bartender poured a third whiskey and placed it in front of Edward. He sipped at the whiskey this time, enjoying the flavor. He drank for hours until he finally felt drunk. He paid the bar tab and left the rest of his money as a tip.

Edward stumbled upstairs to his room. He cried softly as he fashioned the rope into a noose and slipped it over his head. He tied the other end to the bathroom doorknob, leaving only a few inches to hang himself by. He lay down on the floor, pulling the rope taut.

He hung there for several minutes, gagging and choking, until he finally felt the icy, cold hands of death drag his soul from his body.