"I could love you to death," Vera always told me. Little did I know she meant that literally! And now, as the tip of a knife pricks my neck, I realize Vera never really loved me. I spend the final, slow-motion seconds of my life reviewing my situation. Why didn't I recognize the signs that now seem so obvious--that I was an innocent actor in a plot which Vera had scripted! I was introduced to Vera by my sister, Ann. They both worked in the campaign headquarters of a local councilman whom I'll identify only as M.T. (not his real initials). A charismatic leader, M.T. was seeking to become the first black U.S. Senator from our state. Ann was his loyal executive secretary and Vera was a young, exotic-looking, new hire recently arrived from the island of Jamaica. My sister chose me to show Vera the city. From the beginning I had bad vibes about Vera. She never revealed why she had left Jamaica to come as a stranger to a new country. And during the seven months I was escorting her, I was on the receiving end of her super aggressive, heartlessly opportunistic, and coldly ambitious personality. How ambitious I didn't realize until Ann told me about a sensitive situation that was threatening to cause a blow-up at campaign headquarters. Ann had left on a two-week vacation, and when she returned, M.T. told her that Vera had taken over as his executive secretary. The office was abuzz with the pushy manner Vera had moved the direction of the senatorial campaign although she seemed always to be prepared for whatever problem arose. Someone swore M.T. had met Vera on a Jamaican vacation and had invited her to work for him. There were even rumors of an affair between Vera (who was claiming to be a virgin--which I knew not to be true!) and a very much married M.T. (who had two teen-aged daughters). Why is it the main characters in office romances wrongly believe they are engaged in a "secret" affair? "If the office suspects, does the wife also?" I wondered. "I know Mrs. T.," my sister said, "and if she ever found out this was true, it would be the end of her husband's political career." At this point, I don't know what Mr. T. is thinking, but I sure know what Vera has in mind--my silence...my murder! On the pretense of taking Mrs. T. on a gift-buying binge, the three of us had gone shopping, then returned to my apartment. What happened then was a mad-house scene from a horror movie! Vera pulled out a pistol, shot M.T.'s wife twice, once between the eyes, and emptied the gun in my direction! Before Mrs.T. hit the floor, Vera had forced me back on a couch and begun wiping her prints from the still-warm pistol. Then she pressed the tip of a knife against my neck and placed the empty murder weapon in my bloody right hand. "I really did love you to death, honey," I heard Vera whisper!
