He was slurping up his second or third Irish Trash Can when he spotted her. A woman in a long snow leopard fur coat, like in the old movies. He raised an eyebrow, convinced this was a hallucination. Cover girls for Vogue didn’t frequent Benton Road, not the last time he checked.
Then she came and sat beside him. Without saying a word, she snatched up an Aunt Roberta and a Death in the Afternoon, one of the many drinks the cowed bartender had laid out in front of Kingsley. She took a long pull off of each of them and smiled. Her teeth were a painful shade of ivory. The doctor sat up and took notice.
She set the drinks down. Her eyes had an exotic twinkle in them, like a tigress of the evening. She drummed her black polished nails on the countertop and her nostrils curled at the end in disdain.
“You have a very cheap taste in drinks, my friend.” She tossed her head, stacked auburn hair falling in crazy angles about her face. He laughed, truly taken aback. She was probably his age or a little older, late 40s for sure.
“You’re one to talk. You just downed half a glass of each of them and didn’t flip a nickel for it.” Kingsley laughed wetly through his teeth.
“Exactly. They were too cheap to waste my dollar on.”
She turned to the bartender and flicked her finger.
“Two Ritz Paris Side Cars, Xavier.”
Xavier’s eyes flashed, still lingering back from the bar to avoid any sudden flash of Kingsley’s temper. He was a squat, bald man with thin lips and bushy eyebrows.
“We don’t do those here.” He licked his lips, somewhat intimidated by this woman.
“You do now.” She produced a bottle of Cognac from her coat.
Kingsley and Xavier’s eyes popped in unison.
“My God! Who are you?!” Kingsley laughed, slapping his palm on the counter.
“The name is Leona Kelley. I prefer ‘Leo’. I’m Harrison Kelley’s cougar wife.” With a playful growl, she motioned her fingers like a cat’s claws. Kingsley had never seen this cougar or the husband she’d caught for herself before in his life, but he certainly knew the name. Anyone in medicine, and anyone in powerful Louisiana circles knew the Kelley dynasty. Pharmaceutical and petrochemical money going way back to the Civil War, a family that had spread so much money around the area that most people were inclined to forget that the Kelleys had made a fortune off of price gouging the dying and side-stepping every government regulation that had ever been thrown at them.
“Mrs. Kelley? I believe it!” Kingsley was taken by her. He leaned forward and licked his lips.
“Lady, really. This is the most random place in the universe for a person like you to be. This is a sissy nowhere nightclub that will probably stay open for a month. Seriously, we’re 10 minutes from Kroger!” Kingsley broke out into riotous laughter.
She tilted her head and gave him the fish gape. He felt his heart flutter and was pretty sure it wasn’t from the liquor-mix and meds he’d downed.
“Royalty ever so often likes to mingle with the adoring public.” She rolled her eyes. Suddenly, her voice grew softer. It trembled in the air like she was nervous to admit her real reasons.
“Well, actually, I came to a place I assumed I’d not be recognized. More of a New Orleans girl myself. I was born and raised in the Lower Ninth Ward. Try to wrap your head around that, but don’t hurt yourself. It’s really not that difficult. I married baby Harrison for his money. Hunted the little beast you see draped on my shoulders and with a million cameras trained to me. I’m guilty of animal cruelty some say. Others say I’ve got class going on safari. Shot the little darling between the eyes with a 9mm. Good attention, bad attention…I crave it. I’m addicted. It makes me a little cavalier with my reputation. I’m sure you’ve already gathered this.”
“Yeah, so you killed an exotic kitty? What’s that to me?” Kingsley scoffed and took a sip of the fancy drink she’d bought him.
“Well, it’s only important because of the attention I got for it. I’m a total press whore, not gonna lie. Then Harry came down heavy with Lou Gehrig’s disease. He’s a dead man. Any day now. Why prolong the inevitable? Modern society puts innocent people through so much agony in the name of being ‘humane’.” She scoffed and her scarlet lips twisted in a scowl.
“Anyway, I’d love to put him out of his misery,” she said with a strange enthusiasm in her voice. “Euthanasia. It’s a word people don’t use too often. Oh, we think about it. We all think about it and we talk around it. Terminal loved ones can be, well… burdensome. It’s not like I’m getting younger. If he was… out of the way. I could get on with my life. Oh, and then the spot light trains back to his grieving widow. I get to bask in the fan love-slash-hate and feed my addiction for a few weeks before he’s forgotten, eh?” She pretended to curtsy. Kingsley’s jaw dropped.
“Harsh.”
He shook his head but laughed nonetheless.
“I know. I’m a terrible person. Sue me.”
She winked and took a sip of her own cocktail.
“It’s even better if he seems to just die on his own. I have the whole thing plotted out. A lovely private mobile facility down in New Orleans. Brand new chemical to get the job done— pharmaceuticals are his business, so it only seems right. He dies comfortably in the Lab, doesn’t feel a thing or know any different. I take him home and put his body to bed. It looks like the poor dear died in his sleep. And I go all hysterical!” She clapped both her hands on either side of her face like a Halloween scream mask, then laughed.
“After which, the Times does a big spread on beautiful, humanitarian Harrison Kelley. Kind words are said. The focus switches to how his grieving widow deals with it. I make my name in the lime light, taking the helm of our business in his honor. Everybody wins. Harrison goes to Paradise and the not-so-meek shall inherit the Earth.” She raised her glass as if toasting herself.
“Only… I can’t find a doctor to do it.” Her lips formed an elegant pout.
“Do the Fates just smile on you like, every day? Who could blame them?!” Kingsley threw his head back and laughed.
“What? What’s so funny?” She curled a brow, incredulous.
“I happen to be a doctor! Lucien Kingsley, M.D.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, and I’m about to lose my license. Go figure. I’ve got nothing to lose and years worth of pent up rage to vent. You’ve got everything to gain. Let’s do it.”
Leo giggled, amazed. “I just met you roughly 20 minutes ago. Now you want to help me plan a murder?”
“You bought me a drink. Drinks buy friends. At least they do in my book.”
He lifted his glass.
“Well, I’ll drink to that.”
They clicked glasses together.
So their deadly game began.
*****
Chapter 2
The following night Kingsley was bordering on serene. Nurses and patients alike skated past him on thin-ice nerves. They were frightened by his quiet, by the murderous calm of his expression.
It was sometime around 2 a.m. when a call came from the lobby. There were two “ladies” patiently awaiting the good doctor in the hallway.
They were a frightening pair. Even for the verging-on-psychotic Dr. Kingsley, these women were menacing. 20-something years old each, they were dressed for seduction in the attire of the stereotypical cocktail waitress, but with the grim air of two thuggish body guards. Kingsley almost got the sense that either one of them could, despite their slender frames, take out the toughest of the hospital’s admittedly unimpressive security guards.
Black leather body suits hugged the two young ladies’ intimate areas much too tight and revealed most of the legs and upper body. Kingsley puzzled over it as he walked gingerly toward the big sliding doors where they stood as if he were afraid they might pounce on him at any moment: To be so beautiful and so calm. They might be fallen angels, the doctor mused, sent to collect him for the Devil herself. What was the full scope of Leona Kelley’s ambitions? Where did her crimes sto
p?
The lanky blonde spoke first. “The Boss Lady— you know who it is, only we aren’t allowed to say her name— she told us to come and get you, alright? So no questions. Follow us.”
The second, a busty redhead, flashed some cleavage and Dr. Kingsley gulped. Not at the further revelation of her rack, but at the small Beretta she had wedged between her breasts.
“Come quietly, please, doctor.” She winked.
Wordlessly, Kingsley went along with them. When they reached the parking garage, the redhead plucked the pistol free of cleavage and trained it to the back of Kingsley’s neck. Being a doctor, he knew this was the focal point of his spinal column— not exactly a place you’d want anyone, no matter how lovely, pointing a firearm.
“Something you ought to know from Jump Street alright, little man?” said blonde, walking around Kingsley.
“Yeah, you tell him, Annie.” The redhead giggled, garishly high and fidgeting the pistol.
Annie leaned close to Kingsley’s face, waving her hands in a flurry of gang signs that Kingsley could remember from his misspent youth.
“Boss-Lady, yeah, she don’t mess around, you heard me? You say her name anywhere but the Bayou, she cuts your tongue out. You show your face anywhere but where she tells you and she cuts your heart out. You think what this is you’re doing is going to be a real thrill for her? It’s regular work in. We’re punching a time clock here, boy!” Annie hissed and tossed her blonde locks like he should have known better than to walk into their world.
“Yeah, you’re out of your rabid rotten dog’s carcass mind wanting to roll with her, man,” said the redhead. “You ask a question, and I’ll take care of it for you. Bullets are mercy on this side of the street. Don’t ask me what I mean. Remember, you keep your trap shut you keep your brains in, Doctor.” Kingsley felt the other girl shove the barrel of the gun hard into his spine.
“Move!” She thrust him forward.
He had a million questions. His calm gave way to inching panic as the women strong-armed through the dark, cavernous garage. Of course, Kingsley thought, an unassuming mistress such as Leo would send call girls to do her heavy work. No one would expect it from them. They made a living from the disrespect of men. The reached a sleek sports car tucked away behind a concrete pillar.
“Libby,” said Annie to the redhead, “make this gentleman look casket-sharp for the Madame, would you, please ma’am?” Annie clapped her hands together, climbing into the driver’s seat of the ebony Jaguar.
Libby rolled her head on her neck. “Hold yourself up straight like you were raised in a good Southern home, if you’d be so kind, doctor.” She pulled Kingsley up by his collar. Reaching behind the seat, she plucked up a roll of razor wire and lashed it around his body three or four times. He hissed as it dug in, but tried to restrain his pained reaction, knowing it would only provoke ridicule.
“Welcome to our Secret World, good doctor. May I be the first to say, you do look mighty fine in the street clothes you’ve got on!” Libby giggled and clapped a hand against Kingsley’s cheek.
The sound of a wheel burn-out echoed up to the Caddo Vitality CCU and chilling screech. Nurses and patients alike felt their blood turn to ice in their veins.
*****
Jane Lewis had seen the Doctor leave. She had an instinctive feeling that it was either tonight or the chance would never come again.
“Dex. Do me a favor, yeah? Old pal?” She winked as she pulled on her Bomber’s jacket over her scrub.
“You cannot seriously be thinking about going after him!” Dex shot back. “Lori at the desk saw those tramps. They were bad news, Jane!” Dex had taken two great fistfuls of his hair.
“Dex, you’ve got to work with me, okay? I know it’s crazy, but really. This is our chance. Whatever he’s up to, it’s a new level of warped. If we catch him on camera…” She held up her phone for emphasis.
Dexter swallowed.
“If something happens to you—”
“Then make sure my good-for-nothing brother comes to my wake. Okay? Dexter, just for an hour. I’ll hold back. Lay low.”
Dexter nodded. “Okay…Okay, I’m going to trust you again. You’ve made some pretty tough calls since we’ve been exiled to Caddo Vitality.”
Jane laughed aloud. She was out the door before he could change his mind, or even call her name.
*****
Jane’s motorcycle caught up with the Jaguar on its way to Bossier City. The driver was taking a meandering detour through different suburbs, probably to shake the police or the bigger fish in Shreveport’s gang pond.
They finally made their zigzagging path all the way to New Orleans. Jane was inwardly kicking herself. It had been way more than an hour that she’d left Dexter covering for her. There was no way he was going to take this lightly. For all he knew, Kingsley’s rabble had busted a plug in her.
The Jag pulled up to a tiny waterfront on the outskirts of the city. There was a private yacht docked just offshore of the marina, all lit up. Jane stowed her bike in the midst of several others. She suspected they belonged to the company Kingsley’s dinner companions called friends.
Daddy always did say to hide in plain sight.
Jane laughed, chaining the bike and leaping into the shadows. She leaned against the hull of a small fishing rig, eyes closed. Heels clicking against the pavement echoed to her from somewhere in the fog. She heard voices echoing.
“You brought him to me all tangled up in tinsel? Oh, that was sweet, girls. Now cut my best catch loose before somebody raises a brow.”
Jane ducked around the hull of the ship, recognizing that voice instantly.
Leona Kelley.
She was the famous pharmaceutical magnate Harrison Kelley’s wife. Jane knew her because her husband had been committed to the Caddo Vitality’s ICU one night early in his disease with severe dysphagia (swallowing difficulty) that had led to progressed dyspnea (breathing difficulty). Jane had been the nurse to oversee his stabilization. Then she’d moved him to the CCU and looked after him for a week or more. Leona had been in and out to keep up appearances. Jane had read her instantly. She hadn’t been sure how far advanced she was in depravity, but Jane could tell that Leona Kelley was a seriously disturbed individual.
Then she overheard some snippets of conversation.
Someone, maybe one of the cocktail-dressed goons, said something about “putting him down.” Soon after another voice, maybe Kingsley’s, said something about it being “like putting a cat to sleep.”
“Harrison.”
Jane heard her voice say his name involuntarily. She bit her lip. This would take every ounce of consciousness to keep her cool. It didn’t surprise her, but she could guess at it. Euthanasia had been a hot topic in the Louisiana medical community for quite a while now. Leona was obsessed with it. Harrison was vehemently opposed to it.
It now appeared he would be the victim of the thing he abhorred the most.
Jane felt herself smothering under her discovery’s weight. It was too late to alert the police. Who would come anyway? These waters belonged to the bosses. There were the daylight crimes that civilians and rookie police officers were aware of. Then there was a whole other circle of the society’s underbelly. Veteran officers and survivors knew better. Jane knew better. Her father had been a survivor of things stranger than fiction.
She tried to act, to think. Time was out of her reach.
Some new figures emerged from the fog. Two hired bodyguards were wheeling Harrison up to the dock.
*****
Chapter 3
Harrison Kelley was beaming. It was an enraptured expression, not the look of someone being wheeled to their death.
Kingsley held his breath. Quickly the pieces were falling into place. The truth had jarred him sober. He had sold himself to the Devil, and without really thinking twice about it, or even bothering to sober up a bit. The Devil had appeared in the form on an angel of light, dressed in a brilliant red cocktail dress. Leona’s sm
ile was plastic, in keeping with the ruse until the bitter end.
“I can’t thank you enough, Doctor Kingsley!” Harrison was speaking out of his head, which bobbed about listlessly as he slouched in his wheelchair. His body was large, his shoulders broad; clearly he’d once been a towering figure. But no more.
“Thank me?” Kingsley blurted. He felt Leona’s cold eyes on him and nearly swallowed his tongue. So beautiful and so deadly. How could the danger that emanated from her be so intoxicating? With the threat of death, she was swiftly seducing him. It was a disease that invigorated the doctor. He’d never been this close to such fire before. For the first time in a long time, he was truly satisfied.
Harrison flashed a humble smile.
“No, really I have to thank you. They told me there was no cure, but I knew. My heart jumped in my chest when Leona told me that there was a new drug that was believed to reverse ALS. You are taking a huge risk in helping me with sneaking this experimental drug to me, Dr. Kingsley. What the FDA doesn’t know won’t hurt them. Thank you, doctor. Because of you, I have a second chance. Thank you…”
His thanks became a mantra. It drilled into Kingsley’s brain like a dull chisel. He wished for the procedure to be finished just so he wouldn’t have to hear him talk anymore.
The lab was below decks of the yacht. A sterile stainless steel plated room with a single white vinyl chair. It looked like the dentist’s chair straight from the heart of the most troubling fever dream any tooth-grinding child had ever been tormented by.
Harrison laughed when he saw it. This room of quiet horror was the chamber of salvation to the sick man. He was like the fly caught in the center of the black widow’s web. It was scarily sexy on Leona’s part. Harrison’s desperate plight in Leona’s hands was actually gratifying to Kingsley’s wildest fantasies of a woman’s power. He wanted her. He actually believed he could have her. Harrison was the contest and she was the prize. If he made a stellar impression with this death, then she would reward him. He was convinced of this. Enough to actually forgive her for ordering her girls to strong arm him.
The Good Death Box Set: A Hard SciFi Science Fiction Series Page 2