Bad Games- The Complete Series

by Jeff Menapace

  “I’m in the field of protection, Russ. I don’t wait for someone to get shot then try to pull out the bullet. I see it coming; I put the bullet in first.”

  Both of Russell’s eyebrows went up. “Domino…”

  “What?” Domino said defensively.

  Russell sighed. “Look, man, I know you’re still struggling with the whole thing that went down last year. Losing your friend and—”

  “Don’t, Russ…don’t.”

  Russell held up a hand and nodded. “Okay I won’t. I’m your attorney, not your psychologist. So I’ll stick to telling you attorney stuff. Right now that stuff is this: unless those kids want to settle out of court, or, if miracles really do happen, they decide not to press charges, then I see no way how this isn’t going before a judge. And with the evidence against us, the prognosis ain’t good.”

  22

  Bucks County, Pennsylvania

  “Didn’t think I’d be back in Pennsylvania so soon,” Monica said to Kelly as the two got comfortable on the grassy hill, Monica flat on her stomach, Kelly on her butt, arms braced behind her as she leaned back.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tell you later.” Monica raised her binoculars, top of the line Fujinons, the preferred hand-held choice for both astronomers and law enforcement…and people like Monica. “Yup—there they are.”

  “Lemme see.”

  Monica handed Kelly the binoculars. When Kelly brought them to her face, Monica used a steady hand to guide the girl towards the right spot.

  “You see?” Monica asked.

  “Those two guys in the gray Ford?”

  “Bingo.”

  “How do you know they’re cops?”

  “Trust me. If this wasn’t the ’burbs, the entire neighborhood would have been shouting 5-0 the second they rolled up.”

  Kelly laughed.

  Monica looked at her watch. 8 P.M. Daylight was beginning to gray. She started fiddling with one of her smart phones. Finished, she looked up at Kelly. “Says the town center is about a half mile from here. That sound right to you?”

  Kelly shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Busy on a Saturday?”

  “From what I remember, yeah. There are bars and restaurants, but there’s a lot of family places too. Ice cream and little shops all over. The town has a lot of history. Some people just like to walk around and take it in, especially in summer.”

  “What are the odds your folks are some of them?”

  “Huh?”

  “Any chance your parents are doing the town tonight?”

  Kelly shrugged again.

  Monica took the binoculars from Kelly and studied the house some one hundred yards away. A good deal of foliage obscured the majority of windows on the extravagant home but she had a solid view of a panoramic one showcasing the dining room. The dining room’s décor suggested it was a look but don’t touch room, likely reserved for the most special of occasions. This would provide little thoroughfare, yet the size of the window alone gave Monica a glimpse through and beyond, stretching deeper into the home. All she would need was a sign of life passing by.

  She didn’t have to wait long. A woman moved past the dining room entrance and was gone seconds later. Monica had spotted an empty glass in her left hand. Heading for a refill. She’d be back.

  “Here,” Monica said, handing the binoculars to Kelly. “Focus beyond the dining room window. Tell me if that’s Mom.”

  Kelly took the binoculars and looked. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Just wait.”

  A minute passed before Monica watched a slow grin spread across Kelly’s face.

  “That her?”

  “That’s her.”

  “Keep looking,” Monica said. “Keep an eye out for Dad.”

  Kelly did. There was a long moment where no one spoke. Monica looked around. The park they’d hunkered down in—a decent spot that sported a good ten acres of land, a small but smart playground, a path for running and biking, enough open space for picnicking or what have you—was beginning to empty. The majority of visitors had been parents with kids, the playground their central spot. Now that night was approaching, it was time to go. This could only help them. It would allow Monica to wander deeper into the park, in the other direction, see if she couldn’t get a decent view of the town center without having to uproot completely and relocate.

  “I see him!”

  Monica turned. Kelly’s grin was wider than ever as she continued peering through the Fujinons. Monica wondered if Kelly hated her father more than her mother, or if her exuberance was caused by the fact that both her parents were indeed home.

  Monica did not take the binoculars and look for herself. She trusted Kelly on this one, knew the girl would not lie about something like this. Knew how bad she wanted it. Monica did, however, take the binoculars, place them back into her long black tactical bag, get to her feet, and start heading deeper into the park, to try and locate a spot that would allow her to see into the town center as she had hoped. The distance—roughly 0.6 miles—was not a problem given her equipment; the problem was potential obstacles blocking her field of vision, no matter where she parked herself.

  “Where are you going?” Kelly called behind her. “The house is this way.”

  Monica continued walking deeper into the park, long black bag hanging at her side.

  “Hello?” Kelly said.

  Monica kept walking. Kelly eventually jogged to catch up. “Where are you going? My house is back that way,” she said again.

  They’d ventured a good fifty yards before Monica finally addressed her. “I want to see if we can get a clear line of sight into the town center without having to get back in the car and relocate.” Monica took the binoculars from her bag once again, stayed on her feet, and peered around through the high-powered lenses. She stopped on one spot, and could not fight a smile. “It’s Christmas, kiddo.”

  “I’m Jewish.”

  Monica handed Kelly the binoculars. “Happy Hanukkah then.”

  23

  The Washington Hotel and Restaurant relied more on the latter part of its moniker when it came to revenue. There were rooms available in the nearly three hundred-year-old building, but it was an occasion when any of them were occupied.

  The establishment’s main attraction was its exceptional milieu for drinks and dining both indoors and outdoors, particularly outdoors where it boasted an extravagant brick patio with multiple tables, comfortably lit by both candlelight and surrounding Tiki torches.

  Jeremy and Allison Fleming got the last outdoor table. Jeremy ordered a martini, Allison a Cosmopolitan. When their drinks arrived, they clinked glasses, smiled, and agreed they were lucky to grab the last table.

  • • •

  Monica, on her stomach, veiled by both night and the surrounding vegetation of her spot on the park floor, peered through the scope of her custom built Remington.

  The closest spot was a large bar and restaurant with spacious outdoor seating. The broad sign out front declared it The Washington Hotel and Restaurant. The place was busy. She could spot no empty tables.

  Monica surveyed targets. Her proficiency could have taken any number of a few, but she had no plans to test her ego tonight. If she was going to bait the hook properly, she would need the most efficient bait. That bait was a young couple so perfectly fixed in her line of sight she was tempted to let Kelly take the shot. Instead she let her choose.

  “Martini or Cosmo?” she asked.

  • • •

  Jeremy Fleming drained the remainder of his martini in one tidy gulp. “Hmmm…might need an encore over here,” he said to his wife. “How you making out?”

  Allison’s Cosmopolitan was still half-full. “I’m good for now.”

  Jeremy grinned at his wife while waiving the waitress over. “Looks like you’re driving then, Ali Baba.”

  “I said for now.”

  The waitress arrived.

  “Too late! Can I get another
please? Ketel One, no vermouth?”

  The waitress nodded then looked at Allison. “Would you like another?”

  Allison answered while looking at her husband. “Apparently not.”

  The waitress smiled and left.

  Still grinning, Jeremy reached out and took hold of his wife’s hand. “You love me,” he said.

  “I do love you.” She gave a playful little frown and waved a fist at him. “You’re lucky.”

  Jeremy closed his eyes and blew her a big kiss. There was a hiss of air and a thump. When Jeremy opened his eyes, his wife was slumped back in her chair with half her head missing.

  24

  Monica enjoyed the aftermath through her scope for only a couple of seconds. She then laid her rifle down, grabbed the binoculars, and handed them up to Kelly.

  “Holy shit!” Kelly said, eyes mashed to the lenses. “Her face is gone!”

  “Happens sometimes,” Monica said, getting to her feet, casually placing her Remington back in the long black bag. “I usually like a clean in and out with minimal mess; Dad used to say only amateurs leave a mess. Sometimes it’s unavoidable though. Guess some people have softer skulls than others.” She laughed.

  Kelly’s eyes stayed mashed to the lenses. She was almost leering, like a kid watching a neighbor undress in front of their bedroom window. “I think that’s her brains all over the couple sitting behind them!” she said gleefully. “People are completely freaking out!”

  Monica said: “Time’s up, kiddo; I need those back.”

  Kelly continued watching, unable to tear herself away. “Huh? Why?”

  “Are you forgetting about Mom and Dad?”

  Kelly lowered the binoculars and looked at Monica, the exuberance animating her face momentarily frozen, as if she’d forgotten their primary objective by getting too caught up in the pre-requisites. And she had.

  “Right,” she said, handing over the binoculars to Monica.

  Monica took them, handed the tactical bag to Kelly, and began walking back towards the Blaine house.

  Kelly followed, looking left to right with each step. “Shouldn’t we be…uh…like hiding or something?”

  Monica spoke over her shoulder as she continued walking. “One hell of a squeaky wheel is down the street, kiddo. We’re as good as invisible for a while.”

  “But what about once they realized what happened? Won’t they trace it back to where we were?”

  Monica laughed. “They might. But not anytime soon. Contrary to what TV likes to sell us, the police merely go around picking up leftovers; they never arrive in time for a hot meal.”

  Monica stopped at the precise spot they’d been when observing the Blaine home before. She lifted the binoculars to her face and focused in on the gray Ford. “Calling all cars…calling all cars…” she sang softly. “Come on, boys, you’re missing all the fun.”

  The headlights on the gray Ford came to life. The car screeched away from its spot by the curb, speeding towards The Washington Hotel and Restaurant.

  The Blaines were now on their own.

  Monica lowered the binoculars and looked over her shoulder. “You ready?”

  Kelly Blaine nodded.

  25

  Conrad Blaine was pouring his third scotch of the night when the doorbell rang.

  “Joanna?” he called over his shoulder, still pouring from the crystal decanter that held a rare, forty-year-old Laphroaig.

  The doorbell rang again. “Joanna?”

  No answer. Conrad Blaine muttered under his breath and set the decanter down on the marble surface of the bar. He headed towards the front door, flicked on the porch light, and looked out one of the long rectangular windows adjacent to the door.

  He saw no one.

  Conrad muttered some more, then started back to the bar.

  The doorbell rang again.

  He spun. “What in the hell?” His footsteps were now stomps as he pounded towards the door. He did not bother to look this time. He flung the door open and took a demonstrative step outside. “Hello!” he yelled, not a query, a demand for the culprit to show themselves.

  Still no one.

  Conrad Blaine looked in all directions, angry. “I’ll have you know, whoever you are, that the police are watching this house as we—”

  “Hi, Dad.” Kelly Blaine stepped out of the darkness.

  Conrad Blaine’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open but offering no words.

  “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?” Kelly asked.

  Conrad Blaine finally spoke, his voice no longer carrying any authority; it was soft and wavering. “Kelly…”

  “You remember!”

  Conrad took a step back. “Kelly—honey—you need to listen to me…”

  Kelly smiled. “Dad—Daddy—you need to listen to me…” She took a step forward.

  Conrad took another step back. “Kelly, the police are looking for you. They know what you did at Stratton Grove. There are two policemen outside right now.”

  “The guys in the gray Ford?”

  Conrad frowned. “I—yes.”

  Kelly turned and looked the length of the street. So did Conrad. There was no gray Ford. No cars at all. Kelly turned back to her father. “Where’d they go, Daddy?”

  Conrad took another step backwards. He was inside the house now. “Kelly, what have you done?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  Conrad spun and tried to make a break for it. He came to an immediate stop. A woman was already inside his home, pointing a gun at his head.

  “Hi, Mr. Blaine,” the woman said. “Move away from the door please.” The woman used the gun to wave the man to one side. “Kelly?”

  Kelly followed quickly, shutting the door behind her.

  “What the hell is this?” Conrad said. “Who the hell are—?”

  The woman shot Conrad in the knee. He dropped instantly, the pain so excruciating he vomited on the foyer tiles.

  “Eww,” Kelly said.

  “They do that sometimes,” the woman said, holstering the gun.

  Conrad writhed on the tiles, grimacing in agony as he clutched his bloody knee.

  “Sorry about that, Mr. Blaine,” the woman said. “But I can’t have you playing hero.” The woman looked at Kelly. “Help me grab a leg. Mom’s waiting for us in the living room.”

  26

  Conrad and Joanna Blaine were bound to kitchen chairs in the living room, facing one another, knees touching. Both were gagged.

  Joanna Blaine wept into her gag. Conrad Blaine, pale and sweating profusely, could only continue to grimace and moan thanks to the new hole in his knee.

  Monica went into her tactical bag and produced a can of lighter fluid. Kelly happily took it from her and began dousing her parents, periodically squirting the fluid into their faces with a giggle, like a kid with a water pistol.

  “I’m ready,” Kelly eventually said to Monica.

  Conrad and Joanna Blaine’s eyes bulged. Desperate sobs and shouts into their gags were incoherent yet frighteningly clear: if there was any fraction of humanity left in their daughter, they were begging for it to surface now, for her to grant them mercy. For her not to burn them alive.

  Monica handed Kelly a box of matches. Kelly took them, opened the box, and immediately lit one. She held the flame inches from her father’s face. Conrad Blaine leaned back as far as his chair would allow, his head whipping from side to side in a futile attempt to escape the flame.

  Kelly grinned, blew out the match, and dropped it into her father’s lap. Conrad screamed as though the match was still alight. Kelly laughed. Monica did too.

  Kelly lit another match, brought it to her mother’s face this time. Joanna Blaine snorted hard. The match went out. Kelly gave a childish moan: “Mommmmm…”

  Monica laughed again. “So who’s first?” she asked.

  “Don’t know yet,” Kelly replied. “I’m trying to imagine what’s worse: being the first to burn, or being the one to watch, knowing you’re next?”r />
  “Good question. Personally, I’d want to go first. Imagine sitting there, seeing firsthand just how excruciating it is to be burned alive. Charred flesh falling off the bone like some pig over a spit. Eyeballs catching, blackening, popping. And the screaming, oh God, the screaming. Yeah—I’d definitely want to go first.”

  Each deliberate word from Monica was like an invisible blade slicing into the Blaine’s flesh. They jerked and twitched in their seats. Screamed and pleaded, screamed and pleaded.

  “I agree,” Kelly eventually said. “Going last would be worse.”

  “Unless…” Monica said, looking around the living room, her eyes settling on something.

  “What?”

  Monica went to one corner of the room, grabbed a large vase, then disappeared into the kitchen. She returned carrying the vase with more effort. There were sounds of water sloshing in the vase. “Who says once the match is lit, that’s that?”

  Kelly looked confused.

  Monica raised the vase full of water. “Maybe you could burn Dad then put him out. Burn Mom, put her out…” Monica continued in singsong fashion:

  “Burn Dad, put him out…

  Burn Mom, put her out…

  Burn Dad, put him out…”

  Kelly grinned and started singing along. The two of them:

  “Burn Mom, put her out…

  Burn Dad, put him out…

  Burn Mom, put her out…”

  • • •

  Dad was the first to burn to death. Kelly had chosen Dad because she knew, if given the choice, he would have wanted his wife to burn first so that her suffering could end.

  So as Dad burned and Mom watched (her hair gone, burned away, her skin charred, lips blackened strips, making the teeth appear too big—the whole image that of a red and black skull that was, by some inexplicable way, still alive), Monica and Kelly smoked and laughed (a hearty guffaw exploding from both women when Kelly nearly singed both eyebrows trying unsuccessfully to light a cigarette off her burning father) until Kelly decided the time was right and granted Mom her final match so she could watch both her parents burn to death.