Torn Apart

by M A Comley

  Crabbie and two of his boys were standing before him, their arms firmly crossed over the chests. Anger emanated like forks of lightning from their beady eyes.

  Munroe tapped his foot, hoping to give the aggressive pack the impression that he was bored—which he was. Like he’d told the inspector a couple of hours before, he was bored by all this gang-related shit, and he’d made plans with his brother to mend his ways starting at eight o’clock Monday morning. All he had to do was convince the three dicks in front of him that he’d made a life-changing decision that would keep him out of their hair.

  He spread his arms out to the side and slapped them against his thigh. “What’s up, Crabbie?”

  Crabbie looked at his men and shook his head. “He’s a prick, ain’t he?”

  The other two youths laughed for a brief second before their faces pulled straight back into an angry glare that said, “Don’t mess with us.”

  Crabbie took a step toward him. Trevor tried not to flinch, but it was hard. He could feel the heat of the man’s anger radiating through his clothes.

  “I hear you’ve been down the cop shop. What for?”

  Not wanting to look the other man in the eye, Trevor let his gaze drift off to the left. “This and that.”

  Crabbie lunged and smacked Trevor around the head. “Fuckin’ answer the question properly, or else…”

  He swept his arm from left to right. “Take it. It’s all yours. I’m through with all this shit.”

  “You’re giving me your territory?”

  Trevor nodded, still avoiding Crabbie’s eyes. Why would anyone want to look into the devil’s son’s eyes, given the choice?

  “I’ve got news for you, Trev. I’m taking your territory from you. It ain’t yours to fuckin’ give, moron. Now, what did the coppers want?”

  Trevor huffed out a sigh. “Nothing really. Wanted to know about the turf wars, that was it.”

  Crabbie clobbered him again, this time with a clenched fist to the jaw.

  Trevor winced and shouted, “What the fuck was that for? It’s the truth.”

  “Once a tosser, always a tosser. Why did you do it?” Crabbie leaned in closer to him.

  “Do what, man? I ain’t got the foggiest what you’re on about?”

  “Kill him. Why did you kill Jez?”

  Munroe’s eyes widened as fear shot through him. Holding his hands up in front of himself, he said, “Now wait a goddamn fuckin’ minute. I didn’t kill him. Why the fuck would you think that?”

  “That’s bullshit. You got your revenge for what we did to your runt last week. Well bring it on, big man. Take a pop at me if you have the balls.”

  Trevor backed up a few steps, but Crabbie refused to let him out of his reach and followed him. “I swear, I didn’t do Jez over.”

  Crabbie mimicked Trevor’s whiny voice, “Are you sure you didn’t do Jez over?”

  “Fuckin’ positive. Neither me nor my boys went near him.”

  Crabbie glanced over his shoulder at the two youths. “Do we believe his bullshit?”

  The youths both shook their heads. Then Crabbie lunged at Trevor and grabbed him around the throat. “What the fuck? Get off me, you twat.”

  “Yeah, and who’s goin’ to make me? Where are your boys when you need ’em, eh? Fuckin’ cowards, the lot of you. Mess with one of my boys, and you’re gonna suffer the consequences. Get the towrope out of the car, Stuart.”

  Trevor tried to swallow, but Crabbie’s hold on his throat was too tight. He started convulsing, fighting for breath.

  Crabbie released his grip slightly and laughed as Trevor sucked a huge gulp of air into his lungs. Stuart came towards them, throwing the thick rope tauntingly between his hands. Then, between them, the three of them tied the rope around Trevor’s body, which had started to tremble violently. He had the ominous feeling that he wasn’t going to get out of this tangled mess alive. Crabbie pushed Trevor forward in the direction of the Audi. Crabbie turned Trevor around and threw him on the ground at the back of the vehicle. Trevor’s bowels loosened as Stuart tied the ends of the rope to the Audi’s tow bar.

  Crabbie pointed down at Trevor and laughed riotously. “The fuckin’ coward just shit himself.”

  “Don’t do this. I’ll beg for my life if that’s what you want. Please…don’t do this.” Trevor’s pleading went unnoticed as the three Krull Gang members got in the vehicle. The engine started up, and the car took up the slack in the rope. He closed his eyes and reluctantly gave up the will to fight the inevitable. Determined that he wasn’t going to scream his way to death, he bit down hard on his tongue until the iron taste of blood filled his mouth.

  The car roared along the road and reached sixty miles an hour before it hit the first corner. It screeched around one bend, then the next, and the next before it returned to where the Krull Gang had picked up Trevor.

  Crabbie got out of the vehicle and sliced through the rope, releasing Trevor’s dead, battered body. He spat on him before he got back in the car and drove away as if nothing had happened.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When the phone on his desk rang, Hero was in the middle of going through the interview notes the team had given him after their meetings with the other gang leaders.

  “Hello, DI Nelson.”

  “Jesus, have I got a story for you.”

  “Wheeler, is that you?”

  “Too right, it is. Are you sitting down?”

  “I am indeed. What are you so excited about?” Hero asked, his interest going off the scale.

  “I had a call from one of the other reporters who has a brother living in one of the roads next to the Shorley Estate…” Wheeler paused for a second.

  “Go on, you’re holding my interest so far.”

  “Well, he heard a noise outside his house and went to see what was going on. When he looked out the window, he saw that three men had tied up another man—”

  “Do you have any names for me?” Hero interrupted him.

  “The man tied up was the leader of the Tidy Gang.”

  “Shit! What happened?” Hero leaned back in his reclining office chair and bounced back and forth as Wheeler ran through his story.

  “You know this guy? You don’t sound too surprised that something has happened to him.”

  “Go on. I’ll fill you in later. Wait, has your friend’s brother informed our guys?”

  “Yep, he placed the call before he rang me. Not sure if anyone has attended the scene yet, though. Anyway, the three guys tied this other bloke to the tow bar of their Audi and drove off with him. Apparently, they only drove round the block and reappeared a few minutes later. Then they cut the bloke’s lifeless body free. My friend’s brother thought he recognised a couple of the other guys as being members of the Krull Gang. I thought you should know right away.”

  “Thanks, Wheeler. I brought Trevor Munroe, the leader of the Tidy Gang in for an informal chat earlier on today. The Krull Gang must have got wind of it and presumed he grassed them up. Damn, the guy was just about to go straight. He was pissed off with all the turf wars shit. Bloody hell! I better get over there. Thanks for the tipoff. This will be another nail in the Krulls’ coffin. Would your friend’s brother be a witness in court against these guys? Without viable witnesses, we’re not going to be able to touch them, and they’re going to keep on killing people willy-nilly.”

  “Ah, I’m not sure about that, Inspector. All I can do is ask the question for you.”

  “Thanks for asking the question and for making me aware of the situation. I appreciate it.”

  “Just remember where the information came from. I’d like an exclusive if you ever bang the gang up.”

  “That’s a given, Dave. Thanks for the call.”

  Hero glanced at his watch. It was almost five o’clock. “Shaw,” he called out.

  Julie appeared in the doorway of his office a minute later. “Yes, sir?”

  “Ring the desk sergeant. See if he knows anything about an incident out on
the Shorley Estate, will you?”

  Frowning, she nodded and left the room. Hero was lost in thought when she returned. “Yep, the incident was a bad one apparently, sir. Do you want to head over there?”

  He rose from his seat. “I think we should. Let me just make some notes on the board before we go.”

  He added Trevor Munroe’s name to the board alongside the other victims, shaking his head as he did so. Then he and Julie set off for the crime scene.

  The area had been cordoned off with crime scene tape, and the gathering crowd looked stunned by what they’d seen. The body was no longer at the scene. Just inside the playground stood a group of youths, whom Hero presumed were the remaining members of the Tidy Gang. Some of them were staring at the blood patch in the road, while others wiped their damp eyes on the sleeves of their jumpers.

  Hero walked up to two uniformed policemen, one of whom was Julie’s boyfriend, Rob. “Have you started getting statements down? Did anyone see anything? Are they connected to Trevor Munroe?”

  “No, we haven’t started getting statements down yet. We were waiting for instructions. One person actually saw what happened, but he’s being a little cagey about what he tells us, and yes, that group over there are the Tidy Gang,” Rob Bryce told him in an offhand manner.

  Get a life, dickhead! Hero nodded a thank you and walked over to the small group of youths. “Did anyone see the incident?”

  Six sets of shocked eyes gazed up at him, and they all shook their heads slowly. Hero felt sorry for the group. Young people shouldn’t be subjected to this kind of shit. He had to remind himself that they had chosen to be part of the gang culture—no one had forced them. “Does anyone need to see a doctor?”

  One of the older youths spoke. “Why did they have to kill him? What the fuck is wrong with them? Trev didn’t ask for that.”

  “We’ll get them. I’ll promise you that. Why don’t you go back to your homes after my men take a statement from each of you. Are you up to that?”

  As if he’d just told the group they were going to be sectioned in a mental hospital, the youths started to back away from him.

  “We’ll go back to our hangout, but we ain’t making no statements.” The same youth who had spoken before shook his head vehemently as he spoke.

  Hero raised a hand. “All right. I totally understand where you’re coming from. I don’t like it, but I understand, nevertheless. If we manage to get a few witnesses together who are willing to speak out against the Krulls, can I count on your support? For Trev’s sake, maybe?”

  The group gave Hero his answer by turning their backs on him and walking away, with their heads down.

  Shit!

  • • •

  The woman shook her muzzy head. It had just turned seven thirty in the evening. She had been asleep since lunchtime after being on the prowl the previous night. Coming down from her power rush had taken her until one o’clock in the morning. She was ready to slot the next piece into her gory puzzle.

  She went to her wardrobe and picked out another suitably tarty outfit. After showering, she dressed then carefully applied her makeup, covering all the imperfections in her late-thirties skin. She pulled the blonde wig onto her head and admired her reflection. No one would guess. No one could tell she was older than she looked. She smiled. No one could tell.

  The taxi pulled up at the corner of her road, and she jumped in the backseat, ignoring the interested gaze of the driver as he studied her in his rear-view mirror. She didn’t speak. She’d already told the taxi controller her destination, so she had no need to enter into a conversation with this man. Her thoughts were filled with what lay ahead of her as well as her plan of action. She had confidence in her ability to pull off her daring scheme. She knew what drove her to succeed. And succeed, she would, without doubt. Failure was not in her vocabulary.

  Her tummy twisted into knots as she handed the driver a tenner and got out of the taxi. She waited for him to pull away before she moved into position. She could hear the usual banter between the girls as she approached. She wasn’t familiar with these particular girls because she’d never been this far east of the city before. She was of two minds about how to proceed. She really didn’t want to kill any more prostitutes. It wasn’t their fault she was angry with the Krull Gang. It was the gang she wanted to take out, not the girls.

  She rubbed her hands together to ward off the evening. Was that a drop of rain? Looking up at the sky, she felt two more fat drops make their marks on her ruby cheeks. Damn! She looked around for any sign of cover and ran to the small bus shelter halfway up the road, just making it before the heavens opened on her. A car slowly crept past the shelter, but she kept her eyes trained on the road ahead of her. The same car drove past her a second, then a third time, within a matter of a few minutes. A punter. Shit! How are you going to get out of this one, girly?

  “Hey, darlin’, fancy a ride?”

  There was no escaping. She plastered a big smile on her face and approached the car. Bending down, she leaned on the window and was taken aback when she recognised the driver, even in the dim light.

  “Might do. What did ya have in mind?” she asked in a little-girl-lost kind of voice.

  “Jump in. There’s a hotel I know nearby.”

  She nodded and jumped in the passenger seat beside him. His hand automatically reached out and squeezed her thigh. The thought of killing him there and then swiftly filled her mind, but she pushed it away. Wait! Bide your time.

  The hotel, if she could call it that, was a two-minute drive away. She and the mystery man ran up the steps and into the dingy reception area. She shyly pulled her hair across her face and started sucking at the ends. She glanced down at the guy’s crotch and saw evidence that the action had turned him on. She cringed at the thought of him touching her again.

  The man behind the reception desk shared a joke with the punter before he handed over the key to their room. She followed him up the stairs. He stormed ahead of her, but she strolled along behind him, walking gingerly on her heels, afraid of turning her ankle. When he reached the room, he ordered her to hurry up. However, she continued to take her time as with every step she took, another piece of her plan fit into place.

  He’d switched on the bedside light and pulled back the quilt by the time she reached the room. Eager little shit, aren’t you? He sat down on the bed and beckoned her towards him. She closed the door behind her and gulped before she walked over to stand in front of him. His hand ran up her shapely thigh, and her right hand sought out the knife in her bag while her other hand still held the clump of hair over her face.

  “Come on, baby, drop ’em. Let’s see what you’ve got to offer. Hey, I’m out recruiting girls tonight. If you show me a good time, I’ll have a word with the boss to take you on full-time.”

  “Really? You’d do that for me? Well, I’d better show you my goods then. Why don’t you help yourself? You seem a capable man.”

  His eyes stood out on stalks, and he grabbed either side of her knickers and yanked them down to her ankles. One of his hands reached around to her backside and slapped it as the other reached up the front of her skirt and sought out the warm core of her slim body.

  “What the fuck?” he said, withdrawing his hand as if it had just been consumed by fire.

  She didn’t hesitate any longer. She slashed the knife across his throat. The wound was deep, and his reaction was to cover the gaping hole rather than to lash out at her. She slipped her feet out of her knickers and stepped back. She didn’t have to wait long before he collapsed on the bed, dead.

  Nonchalantly, she replaced her underwear and left the room. The alarm went off as she went through the fire escape at the end of the hall. She slammed the door shut behind her, took off her shoes, and ran down the metal staircase on the outside of the building, not bothering about the rain lashing down on her.

  When she reached the bottom, she ran, harder and faster than she’d ever run before, until the hotel was a fleck o
n the horizon behind her. She flagged down a passing taxi to take her home. Slipping on her shoes, she searched in her bag for her compact. Fear touched her heart when she realised she had drops of the man’s blood on her face. She wiped it off with the sleeve of her blouse before the driver had a chance to notice.

  After the driver pulled up at the end of her road, she paid him and got out of the car. She waited until he had disappeared around the next corner before she went to her house. The rain had subsided a little by then, but she was already soaked to the skin. She let herself in and ran upstairs before the rest of the household realised she was home. She ran a hot bath and scrubbed away the man’s blood and the feel of his hands on her legs. She lay back to reflect on her evening’s good work. One more down. Two to go.

  She dried herself, tore her clothes to shreds, and concealed them in a carrier bag at the back of the wardrobe. She placed her wig on its hook and dived into her bed. Sleep came quickly that night. But her dreams were still filled with the evening’s events. She woke herself up crying at around two o’clock and slipped downstairs to fetch herself some warm milk, which she laced with a tot of whiskey to ease her back to sleep. She slept the rest of the night and dreamed pleasant dreams instead of reliving the nightmare of her evening’s activities. She told herself over and over that she wasn’t a killer, let alone a serial killer.

  This would all end soon enough. Then she could get on with her life in the knowledge that she had rid the world of these despicable men. She would give up her nightly kills then and return to her simple life. Or will I?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Hero walked into the station the next day, deep in thought. He’d had a restless night because of the Krulls. He needed to find a way to arrest them. Even if he did that, he knew that the gang’s expensive solicitor, whom they kept on the payroll, would get them off just by snapping his fingers. He needed something concrete and someone to speak out about the Krulls in court. Even then, there were no guarantees the gang wouldn’t get off scot-free like they usually did.