by Rusk, Day
While he was at it, why didn’t he cure cancer as well?
He’d been naive and stupid, but not anymore. It hadn’t been that long; he knew he hadn’t turned into Dirty Harry or anything like that, but he also knew he needed to take matters into his own hands. He’d had no way of knowing that at this age the problems of his past would rear their ugly head and demand he do something about them; all those years of just living with it and daydreaming about doing something about it had at one time been sufficient enough. Now, revenge was never far from his thoughts, and after recent conversations with both Gail and Walter that desire was even stronger within him. Sure he knew Walter was probably right, and if he wanted to come clean about witnessing the murders and say he’d testify against Morgan some prosecutor somewhere would probably take a stab at it; everyone would be worried about the passage of time, but needn’t be, as he remembered exactly what he had seen vividly, as if that night was forever imprinted on his brain in hi-def Technicolor. Attempting that would be the civilized way of approaching his demons. Morgan would find out about it, put a hit out on him, and he would have to go into protective custody until he had the chance to testify – the usual dance. Chances are he’d make it to the witness stand and his testimony would be enough to do what others hadn’t been able to do, but it all seemed anti-climatic. Every step in that scenario would also be controlled by someone else; he’d just be a pawn in their game; taking matters in his own hands and getting blood on them, that seemed more appropriate and a hell of a lot more satisfying.
Leslie had thought long and hard about it and knew what he wanted to do. This time he wouldn’t be playing spy, trying to get close to Harry. He knew exactly what he had to do; he had to find an opportunity where he could come up unexpected on Harry, put the gun to the back of his head and just fire. His only hope of taking out a killer like him was to do it quickly and by surprise. He wouldn’t have the satisfaction of letting Harry know who was taking him out and why, but that really didn’t matter in the long run; Leslie was sure that someone in Hell would tell him what had happened to him.
Harry had entered the bar more than an hour ago. As far as Leslie knew, no one had spotted him in the parking lot in his car. If they or Harry had, they’d have probably snuck up on him all ready and done some damage. For the moment he was safe. Tonight was about research anyway. He needed to follow Harry and see if there was a more opportune place to take him out; he’d also have to be careful; he’d never tailed anyone before, and didn’t want to be found out. If for some reason tonight an opportunity presented itself for him to get the drop on Harry, he knew he’d have to be ready to act. In other words, he had no idea what the night would hold.
Leslie waited, his eyes fixed on Duffy’s front door. He had considered playing the radio low, listening to some talk shows to pass the time, but it was kind of like when you’re driving and looking for a specific street address, for some reason, to find it, you need to turn down the radio. Staking someone out was boring, or at least had been until he saw her getting out of a car.
Gail Russell.
Leslie had to take a second look when a junk heap of a car pulled up just down the street from Duffy’s at one of the broken parking meters. He’d been concentrating on the door of the bar, but had quickly glanced over at the woman who got out of the vehicle – she looked familiar. It took him a moment to realize it was Gail. Not the Gail he knew, but a transformed Gail. She was no longer the classy well put together broad he knew, but was...well...trashy. The clothing she wore was pedestrian and provocative, fishnet stockings, a very small, tight black mini-skirt, a cleavage revealing top and a Biker-style black leather jacket. Her hair was done up in some cross between Peggy Bundy on Married With Children and normal. Her make-up, generally subtle and effective, was now caked on. She looked like a young girl who was working the streets.
What the fuck is she doing here? he wondered.
He was almost tempted to get out of his car and head over to her, but something held him back. Could this possibly be a coincidence? Indecision made his decision for him, as before he could decide what he wanted to do; Gail had approached the front door of Duffy’s and entered.
Fuck chivalry, he thought, in there, she’s on her own.
Gail looked around the bar; it felt like home. The average person, if they’d accidentally stumbled into a place like this, would immediately turn and run screaming; she, on the other hand, had been in worst dives, often with her Daddy. She knew these people as she at one time had been one of these people.
She’d been researching the names on Leslie’s list, since the first night they’d fucked. The four photos had been circled for a reason and she knew what it was; they were the men who had killed Leslie’s family; it was only logical. Since leaving his apartment, she had been conducting her own investigation; her Daddy had taught her to be resourceful. And, seeing how she had no problem going slumming, it hadn’t taken her too long to find out about Morgan Neil and his crew, and discover some of the places certain members of that crew liked to hang out. She also knew that anyone asking such information on the streets would quickly become a target for Morgan and his gang. Having grown up around a lot of lowlifes, she knew they were untrustworthy and would sell their souls for whatever drug was their pleasure. As such, she’d been selective and careful. Although it wouldn’t be reported in the newspaper, or just be a footnote somewhere in the back pages, more than one junkie or prostitute had his or her throat cut after giving her some information. They’d all thought they were getting something of value from her, and then would have the opportunity to run to someone in Morgan’s gang and see what else they could get by giving her up. Each and every one of them had a look of pure surprise on their faces, when she’d slashed their throats. It was the only way to do this properly and safe. Possibly one Detective would be assigned to the case, or the murders would be spread out amongst a couple of Detectives. It wasn’t anything like the M.O. of her previous artistic killings, and even if the police department put five murders together based on the same M.O., she was finished killing those kinds of lowlifes, and really, how hard were they going to work to solve the murder of people like that? Was putting in overtime and missing your kid’s baseball game worth it when your victim was a junkie or a whore? She knew the secret to enjoying life was in knowing how to prioritize your time.
Her research had led her to Duffy’s and Harry Madwin. Now all she had to do was meet the killer and get him to fall for her charms. She was confident if given the chance, he’d be lured by her pleasure palace and she’d have him wrapped around her finger.
“Shit.Shit.SHIT,” said Leslie as he got out of his car and started pacing beside it.
What was he going to do?
Going into Duffy’s was undoubtedly a suicide mission for him. At the same time, even though it went against every survival instinct within him, he wanted to make sure Gail was okay; even though she’d made it clear she didn’t want to see him anymore. He knew she was different, but hadn’t expected to find her frequenting a place like Duffy’s decked out like a street whore. That was her call, so why should he care?
He shouldn’t, and he knew that, but, damnit, he did.
Leslie looked over at the bar. FUCK, he thought.
It hadn’t taken Gail long to draw a crowd of admirers around her at the bar in Duffy’s; men were so predictable; not only was she fresh meat walking through their door, but she knew she was attractive to the opposite sex; her Daddy had been right in teaching her how to protect her pleasure palace; he’d said men would want to take it from her, she just hadn’t realized how many.
She flirted and they lapped it up; all except one. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Harry, who was over to the side in a booth talking to a woman that looked like she’d been rode hard and hung up wet. Why he wasn’t by her side, she couldn’t understand; she had no interest in any of these yahoos’ presently surrounding her, only in that they drew attention to her, and as such, hopefully, H
arry’s attention.
It took a while. Harry wasn’t like the others; there was a coolness and calmness about him that they lacked. When he’d finally finished with the rather rough looking woman in the booth - who was probably buying crack off of him, she figured - he casually made his way to the bar and ordered a drink. When he turned to her and offered to buy her one, her admirers all backed off. He was obviously the Alpha Dog and if he wanted her, they’d all have to wait until he got tired with her before they could have their shot at her; she imagined the rough looking woman from the booth had once looked young and pretty and been the belle of the ball, until enough drugs and balling with sorts like this had drained all the youth and beauty from her being.
“What’re you drinking, little lady?” asked Harry, now that the others had scrambled away to safety.
“Surprise me,” she said with a smile.
Leslie started across the parking lot, but only got a few steps before he came to a stop. He really wanted to know what Gail was doing in Duffy’s; he really wanted to know if she was all right. He desperately wanted to be man enough to just walk in there and see for himself, but he wasn’t.
Harry had moved her to his booth, the one previously occupied by him and the rough looking woman. Between them was a half-empty pitcher of beer, and in front of them their drafts. The evening was going well; she was flirting with him and he was lapping it up. She knew how to play it just dumb enough to keep him from being intimidated.
“I’ll be right back,” said Harry as he got up from the booth, shortly after having said something that he no doubt figured was subtle sexual innuendo, but lacked the wit or intelligence to be such.
“Is it something I’ve said?” she asked in her best baby doll voice.
“I just gotta say hi to some friends.”
She watched as he made his way to the bar and two tough-looking hoodlums.
“So what’s the story? Who’s the broad?” asked Stanley Corrigan as Harry joined him and Lou Tasker at the bar.
“Fresh meat?” asked Lou.
“Rich meat,” said Harry.
Both Lou and Corrigan looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“She’s dressed down and playin’ the part, but have you checked out her bling?” he said. “The shit she forgot to take off when she came slummin’? The earrings and rings?”
“So, what do you think?” asked Corrigan.
“Rich bitch looking for some gutter action is my guess. Wants to take a tumble between the sheets with the seedier side of life.”
Both Lou and Corrigan laughed.
“I’ll take her back to my place and give her what she wants,” he said. “She wants to go slummin’ I’ll tear that bitch’s cunt apart with my lowlife dick. Wear the shit right out of her. Give me about an hour or so then come by my place. Once I’ve had my fun, we’ll convince her to take us back to her place and turn over some of her riches. Rich bitches always have lots of emergency cash on hand.”
Lou and Corrigan nodded their approval, as Harry made his way back to the booth.
Leslie was in the driver’s seat. There was no point standing out there, out in the open, pacing back and forth like a fool if he wasn’t going to go into the bar. As much as he wanted to, it just wasn’t going to happen; no point in fooling himself.
Disappointed by his actions once again, he was about to start the engine and get the hell out of there when the front door of the bar opened and out walked Gail, arm in arm with Harry. They seemed to be laughing and having a good time, as if they were on a date.
What the Hell?! was all his mind could register.
He watched as Harry escorted Gail to her car and opened the driver’s side door for her to get in. As she started the car, he ran back towards Duffy’s and climbed onto one of the motorcycles parked out front. He started its engine and drove up the street past Gail, who immediately pulled out from her spot and followed him.
Leslie started his car and set off in pursuit.
Harry didn’t exactly keep a tidy house; Home and Gardens wouldn’t be calling anytime soon. Gail sat on the natty couch and took in her surroundings, which consisted of a lot of worn out, mismatched furniture, a well worn and stained carpet; a coffee table whose cup and bottle ring marks seemed to have ring marks of their own, and a TV, obviously the most expensive item in the living room, that could use a good dusting (she fought the urge to go over to it and write ‘Wash Me’ with her finger in the dust on the screen). She couldn’t help wondering why someone went to all the trouble to buy a hi-def TV just to let enough dust collect on it that you couldn’t see anything. There were a few knick knacks around on shelves here and there; they seemed out of place; Gail figured they’d been put there by various ex-girlfriends over time and Harry just hadn’t bothered getting rid of them or dusting them as the years went by.
She hadn’t been surprised when Harry had asked her back to his place; she’d put out the vibe and was sure he thought she’d be an easy lay.
Harry returned from the kitchen carrying two beers, the cap off of both of them. Classy, she thought, no glasses. He sat down and placed a beer in front of her.
“No glass?” she asked.
Harry just looked at her a little bit puzzled and annoyed.
“You can’t expect a lady to be swigging from the bottle,” she said.
“Who says I’m lookin’ for a lady, lady?” he said
“Humor me.”
He looked more annoyed now than puzzled.
“Sure thing Princess.”
He got up from the couch and headed back into the kitchen; she could only imagine how hard it was going to be for him to find a clean glass, assuming the kitchen was kept as tidy as the living room. Taking advantage of being alone, Gail reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out one of her pills, quickly dropping it into Harry’s beer bottle. She really did prefer to drink out of a glass, but it also gave her the opportunity to make sure she got the upper hand in this little soiree. He returned with a glass, cleaner than she would have bet.
“Here you go your Highness,” he said as he sat back down.
“Thank you,” she said, as she picked up her beer and began pouring it into the glass. Harry, leering at her and anticipating his conquest, picked up his beer and began drinking. It wouldn’t be long now.
Leslie sat in his car, parked at the curb a few houses down from Harry Madwin’s. Harry lived in the city on a street with homes that at one time must have looked grand, but now just looked a little run down. It was a quiet street. Anywhere more affluent and no doubt the neighbors would have called the police by now to report a suspicious car parked on their street. Seeing how this was still one of the rougher parts of town, he didn’t think he’d have to worry.
It was 11:37 p.m., and he’d been watching the place for about thirty minutes when Gail appeared at the front door. He watched as she made her way to the trunk of her car, opened it and pulled out a large duffel bag. She headed back into the house.
He had no idea what she was up to, and seeing how that was Harry’s house he wouldn’t do anything rash like knocking on the front door to find out. He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable again, and figured he’d wait a little bit longer. Hopefully he could catch Gail when she left and find out just what the hell she was up to.
It was the roar of the motorcycles that woke him up. He had fallen asleep. He turned the key in the ignition just enough to turn on the digital clock on his car’s dashboard. It was 12:43 a.m. He looked to Harry’s house, and watched as the two hoodlums on motorbikes parked behind Gail’s car in his driveway, got off their bikes and made their way to the front door of the house.
This can’t be good, he thought.
It was bad enough Gail was in there with Harry, but now two more hoodlums? Was she in trouble? Should he even give a damn?
FUCK, he thought.
Sure, she’d dumped him, but he had really liked her. Could he really just sit around if she were in trouble; that was assumin
g she was in trouble? Maybe this was one of her things; a kinky three-way with lowlifes. Who was he to judge?
Leslie got out of his car and took a couple of seconds to look around; as far as he could tell no one was paying attention to what was happening on the street. The majority of the homes were cloaked in darkness. There was no way he was going to walk up to Harry’s house, knock on the door and ask if Gail was all right, but maybe he could snoop around a little, get an idea of what was taking place inside; if it was something kinky she was into he could get in his car and get the hell out of there; if she was in trouble, he’d have to do something. Turning around and fleeing at that point would be unacceptable.
But what if you get caught snooping? he asked himself.
If he got caught snooping there was only one answer – RUN LIKE HELL!
Leslie made it to the driveway and crouched down beside Gail’s car. It was definitely a shitbox, not something he’d expect she’d be driving. Maybe she borrowed it off the poor bastard who had been living in it, he thought. He took a deep breath; it was time to get on the move.
Slowly, being cautious with every step, Leslie made his way up the porch steps and approached the front door. Off to the side of it was the living room window. The drapes were pulled closed, but maybe he’d be lucky enough to find a crack to peek through. He was just about to move off to the side when he heard her scream. It wasn’t a scream of ecstasy, but seemed like a genuine scream of fear and hurt. Gail was in trouble.