by Rusk, Day
It was an emotionally draining night. Gail felt good about it. Not only had Leslie shown up, despite knowing who and what she really was, but he had listened to her in a non-judgmental way. She felt closer to him. Having related her story and after talking a bit more she had suggested they retire to the bedroom. She explained to him she wanted to make love, not fuck. He’d seemed a little hesitant at first, but eventually joined her in the bedroom where they proceeded to make love for the first time. Whether her Daddy agreed with her or not, she knew she had chosen well, and that together she and Leslie could change each other’s lives for the better.
Across town, staring out into the night, Morgan Neil was frustrated; he couldn’t sleep. Something was up in his city and he didn’t know what, and that was unacceptable. As far as his forces could tell, there were no other major gangs looking to move in on his territory. Most of the competition was too small to pull off such a move anyway, he saw to that. If any rival organization came along that looked like they could be trouble he and his gang would take care of them immediately; it was like dealing with cancer, why wait for it to grow and become a real problem when you can cut it out early and be done with it?
Confident he wasn’t on the verge of a gang war, he had no idea why anyone would target Harry, Lou and Corrigan. He was confident the streets were making it hard for the police to find out anything, but, at the same time, they weren’t exactly forthcoming to him and his men. There seemed to be a real mystery out there as to what had happened.
One of his soldiers, a fellow named Derek had mentioned that Harry was laughing about having roughed up some white collar idiot with a past grudge who had come looking for revenge, but hadn’t told anyone whom that idiot was. He said he sent the moron packing with his tail between his legs. It was always possible this moron had come back still looking for revenge, but if Harry had assessed him as a real threat, he would have said something, or more importantly, he would have never let the idiot walk away after their first meeting. This guy would have had to come back and not only take care of Harry but two other killers; this was highly unlikely.
So why was Harry murdered?
Not knowing was unacceptable and he wouldn’t stand for it. Tomorrow his men would hit the streets harder; somewhere out there somebody knew something and whether they liked it or not, they were going to share it with him. If a little blood had to get spilt in the process, so be it. He ruled this city and nothing was kept from him – others were going to soon learn this truth.
chapter NINETEEN
leslie WOKE up feeling good; he knew Gail hadn’t been completely forthcoming with him the previous evening, and he knew what she had told him only scratched the surface of the truth, but at least it was a start. The whole time she sat there or paced back and forth telling him what she had, he couldn’t help just staring at her and wondering how this petite, beautiful young woman could be a killer? It just didn’t seem right. Whether thinking that was politically correct or not, he really didn’t care.
Despite having initial reluctance to visit her last night, he was glad he had. Whether he liked it or not, there was chemistry between them that worked and made sense. He suspected there was a truly deranged story lurking in the depths of her mind that would explain her actions, and if he stuck with her, eventually she would share it with him; he wanted to know, he didn’t want to know, yet he wanted to help her.
He lay in bed looking up at the ceiling of the hotel room. If they were to move forward and stay together, she would have to take killing off the table. He knew he had graduated to something more important in her life as last night she stressed they were making love and not fucking; the cold attitude with which she had dismissed him that morning at his apartment was gone. A lot had changed. His thoughts were no longer dominated by the desire for revenge. Having participated in the murder of Harry and his two friends, it would seem he had gotten revenge out of his system. He chuckled as he thought about it. He’d been so foolish. At some point or another, everyone felt angry enough they thought they could kill; he had, and discovered it wasn’t worth what killing took from you as a human being.
The thought of wanting to kill and actually experiencing it were two very different things. The reality of murder was harrowing. Over the decades, if not centuries, the human race had developed to the point where violence was seen as abhorrent. We were supposed to be so much more enlightened. That was a good thing; nobody would want to go back to medieval times or some other time where he imagined life was considered cheap. He had thought an eye for an eye was within him, but he was wrong. He was civilized; he participated in the death of a man who had committed a great wrong against him, and also dispatched two other killers, who probably also deserved what they got, yet he still felt bad about it. He was responsible for someone’s death and it just didn’t sit well with him. He wasn’t going to beat himself up over it, but he did know that pursuing further revenge was just not in him. The fact the others might get away with their crime forever, was just something he’d have to reconcile in his mind and live with. Murder never solved anything; and when he thought carefully about it, did he want to live in a world where it did?
“Breakfast’s ready,” said Gail, breaking him out of his thoughts as she appeared in the bedroom door. She was wearing a beautiful silk robe, and looked as beautiful as ever. Leslie smiled, got up from the bed, found a hotel robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and exited the bedroom.
“You’ve made me breakfast twice, I believe,” said Gail, sitting down at a table in the living area of the hotel suite. “So, I thought I’d do the same for you.”
Leslie looked over at the room service cart that was sitting empty, all the covered trays of food having been moved to the table.
“I made you breakfast twice,” he said, sitting down. “This appears to be room service. Doesn’t count.”
“If you tried my cooking, you’d argue differently,” she said with a smile.
She reached over, grabbed a pot and started pouring him some tea.
“I hope you like tea?” she asked as she poured.
“I usually go for coffee in the morning.”
“Tea is much more civilized,” she said.
“Then tea it is.”
Leslie lifted the lid on his breakfast to see a hearty meal of scramble eggs, sausages, hash browns and toast awaiting him.
“A traditional breakfast,” she said to him, “something substantial to help you throughout the day.”
“Looks good to me.”
They ate in silence for a bit, just enjoying the morning and each other’s company.
“I was thinking about that list you found on my computer,” said Leslie after a while.
Gail looked up at him.
“The one Harry was on. Circled,” said Leslie. “I was thinking that after what happened the other night, it was best we just forget it exists.”
“Why’s that?”
“For one thing, you’ll no longer have the element of surprise if you go after anyone in Morgan Neil’s gang. After the scene we left at Harry’s I’d imagine he and his men are going to be on high alert.”
“No one suspects a beautiful woman,” she said with a smile.
“If you think you’re actually going to get to Morgan, you’re mistaken. You don’t know who he is; what he means to this city. Killing him would be impossible.”
“Everyone is vulnerable in one way or another,” she said matter-of-factly.
“It’s just not a good idea, Gail.”
“I’ve always been careful.”
“Yet you almost got yourself killed the other night.”
“But I’m still here.”
They continued eating in silence.
“I’ve changed my mind,” said Leslie.
Gail looked up at him once again.
“Revenge, it’s not for me,” he said.
She just looked at him.
“Harry is dead,” he said. “I don’t feel any better. If a
nything it bothers me.”
“Why feel bad about the death of evil?” she asked.
“Because I’m not evil,” he said. “It’s just not right. You’ve read about my father; what he did, what he was capable of. How many people did he hurt? How many people did he kill? Now there’s Morgan and his men doing the same. It’s a cycle of violence, and if I get drawn into it, like I have, I’m just continuing that cycle. It has to stop somewhere; maybe I’m the generation of Marshalls that has to do that, that has to stop the violence. I’ve spent so much time obsessing about the past and what it did to me, that maybe I haven’t spent enough time appreciating the present and what I have, what I’ve been given.”
“What does killing make me?” she asked. She was looking at him intently, almost challenging.
“Look at your art,” he said. “You’re capable of such beauty.”
“A cliché,” she said.
“How long do you think you can get away with it? Does it really enrich your life?”
Leslie just looked at her. He desperately wanted to save her. They were both damaged, and if they could fix themselves, put their pasts behind them, that would be a great victory. He wanted to save her, but could he?
“Enjoy your eggs,” she said, ignoring his questions.
Gail sat at the window of the coffee shop not far from Lakeview’s legendary Raven Club. She’d read about it at the library when scanning the newspapers. This is where Morgan Neil conducted business, so it was where she needed to be. She sipped her green tea and used her newspaper as a cover; in a neighborhood like this it was important not to be too conspicuous; mobsters generally didn’t like people scoping them out.
Breakfast had been interesting; she could understand Leslie’s reluctance to continue killing; he hadn’t been schooled in it like she had. He also didn’t realize how important it was that they continue. She could see the truth of the world, but the majority couldn’t, why would she suspect Leslie would be any different?
No one truly understood; only her Daddy. She had fled the home in which her Daddy had been murdered by the evil of this world, after taking a shower and changing her clothes; walking around the streets late at night covered in blood was not a good idea for someone who was looking to avoid the authorities. It had taken everything she had in her to walk away, leaving her Daddy there. He deserved a hero’s funeral, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to give him one; nobody would understand.
After going to the hotel, where they were paid up for the month, and collecting her things, she headed to the other side of town and found a place to hole up. She knew she should put as much distance between her and this city as possible, but couldn’t bring herself to hit the road. Cutting and coloring her hair, she figured was enough to keep her safe; she’d taken nothing but cash from the evil people when she’d left their home, and she and her Daddy had built up a sizeable enough stash to take care of her for a couple of months if she was careful with the money. Even if they hadn’t, she couldn’t leave. She knew the scene of her Daddy’s death would draw media attention and she needed to be there to read what was being said.
Nobody understood.
The media coverage blamed her Daddy for everything. They identified him; he was Randall Lee, a onetime petty criminal who had done time for a series of robberies committed when he was seventeen. Of course, she knew that because she was Jennifer Lee.
Gail, a.k.a. Jennifer stayed in town as the story of her Daddy and the murders unfolded in the newspapers. Once the M.O. of these killings was reported, police departments across the country began making calls and tying other unsolved murders to her Daddy. At that point she could have left town as the story of her Daddy went national; they called him a serial killer and accused him of all kinds of things; she desperately wanted to call the newspapers and set them straight, tell them exactly what she and her Daddy were up to, so they could celebrate him as a hero, but she didn’t; her Daddy had told her more than once that regular people would never understand.
News coverage of her Daddy’s exploits, and all of those around the country that could be tied to him, hinted that he hadn’t worked alone; it was even reported by some who had remembered her Daddy that he had a daughter, but according to the newspapers there was no record anywhere that Randall had a biological daughter. She knew the truth; her Daddy would never have a baby with one of the evil people, they were just for punishing, he said she was his daughter because God had given her to him. Her Mommy had been one of the evil people and he had punished her; when he had finished doing so, he had looked at her in her crib and hadn’t seen any evil; it was then that he knew God had put her there to be his daughter and take care of her. They wouldn’t understand that and as such would never find her.
It had taken Gail a long time to find her way in life; her pleasure palace had helped her; men were interested enough in it they were willing to pay her for entry. She didn’t like it, and knew a lot of them were those amongst the evil people, but she needed money to survive. It had been one man, Cyrus Franklin, an artist, who had changed her life. He found her on the streets, had wanted to paint her and in the process had given her a place to live, no strings attached. He saw something in her, because Cyrus was different from most of the men she had known in that he didn’t want to put his thingy in her pleasure palace, but favored putting it in other men. She forgave him that, because he gave her a safe place to live, and under his care she had found art; a purpose in life.
Leslie wanted to know all this about her.
She understood he didn’t want to kill anymore. She had tried that. She had gone for the longest time, putting her past behind her, until that night Cyrus introduced her to LSD. She had taken the drug with him at first, and all seemed well, until that one day when she’d taken it while out; it was then that she saw what her Daddy had seen all those years; she had seen the evil; it was finally time to embrace her true destiny and resume her Daddy’s work, but with a difference. She didn’t want to lead the life they had led. She set about researching criminology, determined to discover everything she could about killing and cleaning the crime scene. She would punish the evil and she would be careful; the incident with Harry the other night had been the first time that the unexpected had happened - never again.
Gail ordered another green tea and took her place by the window. So far Morgan had only shown himself once, coming out of the club and speaking with some men, before returning back into it. Leslie was sure she couldn’t get close to Morgan, but she believed in the power of her pleasure palace and its appeal to men. As long as she did the proper research, she’d find a way to get to him and once she’d killed him – taken the head off the snake – the other two on Leslie’s list would be easy pickings. He didn’t want to kill anymore, but she knew he was mistaken; deep down he still wanted to kill, she’d just have to help him realize that fact.
Stakeouts were boring, and today at the Raven Club, there wasn’t a lot of activity; Gail was getting bored and contemplating moving on when she watched the Hispanic-looking man make his way across the street to the Raven Club, hesitate and then enter the club.
The bell rang throughout the factory indicating first break. Carlos Diaz stopped the conveyor belt that brought the boxes down from God knows where into the back of the transport truck he was loading. He and his fellow workers headed for the cafeteria/break room for their mandatory twenty minute break.
Carlos felt like a big man. He had mentioned to several of his co-workers he had visited the Raven Club the other day and had actually had a sit down with Morgan Neil. Everyone knew the Raven Club and Morgan by reputation, and the fact he had dared enter the place and shared a beer with Morgan, impressed them. Carlos didn’t tell them that the whole time he was there he was scared shitless, that he had fled the place as quickly as possible after meeting Morgan, and that he hadn’t actually shared a drink with the mobster, but had been given a drink and had a very brief audience with him. They didn’t need to know that, because as long a
s they thought he knew Morgan and could meet with him face to face, they thought he was a badass and he liked that.
Carlos filed into the cafeteria with all the others and found a table in the corner, with a few of his buddies. They liked to play a couple of quick hands of poker during break, and chat, but he didn’t feel like it today. Instead, he snatched up a copy of the Lakeview Sun, a tabloid newspaper that had been sitting at one of the tables, and began flipping through it. He was looking for more information regarding the murders that took place on his street. Having witnessed the killers making their getaway, and having known at least one of the victims, he felt like he was part of the story. He hadn’t told anyone at work he had seen the killers leave; for fear they might say something to someone who might pass the information along to the police. He’d approached Morgan with that information and didn’t think he’d understand if he found out he was also telling the same information to the police, even though there really wasn’t much to what he had to say.
As far as news coverage of the murders was concerned, there didn’t seem like much new that was worth reporting. A disappointment, but then again Morgan would probably get to the bottom of it long before the authorities. It was time to move to the Sports pages, but on the way, a journey through the Entertainment pages. Maybe there’d be some sexy shots of actresses, short on talent but big on sex appeal, to tease his mind along the way.