by AnonYMous
Munson again looked around, studying all three of them to see if they were exchanging sly looks with each other. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a white Fed Ex van pull into the parking lot. The others hadn’t noticed it yet. The arrival of another party could offer Randall, Candy and Gary the distraction they needed to stall and work out their stories. He needed answers quickly. Candy was his best bet. The waitress was a bag of nerves. ‘But you already told Randall and, excuse me,’ he turned his attention to the officer by the washroom. ‘What was your name again?’
‘Gary.’
‘Your full name.’
‘Gary Machin.’
‘Well, Gary Machin, seeing as Candy is in shock and can’t seem to remember shit, how about you fill me in on what she told you about the girl before she went into shock and forgot everything, and you went for a dump?’
Gary looked to Randall for guidance.
‘I told you, don’t look at him,’ Munson snapped. ‘Tell me about the girl.’
‘Umm, she ran into the field. That’s it, right Randall?’
‘That’s right,’ said Randall.
Munson eyeballed Gary in an attempt to unnerve him into revealing more information, if there was any. The uneasy silence was interrupted by the sound of the bell above the door at the entrance chiming. Everyone spun round to see who had entered the diner. A young man in a blue denim jacket and matching skinny jeans stared back at them with an embarrassed and apologetic look on his face.
‘Who are you?’ Randall asked.
‘Sorry, but I left my wallet here earlier,’ the man replied. ‘You know, when the masked guy pulled out the meat cleaver. I kind of ran out without thinking. Left my food and my wallet behind. Wasn’t really thinking what I was doing.’
‘I’ve got your wallet,’ said Candy stepping forward. She reached into the pouch on the front of her apron and pulled out a brown leather wallet. ‘Here you go,’ she said, holding it out over the counter.
‘What’s your name son?’ Munson asked as the man walked up to the counter and accepted the wallet from Candy.
‘Luke.’
‘You from round here Luke?’
‘Not really. I work for Fed Ex in Lewisville. I deliver parcels round here sometimes. That’s my van outside.’
Munson quickstepped over to him and peered over his shoulder at the Fed Ex van outside, pretending as if he hadn’t noticed it before. ‘Let me walk you out to your vehicle,’ he said, placing an arm around Luke’s shoulder. ‘I’d like to ask you a few things.’
Behind them Randall cleared his throat. ‘You know what? He should come with us to the police station for questioning. He could be a vital witness.’
‘You can have him when I’m finished with him,’ said Munson. ‘Stay here and look after Candy. She’s in shock.’
Munson guided Luke out to the parking lot. Once they were out of earshot of the diner, he released his grip on Luke’s shoulder. He pulled out his ID badge and flashed it at him. ‘I’m Jack Munson, FBI. I want you to tell me exactly what you saw when you were in the diner earlier.’
‘Okay,’ said Luke. The mention of the FBI seemed to have put him on edge. He glanced back into the diner at the watching audience inside.
‘Don’t look at them,’ said Munson. ‘Look at me. What happened when the Red Mohawk killed Arnold Bailey?’
‘Which one was Arnold Bailey?’
‘The guy with no head or fingers.’
‘Is that the guy he dragged into the washroom?’
‘That’s right. Arnold Bailey. Did he do anything to provoke an attack?’
Luke shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. This Arnold Bailey guy, he looked like he was ready for an argument with his girlfriend. She said something that pissed him off. But then the psycho fella put on a mask and walked up behind him with a fucking great big blade in his hand. He never saw it coming.’
‘What girlfriend?’
‘Huh?’
‘You said Arnold was having an argument with his girlfriend. What happened to her? What were they arguing about?’
‘It wasn’t an argument as such. I was sitting at a booth near them. His girlfriend, well, I think she was his girlfriend, anyway, she kinda tugged at his arm and said something about wanting to keep her baby.’
‘Her baby? What baby?’
‘I don’t know. I guess she was pregnant, or something.’
‘Did she look pregnant?’
‘No. But, y’know, I’m no expert. She definitely said she wanted to keep her baby though. But this guy, Arnold, he gave her a filthy look and she shut right up. And then like I said, the guy in the mask came over and chopped his fingers off with this big fucking meat cleaver. Two guys on a table near me got up to try and restrain him but he turned on them. I stayed put. Once the masked guy had killed the two other fellas he went back to Arnold and dragged him off towards the men’s room by his hair. That’s when I got up and ran the fuck out.’
‘What about the girl? What did she do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did she scream? Did she run away? What?’
Luke shrugged. ‘Fuck knows man. I didn’t hang about. People were going crazy, everyone was screaming and running for the exit. It was all a bit mad. Every man for himself, know what I mean?’
‘Yeah. So you didn’t see what happened to the girl?’
‘Sorry, no.’
‘That’s fine. I’m hearing that she ran over the road into that field over there. Know where she might be headed?’
Luke looked over at the field. ‘There’s nothing out there. Just one farmhouse. A weird transvestite farmer called Litgo lives there. I’ve delivered some strange parcels to him in the past. Other than that, it’s just fields and swampland.’
‘How do you get to Litgo’s?’
‘I drive. Why?’
‘No. I mean what roads do you take? Would you drive across that field to get to him?’
Luke looked puzzled. ‘Drive across the field? No. Hell, that would wreck the suspension on my van. There’s a dirt track a mile down the road that leads to Litgo’s. It ain’t perfect. It’s a bit bumpy and stuff but it’s safer than driving across the field.’
‘So why would anyone drive across the field? Munson asked, recalling the sight of the police squad car racing across it earlier.
‘Shortcut I guess,’ said Luke. ‘You’d have to be in one helluva hurry though.’
Munson looked out across the field. The police car that had driven out that way had long since vanished over the horizon.
‘There’s a dirt track a mile down the road, you say?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Is it signposted?’
‘Yeah. You can’t miss it. But if you’re planning on paying Litgo a visit, watch your step. He’s kind of paranoid. Because of his isolated location he’s been burgled quite a few times, so these days he leaves little traps around to catch out intruders.’
Munson smirked. ‘Like what? Landmines?’
‘No one knows, but the last guy who tried to rob him ended up in hospital for a week after something strange happened to him at that place.’
‘I’m not planning on robbing him, so I’ll take my chances,’ said Munson. ‘But thanks for the heads up.’
Twenty Four
Benny was relieved that Baby hadn’t had much to say since he’d picked her up from Litgo’s place. She seemed dazed and quite shaken, which was hardly surprising considering what kind of day she’d had. She’d seen Arnold murdered, been shot in the arm by Reg the chef from the diner and had then lost consciousness in a house owned by a man dressed as Supergirl.
‘How you feeling?’ Benny asked. ‘You okay? You look tired.’
‘I am tired. And my arm is still throbbing.’
‘You should close your eyes and try to sleep. That will help.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah. Trust me. When you’ve been shot, the best thing to do is sleep. That’s what any doctor worth his s
alt will tell you.’
‘Really?’
‘Uh huh. Try it. You’ll feel better, I promise.’
Baby didn’t look convinced but she was timid by nature so she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
Perfect.
She was still under the misapprehension that Benny was driving her to the hospital. Now that he’d convinced her to close her eyes he could drive her back to The Beaver Palace without her realising and becoming hysterical.
Benny turned down the volume on the radio a few notches. He didn’t want anything noisy disturbing his passenger. Unfortunately within a minute of her closing her eyes his cell phone started ringing in his pocket. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel he fiddled around in his pocket until he managed to haul it out. The call was from Reg at the diner. He answered it just before it went to voicemail.
‘Hey Reg,’ he said, keeping his voice down. ‘What’s up?’
‘Did you get the girl from Litgo’s place yet?’
‘Yeah. Didn’t he tell you?’
‘I tried calling him but he’s not answering.’
‘You know what he’s like. He’s probably tied himself up in Wonder Woman’s golden lasso again, or drunk some of that poison he leaves lying around for burglars.’
Reg laughed politely for a moment before his voice took on a more serious tone. ‘Thing is there’s something else you need to know.’
‘What’s that?’
‘An FBI agent dropped by the diner just now. He knows there was a girl with Arnold and that she ran off in the direction of Litgo’s place. Candy thinks he’s going out to Litgo’s to see if he can find her. That’s why I need to get hold of Litgo so I can warn him.’
‘Damn. I heard someone from the FBI was coming to town. We can’t have this asshole talking to Litgo. Litgo’s no good in a pressure situation like that. He’ll crack. You’d better keep trying to call him because he could seriously fuck this up.’
‘It’s already fucked up,’ Reg snapped. ‘This fucking Red Mohawk freak has brought a whole load of trouble to town with him. We’d better warn Mellencamp about it.’
‘Let me do that. I’m on my way to see him now. Thanks for the heads up Reg.’
‘No problem. Speak to you later.’
Benny hung up the phone and pondered the predicament. The last thing he needed was the FBI in B Movie Hell, questioning people like Litgo. If Litgo slipped up and blabbed about Baby then the next person the FBI would come looking for would be Benny.
‘Bad news?’ Baby asked.
Benny had forgotten about her for a minute and was annoyed to see that she wasn’t trying to sleep. ‘No, nothing too bad.’ He smiled disingenuously at her.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘What’s that?’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Oh. I’m taking you home.’ He stared ahead at the road, but out of the corner of his eye he could see her face drop. The last place this girl would have wanted to go was back to The Beaver Palace. But it was for her own good.
‘Home?’ said Baby, the disappointment evident in her voice.
‘Yeah. You know, The Beaver Palace.’
‘But my arm. I need to go to the hospital.’
‘I’m taking you there afterwards. I’ve got to make sure Mr Mellencamp can see that you’re safe first. He’s been very worried about you, especially after what happened to Arnold.’
‘Please,’ her voice reeked of desperation. ‘Please don’t take me back there.’
‘Baby,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s for your own good.’
‘Who was that on the phone?’
‘No one.’
‘It was Reg wasn’t it?’
Benny could feel himself becoming irritated by Baby’s constant questioning. ‘Yes. It was Reg.’
‘I think it was him who shot me in the arm.’
Benny took a deep breath. ‘Baby, if I was you I’d concentrate on working out how you’re going to apologise to Mr Mellencamp for all the trouble you’ve caused today. If it wasn’t for you Arnold would still be alive. Mr Mellencamp is pretty upset about that. So instead of worrying about who shot you in the arm, maybe you should start worrying about where the next bullet’s going to hit you.’
Twenty Five
Dominic Touretto had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. Fonseca wasn’t just a great deal stronger than any of the other women that he had sexually assaulted, she also had a mastery of martial arts at her disposal.
She hadn’t had any need to use her fighting skills for some time, but the old instincts were still there. As the naked figure of Touretto lunged towards her, she twisted around, backed into him, stamped the heel of her right shoe down onto his foot and positioned herself ready to throw him over her shoulder.
Touretto yelled out in pain as the heel of her shoe crushed his toes. He wrapped his right arm around her neck and pressed his body up against her back. It was a predictable move and exactly what she was hoping he would do. As she felt his semi-erect penis press into her back she made her move. She leant forward, grabbed Touretto under his armpit and threw him over her shoulder. He crashed onto the floor in front of her. A loud slapping sound echoed around the room, similar to the sound of someone belly flopping into a swimming pool from the high board. The impact of his back on the floor knocked the stuffing out of him instantly. He lay dazed on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes blinked furiously as he tried to make sense of what had just happened to him.
Fonseca knelt down behind him and grabbed his head, lifting it up from the floor. She wrapped an arm around his throat and squeezed hard, closing off his windpipe. He struggled for a while, but to no avail. Fonseca was too strong for him. The lack of oxygen to his brain coupled with the dizziness he felt from hitting the ground moments earlier made his attempts to free himself futile. When he was on the verge of losing consciousness Fonseca eased her grip on him and lowered his head back onto the floor. She twisted him over onto his front. He let out a tired groan and attempted to climb back to his knees.
Fonseca spotted a stick of roll-on deodorant on the bedside table. She reached over and grabbed it. She flicked the lid off, all the while pressing her knee into the back of her helpless opponent. She grabbed a clump of his hair and pulled his head back. He was now in exactly the position she wanted him. To his great surprise and horror she rammed the lubricated end of the deodorant stick right up his asshole.
It woke him up from his dazed state in an instant. His body tensed and he let out a croaking noise from his throat. Fonseca pressed the deodorant in as far it would go.
‘How does that feel?’ she yelled in his ear. ‘Huh? How the fuck does that make you feel you sick fuck?’
Touretto yelled out in pain. ‘Ow! Fuck. FUCK. FUCK! Not good. I give in. I’m sorry. Aaaaaagh!’
Fonseca pulled the deodorant stick halfway out of his ass, then rammed it back in twice as hard as before. Touretto screamed out in pain again. Fonseca let go of the deodorant and grabbed a hold of his scrotum. She squeezed it tightly and dug her fingernails in hard. His screams became even more high-pitched.
‘If you don’t want me to rip your balls off you’d better fucking behave,’ she said, speaking calmly and clearly into his ear.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry,’ he squealed.
‘Now tell me something. If the door is locked, what’s the best way for me to get out of here?’
‘You can’t.’
She squeezed his balls hard. ‘That’s not what I wanted to hear. When you need attention in this place, how do you get it? How can we get Dr Carter to come back and unlock the door before I slice your junk off?’
‘That’s not the real Dr Carter,’ Touretto groaned.
‘What?’
‘The patients took over the asylum a few days ago. That woman who was just in here wasn’t the real Dr Carter. She’s a patient here. A group of patients overpowered the doctors and nurses last week. It’s how Joey Conrad escaped. This asylum is
being run by the inmates.’
Milena Fonseca let go of his balls and stood back. ‘Don’t move,’ she said. ‘You make one tiny movement and I’ll kick that deodorant so far up your ass you’ll be using it as a breath mint.’
The pathetic naked figure of Dominic Touretto remained on all fours, his ass up in the air with the bottom end of a deodorant stick poking out. He had managed to maintain his erection throughout the vicious assault Fonseca had inflicted upon him. In fact, if anything it was bigger and harder than it had been before she’d rammed the deodorant up his butt. It caught her eye and distracted her momentarily before she continued questioning him.
‘You’re telling me that this asylum is being run by the patients?’
‘Ever since last Tuesday.’
‘So, where are the real doctors?’
‘They’re all dead. Joey Conrad killed them all.’
Fonseca wasn’t sure what to make of the revelations. If she was to stand any chance of getting out of this asylum she was going to have to make some phone calls. She was thankful that she still had her phone with her. She fumbled around in her pocket for it.
‘If the patients have taken over, then how come you’re still in your room?’ she asked. ‘Why aren’t you pretending to be a doctor as well?’
‘I didn’t want to get in trouble. Pretending to be a doctor’s not my thing. I’m not crazy you know.’
Even though he had been warned not to move, Touretto reached back with one hand and began massaging his balls. Fonseca had squeezed them pretty hard and they were probably hurting like hell.
She kept one eye on him as she flicked through the menus on her phone. It was essential that she called Jack Munson right away. He would need to know about this, and fast. But before she had a chance to dial his number she heard a clicking sound. Someone opened the door behind her.
Twenty Six
Silvio Mellencamp’s day had been full of ups and downs and a damn sight more stress than he was used to. He hadn’t even had time to get properly dressed. He had a lot of things on his mind as he sat behind his desk in his favourite gold-coloured silk dressing gown.