Deviation (11 page)

It was difficult finding a place to park on the city
streets at 12:27 in the morning, but Dianne managed to find one
three blocks from her apartment. She squeezed into it on her first
attempt, the bumpers of the other cars practically touching her own.

“Very well done,” Frank commented from the
passenger seat. “I don't think I would have been able to do
that.”

“I get lots of practice.”

They opened the doors and climbed out. The night was
very cool, almost cold, and the streets were dark and deserted. The
nearly full moon looked like a painting, illuminating a collection
of cumulus clouds spread out over Lake Michigan. They began walking
east, toward Dianne's apartment.

“Thank you for helping me with this,” she
said. “I know it's a big risk.”

“It's the least I can do.” Frank slipped
his hands into the pockets of his cassock, wishing he'd brought a
jacket. “It was on my advice you happened to... extinguish
him.”

“It was his own fault. He would have been
hitting me and torturing me for the rest of my life if I didn't do
something about it.”

“Exactly. Let us feel fortunate his reign of
terror is over. We'll dispose of him once and for all and enable
you to move on.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the apartment
coming into view. Frank was feeling fairly good, having smoked the
last of his meth before heading out. He'd only gotten a single hit
out of it, but it was enough to temper his withdrawal symptoms and
provide him with a little extra vitality. He knew it was likely to
be a long time before he smoked it again and he was doing his best
not to think about it.

“This is the place,” Dianne said, pulling
out her keys.

Frank stopped her before she reached the front steps.
“Which windows are yours?”

She had to backtrack several paces in order to point
them out. They were all on the north side of the building, facing
the alley. “Those four,” she said. “Third
floor.”

Frank glanced up at them approvingly and then took
notice of the row of disposal units lined up along the perimeter
fence. “A fitting resting place for the king.”

Dianne noted where he was looking. “You want to
put him in the dumpster?”

“It would be easiest, and perfectly effective.
The sanitation workers will provide him with his final burial when
they get him to the landfill. Does he deserve any better?”

She didn't hesitate. “No.”

“I didn't think so.” He glanced back up
at the building. Almost every window on the north side was dark, as
were the windows in the building across the alley. “We may as
well get started. This won't take long at all.”

* * *

Upstairs, they were greeted with plenty of fresh air.
The apartment was cold, a moderate breeze gusting in through the
windows and billowing the curtains. When Dianne switched on the
lights, she gasped as the scene of the massacre came into view. The
butchered corpse looked even more horrifying than she remembered; it
was bloated and discolored, the countless cuts and gashes crusted
over with dried blood.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, staring at
the blood-splattered walls. “I'd forgotten how horrible it
was.”

Frank stepped in quickly, shutting the door behind
him. His eyes went everywhere, taking it all in. He smiled. “You
did quite a job on him.”

She felt suddenly sick. “I don't think I'm
going to be able to do this.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “Get
yourself something to drink. And get me a utility knife, if you
have one. I'll take care of this, Dianne.”

She nodded, feeling very grateful. Averting her eyes,
she stepped past the worst of the gore and entered the kitchen. The
refrigerator was stocked with soda and beer. She pulled out two
cans of High Life and set them on the counter. There was a drawer
near the sink in which she kept an assortment of random tools, and
she opened it and rifled through the contents, looking for a utility
knife. Just when she thought she wasn't going to be able to find
one, she found two of them. She grabbed them both and closed the
drawer. Then, after pausing to gather the beer, she returned to the
living room and found Frank sliding the couch across the room. He'd
dumped Cliff's body onto the badly stained carpeting.

“You're pretty strong,” she commented.
“I'd never have been able to do that.”

“It's not difficult.” He shoved the couch
against the bedroom doorway and stepped back over to her. “Are
one of those for me?”

She handed him a can of beer and one of the knives,
and they both opened their cans and drank. Then Frank set his beer
on an end table and slid the end of the razor blade out from the
knife handle. “This will do fine. You don't have any twine,
do you? Or rope?”

She took another drink of beer and set her can down
beside his. “I'm not sure. I'll check.” She returned
to the kitchen and began looking though the lower cabinets. She
hoped she'd be able to find something for him there; otherwise she'd
have to get her noose down from the closet, and she didn't want him
to see it, despite her having told him about it earlier. She got
lucky and found an old clothesline, still in the package. She took
it and returned to Frank, surprised to see him crawling around on
the floor near Cliff's corpse, slicing through the carpet with the
razor knife.

She stood watching him until he noticed she was there.

“Any luck with the rope?” he asked.

Dianne held up the clothesline.

“Good. That will be fine.” He lowered
his head and continued cutting through the carpet. He cut a large
square of it, which held virtually all of the bloodstains and the
corpse itself. Then he set the knife aside and stood up, stretching
his back. Something popped audibly and it caused him to wince. He
rubbed at it and crossed the room, reclaiming his beer and taking a
long drink.

“Are you okay?” Dianne asked.

“Fine. Just not as young as I once was.”
He took another gulp. “All part of god's plan, of course.”

She nodded, tearing open the clothesline. “He's
got a plan for everything.”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“What about this?” She held up the rope.
“Is there something I can do to help?”

“Yes. Cut it in half.” Frank set his beer
down and crossed over to one end of the square he'd cut in the
carpet. He began to roll it up, slowly, with Cliff's body at the
center. When he reached the other end of the square, Cliff's body
was no longer visible. He was wrapped up like a tamale.

Dianne sensed what he was doing and brought over the
two pieces of rope. She helped him slide one of them around each
end of the roll of carpet and cinch them tightly. Frank was good at
tying knots, and in no time at all the whole package was secure and
ready to be transported.

“How are we going to get him down there?”
Dianne asked.

Frank was stretching his back again. “Hold off
on that. There are a few other things we ought to take care of as
well.”

The upholstered couch, at one time a uniform blue, was
heavily stained with blood. He quickly pulled the three cushions
from it and stacked them in the corner. Then, after retrieving his
utility knife, he began slicing through the fabric and ripping away
the worst of the stains.

Dianne stood sipping her beer, watching. “I'm
starting to feel useless. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Yes. When you're finished with your beer,
please go back downstairs. Make sure no one is lurking around in
the alley, or observing from anywhere nearby. Signal me and I'll
start tossing this stuff down.” He ripped another piece of
fabric from the couch and threw it on the pile. “It will be
much faster than carrying it down all those steps.”

“I'll go down now.”

“Whenever you're ready. Be sure to stay out of
the way so I don't accidentally drop anything on you.”

“Alright.” She took another long drink of
High Life and set the can down on the table. Then she checked to
make sure she had her keys and exited the apartment.

Frank finished stripping down the couch. He then
removed most of the fabric from the big chair, which was also
covered in blood. When he was done he stepped over to the windows
and studied them, trying to determine which one would work most
efficiently. They all looked about the same. He chose the one
closest to the corpse and raised it as far as it would go. There
was a screen behind it, and he spent a moment figuring out how to
remove it. When he succeeded in getting it loose he noticed Dianne
stepping into view down below; she was giving him a thumbs-up.

He returned the signal and set the screen aside. Then
he began tossing out the couch cushions and scraps of bloody fabric.
When he was finished he signaled Dianne again and watched as she
went about gathering the mess and loading it into the dumpster.

Not wanting to waste time, Frank turned away from the
window and braced himself for the real job. It was going to be
extremely difficult without any help. He bent over, grabbed one end
of the rolled-up carpet and pulled it as close to the window as
possible.

“Alright, my lord,” he said aloud. “I'm
not really sure how you're perceiving all this, but please let these
ropes hold. The alternative is simply too much for me to deal with
right now.”

He lifted the end of the roll higher and dragged it
further toward the window, poking it partially outside. Below, he
could see Dianne tossing the last of the fabric into the dumpster.
It looked as though there was still plenty of room inside for Cliff.
He pulled further and shoved outward, the roll now hanging out the
window by a good two feet.

Dianne was looking up at him, appearing surprised.
She did a quick pantomime with her hands, seemingly asking if he was
really going to drop Cliff out the window.

Rather than answer, Frank hoisted the bundle up and
out another foot. It was almost halfway out the window now. One
more good shove and its own weight would send it sliding over the
edge.

He peeked out at Dianne again, making certain she
wasn't standing beneath the window where she could get hit. She
wasn't. She had her back to the dumpster, glancing around to ensure
no one was observing them. When Frank caught her eye, he shrugged.

Dianne hesitated, looking around again. Then she
nodded.

Frank lifted the tail end of his bundle and gave it a
mighty shove. It slid out the window rapidly, the end of the carpet
striking against the lower portion of the frame with enough force to
crack the wood and glass. Then it was gone, disappearing into the
night.

He heard it crash to the ground before he had a chance
to look outside. It had made a surprisingly loud smack when it
struck the concrete. From his view at the window, it appeared that
the ropes had held. The corpse was still concealed within the
carpet.

“Thank you, my lord. Thy will be done.”

Dianne was staring up at him. He held up one finger,
signaling he'd be right down to help. Pausing for a moment to
finish his beer, Frank stretched his back again. It was really
beginning to hurt. Then he hurried across the room and let himself
out of the apartment.

* * *

In the alley, he found Dianne pulling bags of trash
out of the dumpster. He watched her for a moment before he realized
what she was doing.

“Good idea,” he whispered. “Are you
sure you've never done this before?”

She appeared to smile in the faint light of the moon.
“Positive.” She pulled out two more bags and set them
aside.

“I think that's good enough. Let's get this
over with.”

She stepped over to him, her long hair whipping in a
sudden gust of wind. “I didn't realize you were going to
throw him out the window. I should have helped you with that.”

“I needed you down here, watching. Suppose
someone walked by?”

“I guess.”

“Come on. You can help me now.” He bent
down and grabbed the rope at the end of the bundle closest to the
dumpster. Dianne grabbed the other side and they half-carried,
half-dragged it as close as they could. She then joined Frank and
helped him lift his end until they had the roll of carpet standing
almost upright and leaning on the edge of the dumpster.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Frank was laboring for breath. He hadn't worked this
hard in a long time. “I'm fine. I'll probably just be sore
in the morning.”

“Maybe we should take a quick break.”

“No. Not now. Let's get him in there.”

They each bent lower and got a hold of the bottom
rope. With Dianne helping, it was much easier than Frank had
feared. They lifted the lower end up and out, and as they lifted
they slid the roll sideways so that it drooped lengthwise into the
dumpster. It was over before they allowed themselves to realized
how heavy it was.