The Merry Pranked (16 page)

Leslie, regaining his thoughts, watched as Gail sliced the chainsaw through Corrigan’s neck, only hesitating a bit where the spine attached to the skull or something like that, and then proceeding on as if his neck were butter. He watched as it lobbed off and fell to the ground, followed shortly after by his body, falling backwards, not quite hitting the ground, but propped up a bit by his legs. His mind wanted to snap shut; he’d seen too much tonight and wasn’t sure he could handle it; especially looking at Gail, who was looking down at him; she was covered in blood.

Leslie struggled to his feet as Gail moved to her duffel bag and put the chainsaw back into it. Once she had zipped it shut, she turned to Leslie.

“My hero,” she said with a smile.

This was all too surreal; Leslie couldn’t help wondering if he was actually at home with Gail and she had slipped him another LSD tablet?

“You bring your car?” she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Leslie shook his head,
Yes
.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” she said to him. “Just give me a minute in here.”

Leslie just looked at her, stunned.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” she said firmly.

Leslie just nodded and like one of the living dead, stumbled out of Harry’s house.

Each step seemed to bring about fresh moments of agony; the pain seemingly finding every nook and cranny in his body to invade and stimulate. He didn’t know who that last guy was, but he certainly hadn’t been human. He hadn’t been nearly as wounded as that guy had been and he wasn’t so sure he could make it to his car without passing out - but he did. Leslie got behind the wheel and thanked his lucky stars he was now sitting down; it provided a bit of relief, but not much.

Leslie watched the house. It took about fifteen minutes, but finally Gail appeared at the front door. She had her duffel bag with her. Even though he was really the only car sitting on the street, Leslie flashed his headlights. She immediately headed over to the car and got in the passenger seat.

“What about your car?” asked Leslie.

“It’s stolen,” she said. “Let’s go.”

That was good enough for him. Leslie turned the key in the ignition, turned on the headlights and started down the street. He suddenly had a strong desire to put as much distance between this place and himself as he could.

Carlos Diaz was restless. From time to time he suffered from bouts of insomnia; it drove him crazy yet he was helpless. The more he thought about it the more it got to him. He had learned, after many long, uncomfortable sleepless nights that the only way to deal with it was to get out of bed and find something to do. If he stayed in bed, he’d just torture himself watching the clock and counting the minutes until his alarm would go off and he knew he had a full day’s work ahead of him. Getting up and doing something, still made him aware he was losing sleep, and another full day of work still lay ahead, but at least he was occupying himself with something. It wasn’t perfect but it helped.

It was the motorcycles roaring up the street at this time of night that first caught his attention. It wasn’t exactly new, he knew who lived across the street and knew the rumors that he was one of Morgan Neil’s old friends and long time member of his crew. He and the other neighbors knew that and didn’t really care. It wasn’t like they were living in the safest neighborhood the city had to offer and Harry’s presence on the street probably made it safer than it should have been. The street that John Gotti had lived on in New York was also probably the safest in that city. Sure you were living next door to a killer, but that killer would make sure nothing untoward happened on a street in which he and his family lived. Harry wasn’t married, but Carlos figured he didn’t want any trouble close to home either. Really, all he and the rest of the neighbors had to deal with were some unsavory looking fellas showing up from time to time and sometimes very late at night. He figured he probably wasn’t the only one who heard the motorcycles; others probably had as well, but why get up and look, they knew where they were heading and knew it was none of their business; just roll over and go back to sleep. They didn’t suffer from insomnia.

Carlos watched as the two bikers went into Harry’s house. He’d seen them before. What really caught his attention was the man sitting in his car, obviously watching Harry’s place. Shortly after the bikers had disappeared into the house, the man had gotten out of his car and headed towards Harry’s. Carlos hoped it was a cop, because if it was some other fool, he was sneaking up on the wrong fella’s home. Curious, he kept watching as the man eventually kicked the front door in and entered. That action was quickly followed by what sounded like gunshots; not that Carlos knew what gunshots sounded like, just that he didn’t suspect they were in there playing with firecrackers, and gunshots seemed like the most logical explanation; now for any normal concerned citizen that would be the time to rush to the phone and dial 911; not in this case and in this neighborhood. Something was going down at Harry’s place, and he didn’t want any part of it. Whatever was happening, it’d have to let itself play out without his interference.

What sounded like two more gunshots rang out and then silence. Carlo’s kept watching; it was either that or suffer through some more of those late-night infomercials. He watched as the man, who might or might not be a cop, stumbled out of the house and made his way back to his car. He then watched as a woman exited the house, carrying a duffel bag. She was quite the looker; Carlos couldn’t take his eyes off of her and didn’t until the car carrying her and the other guy, a cop or not, pulled away and drove off into the night. Carlos sighed, went to his recliner, picked up the TV remote and resigned himself to a couple of hours of infomercials; he knew what Hell was like.

chapter
FIFTEEN

“what
THE
hell just happened?” asked Leslie, sneaking a glance at Gail in the passenger seat while he also tried to concentrate on keeping his car on the road. He hurt like hell; every little movement seemed to bring on new pain. His mind was also trying to process what he’d just been through and having one hell of a job doing so.

“You were there,” said Gail.

He looked over at her briefly and then back at the road. She almost seemed nonchalant in her demeanor, as if nothing had happened, as if twenty minutes ago or so she hadn’t lopped off some guy’s head with a chainsaw.

“What were you doing at Harry’s house?” he asked.

“You know his name?”

Leslie just looked at her, then back to the road. An uncomfortable silence filled the car.

“I was doing you a favor,” Gail finally said.

“Doing me a favor?” he repeated.

Gail reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. She unfolded it and showed it to Leslie. He immediately recognized the picture flow chart of Morgan Neil’s criminal organization that he had on his laptop; he immediately recognized the four men whom he had circled.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked.

“Snooping, remember?” she said. “You want these four men dead, don’t you? You want them dead but you’ve never been able to do anything about it. Right?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Revenge, Leslie, revenge. It’s in your heart and your soul. I’ve seen it. You just can’t find a way to tap into it. You were there that night. You did witness your family’s murder, and you’ve been kicking yourself ever since because you didn’t do anything to save them. You couldn’t. Not then. But you can avenge their deaths. You want to avenge their deaths, but fear is holding you back.”

“You’re insane.”

“Were you following me?” she asked after a bit of silence.

“What?”

“Were you following me?”

“Why would I be doing that?”

“Exactly,” she said. “You were following Harry, the man you circled in the picture, right? You were following him and trying to work up the courage to take him on and make him pay for what he did to your family. I assume the four men circled are the killers who came to your parent’s home that night.”

“You’re still insane.”

“What? For killing him? That’s what you wanted to do. You were following him and trying to work up the courage to do it; I just beat you to the punch, thank you very much.”

Leslie shook his head but said nothing. The problem was she was right; he had been staking out Harry and trying to work up the courage to do what she did to him. She had pulled off what he never knew if he could. It was infuriating.

“You shot a man tonight,” said Gail breaking the silence once again. “You took a man’s life. You finally pulled the trigger. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Are you out of your mind? Feel good? Oh, man.”

“You shot and killed a dirt bag, Leslie. Is that really going to mentally torment you? Get over it. Suck it up Princess.”

Suck it up, Princess,
he thought, before chuckling a little.
Did she really just say that?

“You were sloppy, though,” said Gail. She pulled his gun from out of her coat pocket and showed it to him. “Would have left this behind. You weren’t thinking. You have to be smart about these things.”

“You can keep it,” he said.

Gail laughed.

“What’s so damned funny?” he asked.

“Keep it,” she said, “Hell Leslie, you’re going to need it, we still have three circles to deal with.”

Leslie didn’t know what to think. He was definitely in over his head.

You never know what the morning holds and on this particular morning Harry Madwin’s neighbors were in for a beehive of activity as police cruisers, marked and unmarked, investigation vehicles and police hearse vans filled their quiet little street. Police tape had completely cordoned off Harry’s home, with uniformed police officers standing guard to hold back the crowd of onlookers.

Inside the house, Detectives Ray Michaels and Bryan Stork approached Police Detective Eunice Carroll, a middle-age veteran of the Lakeview Police Department. They were mingling amongst a crime scene photographer and various forensic personnel who were documenting the crime scene.

“Looks like the fucking
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
in here,” said Detective Carroll as Ray and Bryan took in the scene. As they surveyed the living room, they realized she wasn’t that far off the mark.

“All this happened late last night and no one in the neighborhood called 911?” asked Ray.

“We only picked up this crime scene due to an anonymous phone call from a pay phone early this morning. Other than that, these three would be still laying here rotting,” said Carroll.

“This mess, and let me guess, no one heard or saw anything,” said Ray.

“Chances are the whole goddamned neighborhood was up and paying attention,” said Carroll. “Doesn’t really matter, in this neighborhood, we’re the enemy. We’ll question everyone on the street, but I can guarantee you we’ll come up with nothing. It’s just the way it is. You guys are from uptown, we’re downtown. It’s a whole different world down here, and a hell of a lot more dangerous.”

“That’s right, Detective,” said Bryan, “we’re uptown, but here we are, downtown.”

“I’ve heard about that case you two caught, the mutilated bodies. Based on what I found here, I figured you’d be interested in taking a look. The body on the couch, it’s been cut apart, more so than the fellow over here who just lost his head.”

“What do you make of it?” asked Bryan.

“The cut up victim, well, I’d say for the perp to do to him what he did, that would take some time,” said Carroll. “The other two? I figure that’s the killer running out of time. I figure he was hard at work cutting up the one on the couch when the other two showed up unexpectedly. Can’t quite figure out how it all played out, based on the positioning of the bodies, but one was shot and killed instantly, and the other, well that’s a mess on its own. Initial examination, he didn’t go down easily.”

“We have a case concerning two mutilated bodies, but each was laid out in...well...I guess you could call it an artistic manner,” said Ray.

“C’mere, I want to show you something else,” said Carroll, motioning for Ray and Bryan to follow her over to one of the shelves in the room. “You ever saw anything like this?”

Ray and Bryan looked to where she was pointing.

“Seems like this all came from the one the killer was dissecting,” said Carroll.

Nailed to the shelf were two eyes, nails right through them. Also nailed there were Harry’s limp penis and balls.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” said Ray as he took in the sight.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” said Bryan.

“What’s that?” asked Carroll.

“We’ve seen this before,” said Ray. “Fuck me. Our killer likes to display the same at his crime scenes. Our killer, however, has been praying on Wall Street types.” Ray took a second to look around at his surroundings. “This doesn’t look like the home of a Wall Street type.”

“The one that’s hacked apart,” said Bryan, “make sure the body is checked for traces of LSD. We’ve found it in the bodies of our other victims.”

“So what do you think? Could it be the same killer?” asked Carroll.

“Fuck me if it is,” said Ray. “This adds a whole new wrinkle to the case. This isn’t a Wall Street guy. Different M.O. in picking the victim. Why? It just opens up a whole new can of worms. Doesn’t make any sense.”

“Who is this guy anyway?” asked Bryan.

“That’s the interesting part, gentleman,” said Carroll. “Name’s Harry Madwin. A pretty high ranking member of Morgan Neil’s crew. The other two are also known associates.”

“Morgan Neil?” said Ray.

“You’re shitting me,” said Bryan.

“Detectives,” said a young Police Officer poking his head in the front door, “You’d better get out here.”

Detectives Carroll, Ray and Bryan made their way out the front door and stood on the porch.

“Son-of-a-bitch, look who’s here?” said Bryan.

Getting out of a car that had pulled up behind the police cars was none other than Morgan Neil and Sal Lunkin.

“What do you think?” said Bryan, “Returning to the scene of the crime?”

“Let’s find out,” said Carroll making her way down the porch steps.

The three of them headed over to Morgan and Sal, who had been stopped by a uniform police officer at the yellow police tape cordoning off Harry’s home.

“What’s happened, Detectives?” Morgan asked as soon as they were close enough.

“You’ll have to wait and read about it in the official report,” said Carroll, “but, wait a second, that’s right, you’re not a member of the police force. You won’t have access to the report.”

“Cute Detective,’ said Morgan a little annoyed. “This is one of my neighborhoods. You tell me or you don’t, I’ll know long before that report is ever written.”

“Madwin was one of your men, wasn’t he,” asked Ray.

“One of my men? Whatever are you talking about, Detective?” asked Morgan. “I’m here because I heard a friend of mine’s house was crawling with pigs.”

“A step up from the usual swine it’s crawling with,” said Carroll.

Morgan just looked at her, unamused.

“Anything stashed in the house you’re concerned we might find?” asked Bryan.

“Not my house, Detective,” said Morgan. “Whatever you find, well, I guess you’ll just have to talk to the home owner. Is that still possible?”

Ray laughed. “Nice try. Whatever’s happened here we’ll take care of it. You’d be best to get in your car, turn around, and leave well enough alone. Hate to ruin your morning by slapping an obstruction of justice charge on you for interfering with a police investigation.”

“Police investigation,” said Morgan. “That’s right; leave it up to the cheap suits to solve anything? That’s a laugh.”

“Nevertheless, you have no place here, Morgan,” said Ray, “although, as long as you’re here, I wouldn’t mind sitting down with you and talking about the death of your good friend Joe Weldon? What do you say?”

“Kiss my ass, Detective.”

“We’re through here, Morgan,” said Carroll, “I suggest you go crawl back into your hole.”

Detectives Carroll, Ray and Bryan turned and started heading back to the house. They had a lot of work ahead of them, and it was obvious they weren’t going to get anywhere with Morgan, so why waste any more time.

Morgan and Sal watched them walk away.

“If there’s someone stupid enough to try and move into our turf, I want to know about it today,” said Morgan to Sal.

“Got it, boss,” said Sal.

“Let’s get out of here. I want to know what’s going on even before the cops do.”

Without saying anything more, Morgan and Sal returned to their car. They had a lot of work to do.

Off to the side, standing amongst his curious neighbors, Carlos watched as Morgan and Sal got into their car and pulled away. He’d seen Morgan’s picture many times over the years in the newspapers.
I guess the neighbors were right,
he thought to himself,
Harry did work for Morgan. Interesting.

Leslie lay in bed listening to the sound of the shower. It had been a long night and he really hadn’t slept. He and Gail had returned to his place; they were able to pull into the underground parking and take the elevator right up to his floor and his apartment. At that time of night, they didn’t run into anyone; anyone who would immediately know, upon looking at them, that something strange had happened.

They’d both cleaned up last night, Leslie wanted to wash away the blood, but first he had a drink. Gail headed straight for the shower and had actually invited him to join her; she had said something about now that they had shared in a kill they were closer to making love than fucking, so it would be special. He’d declined. The last thing on his mind had been sex.

He listened to her in the shower, humming some tune, enjoying herself, almost as if she were unaware that last night she had been responsible for three deaths. It
just
didn’t seem to bother her.

What had she been doing to Harry’s body when he’d entered the house? Everything had happened so fast, but from what he recalled, Harry’s body had been cut to pieces. He’d read about a similar case in the newspaper; a couple of finance guys who had been found murdered and cut to pieces.
Was it her?
What were the chances of two killers who liked to mutilate bodies running around the city at the same time?
Highly unlikely
, he figured.
Who or what had he let into his life?

Leslie moved to the kitchen and poured a coffee; he thought back over the events of last night. He had been stalking Harry with the intention of killing him if the opportunity came about. In his heart, he had been intending to kill a man. Based on what that man had done to him, he felt justified in doing so. But killing was killing. He knew he could wrap it up in whatever reason he wanted to, the simple fact of the matter was he was planning to take another life. So how was he different than Gail?