Cool Hands’ place, or perhaps estate would be a better description, was located on the outskirts of the city, where many of the more affluent people resided. I wasn’t surprised after I’d just seen Talulu’s work space; her grandiose palace of lust. When we arrived at the front door Talulu said, “That’s strange; the door’s open.” And looking around up towards the veranda’s ceiling, “The cameras are gone too.”
As I slowly pushed the door open I whispered, “Stay here. I’ll see if it’s safe inside.”
“No way honey; I’m sticking to you like glue. You’ve saved my life already once tonight, no way am I staying here by myself.”
The entranceway was massive; even though it was dark, I could tell my whole apartment could easily fit into it and still have room to spare. As we made our way through the living room, Talulu holding onto to the back of my jacket, I could see a bit of light shining from a hallway. We stood quietly and listened before proceeding towards a half open door at the other end of the hall but everything seemed very quiet; too quiet. Cool Hands’ house was as quiet and almost as cold as a morgue’s refrigerated drawer. All I could hear and feel was Talulu’s warm breath against the back of my neck; which made the short hairs stand straight up. Man, the sex appeal that woman emitted was intense.
Either someone heard us come into the house and was waiting in the eerily lit room at the end of the hallway or they had left but whatever feeling that was pulsating behind that door wasn’t good. I’d been afraid up in Talulu’s love nest but everything had happened so quickly, I hadn’t any time to worry about the outcome. But after that bloody conflict, I didn’t know what to expect once we pushed this door open. I suppose we could have just left and that might have been the smartest thing to do but like a moth to a flame, we were both drawn to the light behind the door.
When we finally arrived at the door, after creeping very slowly and ever so cleverly down the hallway and pushed it wide open, we were greeted by the most horrible scene I could ever have imagined. The room itself was in no state of disarray, everything seemed to be in its immaculate place. The only thing out of order was the blood; it was splattered everywhere and bound to a chair near the centre of the room, I assumed was the body of Talulu's friend, Cool Hands. He was completely naked and tied to a chair and from the looks of his condition, he had been savagely beaten. Judging from the blows and the gory baseball bat lying at his feet on the thick, plush white carpet; he must have died slowly and in agony. I don’t think there was a bone in his whole body that hadn’t been cruelly busted; chunks of bone protruded through his flesh like voodoo needles and as my eye drifted away from the carnage, I saw an eyeball lying on the carpet.
Talulu was in a shock and became very angry at me when she saw me kneel down near the eyeball and look very closely. She half screamed and half whispered, “What the hell are you doing? Are you some kind of a perve?”
“I’m not looking at the eye. I’m looking at three strange roundish indentations in the carpet? Do you know if he had a small three-legged coffee table here?” And then the same pattern of indentations caught my eye on the other side of Cool Hands’ body. “Did he have two matching tables because I can’t see them anywhere in the room?”
Shaking her head, trying not to stare at her friend’s body Talulu stuttered, “No…oh…poor Cool Hands. No, he didn’t have any little tables like that.”
“And look at these two narrow ruts in the carpet; very odd.”
Upon hearing a distant siren drawing near, I grabbed Talulu’s hand and said “Let’s go; I don't know if that cop car is coming here or not but we sure as hell don’t want to be discovered in this place too.”
“But shouldn’t we do something about poor Cool Hands; I hate to leave him here like that.”
“There’s nothing we can do for him now; let’s go!”
Taking one last look over her shoulder at her dead friend, I pulled Talulu towards the door. “I know who did this!" she vehemently spouted. "It wasn’t the competition; some low-life pimp. No, the person or should I say sick perverted bastard who did this is none other than that filthy son of bitch that raped and beat the living crap out of me.”
"I agree, the three marks were most likely made by a tripod and the thin parallel ruts would certainly explain a wheelchair. The two goons who came after you were probably the same ones that beat Cool Hands to death.and I'll just bet you, he got his jollies off watching them. What a low-life creepy bastard; wouldn't surprise me if he’s at home right now watching a replay of Cool Hand being slaughtered with a baseball bat."
We could hear the siren blaring and see the lights flashing of the approaching cop car several blocks away as we strapped ourselves in and drove off. I looked at Talulu and said, “It’s time to get even. It’s time to call on a very sick bastard and give him the medication he needs! What’s the difference, I’ve already killed two guys tonight; might as well make it like a baseball game; strike three and he’s out. I hope you know where this bastard lives.”
Grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat Talulu said, “Oh yeah honey; I know where his lair is; don’t you worry about that.”
As we were driving by a small shopping centre, I spotted a telephone booth and said, "I'll just be a moment, I need to make a short phone call."
Thumbing through my wallet, I eventually dug out a dog-eared business card and started dialing a number. When a voice came on informing me that I’d reached the police station, I asked to talk to Sgt. Bernard Smith. He was a plainclothes detective I’d met one evening in a small pizza restaurant that had some rather shady events happening after hours. He'd been arm wresting with another cop in the booth in front of mine and when they finished, he challenged me to a bout. Now I’m not a small guy by any means and I’m not that weak but I knew I couldn’t possibly beat either one of them. I was about to decline when I noticed their big smiles and like a fool accepted the challenge. I thought I did pretty well but the two of them laid my arm out on the table pretty handily. It wasn’t until after we’d had a few beers, they told me who they were and what was going down. Apparently selling booze after hours was just a slight fine so they were waiting for the entertainment to begin; they were there to shut the business down permanently and lock up the owner. I told them that this was my first time to this place; heard it was like a 1920’s speak-easy and I was writing a novel – looking for a bit of first-hand colourful knowledge.
When I asked why they were waiting, they both smiled and pointed, “This.”
A sultry little vixen probably not more than 15 years of age (I learned later was the pizza owner's daughter) came swaying out from behind a curtain to the beat of some music that had been turned up. The place was full of men and they began cheering lustfully when she began taking off her clothes. As she went from table to table, men were stuffing money into her G-string while they fondled her – and I mean fondled her. When she arrived at our table, I couldn’t tell before, but now, as she stood looking at us and smiling, I could see in her eyes that she was just a scared little girl. We stuffed some money into her G-string and other than that, didn't touch her. When the music ended she went behind a curtain to deposit the money - where the greasy wop was waiting. It wasn't until she came back out and began dancing towards the patrons that I had a good idea of what was going to happen. I’d seen the owner talking to a man just before her performance began and he was beckoning to the girl to come closer to his booth. When she arrived, he ripped off her bra exposing her tiny breasts and then snapped her G-string off as well. As if searching for help, she looked around the room but no one was coming to her aid. When he pulled her to him, insisting she grope him while he did the same to her, I looked at the detectives imploringly, but Sgt. Bernard Smith (Bernie) said, “Not yet.”
Looking around the room, I noticed most of the men had left, only a very few remained. When the man dropped his drawers and set the naked girl on his lap, I knew it was going to be more than just a lap dance and that’s when Bernie and his partner made their move. His partner grabbed the little Italian and snapped the handcuffs on so fast; he hardly had time to blink and I watched with amazement when Bernie lifted the girl out of the booth and then grabbed the perverted molester by the hair, dragging him out of the booth, throwing him face first on the floor and then handcuffing his hands behind his back. I guess Bernie and his partner must have been wired because almost immediately, about a dozen cops appeared from out of nowhere and arrested everyone; including me.
As we were led away to the paddy wagon, the child molester with his pants still around his ankles, I thought I had some wonderful content for my book but when I was tossed into the same cell with everyone from the pizza cafe, I began to worry. I was sitting on a cot crossing and uncrossing my legs, trying not to piss because I didn’t want to take a leak in front of all the perverts I was locked up with, when the jailer and Bernie came strolling down the hallway. Bernie pointed at me and said, “That one; bring him up to my desk. I’ll be there shortly.”
When I was seated next to his desk in a small enclosed office he said, “It’s a good thing you arm wrestled with us and we got to know you, otherwise I wouldn’t be letting you go.”
“Letting you go,” what magical words; the relief I felt was wonderful.
And as I thought back, Bernie answered the phone. He didn’t know who I was until I explained about the night we met at the pizza restaurant. When I told him what had occurred during the evening, he wanted us to turn ourselves in but I told him not yet; there was still a little unfinished business that needed doing and for him not to go far from the phone.
When I got back into the car and turned the key Talulu said, “Who were you phoning?”
“Just a friend,” I answered. “At a time like this we need all the friends we can get. Now where does that shit-head live.” To be continued...
Definitely want to know what happens next! Like, why did the guy wait so long for his revenge....Waiting for the next episode!
ReplyDeleteHi Anonymouse
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you're enjoying the Blog. Basically 2 reasons why he waited for his revenge. One - since he was so badly beaten up, it took quite awhile before he was in any shape to do anything. Two - which is the most likely - it's a short story and I've had to cut a lot of corners - let me know what you think about the ending.