“And where is that?”
“I don’t know. Honest. I don’t know.”
“And you were doing so well.” I said. “Maybe you just need something to help you remember something, anything about where they might live.” I shoved the wet undies back into her mouth. This time it w
as her big toe. I know what you’re thinking. How odd to break this particular appendage. I agree. But how much pain that little piggy would cause would be indescribable as Diamond proved crying in great ghastly sobs. When I pulled the cloth underwear from her mouth she choked out the suburb Natasha’s parents lived in. That was all I needed.
“Now was that so hard?” Shoving the cloth back into her mouth I got up and left the apartment.
Diamond wouldn’t be going anywhere. With a little luck she’d expire before anyone even noticed she was gone. Expire. Like a carton of milk. Expire like a driver’s license. After I found Natasha and talked some sense into her I’d come back for Diamond. If she didn’t slip quietly into that dark night we’d have to have a nice long talk about the future.
Had I heard her cell phone ring I might have altered my plans just a little. We may have had that talk sooner. But I never heard it ring. Neither did she having blacked out before the front door was even closed behind me.
MARTY
“Come out with your hands up!” I heard the police officers shouting. I did as they asked. I put my hands up over my head and laced my fingers. I had to be quite a sight for them. I knew my face had to be a mess and I felt the salty sting of my own blood dripping into my left eye. My clothes were torn and stained. I was panting to catch my breath. The cold night air felt good.
I had never been to this quiet little suburb before. It was nice. There were big yards for kids to play in and the neighbors were far enough away that you had some privacy but close enough that if a half dozen squad cars pull up in front of your house they’ll see them and come outside to look.
The flashing red and blue lights made the whole street look like UFOs were landing. The police had their bright lights aimed right at my eyes and I winced and blinked as the uniformed men approached me.
“Get on the ground! Now!”
Again, I did as I was told. They wrenched my right hand from on top of my head around my back and before I could mutter another word I felt a knee in my back as they pulled my left arm, connecting them together with cold, metal handcuffs.
“Please,” I grumbled. “Help Natasha. She’s in there. Help her.”
“Who else is in there?” The faceless police officer asked with his knee still in my back.
“Natasha Morgan. My…my girlfriend. And…my brother. I think they are both unconscious. But please, be careful of my brother. He’s dangerous.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay fellas! Two more inside. Are any of them armed?”
“I don’t think so.” I said and was finally pulled up by my arms to my feet and told to sit on the curb. I watched as about five more officers with guns raised entered into the house. Another policeman came up to me holding a small pad of paper and a pen.
“What’s your name?” he asked without any real interest. To them this was a routine domestic violence case. A love triangle gone wrong and perhaps they were right.
“Marty Reid.” The name meant nothing to him. Why should it? He was a working class man with a family to raise, I assumed by the ring on his left hand and the most thankless job on the planet. He didn’t know who I was and I was glad for that. It wouldn’t be long before he found out who I was, who my brother was and how much people will pay for any of the gory details.
“Mr. Reid, I’m Officer Simmons. So, you want to tell me what happened in there?”
I nodded my head and explained that I had gotten a panicked call from Natasha Morgan that I needed to check on her best friend.
“Natasha, where are you?” I asked. She had hadn’t been at work for a few days and although I spoke to her on the phone I knew something was bothering her. She wouldn’t tell me and just said she needed a couple days to sort things out. Deep down I knew it had something to do with my brother. He had been getting worse for several weeks.
I came home about three weeks ago and found him waiting for me in the lobby of my apartment building. He was looking good, healthy and dressed nicely as if he were going out on a date or something. There were no photographers around him, no women in slinky outfits. It was just him.
“What do you want, Josh?” I asked, waving to the doorman that he didn’t need to call for the police.
“I just want to talk, big brother. That’s all.”
So I nodded my head and we went to my apartment. Once up there the normal behavior ended and I saw the stranger my brother was becoming. He mumbled all the way up the elevator and once inside my home he began to pace.
“Do you have anything to drink, Marty?”
“Would you like a beer or maybe just some water?”
“Still swigging the old man’s brand, aren’t you Marty?” He smirked at me. “The guy has been dead for how many years? You don’t need to kiss his ass anymore. Don’t you have any champagne, or vodka or something with kick?”