Killing Evil: a chilling psychological thriller

by John Nicholl

  My world instantly became a darker and more dangerous place. This was yet another thing for me to worry about. What the hell to do? I quickly concluded I should rid myself of the panther boy’s remains, and then get rid of Maisie. It was a simple enough system. Destroy the evidence and don’t get caught. Focus, don’t get rattled, and stick to a plan. I just had to make it happen.

  ‘Let’s hope they find him safe and sound.’

  ‘Absolutely! I don’t think he’s a significant threat to anyone.’

  I took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. It was time to move things along. ‘Make yourself comfortable, Maisie. I’ll go and get that coffee. Open a window if you’d like some fresh air.’

  She nodded, looking a little sheepish. ‘I think I will, thanks, if you’re sure that’s okay with you?’

  ‘It’s a bit stiff. You’ll need to give it a good shove.’

  I rushed to my first-floor bathroom, grabbed the plastic tranquilliser bottle from the medicine cabinet on the wall above the sink, and hurried to my cottage kitchen, ensuring my slaughterhouse door was closed tight shut as I went. My chest tightened again as I began preparing the coffee. Would it mask the taste of the drug well enough that the bitch would drink it in sufficient quantity? That concerned me to the point of virtual panic, but a quick swig of vodka helped to settle my nerves as I placed several heaped spoonfuls of a potent Columbian blend into a stainless-steel percolator I hadn’t used for many months.

  I poured a small amount of the aromatic brown liquid into a white china cup to sample it. I raised it to my lips and sipped. The taste was strong, a complex blend of different flavours, bitter, nutty, and smoky. My hopes were raised as I danced in a circle. Surely my plan would work – something else to be proud of.

  I prepared two hot drinks, the china cup for me, black coffee with a little coconut sugar, and then a larger mug for her, with soya milk and a suitably large serving of the sleeping draught, which I stirred in thoroughly. Now for the taste test; yes, not bad, not bad at all, the drug was barely perceptible even to me. If I hadn’t known it was there, I really don’t think I would have noticed it at all. It was time to go. My plan was inspired. How could it possibly go wrong?

  I placed the two coffees on a tarnished, silver-plated tray, and headed back to my lounge, keen to execute my plan in the shortest possible time. The panther boy’s body was calling. I wanted to get back to him. His burial could wait for a day or two but no longer than that. There was only so long I could delay removing his remaining tattoos before putting him in the ground.

  Maisie had moved her chair a little closer to the half-open window when I returned to the room despite the winter chill. She looked up at me with a misplaced smile as she took her mug from the tray. But she grimaced slightly when she first tasted her coffee. That wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

  I moved my chair nearer to my target. ‘Do you like it?’

  She took another sip. ‘It tastes a little unusual. I think that’s the best way of putting it.’

  ‘Ah, yeah, I know what you mean. It’s a new Columbian blend. I read about it online. It’s all the rage in celebrity circles. I thought someone with your discerning tastes would appreciate it.’

  Maisie raised the concoction to her mouth for a third time, swallowing more of it this time, before cradling the mug in both hands, no doubt appreciating the residual warmth as a cold breeze fluttered the curtains. She swallowed again and said she was enjoying it.

  Do you find that as hilarious as I do? That’s all I had to do, flatter the bitch, feed her ego. She was so easy to influence, so simple to manipulate. Within ten minutes, Maisie had drained her mug and was already yawning. About five minutes later and the stupid bitch’s head slumped to one side with a dribble of drool running from her mouth to her chin. Not a good look. I feel sure she’d have hated it. But, no doubt, there’d be worse to come.

  I left Maisie flopped in her seat for a few minutes while I finished my coffee in peace with my feet up. There was no point rushing things unnecessarily. Why put pressure on myself?

  I closed the window and drew the curtains in the interest of security before trying to lift her dead weight without any hope of succeeding. I took her arm with both hands and pulled her towards me, leaning back, using my weight to move her a few inches at a time until she finally fell to the floor.

  As I dragged her sleeping form towards my slaughterhouse, I asked myself why I hadn’t killed her already. Why on earth had I created work for myself. Why hadn’t I lured her into the killing room and used a knife to get it over quickly? As I laid her alongside the panther boy’s decaying corpse, I wondered if my reluctance was due to her gender. I’d never executed a woman. Maybe that was it. Or was it because she wasn’t a convicted criminal like my previous guests?

  In truth, I struggled to decide if the threats she posed warranted her execution. She’d interfered, yes, she’d stuck her nose in, certainly, but was that enough to justify a death sentence? I eventually decided that she did at least deserve a fair trial before I killed her. I’m too soft for my own good sometimes, that’s my problem. I dragged her into a seated position before handcuffing her to the radiator. A good job well done but not yet finished.

  I lay down in the arms of my panther boy and whispered sweet nothings.

  An hour or two of quiet interlude and I’d be ready to wake her. I’d have to listen to whatever she had to say for herself before deciding her fate.

  34

  You should have seen the look of shock on Maisie’s face after I’d shaken her awake. It was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. I don’t take pleasure in her capture or imprisonment. It was an unavoidable necessity. She gave me no choice. And a small part of me regretted it. I’m not inhuman, after all.

  But that look! Her mouth fell open. Her eyes were wide, the whites flashing. And her mascara was smudged across her stupid face. Don’t judge me. You weren’t there. If you’d seen her, you’d have laughed too.

  Maisie looked up at me with her panda eyes, then at the panther boy’s decomposing corpse, and then at me again, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. I’d used almost half a can of air freshener, a lemon blend I was keen to try. But there was still a stink. Maisie wasn’t used to such things, as I was. So it’s understandable. I do get it, really I do. I could see that her entire body was trembling. And I don’t think she thought of me as a friend anymore. How quickly things can change.

  I held a glass of cold water to Maisie’s mouth, allowing her to drink. It was an act of kindness, a reward for her compliance. She wasn’t tugging at her handcuffs or throwing herself about like some of my previous guests. She’d come to talk. And now she had the opportunity to do exactly that. Maybe that pleased her despite her apparent fear. I like to think it did.

  ‘Would you like something to eat, Maisie? I can spoon something into your mouth if that helps.’

  ‘I’m not hungry, Alice. But I need the toilet. I c-can’t hold on much longer. Please l-let me go.’

  I smiled and nodded, glad to be able to put her at her ease. ‘Just let go where you are. The plastic sheeting will take care of it. Don’t worry yourself. You won’t soil the floorboards.’

  I could see her staring at the panther boy again as the urine pooled around her. Maybe she liked his body art too. That must have been it. She seemed unable to look away.

  ‘Why, Alice, why?’

  I found the question so very disappointing. Why didn’t she thank me? She didn’t seem to appreciate my kindness at all.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  She looked me in the eye now while rocking slightly, a fixed expression on her face. ‘Did– did you k-kill them all?’

  I smiled. She was at least acknowledging my accomplishments. That made me feel proud. I liked her a little more after that.

  I pointed towards the panther boy. ‘I’m planning to bury him later today. Such a shame, but it’s reached that time. I’ll put the heating on once he’s go
ne. You’ll be more comfortable after that.’

  I thought she’d have been delighted. But no, the stuck-up mare still wasn’t happy. Some people are never satisfied. I think she’s one of those.

  ‘I’m b-begging you, Alice. Please, please, please undo my handcuffs. Rob will be l-looking for me. I don’t want to d-die. I’m begging you. We’re trying for a baby. Please let me go.’

  Now the bitch was revealing her true colours. Mentioning her police officer husband yet again. Was she trying to anger me? She’d never let it go. I chose to ignore Maisie’s ranting as she wailed, so full of self-pity.

  I, in contrast, had to consider the bigger picture. It wasn’t all about me. I spent the next hour or so disjointing what was left of the panther boy’s beautiful body as Maisie watched and wept.

  Approximately two hours’ hard work and he was buried in my garden, beauty to beauty, food for my roses. I gave him one final peck on the cheek before tossing his decapitated head into the ground.

  After moving the convertible, I stumbled back to my cottage, exhausted and aching. I decided on a quick bite to eat and a luxuriously hot bath before looking in on Maisie for one final time that day. I thought it only fair to keep her informed. Her trial would have to wait until morning.

  35

  I was up early the following morning, having had very little sleep due mainly to my thoughtless guest. Even with the slaughterhouse door shut, I could still hear her wailing. She even started shouting for help at one point in the early hours.

  I should probably have gagged her. I had other oranges. But I couldn’t be bothered to get up. Dragging myself from bed would have been too much of an effort on such a chilly night. Instead, I relied on night-time drinking and a little sleeping medication from time to time. I suckled on the bottles like a baby on the nipple. Sometimes I have to be kind to myself. I can’t always put the needs of others first.

  I marched into my slaughterhouse at 9am precisely, a mug of strong coffee in one hand. I hadn’t made Maisie a hot drink; she didn’t deserve it for obvious reasons. But I knew I’d need the stimulation the caffeine offered as her trial began.

  When Maisie started pleading, I had to slap her hard. I had to shut the silly bitch up somehow. There was only so much I could put up with, and it seemed the easiest way. I’d put the heating on, and the room was warmer. But she didn’t appreciate the comfort it offered one little bit. She’s a crazy woman, so very ungrateful. Enough was most definitely enough.

  ‘Why did you come here, Maisie? Think very carefully before you answer. I require the truth and nothing but the truth. Think of this as a court of your peers.’

  ‘Please let me go. I haven’t done a-anything to d-deserve this. We’re friends, aren’t we? Please let m-me go.’

  She had such a whiney voice, so very irritating. I threw my hot coffee in her face.

  ‘Answer the fucking question!’

  Maisie shook her head like a wet dog, blinking the coffee away. ‘You collapsed in f-front of me. You’ve been ill. I wanted t-to make sure you’re o-okay.’

  I yelled my response. ‘Am I supposed to believe that crap? And stop your fucking stuttering!’

  ‘I brought you a c-card and s-some flowers. They’re in the boot of my c-car. Why n-not take a look? You’ll see it’s t-true.’

  I leapt forward, drawing my arm back and slapping her for the second time, this time to the side of her head, stinging her ear. ‘I’ll ask the questions. You’re not the boss now.’

  She lowered her voice in pitch and tone. ‘All right, Alice, you’re in charge, anything y-you say. I had to visit b-because of my duty of c-care as your manager. It’s written in the procedures. It’s something I had to do. I wouldn’t have bothered y-you otherwise.’

  I bent at the waist, placing my face only inches from hers. ‘You were snooping, Maisie. Sticking your beaky nose in where it doesn’t belong.’

  And then she lost control of her mouth as I stood above her. ‘Did you kill them all?’

  I beamed with pride. ‘The ones you know about and others. The past calls out to us. I’m a rat catcher, a killer of vermin. It all began with my father and continued from there.’

  Maisie didn’t speak for a while after that. She just sat there, whimpering. And when she did finally speak, she spoke slowly, as if carefully selecting each word, almost in slow motion. As if that would somehow make it more acceptable to me. She was so full of crap, one lie after another. ‘I know why you did it, Alice. They were b-bad men who did terrible things. The police would get that too, and the court. I could be a character witness. I can help y-you if you let me.’

  I had to laugh. She’d got it so horribly wrong. ‘But I don’t want your help, Maisie. I don’t want to stop. There’s any number of monsters I still need to target and execute. You should know that better than most. The system you’re part of doesn’t work. And now you’re here interfering with my quest, getting in the way at the worst possible time. It’s almost as if you’re on the side of the beasts, not mine. Is that true, Maisie? Is that what’s happening here? I think it is. You’re as guilty as sin.’

  ‘No, no, I get it; honestly, I d-do. I could help you identify suitable victims. Just undo m-my handcuffs. I won’t s-say a word to anybody. We could k-kill the criminals together; you and me against the world. Us girls have got to stick together. Do you remember?’

  I felt so horribly let down, so utterly disappointed in Maisie. It was so self-evident that she’d say anything to save herself. The woman had no integrity, no strong moral principles. We were so very different. I knew then that any further questions were pointless. I picked up my utility knife intending to cut her throat. But as I knelt at her side, I found I couldn’t do it.

  Maybe it would be different if I was drunk. Perhaps then I could kill her. Or perhaps I should let her live for a day or two longer. I decided to leave her sitting there in her filth until the next day and then try again.

  But I couldn’t stand to hear her incessant wailing for another minute. I took my hammer and hit her once. Crack! At the front of her skull three inches above her eyebrows. Maisie slumped forward as far as her secured arms would allow. She was unconscious but still breathing – one more thing to be proud of. I’d judged the blow just right.

  36

  The next day began surprisingly well. The sun was shining when I opened my bedroom curtains, the birds were singing, and I’d slept for almost eight hours, only waking once. That was unusual for me. For once I’d experienced no nightmares or flashbacks, and my poisonous father hadn’t made even a single appearance. There’d been no hand on my door handle, and no voice in my ear. That was something to celebrate. I even performed a few physical exercises before heading to the bathroom at a little after 7am.

  I brushed my teeth, emptied my bladder, and showered in a festive mood, singing a favourite song as I lathered my body with scented soap, taking sensual pleasure in hot water warming my skin. I was keenly anticipating looking in on Maisie before breakfast. It was going to be a momentous day for both of us.

  I’d decided to keep her alive for a day or two longer while I pumped her for information, and I was happily anticipating telling her the good news. I’d also decided to hold a garden ceremony of remembrance for my panther boy. I have to admit I was missing him more than I’d anticipated. We’d formed a rare bond born of adversity. I think in very different circumstances we may have become even closer than we did. I’m not saying we’d have married, had children, and lived happily ever after or anything as ridiculously romantic as that. But we may well have enjoyed a meaningful relationship based on our shared experience.

  What a shame it wasn’t meant to be. I’ll always regret that to some extent. But at least I’ll have that incredible framed tattoo on my lounge wall. What a marvellous reminder of a boy I feel privileged to have known, however short the time we spent together. He was far from perfect, but he recognised his flaws and was willing to learn from them. With my help, he could have been redeemable. H
e may even have joined me in my quest.

  We could have become a double act, executing the evil wrongdoers together. Wow! I never thought I’d find myself saying that of any man, however young and inexperienced. But, of course, I couldn’t take that risk. What if he’d betrayed me? It could have happened. People let you down. I know that better than most. I can only rely on myself, just me and my reflection.

  Killing the panther boy softly was the only possible course of action left open to me. My work has to continue. Allowing him to get in the way of that could have ended in disaster. I couldn’t let that happen. He had to die one way or another.

  Maisie was still slumped, handcuffed to the radiator where I’d left her when I checked in on her on my way to the kitchen. When I first saw her, I thought she might have died during the night. She had that sallow yellow look about her that corpses often have. But, no, her chest was moving up and down ever so slightly when I studied her closely. I even held a hand-mirror to her face to confirm my assessment. And, yes, her breath clouded the glass.

  I closed my slaughterhouse door with a skip in my step and entered my cottage kitchen with an appetite that needed to be satisfied.

  I cooked fried eggs, button mushrooms and ripe tomatoes, heaping the delicious, greasy fare onto my plate, looking forward to eating it for a change. I have no idea where that new culinary enthusiasm came from. A strong coffee laced with a little blended whisky, and I was feeling even more positive as I stepped out into my rose garden, enjoying the morning sun on my face. There was a slight but discernible warmth in the air for the first time that year.