Lustmord 1

by Kirk Alex

  Marvin had his arm around Danny’s hot wife and that insincere smile of his was working overtime as he guided the woman toward the Caddy’s rear door. Bishop could hear him lay it on, thick and heavy.

  “All right, sugah-bush. No problem. We can take care of that. Plenty of super fly bump left. You know you in luck wiff Mack Daddy Muck. Gonna take care of his favorite honey right now.”

  Deacon had the back door open, and steered her into the seat. Promptly got in himself and shut the door. Was smooth and discreet when he pressed down on the interior door lock lever with his elbow.

  “Hi ya, Dione.” Biggs handed her a joint. “You were just fantastic tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Dione got her clean fingers on the dirty reefer. Toked. “Got any Kibbles n’ Bits? I can pay.”

  “Baby, yo greedy friend’ dun smoked all that fine dope I brung wiff me. There be more where it come from, plenty more. Ain’t that right, Brotha Trusty?”

  “Oh yeah. It’s there all right.” And while Biggs was saying this and while the young woman continued to suck on the joint, Biggs was reaching down under his seat. Got his hand on a blackjack and whirled so quickly and efficiently with it that Dione Aragon never knew what knocked her out as Brother Trusty gave her a hard whack above the eyes that literally fractured her skull and left a deep indentation in her forehead. The evil clown followed up with another whack, and the bulbous end of the sap hammered into her right cheekbone and eye socket with a squishing, crunching sound. It was a blow that left a good deal of that side of her face shattered and jammed the eye far enough inside the socket so that it looked like a hole full of dark red gooey mush.

  The woman’s body slumped down in the seat.

  “Dione?” There was a male voice calling the vic’s name from somewhere in back of them. Biggs looked up, while his partner spun around in the back seat. Danny Aragon, having emerged from the Casbah’s side entrance with the eight-month-old baby crying in his arms, was looking for his wife.

  He paused briefly to shove the pacifier in his daughter’s mouth and then appeared to be headed in the direction of the Cadillac. He was making his way through the many parked cars in the poorly lighted lot, wondering what happened, how she could’ve vanished so quickly? Danny was fairly certain that had been her a moment ago standing in the middle of the lot, but he had been so preoccupied with trying to make it past the party types without bumping into any of them with the baby, and then there had been that hassle with the bouncer who had admonished him for bringing a kid around when he knew that under no circumstances did the owner allow his employees to have their underage children anywhere near his place of business, that when Danny had turned his head again, Dione was disappeared. Gone.

  He continued to call her name as he drifted closer to the Cadillac.

  “Get him over here.”

  “How?”

  “Do it. He probably saw her get in with you. Get his doomed ass over here before he walks back and lets somebody know. Get him over here now.”

  CHAPTER 64

  Marvin Muck hopped out of the Cadillac. Called out to the woman’s husband. While he did that, Biggs was wiping the blood from the stripper’s face. Propped her up just a bit to make it seem that she was merely slouching from the high; she had a buzz on and was “nodding.”

  Biggs had his fingers around the Magnum butt now and waited for young hubby to get in the car.

  Soon enough the back door opened. Danny stuck his head in. The pacifier dropped from the infant’s mouth and she started in on another jag. Noise was unnerving. Doubled the pressure to get Danny Aragon inside the vehicle.

  Keep your composure, Cecil reminded himself. Calm. Collected. Whatever you do, do not lose it. Not here. Not now. You cannot afford to miscalculate.

  “Come on in, man. Your better half’s doing fine, flying high. Check her out. Just took a couple of good hits off of some great shit.”

  The baby carried on. Biggs could feel perspiration all across his forehead. Armpits were soaking wet. Down there, too, balls were sweaty and itched. All he wanted to do was see the baby shut the fuck up.

  Shut it. Smash it. Kill it. Kill the kid. End the noise. But you got to get the fucking Papa in first. Keep smiling. Stay at ease. Part of his nervousness, unease, adrenaline—brought about by what was about to take place.

  Get in, punk. Your fate is sealed. It’s only a matter of time.

  Danny Aragon took a look around and could not see much in the poorly-illuminated backseat. Could not even tell if that was his wife exactly sitting over there against the far door.

  “Ain’t you got any light in this fine ride, bro?”

  “Fuse is out. Been meaning to replace it. You know how it is.”

  Danny Aragon nodded. Bent in finally with the kid. Marvin wasted no time himself, and slid in behind him. Helped him in, so to speak. Made certain the door was locked. Biggs spun around at about the same time. Leveled the Magnum at Danny’s face. Cocked the hammer.

  “Not a word. Don’t even blink.”

  Biggs gestured to drop the noisy toddler on the floor. Danny did as told: lowered his daughter to the space at his feet. Biggs handed Muck a pair of handcuffs. Watched as Muck was about to cuff the husband’s wrists in front of him.

  “No. Behind his back.”

  “He ain’t goin’ no place.”

  “Behind his back.”

  The order was carried out. Danny Aragon’s wrists were pulled in back of him and the cuffs clamped on.

  “You do it right?”

  “Got them on there tight as could be.”

  Biggs reached back with the blackjack and gave Danny a series of blows across the side of his face and skull that knocked him unconscious.

  The baby’s cries seemed to intensify, if anything, and it made it unbearable for the Caddy owner now, absolutely unbearable. Biggs leaned over the backrest once more, pulled himself over it in order to be able to get at the baby and swung down hard—and suddenly it got real quiet inside the car.

  “That’s how you take care of that.”

  Biggs looked up, checking the club’s entrance, making sure that no one else wanted any part of the Cadillac, nor its occupants.

  Marvin sat speechless in the backseat, staring at the floor and the silent bundle inside the pink blanket with the ever-spreading dark stain in the area where the presently still infant’s head was.

  “Hey! Hand me the purse.”

  Muck did that. Biggs dropped it in his medical bag. Reminded Muck to get Danny’s wallet and search his pockets for whatever else there was to be found. The wallet was handed over.

  Biggs opened it to see what was in there. Wad of greenbacks. Now was not the time to start counting. He wouldn’t. Dropped the wallet in. Muck handed over keys, wad of crumpled banknotes and coins. Pack of smokes.

  All of it, with the exception of the smokes, was dropped in the bag. Bishop handed the smokes back to Marvin, with a warning not to smoke them in his presence.

  “Should hit the road, man.”

  “Get the wedding bands. Any and all other rings and watches. Earrings. Get her earrings.”

  This was accomplished in rapid succession. Handed over to the man and dumped into the black leather medical bag.

  “Not bad. Not bad at all for a single night’s take.”

  Biggs snapped the bag shut, turned the key in the ignition, and slowly pulled out of the parking space. When he looked up in his rearview he noticed that Muck had stuck a butt between his lips.

  “What did I just say? Did I not just tell you not to light up around me? Especially not in the Cadillac.”

  “See me light up?”

  “You were going to.”

  “Fuck I was. That be one gone baby, Cecil.”

  “No shit. Kid’s better off. Look what it had for parents. Dirt. Won’t have to worry about life’s many little disappointments now, will she? Wished they had done me the favor when I was born. Should have strangled me—or something—or strangled my parents. P
sychos weren’t fit to raise pigeons.”

  “In the dressin’ room back there I was sayin’ how that must be the luckiest baby in the world ’cause she was suckin’ on her mama’ big titty—wished I was suckin’ on that big titty myself instead—and now that baby ain’t lucky no more, is it?”

  “I told you: It’s better off. Get your act together. We’re not out of the woods yet. It’s on your head the way this whole thing got messy. If you’d have done what you were supposed to and not given the whores all that dope in there it wouldn’t have turned out like this. Fuck it. No use crying over spilt milk. Don’t lose your head now, Base. Are you with me, partner—or what?”

  Marvin nodded. “I be wiff you, Cecil. You know that. Yo.”

  Sure you are, thought Biggs. You better be. He scratched his crotch absentmindedly and his lips twisted into a nervous smile as he guided the Caddy slowly through the crowded parking lot, passing arriving cars with obnoxious revelers.

  “That’s what I like to hear, Marvin.” Biggs inched the big car into the street finally and turned the lights on. “Makes me feel better to know who’s on my side—and who isn’t. It helps clarify things.”

  “I be on your side, Brotha. All I be wantin’ was some pussy. Vagina. Went in there thinkin’ we was gonna get them hoe’ to come out to the cribby and take they panty off and shit. We was gonna party, do the nasty. Didn’t figure we was gonna off no baby. . . .”

  “What of it, goddammit? It happened, and it’s over with. Get used to it.”

  “I be gettin’ used to it.”

  “We’ll have to dump the kid before Dione comes to, otherwise she’s liable to freak to the point it might spoil the party I’ve got planned for her. Are you with me?”

  “Said I be wiff you, Brotha.”

  “All the way?”

  “All the way. You know my motto: blood don’t bother me, long as it don’t be mine.”

  Biggs said nothing. Checked his mirrors to make certain they were not being tailed, that no rollers were in back of them for any reason. He adjusted the volume on the police scanner. Concentrated on the road ahead. Did his best to leave the city as efficiently as possible without violating traffic laws that would get them pulled over, and headed out toward a section of Angeles Crest that was sure to be deserted this time of night.

  CHAPTER 65

  Biggs left the main highway, got on a bridle path, and took that deep into the mountains.

  Hundred foot sycamores as well as equally tall maples and even taller pine tended to block out the chrome-like, bluish glow generated by the almost-there full moon above—and the deeper they got into the trees, the less glow they had to work with, forcing Biggs to use his headlights periodically.

  They reached a clearing. Cecil dimmed his lights. Drove across. He parked the Cadillac in a grove of live oak. There was a slope on the right. He engaged a lever that rolled Marvin’s window down. Told him to pitch the bundle.

  “Bundle? What ‘bundle’? I ain’t touchin’ no dead kid. I ain’t no baby killa, me.”

  “Who said you did anything? Pitch it out the window so we can get a move on. Do it before they come to.”

  Marvin Muck shook his head. “Fuck that.”

  Biggs got out. Had the back door open on Marvin’s side. Told him to get in the front. “Wait. Hand me the kid first.”

  Marvin stared at him without saying anything. “You know I have a bad back. It doesn’t take much.”

  “Fuck that noise.”

  Marvin got out and sat in the front.

  “Useless, worthless, retard asshole.”

  Biggs reached down for the dead infant in the pink blanket. It occurred to him that Sassy favored the color pink and that he just might like to have something this nice and fuzzy. Why not? Why throw it away and leave this much evidence behind?

  And the kid?—if left out here? Would eventually be mangled and devoured by scavengers. He yanked up on the blanket and the small body rolled off onto the floor.

  Biggs held the blanket up and shone his Maglite on it. Noticed blood stains here and there. Poured a liberal amount of water on it to dilute the blood. Wrung the blanket to squeeze the blood and water out. Fanned it out for a closer look and tossed it inside the trunk. The trouble he went to for the ungrateful geeks. Not that all were ungrateful. Enough of them were.

  He returned to the backseat, picked the “bundle” up and carried it to the edge of the slope. Tossed it. The way it came down, hit the ground, bounced a couple of times, and rolled toward the bottom, reminded him of the way Charlotte Yvonne did her own share of bouncing before she came to rest at the ditch digger’s feet and jackhammer. Flashbacks wouldn’t let you be. What it came down to. No matter what type of activity you happened to be involved in, no matter how many years had passed. Whether you were asleep or wide awake—the flashbacks constantly pecked at your psyche.

  He returned to the car. Drove another seventy, eighty feet. Climbed out.

  CHAPTER 66

  Danny Aragon was coming to. His wife Dione was having a fit of some kind. Her good eye, the left eye, and that side of her face kept twitching. It was the fractured skull that caused it, no doubt—not to mention pure and paralyzing fear induced by staring death in the face—and that’s what they were both doing right about now: having a little tete-a-tete with death.

  “Please, Cecil. Don’t hurt us no more.”

  Trusty ignored her. They had to get a move on it.

  “Get with it, Deacon. Get the shovel out of the back. Hurry up.”

  Marvin took his time getting out of the car.

  “Where you want me to start diggin’?”

  “Bottom of that slope looks familiar.”

  Biggs pressed the trunk release inside the glove compartment. Marvin got his hands on a shovel and made the slow, cautious descent down the grassy incline that was fairly slippery. Didn’t take long for him to lose his footing and balance and down he went, hard, rolling, and did not stop until he landed on an old and warped, oblong-shaped sheet of plywood that had been camouflaged with branches and dirt.

  “This is no time to be taking a nap.”

  “I don’t be takin’ no nap, me.”

  Muck cursed, and picked himself up, picked the shovel up. Wedged the tip under the plywood and shoved it aside, and went about modifying the shallow hole in the ground to accommodate someone of Danny Aragon’s size and height.

  The ominous sounds of an owl hooting from one of those trees up there and the nerve-wracking noise the cicadas were making, among other bugs and animals, possibly coyotes or possum, did not help his anxiety any.

  He looked up to see if Cecil was still watching. He wasn’t. Couldn’t see where he was. Gone back to the Caddy to mess wiff the ho.

  “All right, get the job done.”

  Marvin was talking to himself to help steady his nerves. “There be work to do and some fuckin’ to be got.” He could hear Danny and his wife up there on the ridge trying to talk their way out of the fix they were in.

  Marvin didn’t much care what Biggs did to the punk, not really, so long as they could both get a taste of his old lady. Now, to ice a dude like Danny don’t be his idea. Only what could he do? Let it take place, is what. Don’t be the first time. Bigg’ say can’t leave a witness. Danny be a witness. Now, to waste that trim would make no kinda sense. That would bother him—if that be what Omar got on his mind to do.

  She did look good. Look’ fine. Even wiff that fucked up eyeball she still be a fine piece of pussy. Only you know Omar ain’t gonna let you have none of that, unless he don’t want it no more hisself. Might let you have some, then. Yo. Real Sloppy Second’—if not that, could be Thrillin’ Third’.

  CHAPTER 67

  Marvin shook his head. Glanced back up at the top. That be one crazy, baby-killin’ mothafuckah up there, that Brotha Trusty. One psycho mofo. He could hear more pleading, victim’ aksking to be spared.

  “What did we ever do to you, Mr. Biggs? Why are we being treated this way?
”

  “Let’s just say I didn’t care for the way you were raising the kid, Danny. Or something like it. Ignorant assholes like you should never be allowed to have offspring.”

  “My baby’s back there at the club, Cecil.” It was Dione this time, half-choking on tears, not able to fully comprehend the reason behind the nightmare. Why was it happening to her and her husband? What had they done to be punished this way? And there was every indication that the situation would only get worse.

  “I love my baby. . . . I just want to get back to my baby. . . . I’m worried about my little girl. . . . Can’t you just take us back? Take us back and leave us and we’ll forget any of this ever happened. You can do that, can’t you?”

  “We’re at the point of no return, so knock it off with the unrealistic notions.”

  Biggs held the .357 in his right hand. Walked around to Danny’s door and pulled him out by the cuffs. He dragged him away from the Caddy and over to the edge of the incline. Danny Aragon was far from being a willing participant in the program. Struggled. Attempted to rise. Cecil smacked him once against the back of the head with the Magnum that was like a hammer blow that forced Dione’s hubby to drop to his knees, where Cecil wanted him.

  “You about ready down there, Brother Marvin?”

  “This be hard work, man.”

  “Hurry it up.” Biggs held the barrel end against the base of Danny’s skull. “Make it deep enough to keep scavengers from tampering with the body.”

  “Please, don’t.” Danny was back at it again. Sobbing. “Please. . . .”

  “What’s happening down there? I’m getting tired of waiting.”

  “And I be gettin’ tired of diggin’. Seem’ to me waitin’ be a whole lot easier than diggin’.”

  “The hole was fucking dug already. All you had to do was enlarge it, make it a little deeper to keep animals from getting at the body.”