This in turn infuriated the already annoyed Poppy at first but she, as did his Evaline and Edna, did not seem to realise that the Scarab was almost like an extension of himself in every regard in that it announced itself along time prior to its arrival, advertised itself with its own flamboyance and resonated an aura of success which no one could deny. Poppy had always hated the ugly silver contraption since that fateful night whereby she betrayed him at the Great Lakes Exhibition but to him it represented all that he aspired to be and he felt fragile without it near him, naked even without all of its newly crafted and covertly created protective capabilities.
Satisfying thoughts about his Scarab then drifted away as he saw the terrified faces of the vagrant residents whom seemed strangely otherworldly to him as they frantically ran in and out of the spotlights in clouds of concealing dust. He then calmly lit up a soothing cigarette and enjoyed the glow of the burning tobacco as it pleasantly filled his wanting lungs with its rich taste, soothing his feelings of anxiety that where a common threat to his wellbeing when he was out of his usual routines.
A malnourished little blonde vagrant girl then ran past the beaming headlights of his Scarab and left bellowing dust in her wake whilst one of his clumsy Unknowns desperately chased after her. Her short scraggily dirty golden hair resonated within his fleetingly drug infused mind and he strangely found himself recalling pleasant memories of how he first made love to Poppy. Early in their relationship he had taken her on a hot summer’s day for a romantic picnic to the secluded poppy field that lay hidden just outside of Cleveland’s outer lying suburbs. This secret poppy field seemed almost magical as the reclusive sun apparently never set on its brightly lit red field, unlike Cleveland which had long ago been invaded by a never ending supply of gloomy clouds, rain and thunderstorms.
He had accidentally discovered this blissfully beautiful location in the elusive backfields of the countryside when he was initially searching for the lake house whereby he and Edna now resided. He thought that it was such a romantic location and had initially thought of taking Edna there but as time wore mercilessly on he had eventually chosen Poppy to go with him on his inaugural visit. He had chosen well because the surrounding fields where made that much more beautiful by the naturally gorgeous presence of Poppy and it was there, in the summer sun and lying upon his red and white stripped picnic blanket, that they had first made passionate love together. Whilst in the midst of that blissful moment of passion he had come to sadly notice her cut marks that had long ago scarred her wrists. He had simply not said anything and proceeded to gently kiss them with his soft lips before making passionate love to her numerous times, wishing to expel the demons that had caused these psychological marks of pain to physically manifest themselves upon her skin.
To the preoccupied Ness these vivid memories of pure unbridled love where one of his most perfectly blissful and happy memories that he had ever experienced, not just within Cleveland but also within the totality of his life. These unrelenting feelings where in turn hurt beyond measure when he learnt that she had betrayed his love not once, but twice. Now they had both unwillingly changed immeasurably from that promising initial start to their relationship and although the pain of rejection still persisted, he still amazingly retained these blissfully pure happy memories in all there totality.
He then looked down in shame as he thought about how unfairly he had treated her with his unjust contempt for something that was not her fault because it was his own opioid addiction that had initially pushed her away from him in the first place. He smiled to himself as he felt that it was ironic that he attempted to destroy her demons through the act of lovemaking whereas his own demons where still relentlessly consuming him with a slow and deliberate determination. His mother had brought him up to be a polite and well-mannered gentleman but he had failed her because of his addiction which was now liberally flowing through his system on a regular basis. The opium was slowly and deliberately consuming his former self as the last three years worn painfully on, sadistic in its cruelty of watching the systematic disintegration of his thought processes and mental cognition. He knew that it must be difficult for the emotionally sensitive Poppy to accept this slow yet deliberate change of his personality but he thought that he had all these different elements under control. He thought that he was like a skilled puppeteer who could balance his life through his superior multitasking ability but he had underestimated his ability to manage all these complex elements together, forcing him to revaluate his abilities as he stood there by his silver Scarab.
Earlier that evening he had drank his beloved scotch before he coming here, knowing what he must do and he had also had his regularly secretive fix of opium prior to his departure from his seedy hotel room whereby he had entertained Poppy. He had never intended for their relationship to turn out the way that it had and if he had known what would have transpired between them he would never have got involved with her in the first place. They were both now at two different stages now within their separate lives and although they both enjoyed each other’s company immensely, he believed that she was not the one he could start his family with and felt bad for unintentionally leading her on. He did not have the courage or heart to tell her that he had decided that he would eventually marry Evaline after he had solved these Mad Butcher homicides or that he also intended to divorce Edna whom had more of a relationship with her six cats now than she had with him.
Ness’s reluctant mind then drifted back into the cruel present as he slowly leaned on the bonnet of the warm silver Scarab, flicked away his used cigarette and eagerly lit up a new one. The smouldering orange glow of the new flame filled his unfocused eyes as he pleasantly watched his loyal Unknowns arrest entire scared families whilst frightened children’s cries sailed upon the disturbed night wind. He allowed himself a brief foray into fantasy as he imagined everyone in the forthcoming days congratulating him on capturing the deranged Mad Butcher and he relished the idea of catching him just prior to the murderous act of live decapitation which he had become so infamous for. Perhaps even saving a young damsel in distress before he was about to do his ungodly and sadistic work upon her which would make a fantastic photograph for the blood thirsty newspapers to sink their teeth into. Glorious images like those would make him a hero again within the eyes of the population and all the sordid stories of infidelity and late night partying would soon be forgiven and forgotten.
In preparation for such an unmissable public relations coup he had already instructed a selected few of his Unknowns to carry cameras so that they could take pictures of him questioning the residents of the shantytown and he had also given explicit instructions to be alerted if anyone found anything related to the Mad Butcher. He wished to be the first at the Mad Butcher’s secretive abattoir not only with his own press team but also with a small select group of hand-picked and apathetic journalists in order to get the full credits for the madman’s capture. His dream newspaper clipping would be a handsome photograph of himself heroically recusing a petrified damsel in distress, her desperately holding onto his shirt as he instructed his Unknowns to handcuff the dementedly terrified looking Mad Butcher in the background. He would treasure such imaginary as he did with all his newspaper clippings collection, which he still admired on many a solitary night alone at the lake house with only his scotch and the warmth of the fireplace as company.
As he smiled to himself and imagined his heroic stance within his imaginary photograph he then satisfactorily took a final puff of his glowing cigarette, his face brilliantly lighting up with a bright orange glow that contrasted against the red and blue lights of the surrounding chaotic scenes. He then reluctantly disposed of the anxiety relieving cigarette upon the ground before entering his beloved silver Scarab and sat down in the leather driver’s seat whilst looking within the rear view mirror. As the frantically chaotic scenes ranged within the lights ahead of him, he quietly parted his messy hair the way he liked it and was coldly immune to the numerous cries
for help that assaulted his ears. Once his hair was perfected within his flashing red and blue surroundings, he cautiously placed his right hand within his left side waist coat pocket and eagerly took out his small silver art deco pill box. He then opened it, took out some opium pills and swallowed them before washing them down with some of his beloved favourite scotch.
He eagerly checked the silver Scarab’s mirrors as he did so because he was acutely aware of the deviously spying eyes of his unseen enemies whom wanted him out of his prestigious position of safety director. Usually the large amount of opium that he had just taken, along with accompanying alcohol, would have knocked out a man three times his size. Even the proposed unnatural size of the strong Mad Butcher would have struggled not to fall sleep but Ness’s trained resistance and veteran constitution had improved so much over the obsessive years that the amount simply made him more relaxed and mellowed his volatile mood. It also had the added benefit of clouding hurtful feelings of rejection that constantly besieged his troubled mind, specifically with regard to Poppy but also his continuous thoughts of self-loathing and continued depression.
He had always been a depressive at heart and hated almost everything about himself from his appearance to his own highlighted disreputable behaviour which he thought to be shallow and of little substance. The more he hated himself however the harder it became to live without anything to distract his depressive thoughts and although he sought solace within the comforting arms of opium and women, he had always felt ultimately isolated and alone. This feeling of being alone was deep rooted within the very core of his being because he had always felt unique but not in a good way because he had always felt more like a “freak” or a gruesome oddity that belonged within an amusement parks display of curiosities. An unsightly creature that was separate from society and which did not belong here and this feeling of not belonging would run throughout the course of his life with an uncomfortable familiarity. These where just a few reasons why he had started to take the opium and get blissfully lost within its endearingly forgetful embrace but as time mercilessly wore on, he had discovered that his unclouded mind had become more alarmed at his own shallow reflection. He hated himself for becoming the way that he had, bitter and resentful for Poppy’s betrayal and willing to remorselessly punish her for a depressing situation that he had himself created.
He sat within his silver sanctuary and shook off these troublesome negative thoughts as they started to blissfully and slowly recede back into the ether where they belonged, as he felt the opium start to do its beloved work upon his blood system and make him forget all his woes. He then slowly stood up by the open door of the sparkling silver Scarab and relished watching the organised chaos that ensued before him. The lights of the many separate Unknown teams moved frantically throughout the hobo jungle of concentrated mass dwellings, arresting people as they did so and creating a fear that wonderfully rippled throughout the atmosphere like a thunderous echo. The muggy and thick night air of stampeding peoples filled up the surrounding atmosphere with dust and noticeably diluted the visibility of the chaotically troubling scenes.
He then felt the beautiful combination of a gently warm breeze and light drizzle of warm rain caress his sensitive facial skin and this wondrous feeling prompted him to put on his trusty hat again and eagerly await for the imminent call’s from his men that they had finally discovered the madman’s abattoir of death. After a few anxious minutes of waiting no word came back about the Mad Butchers whereabouts or anything even remotely close to do with the case and he felt an alarming undercurrent of distinctively disappointing familiarity well up within him. He was confident that the Mad Butcher’s secret domain would be found hidden someplace within this accursed shantytown and the speed and strength of his merciless operation would ensure its quick discovery.
He stood there assured as the opium artificially lifted his defeated spirits and slowly grew his fragile confidence, knowing now that this operation will undoubtedly bear fruit and foregoing any of the misgiving he had just had only a moment ago. He then sinisterly smiled to himself as alarmed children were ripped from their scared mothers hands and frightened babies cried out for their lost parents. To him it was as if the Mad Butcher himself was on his knees pleading for him to leave him and his poor poverty stricken victims alone but he would not relent on his current diabolical task, not this time because he wished to end this most macabre of mysteries once and for all.
This entire operation was somewhat of a homage back to his untouchable days in Chicago, with its slightly unorthodox procedure and manic implementation. This speedy operation would bring him great fame, success and notoriety within the local newspapers, just as it had initially done outside Polizzi’s Harvard Club and just has it had done back in Chicago during his prohibition days. It was a successful, tried and tested method and beautiful in its conception and simplicity. He suspected that maybe the Mad Butchers psychology would not allow him to stay in such a brutally defiled location and he would simply flee to another city, taking all his grotesque unnatural horridness with him. Ness did not want this because this would be akin to kicking the proverbial can down the street for someone else to deal with and he wanted this grotesquely horrifying monster to be caught and hopefully executed without mercy in the death house.
At that moment the same malnourished and frightened little vagrant girl whom had so quickly scurried by earlier startled Ness as she ran into his Scarab’s beaming headlights again, illuminating her poverty in dramatic fashion. She was soon followed by a wall of upturned dust as she droped her solitary doll’s head and remained frighteningly still as she looked with her startlingly green eyes at Ness’s eyes, which where coldly vacant and glazed. His Scarab’s lights alarmingly consumed her with dreadful fear as she trembled in terror and hastily attempted to retrieve her only form of comfort within the surrounding chaos from within the dust at her feet. Ness could see that she was only six to seven years old and had a dirty face, wore a shabby looking worn nightie and was incredibly skinny as her big green eyes silently begged him for some measure of remote compassion. She expressed a pure fear as she stood there petrifyingly still after finally retrieving her dolls head and clutched it desperately, wanting it to magically whisk her away from the unspoken fear that now surrounded her. Her lower lip then started to quiver, silently foretelling what was about to occur as she suddenly started to cry and pleaded for her unseen mother to save her.
The inebriated Ness curiously continued to look at her in cold fascination because he did not understand how she could have escaped the police cordon that he had personally oversaw only an hour ago. All of a sudden one of his many Unknowns came and grabbed the frightened little girl in a flurry of dust, whisking her off her little feet and back into the red moon lit night where, presumably her lost mother eagerly awaited her imminent arrival. Ness was shocked at his own callous behaviour at not instinctively helping the distressed little girl as soon as he saw her but he was now immune to her cries for help and it was not simply because of the opium that coursed through his system. It was also because of his determinedly resolute vengeance that he would now bestow upon the Mad Butcher this very night and he would watch a thousand girls cry for their missing mothers if it meant catching this killer and stopping his evil reign of terror.
He then momentarily paused as he looked down at the fragile broken doll’s head that the little girl had dropped as one of his nameless Unknowns accidentally crushed it as he hurried on by, causing its plastic green eye to pop out and roll towards his shiny spectator shoe. He looked at its crushed remains as if he where an alien from another planet because he felt nothing for the trauma that he had caused the girl and felt nothing for the hurtful pain that he was inflicting upon an entire downtrodden community. This unseen abomination that was spreading so much strife within his life was here and he knew it, he could sense the maddening Mad Butcher from within the gloom and shadows and could almost taste the sweet victory that was now within his beckoning
grasp.
He then became anxious as he eagerly awaited the signal from his Unknowns to move in and they would only give this signal once they had finished their work of evicting and arresting the unruly local inhabitants. Then he would start the interviewing process of selected people of interest with his own personal cameraman and a small group of hand selected and sympathetic newspaper reporters nearby.
Meanwhile his men were already frantically beginning to examine the area for any signs of the Mad Butcher’s abattoir and remorselessly ransacked the various poor homes of the downtrodden shantytown, smashing precious plates as they rummaged and pulling down curtains as they searched. Ness then saw the flashing light signal from the distant detective Musil and he immediately sprang into action, grabbing a hand held light and wooden baton from the Scarabs passenger seat before starting to walk towards the signaller, wishing to immediately get this entire operation over and done with as soon as possible.
The small contingent of sympathetic reporters and Ness’s cameraman then eagerly followed the motioning safety director as his newly arrived and loyal Unknown, detective May, led the way into what was left of the maze-like warren of ransacked homes. The following newspaper reporters took various photographs as they walked past arrested and scarred looking residents whilst they were being interviewed by the Unknown’s, expressing an unspoken fear and anger upon each of their individual and malnourished faces. There were still some Unknowns shouting in the distance as they arrested people and a few scuffles broke out within the back of one of the overly crowded nearby police wagons, which were now being used to detain the homeless inhabitants of the poverty stricken area.
Various angry vagrants screamed and yelled abuse at the preoccupied Ness through the rusty steel barred windows of the police wagon as some recognised him from the various newspapers whereas others just assumed that he was just another government suit whom was in charge of another mass eviction operation. Ness was totally immune to their numerous derogatory remarks as he took this precious opportunity to hit his flickering hand held flashlight back into life before ordering his accompanying entourage of press to observe him from a safe distance as he began to question a group of preselected and frightened vagrants.
The Noir Evil Page 37
