After a few valuable minutes whereby she eagerly rummaged through the thick collection of well used papers which littered the desks bottomless interior, she suddenly felt her small framed body being violently tugged backwards as an angry Sweeney pulled on her golden hair. She then felt his giant left hand grasp her small quivering throat as he effortlessly elevated her above the ground before a thunderous right handed back slap struck her cheek, causing her to face to momentarily shudder with the forceful impact. The angry Sweeney then shouted at her in a threatening manner as saliva erupted from his mouth “YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU FUCKING DIRTY, SNEAKY LITTLE WHORE!”
Poppy was tough but even she was shocked by the sheer brute strength of the man as her cheek still resonated pain from the impact of his hand. The defiant Poppy smiled at Sweeney because she would not take such physical punishment from any man again and so immediately replied whist defiantly licking the blood away from her cracked lip “I see that violence runs through your family!” The standing Sweeney glared at her in rage thinking about how he could severely punish this deceitful woman whilst he mercilessly retained his vice like grip around her pretty little neck. After a moment’s thought he lifted her up above his shoulders whilst she squirmed under his iron grip and he grimaced at her snide remark whilst gritting his teeth together. He then pointed his finger at her and spoke angrily after considering his limited options about her ultimate fate “You know perfectly well what I’m capable of bitch! So don’t test me! You’ll forget what you’ve seen here tonight if you know what’s good for you!...”
He then surprisingly paused as a look of shock and confusion developed instantaneously across his puzzled face before he attempted to continue “…If you know what’s good for Ness and Merlyo’s health also you’ll shut up! I know you’ve grown rather ‘fond’ of those two losers haven’t you?” Sweeney then smiled menacingly as he lowered the gasping Poppy back onto the floor but still maintained a firm grip around her little neck, amused at her frantically futile attempts at releasing his grip. He then started to breathe heavy and look more confused as he tried to continue to speak “They… they don’t even know who you really are! Not like I do!”
The confused looking Sweeney then reluctantly released his grip from around her neck and fell onto his knees as they buckled and gave way under his immense weight. He struggled as he attempted to get back up by using the table but every time his weak legs would refuse to take his unforgivable load and this caused him to panic and sweat. He desperately clawed at the table to help him stand upright before he worryingly spoke again but this with a distinctly concerned and vulnerably shaking voice “You… You poisoned… me?”
His mind began to spin as he confusingly saw three Poppy’s now all of which were spinning around his blurred vision whilst he spoke again but this time with an underlying anger within his quieting tone “You fucking lying whore! You fucking bitch! I’ll get you for…” But before he could finish his abusive sentence he helplessly collapsed on to the floor face first in a huge, lumbering mess which was soon accompanied by his luxurious black and red silk robe as it conveniently covered the unsightly mound. A shaken Poppy allowed a moment or two to pass as she regained her composure whilst rubbing her sore neck which was still recovering from the congressman’s vice like grip. She grew ever angrier at the still conscious Sweeney as he looked up at her with a vengeful eye from his currently uncomfortable position, causing her fury to well up within her until it became uncontrollable. She then quickly ran back into the bedroom and grabbed his elaborate glass decanter of red wine and returned to him within a few seconds only to hear him still mumbling some curse words at her. She then angrily brought the purposefully drugged decanter crashing down upon his head, knocking him unconscious and shattering the elaborate drinking vessel into a thousand pieces.
After a few seconds whereby she took the time to gently massage her neck to alleviate the residual painful pressure that he had applied to it and regain her composure, she then knelt down and whispered to the unconscious Sweeney “Of course I poised you, you fat pile of shit! I’ve always done it during our little ‘pleasure session’s’ It’s just that this time I added a little more into your wine so you would sleep more quickly and for a lot longer!” She then stood up and kicked him hardly in the stomach which caused him to instantly expel gas from his anus and covered the immediate area within an undeniably revolting smell.
Bizarrely this violence was a common occurrence between the two of them because he would often not remember the elusive events of their numerous sexual encounters because he had always dabbled in drugs and often applied such drugs within their sexual foreplay sessions. The clever Poppy had been all too eager to increase his appetite for such narcotics because many of them had sedative properties and it would often ensure that on many separate occasions he would simply fall asleep before they had even got intimate with each other. She would then simply tell him what she had always told him after such occasions which were filled with lapses of memory, that he performed admirably well in bed and fainted in a moment of pure sexual ecstasy. This compliment would not only massage his already large ego but also make him forget any anger or animosity that he had towards her and she would also say that his many bruises where obtained due to their regular rough bondage foreplay. Sweeney actually liked his ticklish bruises when he woke up and felt them regularly whilst in his office or out and about at official political party meetings because he had often told her that they made him feel more alive and excited whilst in such boringly drab locations. He especially liked them during long winded political speeches on particularly boring topics such as workers’ rights and health care, choosing to touch them to remind himself of his conquest or feel her used panties that he would regularly wear because he liked feeling her with him at all times.
Poppy looked down at the unconscious Sweeney and felt repulsed at the very sight of him because no matter how long that hot shower lasted for she could never feel truly clean and just wanted to get away from this loathsome creature and start afresh someplace new. This was now her second big opportunity to escape another abusive man and she would take it with a vengeance not only because she wanted to start her new life with no baggage from the past but also because she wanted to bring down her former saviour by giving these incriminating papers to Ness. She then quickly grabbed all the papers within the secretive draw and upon the desk and frantically began to put them into a garbage bag because there were simply too many to carry on her own. She made a promise to herself whilst she was doing this that she would never feel the need to have such a long shower again in a fruitless attempt to wash away her feelings of self-loathing and disgust.
She then went into the bedroom and picked up the container which had the remaining three white mice and hastily released them into the Terminal Towers vacant hallway, detesting his sick and sadistic fascination with feeding them to his already overly large snake. As she hastily returned to her frantic collection of preciously valuable documentation evidence of his numerous crimes and business dealings with the mob, until she noticed a small reminder note that simply read “8th August reminder: Tell that fool sheriff O’Donnell to kill Dolezal in jail after he gets a full written confession to the Mad Butcher crimes! Must be made to look like an accident!”
She was instantly alarmed because it was todays date and then recalled the single telephone call that he had made earlier that day prior to them having sex together and she instantly knew what she had to do. She was not willing to have yet another innocent life on her conscience taken away by the evil congressman in order to protect his mad cousin Frank and so she instantly picked up Sweeney’s telephone from his desk and called Ness’s private direct line for his office. She hoped that he may still be there even at this late hour and be able to stop the false confession and murder of Frank Dolezal. After a few rings she was about to hang up when a laughing Ness answered and she could hear Merlyo’s voice also laughing in the background. She was hesitant at first t
o speak but then looked down at the lumbering mound of the repulsive flesh that was Sweeney which strangely gave her the confidence to speak with some urgency in her voice “Ness! This is Poppy! I can’t stay on long or explain this but please get down to the Cuyahoga County Jail immediately because the sheriff is going to murder Frank Dolezal after he gets him to confesses to the Mad Butcher crimes!”
An alarmed Ness wanted more information but she just slammed the phone down because an innocent man’s life depended on their speedy intervention. Her own life was also in jeopardy now because if Sweeney awoke to find her in such a compromising situation he would kill her and so she hastily left the Terminal Tower with her preciously valuable cargo. She knew that she would have to meet up with the both of the men whom she loved and tell everything that she knew whilst also giving them the papers that would end the corrupt congressman’s reign of power once and for all. She dreaded with all of her heart telling them the cruel truth but it would be her last task that she would perform in order to somehow forgive herself for the many sins that she had secretly committed against the very ones that she loved the most.
The content sheriff O’Donnell sat smirking with his feet leisurely crossed upon his desk whilst his arms where placed behind his head as he looked at his trusted deputy and jail house keeper whom sat across from him, Kilbane. The preoccupied Kilbane was closely examining his blooded and bandaged hands in detail whilst the sheriff observed him, fascinated by the brutality of his trusted deputy and his undeniable ability to achieve success in the area of beatings. The Cuyahoga County Jail sheriff’s office was small but modest and adequately supplied with all manner of the usual jailhouse equipment as rusty bars lined the few windows that there where and various assortments of old keys lined up against the mould covered walls.
The crudely made and unpainted brick walls where constantly damp due to the unskilfully crafted roof tiles above which had long ago caused a thin layer of mould to develop a flourishing colony upon its surface. This mouldy lining had in turn given the entire office a magnificent greenish tint whenever the daylight had managed to sporadically filter in, causing all whom entered to acknowledge its undeniably domineering presence. The regular staff of the sheriff’s office had long ago forgotten about this distinctively neglected characteristic of the environment and had learnt to focus entirely upon constantly moving around the water collecting tin cans rather than helping rectify the tired building’s exterior.
The surrounding mouldy air was now saturated with a new substance that was very familiar to the regular staff of the sheriff’s office, that of human blood which now permeated throughout the entire tired looking jailhouse. This unjustly expelled blood in turn delivered yet more moistness into an already saturated jailhouse air as a few more drops dripped from Kilbane’s bandaged fists and fell onto the wooden panelled floor. The sheriff’s old wooden and worn out desk was in need of repair just like all the lamp fittings that lined the mouldy wall where various wanted posters of criminals vacantly looked back at the on looking sheriff. These tatty old and discoloured posters barley still clung onto the slippery, mouldy and moss covered walls which natural created some ghastly and distorted images of criminals because rain water had long ago infiltrated there paper and ink domains. Some of the criminals looked more reminiscent of a line of Hollywood horror characters rather than humans but this is how the sheriff liked his prey, intimidatingly scary and unrealistically frightening.
This gruesome line up of characters which the sheriff amused himself looking at whilst Kilbane was preoccupied with his trembling bloody fists, further enhanced his own belief that he is the only man with enough true courage to take on such obvious evil. To him these distorted images represented there true hideous faces and equally matched his own warped view of the world around him. Most of the sheriff’s office posters were out of date and littered with long caught criminals of small time petty crime such as The Voodoo Doctor, Chicken Freak, Mr Goat-Legging’s and some rather violent members of the notorious Mayfield Road Mob such as Charles “Chuck” Polizzi aka: “Little Fish” Machiano. There was however a gem amongst this cluttering of petty crime that ominously contained a simple blank face with a question mark at its centre and read underneath it: “The Mad Butcher, The Torso Murderer/Slayer or Phantom of Kingsbury Run. Real identity: unknown”
O’Donnell leaned back as he continually looked at this blank face with an immense sense of satisfaction because he knew that he would soon be acknowledged for capturing the elusive killer and that his handsomely dashing face would heroically decorate the Cleveland newspapers. The silent Kilbane then lifted up his blood soaked and bandaged hands to collect the beer that was placed upon the desk earlier, which sat next to a black telephone, and grabbed it before instantly downing its precious contents. This momentary physical act had dragged the sheriff’s attention away from the various joyous fantasies that he was concocting within his warped mind about his numerous victorious appearances within the newspapers.
O’Donnell then looked at Kilbane’s hands with satisfaction because he knew that the blood on his bandaged hands represented a further step in his unrelenting campaign to aspire to the greatest heights of the police force in Cleveland. The determined Kilbane had been the last one to mercilessly beat and torture a confession out of Frank Dolezal within the jail cell that he was now unlawfully confined within. His ruthlessly efficient deputy had been trying to obtain a written confession for the murder Flo Polillo but Dolezal had remained irritatingly stubborn in his denial, further infuriating the silent deputy whom then performed yet more violent acts against him. Earlier on O’Donnell and Brown had tried to persuade him this sign this prewritten confession but both had soon become tired of his constant protestations about his innocence and it was concluded that the only language that he would understand was the language of pain.
The silently cruel Kilbane was quickly recovering from his last successful session of beating the surprisingly tough Dolezal and had taken it upon himself to have a quick beer break with his boss before potentially returning to his skilled art of pain infliction. The sheriff and his men, along with the accompanying detective Trunk, had all arrested Dolezal with a lot of fanfare and much newspaper attention only four weeks before on the 5th of July. They had done this under the secret and unofficial instruction of congressman Sweeney because the irritable politician had wanted a final resolution to the case in order to stop the constant secret surveillance of his beloved cousin by Ness and his Unknowns. This reason however was not what he had told the sheriff and his men because only he and Trunk knew the real reason why he wished for speedy end to this apparently endless case.
The last four weeks the sheriff and his men had been half-heartedly attempting to get Dolezal to confess but he had stubbornly refused to do so and there unofficial deadline was now quickly approaching. This deadline was set by the congressman himself because he had stated that by this date he would want this troublesome case to be “done and dusted with” because of its politically damaging ramifications that might ensue due to its constant appearances within the local newspapers. This less problematic and publically acceptable reason was what Sweeney had told the sheriff and his men and all knew that he would soon be calling them anytime now in order to check up on the results of his cunningly planned action.
The congressman disliked the sheriff because of his marriage to his beloved but naive daughter whom had always been quick to give away her heart at the earliest given opportunity. He knew that O’Donnell lacked intelligence and saw this marriage as the only way that he could quickly ascend the ranks of the department. He also knew that the crafty O’Donnell would use his daughter to push his aging career but he was willing to forgo many of his numerous misgivings about him just as long as he was loyally obedient. Sweeney had often worried about O’Donnell’s inferior seed that would inevitably dilute his own superior genetic genepool but he had wanted to please his daughter and help her new husband better himself. O’Donnell kn
ew about how the congressman still thought about him and knew that he still had to prove himself and his value to his new and powerful family member.
Due to this persistent desire to please the congressman and show that he was worthy of his daughter, the determined sheriff had felt compelled to use his overly zealous and violent deputy to further explain the “complicated situation” to the impertinent Dolezal. This “explanation” took the familiar form of regular violence which Kilbane had appeared to relish in and adored the unsightly blood and exhilaration of the prolonged torture sessions. So much so in fact that the concerned O’Donnell and Brown had to physically restrain him as the violence became far too loud and noticeable to people outside. These concerned citizens had been making regular complaints to the local council about the noise that had persisted from the grim jailhouse for four long weeks now and had forced the sheriff and his men to place a sock within Dolezal’s mouth before every torture session had started.
Dolezal was a surprisingly stubborn man and had refused to confess to anything but had thankfully finally relented this last hour and given his own ramblingly written signed confession which was all that the congressman and sheriff had ever wanted. Now that the happily content O’Donnell had his blood soaked gift for the congressmen, he thought that he would not only acquire his wife’s father’s respect but also have the added bonus of being seen as a hero by the press for helping capture the centrepiece of his most wanted posters collection. His limited conscience would not be troubled by Dolezal’s imprisonment or possible execution because he was simply a drunken trouble maker whom was well known around Kingsbury Run and would not be missed by anyone. Even if he was not the famed killer whose blank image was upon the mouldy wall ahead of him, he was still guilty by association and of other numerous petty crimes which were too long to list. Dolezal had admitted to knowing Edward Andrassy, Florence Polillo and Rose Wallace and so he rationalised within his warped mind that this could not be a coincidence and that by just knowing these victims of the Mad Butcher, he was literally confessing to their grisly murders.
The Noir Evil Page 63
