All The Dead Girls

by Tim Kizer

  "Help!" He had no doubt now; it was Kathy’s voice.

  He saw through the shrubbery two feet in women's shoes. He dropped the box with his gift, forced his way through the bushes, and bent over Kathy, who was lying on her back on the ground. Her blouse was soaked with blood; there was a grimace of pain on her face.

  "What happened?" Richard asked. He sat down beside Kathy and raised her upper body up. He decided against carrying Kathy out of the bushes, for fear of making her condition worse. His hands were trembling, he felt a thick lump in his throat.

  "I don't know... I don't know," Kathy muttered, barely audibly.

  Richard held her tight in his arms and felt her body shaking.

  "You're wounded?” he said. “Who did this to you?"

  He was sweating profusely now, his heart was racing. He had no idea what he should do. He was just keeping Kathy in his embrace, not daring to look at her bleeding stomach. He took his right hand from Kathy's back, saw that it was stained with blood, and grimaced.

  "Someone... attacked me," Kathy mumbled.

  "Yes, yes, someone attacked you." Richard gently laid Kathy on the ground and scanned her body for wounds.

  "I... I." Kathy was trying hard to speak, but her tongue did not obey her.

  "Don't speak, Kathy. Don't strain yourself. Just relax, everything’s going to be fine." Richard lifted her blouse. There was a stab wound between the ribs on her right side. Richard pressed it with his palm to stop the bleeding.

  He must call the ambulance or she would die.

  Richard stood up, glanced around, and shouted, “Help! I need help here!”

  Then he pulled his cellphone from his pants pocket and dialed 911. The operator answered, and he requested an ambulance. Fortunately, he had no problem recalling Norris’s cousin’s address. When he hung up, a convulsion ran through Kathy’s body.

  "Everything will be fine,” Richard said. “Hold on. The ambulance is on its way. Just don’t die, please."

  He was ready to burst into tears, to faint. Everything around him became blurry.

  Could Kathy really die?

  Choking with agitation, Richard jumped out of the bushes onto the asphalt and yelled as loud as possible, "Help! Please help! A woman is dying!"

  He didn’t know why he was screaming for help now that he had called an ambulance. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to deal with the situation alone.

  Moments later, several people ran up to him. Among them was Steve Norris.

  "Steve, someone stabbed Kathy," Richard said to the detective.

  "Stabbed?" Norris frowned. “Where is she?”

  “There.” Richard pointed at the bushes. “She’s bleeding.”

  "What happened?" a man standing to Norris’s right asked.

  “A friend of mine has been stabbed.” Norris produced his cellphone. “Have you called 911?”

  “Yes.” Richard nodded.

  "Very good.” Norris headed toward the bushes. "Is she alive?"

  “Yes.” Richard went after the detective.

  They found Kathy motionless; her eyes were shut. Richard looked at his hands. They were covered in blood. There was blood all over him: on his shirt, his pants, his shoes. Kathy's blood.

  “Kathy,” Norris said.

  Kathy opened her eyes and turned her face to the detective.

  "Oh, thank God. She's alive.” Richard sighed with relief.

  "Who did it?" Richard heard a voice behind his back.

  He wheeled around and saw two men.

  “Did you see who did it?” The eyes of the guy that asked the question met Richard's.

  Richard shook his head.

  CHAPTER 19

  1.

  Who had suggested killing Richard? Who had been the first to speak the magic words? She didn't remember exactly who had said what and when; perhaps she didn't want to remember. So much time had passed since then. It had seemed to be a collective decision then.

  She had a theory on this subject. Now, in light of what she had learned in the past few weeks, she believed that it was Don’s idea to kill Richard. No, he hadn’t said one day out of the blue, “Let’s murder your husband, baby.” Don was very smooth about it. He played her like a violin. He manipulated her into wanting to kill Richard.

  He got her to admit that she wasn’t happy with Richard, that she felt oppressed by him, that sometimes she suspected her husband had a dark past.

  She set out to kill her own husband. She didn’t have a good excuse for it (not that there could be an excuse for homicide, except for self-defense): Richard didn’t abuse her, he wasn’t a drunkard or a junkie, he wasn't jealous or stingy. In fact, most women would call him a model husband. She agreed to participate in the murder plot because of love. Yes, she had been in love with Don, and a woman in love would do anything for her man, even commit a crime.

  She had been crazy about Don.

  By the way, Don had a lot of friends. She had to earn Don’s trust before he let her meet them.

  2.

  When she came to Don and told him about her ordeal, he said he had begun to worry about her.

  On Wednesday morning, Don said, smiling, "You want to hear something interesting? Your husband brought a woman home."

  She was stunned. Don showed her a video shot by his friend an hour earlier. In it, Mary saw a woman looking out a window of Richard’s and her house. The woman, who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, was wearing a lot of makeup, which suggested that she might be a stripper or a hooker. Mary did not recognize her. She was pissed off that this bitch was wearing her silk robe.

  "He’s not wasting any time, is he?" Don remarked. “Do you know her?”

  “No.”

  "I have an idea," Don said. "It’s going to be a lot of fun."

  Don suggested that they play a joke on Richard. He wanted to frighten her husband a little. His idea was along the lines of that old prank where you put on a white sheet with holes for eyes and pretended to be a ghost. She was supposed to play her own ghost.

  "It will scare the shit out of your husband," Don said. “He might even have a heart attack.”

  She agreed, and later that day she popped up in front of the bitch that had worn her silk robe. Laugh all you want, but she thoroughly enjoyed this prank! She regretted that she hadn't had the resolve to walk in front of Richard. She wasn't sure about a heart attack, but was willing to bet he would have fainted at her sight.

  3.

  Richard was acting in a very strange way. Mary never figured out what he had brought that prostitute into their house for. And why was he hanging out with Kathy? What did he see in that woman? Mary was sure Kathy was not his type. Her hair stood on end at the thought of Richard lying in bed with Kathy.

  Richard had gone cuckoo. First he had buried his own wife, now he was escorting fat ugly women. Mary wanted to kill Richard. No, she wanted him to suffer, so she was really happy when Don told her that Richard was going to end up in prison.

  "Your husband will go to prison for murdering you,” Don said. “That's so funny! They might even give him a death sentence. A death sentence!" He laughed. “For a crime he didn’t commit! He’s going to be really pissed off.”

  Mary laughed with him, and her laughter was sincere. She couldn't wait for Richard to be thrown behind bars. Or executed.

  On Thursday, Don took her to his friend's country house about fifteen miles north of Everett, where she would stay for a week. It was a beautiful two-story mansion with expensive furniture, which sat on a large wooded lot. There was a live-in housekeeper there, so Mary didn't have to cook.

  That day Don introduced her with the owner of the house. The owner's name was Marcus.

  "There was a Roman emperor by the name of Marcus Ulpius Trajanus,” Marcus said to Mary. “He's not particularly well known nowadays, but it was under him that the Roman Empire reached its maximum size. He was a great conqueror.”

  “So you were named after him?” Mary asked.

  “Yes.”


  Marcus turned out to be a nice, easy-going fellow with a great sense of humor. Two days later, he threw a party in Mary’s honor at his place, which was attended by about twenty people. Marcus called every one of them his best friend.

  "From now on they’re your best friends, too," he told Mary.

  CHAPTER 20

  1.

  That night Richard came home at midnight after he had spent an hour being interviewed by a detective at the Bellevue police department.

  He visited Kathy at the Overlake Medical Center two days after the attack. She had been placed in a single-bed room on the third floor of the hospital. Before he was allowed to enter, Richard had to present his driver’s license and explain the purpose of his visit to the clean-shaven man in a black suit who was sitting on a chair just outside the door. Richard figured he was a cop.

  Kathy was lying in bed, dressed in a light blue patient gown. The head of the bed was raised at about a forty five degree angle. The nurse, a heavyset Hispanic woman in her forties, told Richard that Kathy shouldn't strain herself in any way and that he had fifteen minutes to talk to her.

  After the nurse left the room, Richard took Kathy’s hand and asked, looking into her eyes, "How are you feeling?"

  “I’m doing okay.” Kathy smiled.

  Richard breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you sure? You can tell me the truth.”

  “I really am fine.”

  Richard smoothed Kathy's hair. "Are you going to have any more surgeries?"

  "No. At least that’s what they told me."

  "Do you have any pain?"

  "It hurts a little, but they give me painkillers."

  "You're going to be fine, right?"

  Kathy nodded. "It’s just a matter of time. All I have to do now is rest. They said they would release me in a week."

  "That's great. Did the police talk to you yet?"

  Kathy winced slightly and then shifted on the bed. "This moron stabbed me three times. Thankfully, the knife missed the vital organs. I was very lucky."

  She closed her eyes.

  “It’s amazing,” Richard said.

  “It’s a miracle.”

  After a long pause, Richard asked, “Why is there a cop outside the door? Is he protecting you from the guy who stabbed you?”

  Kathy nodded. “I personally think it’s not necessary.”

  The door opened, and the nurse entered the room.

  "Okay, that's enough," she declared. "She needs to rest now.”

  “Come tomorrow,” Kathy said to Richard. “Or the day after tomorrow. Whenever you have time.”

  “All right, I will,” Richard replied.

  The nurse gestured Richard toward the door. He quickly obeyed.

  When he was in the doorway, he turned around and waved Kathy goodbye. “See you soon. I’ll try to drop by tomorrow."

  Richard came home in high spirits. He was heartened by the fact that Kathy was in a stable condition. For the last few days, he had not stopped thinking about the attack on Kathy and the serial killer that chopped off his victims’ ears.

  This bastard had tried to murder Kathy. He had killed Susie with a knife. It looked like a knife was his weapon of choice. Well, Richard could see why: unlike guns, knives were very easy to obtain and made no noise. However, there was a big disadvantage: one needed to have a certain physical strength in order to kill an adult human being with a knife. Besides, it was easy to create a mess when you stabbed or slashed someone with a knife. For a case in point, look at what had happened to the rug in the living room of Susie's apartment when the hooker had been murdered. This would be a big problem if you committed the murder at your residence since blood evidence was surprisingly hard to remove.

  Richard thought about Martin, the first person he had ever killed. He had stabbed him to death with a knife.

  Dammit. Every time he recalled his first killing, he always told himself that he hadn’t had to take Martin’s life. He could have played it differently. He hadn't wanted to kill anyone that night.

  He hadn’t had to take Martin’s life. This damn thought seemed to be permanently attached to his memories of his first killing. He couldn't drive it away.

  CHAPTER 21

  1.

  Three days after she startled the prostitute at Richard’s and her house, Mary saw garden scissors in Don's hands. He was holding them by the tips of their blades, his hands sheathed in teal latex gloves.

  "What is it?" she asked Don.

  "Garden scissors."

  "What do you need them for?"

  She wanted to ask him why he was wearing gloves, but then changed her mind. She made a mental note that Richard had the same—or almost the same—garden scissors.

  "I have an interesting idea,” Don replied as he placed the scissors into a plastic zipper bag. He handled the scissors with great care, as though they were a precious ancient artifact. “It involves your husband. You’re going to love this. I'll tell you the details later."

  They were like a sadistic kid pulling the legs off a bug, one by one. Mary felt that Richard was scared.

  It was her idea to hang the prints back on the walls (she had been a little upset when she had found out that Richard had removed them). And she was the one who went to the Orchid Art Gallery to buy new prints; she was sure that Richard would get rid of the old ones.

  The morning after they put the newly purchased prints on the walls, Mary saw a short young woman talking to Don in the dining room. As soon as the woman noticed Mary, she rose from the table and left the room.

  "Who is she?" Mary asked Don.

  "It's Barbara. Last night she was at your house."

  Don told her about the writing Barbara had left on a wall in the master bedroom. The writing read: ‘Richard, you are dead. M.’

  “M. is for Mary," Don explained.

  Mary commended Don for his creativity. Then Don reprimanded her for calling her mother.

  "No one must know you’re alive, including your relatives," he said. "Your mom might tell Richard that you called her."

  Mary said that she’d just wanted to scare Richard. She didn't mention the other reason: she hoped that her mother's presence would stop Richard from seeing other women. Strange as it might seem, she was a little jealous.

  Don bought her explanation.

  They were pulling the bug’s legs out, one by one. They were having fun. And then she started making discoveries, each more terrifying than the one before.

  2.

  It was Don's notepad. Mary found it by accident under the coffee table in the sitting room. Like most people, she was nosy, so she opened the notepad and began leafing through it. She didn't stay on one page longer than two seconds. The notes consisted of names, appointments, phone numbers, addresses, reminders, and random thoughts. Although her internal voice told her to put the notepad away and do something useful, she kept turning over the pages, unable to resist curiosity. And it was a good thing that she did, because she stumbled on a very important piece of information.

  She saw her husband's name on one of the pages. Underneath the name was Richard’s and her address, underneath which were the license plate numbers of Richard’s and her cars.

  What was so important about this note? It was followed by a reminder for a dentist appointment on January 30. Mary didn’t care about Don’s dentist appointment. What caught her attention was the fact that Don had written down Richard’s name and address one month before he first met her. A whole month.

  How could Don have known Richard before he met her?

  Then it dawned on Mary. Don was interested in her only because she was Richard’s wife. He was using her to get to Richard! This meant that all those sweet things he had said to her were a bunch of bullshit.

  Don had tricked her. He had lied to her, and it was a big mistake on his part. Like most men, he was unaware of how risky it was to play with women's feelings, how dangerous a woman scorned was. She was going to teach him a lesson. The clock started tickin
g.

  3.

  Why do men think women are stupid? That they think so was a fact.

  Forget all women. Mary wondered why men thought she was stupid. Why did Don believe that she was incapable of drawing conclusions, connecting the dots? He must believe so, because otherwise he wouldn't have talked to her about Jane.

  "You have a friend named Jane, don't you?" he said one day.

  "Yes, I do," she replied.

  "Do you remember what I told you about contacting friends? You shouldn’t do that. I explained why."

  "I didn't contact any of my friends, don’t worry about it."

  "As far as I know, Jane saw you three days ago.”

  Mary quickly recalled that she had run into Jane at the Alderwood Mall three days earlier. She told Don about the encounter and then asked him how he had found out about it.

  “Jane told Richard that she’d met you at the mall,” Don said.

  “Did you talk to Richard?”

  “A friend of mine did.”

  Four days later Mary saw Jane’s obituary in the newspaper. Jane’s death was believed to be accidental, but Mary had no doubt that her friend had been murdered.

  It didn’t take her long to figure out what had happened to Jane. She remembered the preoccupied look Don had had on his face when he had talked to her about Jane. She had not paid much attention to it at the time, but now she realized what Don had been concerned about. It was Jane. Don had been worried that Jane would tell the police about their meeting at the Alderwood Mall, which would lead the investigators to believe that Mary Brower was alive and well, and that Richard had not murdered her. Don was so hell-bent on putting Richard behind bars that he was willing to kill an innocent woman.

  Don must have thought that love had made her dumb and blind, and that she would miss all the clues. He had miscalculated. She was not a sentimental type. She had brains, and she loved using them. She managed to put two and two together. And she was not going to forgive Don for murdering Jane. From now on, she would keep a sharp eye on him. He had gone too far trying to destroy Richard, and she had decided to stop him.