Savannah seemed to sense the shift of the room’s energy level. She stood and responded, “Honestly, I forgot about it. After Joshua left that night, I stashed it in the back of my closet under some old clothes. Didn’t want my fiancé to find it. Plus, I figured Joshua would change his mind and come back for it later, you know, after whatever he was worried about was over. When he passed away, I was shocked. It didn’t help my morning sickness decided to peak then, either. I had it with me at the funeral, but then…”
My Harold keeled over in front of everyone and left me alone to deal with this nightmare. Just like he did while Joshua was still alive. Yes, I remember. God, how I remember.
“Yeah, I get it.”
Swiping at the tears running down her cheeks, Savannah continued. “I’m sorry I upset you, Mrs. Hall. I guess I hoped giving you his journal wouldn’t be so painful now. I see I was wrong. Please know I never read it, and if I may be so bold, you shouldn’t either. We both already know how Joshua was when he was using…”
Seething fury burned through Merry’s mind. Unable to stop herself, she exploded. “You don’t know the half of how he was, Savannah. You bailed out way too early, just like everyone else in his life. Don’t you dare assume you knew anything about my son! I don’t recall you ever staying up for days with him while he threw his fucking guts up from detoxing! Or wiping his brow while the shakes were so severe I thought his teeth would crack. Did you ever hold him while he begged you to let him die? Listen to him sob as he wished he’d never been born because he’d hurt too many people? It was my heart that died bit by bit with each trip to rehab, not yours. I watched my child, my own flesh and blood, suffer in ways I can’t even explain—and no one was there to help me through it! Everyone gave up on him except me. So go, live your new life. Enjoy parenthood. It’s a fucking blast—and not for the faint at heart. Hope your baby’s daddy has a strong ticker. Mine didn’t.”
Openly sobbing, Savannah turned and wobbled as fast as her protruding belly allowed down the stairs. Merry waited until she heard the girl’s vehicle leave before she moved an inch. If she had the capacity to feel sympathy any longer, she would have felt some for Savannah. The girl didn’t deserve the brunt of her anger, but controlling her mouth these days proved to be more and more difficult.
Having a brief taste of hope appear only to be cruelly doused, made the crack in her psyche widen.
She ran her fingers over the worn cover, releasing the faint scent of her son. Dueling emotions battled for control. Part of her wanted to fix a pot of coffee and stay up all night reading, discovering the innermost thoughts, struggles, and feelings of her only child. The other part wanted to do exactly what Savannah had done—hide it away and forget it existed. If she opened it up and read it now, would she be able to handle it? Or would the words set in stone her decision to turn into a vicious killer?
Pulling the notebook to her chest, Merry held on tight. It took her a minute to realize she had been rocking back and forth.
Joshua. My baby…
No, she wouldn’t read it now. She couldn’t take any more emotional upheaval at the moment. What she needed was a release—something on which to vent her unending pain.
Merry stood and started pacing, hands clenching and unclenching. Pressure pulsed in her temples, making her vision blur and head throb. She heard her heartbeat thrum in her ears and felt the tightness in her chest.
Maniacal Merry roared to life and took control of her body, mind, and soul.
“Fuck waiting until Monday. Mookie, your time just expired.”
10
2:45 a.m. Sunday morning
One block before she reached 8th Street, Merry slowed down to a brisk walk. Light rain coated the dark streets as thunder rumbled in the distance. She stopped and scanned the area. No one was out and about. The threat of potential storms and high humidity seemed to convince most to stay inside.
Well, not everyone.
Crouching between two parked cars on the street, she removed the backpack. It was time she donned her next look.
She pulled on the black Lycra top. Shoved her hair inside the matching skullcap and then yanked off her running shoes, replacing them with boots. It took several tries to slide the gloves on over her swollen, bandaged knuckles.
If they don’t fit, you must acquit!
Gloves secured after three attempts, she extracted the knife and repacked the bag.
A bolt of bright light skittered across the dark sky, followed seconds later with a loud boom of thunder. Merry slung the pack on her back and took off at a light trot, careful not to misstep on the slick pavement.
She kept to the shadows, away from the streetlights. Less than two minutes later, she was close enough to Mookie’s house to have a clear view. Faint sounds of an argument between at least two people rose from behind her, though three houses away, she didn’t worry. Still, just to be safe, Merry paused in mid-stride next to a large pile of trash while she watched her target’s place.
Mookie was on the front porch, but he wasn’t alone. Two young women flanked him on each side, and all three sat on the top step. Even from a distance, Merry could tell they were all higher than hot air balloons. Judging by the skimpy attire of the two girls, they were either pros or whores-in-training. They were entertaining themselves by taunting Hercules. With each rock Mookie tossed at the dog, the girls giggled. The one on Mookie’s right even chunked a few.
Scanning the street once more, Merry waited until another bolt of lightning flashed. She stood and burst from her position when the thunder followed. Hopping the fence two doors down from Mookie’s place, she jogged through the backyards of his neighbors. When she got to the fence surrounding Mookie’s yard, she paused to listen and readjust her pack. Faint laughter and mutterings drifted in the air.
Mookie and his ho-down partners were still living it up.
At Hercules’ expense.
Merry was over the fence and across the small space in seconds. She made it to the tiny back porch before the light misting transformed into a downpour. The old house rattled when three sets of feet pounded on the front porch.
Two sets went one way, and one the other.
Good! The entertainment left. Lucky them.
With her back pressed against the side of the house, Merry could hear Mookie muttering inside the kitchen. She turned and jumped off the porch. Squatting down, she reached into her pack, grabbing what she needed.
In the pouring rain, she moved toward the front yard. She spotted Hercules cowering under the front porch, the rope stretched to its limit. Merry tossed a full pound of fresh ground chuck at the dog. It landed inches from his nose. With the knife in her other hand, she bent down and sliced through the thick rope staked into the damp ground.
There you go, buddy. Eat some but don’t get too full. Dessert is just around the corner.
Merry turned and ran toward the back porch. Once she reached the corner of the house, she smelled it. The heavy, thick vapor coated the night air.
Weed. Perfect!
She edged her way closer to the corner and then stole a quick peek. Sure enough, Mookie sat on the back porch smoking a blunt, the back door wide open.
Glancing behind her to make sure Hercules was still otherwise occupied, Merry let her breath out slow and easy. She didn’t know how long Mookie would remain on the back porch. The underlying fear of the dog deciding to announce her presence by barking or even come out from his hiding spot and try to rip her throat out, made her heart rate spike.
“Yo, Mookie! I left my purse. Let me in, it’s pouring out here!”
Merry froze at the sound of the shrill voice from the front. Grateful to be shielded from the front and back doors, two things hit her at once: Hercules didn’t bark at the appearance of another person, and the sound of Mookie’s footsteps tromping through the house.
She stole another peek.
The back door was still open.
The justice gods smile once again.
G
rabbing her bag of tricks from its resting spot, Merry lunged from her position and up to the back porch. Making sure to keep her steps light and quiet, she inched onto the porch and quickly stepped over the rotted threshold. Her options were a short hallway leading to the living room/kitchen or a door on either side. She assumed one led to a bedroom and the other a bathroom.
Merry tried both. The door on her left was the bathroom, and the one on the right was to the bedroom. Yanking a dirty towel from the bathroom, she wiped up the water on the floor. Opening the bedroom door, Merry gave it a quick scan to make sure the small area was empty.
It was.
Setting the pack down on the floor, Merry pressed her ear against the wall and listened. The front door slammed, followed by heavy steps down the hall. Gripping the knife tighter, Merry tensed. Excitement coursed through her veins. She readied herself to pounce if the piece of shit opened the door.
He didn’t.
“Fucking rain! Ruined a great night. No pussy and no more smack!”
Merry heard the chair on the back porch creak when Mookie plopped down. The door was only a few feet away, and Merry heard him attempt to light another go-around with the joint. In seconds, the scent of skunk edged its way through the door jam.
Less than a minute later, the back door slammed shut.
“Damn but I gotta piss!”
Merry sheathed the knife and reached out, wrapping her fingers around the doorknob. With slow, precise movements, she began to twist. When a sliver big enough to look through appeared, she could see enough to confirm Mookie was, indeed, using the bathroom.
Time to get my high on!
Merry burst from the bedroom. In three quick steps, she had Mookie around the neck before his own hand had a chance to release his johnson.
Muscle memory from years of karate kicked in. With her left arm around his neck, his trachea crushed against the bend of her elbow, Merry clamped her left hand on her bicep. She slammed her right palm on Mookie’s shoulder while pushing her elbows together with everything she had. Her biceps and arm bone executed the perfect blood choke.
Even though he was wasted, Mookie tried in vain to fight back. Merry was surprised by the strength of such a scrawny bastard. His feet scrambled for traction while both arms flopped around like an oxygen-depleted fish. One flail landed a solid smack against Merry’s eye socket.
She welcomed the pain. It made her flex ever harder, and in seconds, Mookie was unconscious. His limp body dropped to the floor with a loud thud.
Dashing back to the pack in the bedroom, she yanked out a short length of thin nylon rope. In seconds, Mookie’s wrists were bound. He wouldn’t be out much longer, so Merry slid her arms underneath his shoulders and dragged him to the living room. When she stopped, she let go and laughed when his head slammed into the floor. The impact made him moan while he returned to consciousness.
Before he was fully awake, Merry surveyed the living room. Sure enough, a nine millimeter rested on the kitchen table, right next to a cell phone. She snatched the weapon up, made sure it was loaded and the safety off and then tucked it in her waistband. The cell phone went into her back pocket. Side-stepping Mookie’s body on the floor, she moved to the front door and locked it. She noticed all the white powder she’d dumped earlier was, indeed, gone.
“My head! What the fu..?”
Merry was by Mookie’s side in a flash, the tip of the sharp knife pressed against his throat before he could finish his sentence. “Make a sound and it will be the last thing you do, Mr. Majors. Got it?”
Mookie’s chocolate-colored eyes were wide pools of fear and confusion. A small gasp of recognition was the only noise in the living room. He clamped his mouth shut and nodded once.
Merry stood and stepped back, snatching the lone chair from its spot by the card table. She set it less than four feet from the front door. “You look uncomfortable, Mr. Majors. How about you get up and have a seat right there, huh? Should make our little question and answer session easier to concentrate on.”
She watched Mookie’s gaze dart to the kitchen table. The panic in his eyes grew as the realization his weapon and cell were no longer around hit home.
“Looking for this?” Merry brandished the gun.
Mookie’s only response was a sharp intake of breath.
“I said have a seat, Mookie. Now.” Merry pointed the gun at his chest. “Don’t make me ask questions twice or you won’t make it out of this alive.”
She watched with twisted amusement. It took Mookie a few tries, but he finally rolled over onto his knees and stood. On wobbly legs, he stumbled across the floor and flopped onto the rickety chair.
Merry moved over and leaned against the kitchen doorway. She waited a few seconds to speak, enjoying the emotions streaking across Mookie’s face. “So, let’s start our visit off with establishing a few ground rules, shall we?”
Mookie didn’t flinch.
“Now, what did I say about making me ask questions twice? Oh, I know what it is! You’re confused about my previous statement to remain quiet. I’m giving you conflicting instructions, aren’t I? Let me clarify. It’s fine for you to answer my questions…expected, actually. Just no yelling for help or other such nonsense. Okay?”
Through clenched teeth, Mookie responded, “Got it.”
Merry let a wide grin appear. “Fantastic! Okay, so rules one and two have been established. Rule number three is simple to remember. If you lie to me, I’ll redecorate your door a lovely mixture of red and gray after I blow your brains out. Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“What a cooperative little dirtbag you are, Mr. Majors! My dad always said even the most hardened criminals had an Achilles heel. The trick was learning to find it, and his favorite way was with a billy club. I prefer deadlier toys. Fair warning: I’m really not in a good mood, so I suggest you don’t piss me off. Believe me when I say you won’t like the end result.”
“Look, if you’re here for some product, I’m all out of…”
Merry laughed so hard, tears leaked from her eyes. “Oh, that’s rich! Trying to save your ass by offering me drugs! Priceless!”
Mookie furrowed his brow in confusion. “I don’t understand. You ain’t here to score or rob me of my stash?”
“On the contrary. I’m here to score, just not what you think. I want information. Give me what I want and I’ll consider an alternate ending for you.”
Sweat dripped down into Mookie’s eyes. He blinked several times to clear his vision. “Information? Oh, I knew it! You’re a cop! I done told y’all, I don’t know shit about the next shipment! I…”
Mookie’s mouth clamped shut when Merry chambered a round. She stepped forward and aimed right in between his bulging eyes. “You just broke rule number three, Mr. Majors.”
“Wait, wait!” Mookie yelled, fidgeting in the chair.
“This is your only save, so make it count. Tell me about the shipment. The one you discussed in length via texts with Peppy.”
Mookie’s legs shook with nervous tremors. “Oh, Jesus…I can’t. I just can’t. You don’t understand….He’ll kill me. Make life for my moms awful.”
“Enlighten me or die,” Merry growled.
She watched the look of sheer terror on the bastard’s face. His lips were trembling, and he began to hyperventilate. Saw the dark stain of urine soak through his shorts. Merry decided to keep him off balance and switch interview tactics before the little wimp passed out from fright.
“Breathe, Mr. Majors. You’re depleting the oxygen levels in your brain, which will make it harder to recall things. Might make you lie to me again, which would be very unfortunate for you. So, while you get yourself under control, let me give you a bit of background information. It’ll help you understand exactly what I want, and why I will get it. Fair enough?”
Closing his eyes, throat muscles undulating when he swallowed, Mookie nodded.
Merry stepped back to her original position against the wall. “I told you on
my visit here earlier, I’m not a cop. And since I’m asking you to be honest here, I’ll do the same. I’m not a dealer, either. I’m simply a mother seeking revenge for her son’s murder, one rung up the ladder at a time.”
Mookie’s eyelids shot open. “Murder? Lady, you got the wrong guy! I ain’t never killed no one! I swear!”
Merry raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “That tattoo on your back says otherwise. Southern Folks full membership insignia, right?”
“It ain’t real! I mean, it’s a real tat, but it’s a fake. Had it done at some backdoor parlor in Pensacola a few years back. Thought it would keep me safe, you know, from other bangers. Moms made me promise to stay outta the gangs, so I’ve been faking for years! I swear lady, if you’re looking for the dude who killed your kid, you’ve got the wrong guy!”
“Oh, I don’t think so. You and other fucking scumbags like Peppy, kill people everyday. It’s a slow, agonizing death from the poison you sell. The cops can’t stop it. The courts are worthless, letting liberal bullshit agendas dictate their rulings. Someone needed to step up and take the trash out, which is what I’m doing. Peppy’s product took my only child’s life. Turned my boy into a raging junkie, and when my son’s heart quit beating, my husband’s stopped soon after. What you do for a living destroyed my world. Rather than get a legitimate job and contribute to society, you deplete it. I’m not the only person who’s lost someone, but I’m different because I chose to make a permanent difference. So, I decided to make Peppy and all his cohorts pay the ultimate price. An eye for an eye, a life for a life is my motto now. It was quite liberating when I bashed his skull in. If you don’t want to suffer the same fate, don’t lie to me again.”
Blinking twice to absorb the words, Mookie choked out, “You killed…oh, shit, you really ain’t a cop, are you?”
A crooked smile creased Merry’s lips while she shook her head. She could see the twerp connecting all the dots. Trying to get his neurons to fire on all cylinders and process what she’d just said. His eyes widened even further, mouth agape. Merry assumed he’d just realized he was in danger of losing his life at any moment and came to terms with the fact the woman in front of him was beyond crazy.
Night Court Page 8
