Night Court

by Ashley Fontainne

  Mookie choked out, “Fuck! I have seen you before! In court the other day! You’re the mom of that kid who died in the alleyway…oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus! I warned Peppy about all this.”

  This time, Merry pulled the knife from its sheath. She held it up to the light, admiring the shards of silver light reflecting off the smooth, sharp surface. Before Mookie had a chance to take in a gulp of air to finish his thoughts, she was right in front of him. The stench of his fear, urine, and lack of personal hygiene made her nose twitch. Jerking her arm forward, she stopped just shy of piercing through the thin shorts that housed his flaccid dick.

  “His name was Joshua Robert Hall, not ‘that kid,’ and yes I work for the judge. Made finding out information on you much easier. Now, tell me all about this shipment coming in from Memphis and every single thing you know about your supplier. You mentioned Tee earlier. You’ve got twenty seconds before I castrate you. Go.”

  “Oh shit, okay, okay! T-Dog, that’s my guy. Don’t know his real name, I swear. We ain’t friends or nothing. Met him in lockup about five years ago when he got busted for a DUI. Knew right away he was a junkie, and we partnered up not long after. Told me he had access to a lot of cash and connections that would keep us out of prison.”

  “Description, please?” Merry queried while watching sweat drip off Mookie’s chin.

  Mookie swallowed hard, and Merry could see the hairs standing up on his arms. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. “Tall, skinny white kid. Blond hair, green eyes. Has money and drives a silver Tahoe.”

  “How does the delivery go down?”

  “When the stuff arrives, we go get it and come back here to cut it up. Makes us all more money that way. I never know exactly when it arrives, just that it’s coming. I wait until T-Dog sends me a snap video and then head out to wherever he tells me to meet him. We use coded messages–keeps things safe. Please, lady, I get your reasons. I do. But I’m begging you, please stop. You’re stepping into some shit you don’t wanna be in.”

  Just when Merry was about to ask a question, Mookie’s phone chimed. She backed up and yanked it from her pocket.

  “That’s T-Dog’s ringtone. Watch it…I swear I’m not lying. Not kidding about the shit storm you’re about to…”

  Gesturing with the knife, Merry grumbled. “Shut up. Oh, looks like I’m about to put a face to the name, huh? Snap video? The kind that disappears once viewed, right? How very high-tech of you two!” Merry scrolled through the phone. She clicked on the new video icon and brought it up. It took a few seconds to load, but once it did, the world seemed to stop.

  The voice was full of excitement as the recording started. “Dude! Haven’t seen you in ages! Need to kick it tomorrow night! I’ll buy the beer. You bring the movies! Same bat time, same bat channel! Peace!”

  Merry’s brain didn’t want to believe what it just witnessed. The shock of seeing Tad’s familiar face took control of her body for only a few seconds. Unable to look anymore, or completely comprehend how this latest twist would affect things, she shoved the phone back into her pocket.

  What happened next was all a blur.

  The sudden impact of Mookie’s bound arms against the side of her face made stars dance in her line of vision. She felt her body fly backward, her ass landing with a hard thump on the ground while the knife skittered across the floor. Somehow, she managed to keep her balance and not fall all the way flat on her back. There was no time to concentrate on the burning, red-hot pain when she felt the heaviness of Mookie’s body plunge into hers.

  “I’m gonna kill you, bitch!” Mookie swore, landing on top of her.

  Merry never responded. They rolled across the hardwood. On autopilot, her muscles kicked in. When their bodies stopped moving, she was on top of him. Using her elbow, she brought it down on the bridge of his nose. Mookie grunted in pain when blood exploded in all directions. She followed the direct hit by jumping to her feet. Before the bastard had a chance to stand up, Merry kicked him with all her strength in the kidney.

  The pain rendered him mute, a frozen scream stuck on his bloodied lips. Merry grabbed the knife. In one swift motion she sliced through the rope. Mookie groaned again but didn’t move.

  Merry leaned down and slit the bastard’s throat. “Forgot to mention rule number four: try to hurt me and you’re dog food.”

  In a dazed rush, Merry picked up the rope. She set the gun back on the kitchen table, grabbed the pack, and then shoved the bloody blade and rope inside. She watched Mookie sputter and struggle for air, his hands soaked in blood while he tried in vain to stop the bleeding. Moving past him, she could hear the sounds of scratching and growling at the front door.

  After glancing back at the nearly dead Mookie, Merry turned her head and whispered into the door-jam. “Hercules? Here boy. Daddy wants to play!”

  She unlocked the front door, opening it wide, making sure to stay behind it. The rain-soaked dog didn’t need any urging or encouragement to come inside. Hercules smelled the weakness. Knew his prey was down for the count. The pit bull lunged from the doorway, landing right on top of Mookie. Merry watched in utter fascination while the dog’s head shot forward and latched on to the neck and shook, tearing chunks of flesh off.

  Arching her body and using the backpack for a shield, Merry moved to the other side of the door, closing it fast. Once on the porch, she paused to listen to the sounds of Hercules shredding his former master to pieces.

  Ah, sweet payback. Enjoy your dessert, Hercules.

  The cooling droplets of rain were a relief helping to calm her bruised cheeks. Merry broke out into a run, her mind spinning. The discovery of the identity of the next rung in the ladder made her mouth dry and knees weak.

  She was angry at herself for not following protocol, for allowing herself to succumb to the emotional duress and veer from the plan. It was a stupid, stupid mistake. Her mindset had been controlled by emotions rather than stealth. Cockiness, and the need to satiate the sorrow took over, and it almost got her killed.

  Merry ignored her sore muscles and pushed her legs to their limits. The knowledge her next kill wouldn’t be some random stranger wasn’t something she’d even remotely considered. She needed to be at home—safe—so she could digest this new development.

  Merry shook her head at the strange twist of events.

  Sorry Judge Tompkins, but you’re about to become a member of my club now. Tad is next on my list.

  11

  4:15 a.m. Sunday morning

  Sprinting down the street, Merry finally stopped in front of the last house before the intersection of 8th and Markham. No lights were on in the house, and the streetlamp was on the fritz. Plus, a big land-yacht-looking car had parked next to the curb while she’d been playing with Mookie. Less than three feet behind it was an old truck. Numerous garbage bags were stacked on top of each other, spilling out over the curb and into the street. She smiled. It was a perfect place to hide and change clothes.

  Dawn wasn’t far away, and she couldn’t be seen running down the street in her current outfit. The boots went first, followed by the soaking wet top and skullcap. She shoved it all back into the bag. She nearly screamed when a cell phone chimed in her pocket.

  What in the world? Oh, damn! I can’t have this on me!

  She jerked Mookie’s phone from her pocket, shocked she didn’t recall putting it there. Grateful it only beeped once—an indicator it was a text—she tried to find the mute button. Her gloves were wet, and though she tried to hang on, the phone slipped out from her fingers. The sound of the screen shattering when it landed on the pavement made her cringe.

  Snatching it back up, Merry scanned the destroyed, useless front. Tamping down her irritation, she convinced herself she didn’t need it. Though she didn’t know the location where Mookie was to meet up with Tad Tompkins, she knew where Tad lived. Her next recon missions would center on following him for several days, learning his daily habits.

  One annoying detail solved, she stared at th
e phone. There was no way she’d take it back, even if all she did was get close enough so she could toss it into Mookie’s front yard. She couldn’t copy the information over to the burner phone in her bag either, since the front touch screen was destroyed. It was too dark to remove the back and see if it housed a memory card, and she couldn’t risk using the flashlight in her bag.

  The only choice left was to remove the battery and then bury both it and the dead phone deep inside one of the plastic garbage bags. It took longer in the dark to pop the back cover off, and the intense pressure in her forehead didn’t help. The stab of pain wasn’t from getting clocked by Mookie. It was a warning sign: a migraine was less than an hour away. Not only did she need to get the hell out of the area but also take her medication before she was blinded by the overwhelming pain.

  “Come on; come on!” Merry whispered in frustration. She let out a huff of air when the back finally came off. Scooting over to the pile of trash, she forced herself not to gag from the stench while she felt around. In seconds, she found one near the bottom with a loose drawstring. She shoved the phone and the battery down deep inside.

  Then she heard it.

  A weird sound she didn’t recognize.

  Heart pounding, Merry removed the gloves and shoved them inside the backpack. Bracing her palms on the wet ground, she spun around and found herself inches from the bloody snout of a large dog.

  Oh, the irony! My death certainly isn’t coming the way I envisioned! Not even close. Can’t believe I didn’t shut the door all the way! What an enormous cluster-fuck this has been! Damn you, Savannah!

  Instead of shaking in fear and releasing some funky pheromone only a canine could smell, Merry laughed.

  Hard.

  A bitter, fuck-my-life cackle while she waited to be ripped to shreds.

  The streetlight made an odd humming noise, flickered twice, and then stayed on. Merry could see the big dog’s eyes staring at her. Hercules breathed hard, a thick strand of saliva intermixed with blood hung from his jaws. He didn’t growl, didn’t bare his teeth, and his hackles weren’t raised. The rope she’d sliced through earlier trailed behind him. Merry figured that was the strange noise she’d heard.

  “Guess you’ve never read the one about the lion and the mouse, huh? I would be the mouse in this situation. Wouldn’t eat my brains if I were you. They’re too damaged to be any good.”

  A long, pink tongued tinged in red appeared. Hercules licked his lips and then sat with an unceremonious plop on the pavement. His tail thumped the ground. A smile appeared on Merry’s lips when she realized he actually wagged it. She sensed no aggression from the dog at all.

  “Well, this certainly wasn’t part of my plan. Yet another reason not to leave the house when angry, huh? Seems you aren’t going to eat me…at least not yet…so what now? Can’t really leave you out here because—and don’t take this personally—I don’t know what you’ll do when Animal Control comes around. Or worse. Some kid running to catch the school bus…”

  Merry’s comments were cut short when a beam of light appeared from the opposite end of the street. A deep, throaty rumble of an engine made her pulse quicken. She had a major decision to make in only seconds. Leave and hope the dog didn’t attack anyone, including her, or grab the end of the rope and take off for her car, man-eating dog in tow.

  She peeked around the trunk, scanning both directions. Her heart rate tripled when she saw a truck. It had stopped two houses down from Mookie’s and turned the headlights off. Merry took a deep breath and whispered, “Okay boy. You either come with me or end up at the pound. I promise I will never hurt you, so please reciprocate. Oh, and no barking.”

  Hercules responded by increasing the speed of his wagging tail.

  Merry reached back and grabbed the pack. With one final glance down at the dog, she took off, Hercules trotting in silence right next to her.

  I’ll be damned.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, just as the yellow rays of the morning sun appeared in the horizon, Merry was at her car. After opening the trunk and tossing the pack inside, she rummaged around until she found two large beach towels.

  Hercules was about two feet behind her, panting, watching her every move. She unlocked the passenger door, arranged the towels in the seat, and then patted her thighs. “Come on, boy. Don’t be scared.”

  With tentative steps, Hercules moved forward until he was close enough to sniff out the interior. Merry sensed his unease as he let out a low whine. Surprised he’d come this far, yet fearful of being caught with him, Merry’s next move was risky. She leaned over him and patted the front seat.

  “I’m sure trust is a major issue for you, but come on now! I released you, gave you food, and let you get some revenge. What more do you want? We’ve got to go! Hop up there…please?”

  Maybe it was her tone. Maybe it was the fact that on some weird, unexplainable level, they’d connected. After all, Merry had embraced her own dark side, releasing her inner animal, so perhaps Hercules picked up on the vibe. It could have been the desperation, the sense of hopelessness, the inborn drive to survive and kill their enemies. Whatever it was binding the man-eater with the man-killer, it didn’t matter to Merry. What mattered was Hercules taking in one final sniff and then jumping into the front seat.

  “There you go! That’s a good boy!”

  After tossing the rope-leash onto the floorboard, Merry shut the door. She ran to the other side and climbed behind the wheel. The poor dog reeked. Judging by its filthy coat, Hercules had never had a bath. Add in the rusty scent of blood and the concoction was horrendous. Merry cranked up the engine, cracked the windows, and turned the air on full blast.

  The collar around his neck was way too tight and had obviously never been taken off. To get it off would require the knife, which she would do at home.

  “So, we good? You aren’t going to attack while I’m driving, right?”

  Hercules’ tailed thumped against the door.

  “Good! Okay, I’m taking you to your new home. Warning, when we get there, you’re getting a bath. You stink.”

  Ignoring her, Hercules turned his head and stuck his nose through the opening, sniffing the early dawn air. Merry took it as the signal she just gained a new companion. Backing up, she pulled onto the road and headed home, just as the sun announced to the rest of the sleeping city it was morning.

  12

  6:45 a.m. Sunday morning

  Pulling into his neighborhood, Derek killed the headlights. It was a habit he’d watched his father do. Dad liked to say he performed a kindness to the neighbors by not disturbing them at odd hours when he returned home from the night shift.

  Once in the driveway, Derek shut the engine off and gathered up items from the passenger seat. He was glad to be home. The last twenty-four-plus hours had been brutal. He needed to take a shower and wash the funk off, check on Stonewall, and then sleep for a good ten hours.

  Stepping out into the already hot morning air, he groaned after looking at his truck. The hood and grill were covered in dead insects. He made a mental note to hand-wash it later before the corpses were permanently embedded in the paint.

  Derek unlocked the front door and went inside, grateful for the change in air temperature. “Hey buddy! Miss me?”

  Stonewall jumped around like a puppy, yipping and nipping at Derek’s legs all the way into the kitchen. Derek checked the feeder, which was almost empty, and refilled it. The welcome home celebration ended as Stonewall buried his snout into the kibble.

  Derek dropped his bag on the bed and began shedding clothes on his way to the bathroom. When he moved back in, he couldn’t stand the idea of returning to his childhood room, so he took over the master bedroom. The creepy factor of that only seemed to bother him during times when he was exhausted—like right now—or on the rare occasion when he was ill.

  The hot water and soap revived his tired body. As he scrubbed himself squeaky clean, he heard Stonewall push the door open. Through
the frosted glass of the shower door, he saw the blur of black as his buddy did circles on the bathmat until he found a comfortable spot.

  “I see how you are—eat first then visit. Don’t expect any treats from me if I’m not number one in your life. Priorities, Stonewall. Priorities!”

  Once finished and dried, Derek wrapped the towel around his waist. Bending down, he scooped up Stonewall and shut the bathroom light off. Though his clothes and furniture filled up the room, Derek never slept in the bed. Ever since he’d been little, Derek preferred to sleep on a couch, remote in hand, TV noise in the background. Stonewall knew the drill and wriggled in his arms.

  Plopping down on the cool leather sofa, Derek flicked on the TV. The local news was on, the hot-as-hell new blonde weekend reporter—Charlotte? Cheryl?—was as perky as ever. Her bright blue eyes and pouty smile made Derek’s heart skip a beat the first time she delivered news behind the shiny black desk. Most of the time, he didn’t pay attention to what she said. Instead, he preferred to fantasize about what those lips would feel like on him.

  “Damn.” She reported live, the camera showing a wide-shot of her location, rather than a headshot of her. Then Derek’s eyes widened. He thumbed up the volume.

  Is she at…?

  Stonewall jumped and started barking when Derek’s cell phone rang. He didn’t have to look to see who was calling. The rock in his gut, set there by the images on the screen, already told him.

  Mitch was calling about De’Shawn Majors.

  Ignoring the phone, Derek focused his attention on the TV.

  “…mauled body was found this morning by neighbors. Though the police have yet to provide any comments or statements, one neighbor told us the victim owned a dog, which has yet to be found. The name of the victim has yet to be released, pending notification of his next of kin…”