The Serial Killers Club

by Jeff Povey

  Betty looks very pale and very drawn. She keeps glancing dolefully at Tony as he gnaws at an extra-large piece of sweet corn. I want to take her in my arms and hold her tight, whisper to her that everything is okay, that somehow or other her man is going to come through for her. She won’t look my way, though, and I try to get her attention by kicking at her under the table. But she has kept her eyes fixed firmly on anything but me. I resort to kicking her just for the hell of it until Chuck leans over and eyeballs me.

  “Kick me again, you ugly little midget, and I’ll bite your fucking toes off.”

  I fall silent, strategically withdrawing my foot, though still having the presence of mind to vow secretly to kick Chuck to death one day. Soon.

  Tony bangs the table to get everyone’s attention. He seems pleased with himself. “Just want you all to know that from now on things are getting back to normal.”

  I smile inwardly, start to look forward to one of the few Club nights I have left. I hope someone has a good story to tell.

  “Normal? So where’s Burt and Cher?” Betty tries to look bravely at Tony, like she is demanding an answer.

  My breath catches in my fast-drying throat. I got so wrapped up in things that it only now dawns on me that Cher was killed after Burt, so he couldn’t possibly be the Club rat I made him out to be. I try to swallow, but my Adam’s apple won’t budge.

  Tony considers for a moment, eyes everyone deliberately.

  “Neither of them will be coming.”

  There is a lingering silence as no one dares speak. We all wait for Tony to reveal more. He looks at us with a heavy heart.

  “I was called to a burglary, and it turned out to be Cher’s place. Bastards had ransacked the place. We found Cher with her neck broken.”

  The lingering silence becomes oppressive as the Club takes in the news of the tragedy. Tony looks really cut up.

  Chuck isn’t buying it, though. “A burglary?”

  “That’s right.” Tony nods.

  “And you believe that?”

  “Seen enough in my time to know.”

  “Some cop you are,” Chuck sneers, and then immediately regrets it when he sees Tony’s eyes burn with a sudden and intense rage.

  “It was a burglary. Got that?”

  Chuck is hesitant, so much less of a man than I originally thought. He nervously scratches what looks like a spreading rash on the side of his neck. “So what about Burt?”

  “Burt turned out to be a bad fucker. And believe me when I say we’re all better off without him.”

  I glance at Betty, and I can tell that she isn’t buying Tony’s story.

  “Did you do something to him, Tony?”

  “Let’s just say I had the Club’s interests at heart.”

  “You killed him?” Chuck is again hesitant.

  Tony shrugs. “Someone had to do something.”

  “That’s it! I’m outta here. I’m quitting the Club before I’m next.”

  Tony calmly takes a thin slice of ham from Chuck’s plate, rolls it into a tube shape, and then pops it into his mouth like it was a cigar. “No one’s gonna be next. I’ve seen to that.”

  “Sure you have.” Chuck has lost all his old sparkle, and I am deeply disappointed to see him fold so easily. “Nice knowing you all, but I’m hightailing it. . . .”

  Chuck rises as Tony sucks the ham tube into his mouth and swallows it without chewing. He then grabs Chuck’s wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. “You can’t leave, Chuck.”

  “Try and stop me.” Chuck is trying to sound tough, but it’s not very convincing when we all now know he’s a pantywaist.

  “We need you, Chucky-boy. Who else is gonna provide the funny stuff?”

  “Get Dougie to do it—he’s a riot.”

  I start nodding to myself, feeling good that Chuck thinks of me in this way.

  Tony belches. “Dougie’s a shit stick, Chuck. He’s only funny if you laugh at him.”

  I glance at Betty and hope she might tell Tony different—that if I wanted to, I could bring the house down with my golf joke.

  Chuck won’t be moved. “Let go of my arm, Tony. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

  “Chuck, I want you to understand something, okay? I want you to forget all about the others. I’ve seen to that little problem. Okay? There’s gonna be no more people going missing. Big Tony’s seen to that. So let’s just sit back and enjoy the company.”

  “What’s left of it.” Betty says this with an acerbic edge, and Tony glances at her, narrowing his eyes.

  “You got a problem as well, Bets?”

  It isn’t easy for the nervous Betty to look Tony in the eye, but she just about manages it. “I want an unconditional guarantee that nothing is going to happen to any of us.”

  “From me?”

  “From you.”

  Tony pauses, shrugs—then laughs again. “Look, the Club is my life, okay? The Club means everything—more than everything. So I’m going to promise you that things are going to improve a hundredfold from now on. There’s going to be no more sudden disappearances.” Tony suddenly looks at me. “Ain’t that right, Dougie?” He catches me unawares, and all I can do is stammer a response.

  “Whatever you say, Tone.”

  “There you go—straight from the horse’s ass. If Dougie says it’s gonna be okay, then it’s gonna be okay.”

  Tony grabs his jacket and pulls out a rolled copy of the evening edition. He unrolls it, licks his finger, and then thumbs through to the “Lonely Hearts” page. “Anyways, things just got a whole lot better.”

  After finding what he has been looking for, he lays the newspaper out flat, irons it with his hand, and then turns it round for Chuck to read first. “I’ve got a little treat for you all.”

  Chuck looks down and reads the newspaper. I strain over, trying my best to read it with Chuck, and he selfishly snatches it away. “Get your big nose out.”

  I sit back down as Chuck reads the item, then starts to laugh to himself. “Oh, Jesus . . .” It’s a nervous laugh, but there is an undeniable excitement in there as well. “Fuck.”

  “What is it?” Betty’s eyes are suddenly alert; she looks from Chuck to Tony and then back to Chuck. “Chuck?”

  James suddenly slaps the air in front of him. “Shuttup, Mother, I wanna hear Chuck.” He slaps the air again for good measure. “One day you’re just going to have to learn to hold your tongue.” He “slaps” his mother again. “Goddamn can’t hear a thing.”

  “You fuckin’ finished?” Tony glares at James, who looks at him, rubbing his now “sore” palm and then blowing on it as he nods. “I think she got the message.”

  “Good. Now shut the fuck up.” I can see in Tony’s eyes that he badly wants to waste James.

  “Chuck?” Betty is really keen to know what has made Chuck start shaking his head in amazement. He lets out a low, appreciative whistle as he reads the paper again, this time reciting what he is reading.

  T.C., I’m hungry. Know a good diner? The King.

  A hush descends over the table. Tony sits there grinning like a cat, watching our faces as we take in the news.

  “KK?” Betty’s voice is soft, lilting, innocent.

  Tony keeps grinning.

  “He’s coming?”

  Tony nods.

  “Jesus H.” Chuck is stunned, looks a little on the pale side.

  “Not Jesus, Chuck—the Kentucky Killer.” Tony is wringing every last drop of enjoyment from this.

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Agent Wade is going to join the Club? Does that mean he’ll put himself on his own list? And will he still expect me to finish the job? So many thoughts crowd my mind, and I start to drift away in this wretched mangle of impossible thoughts.

  “I thought you didn’t want him joining?” Betty is much more animated now as she shows a touch of her half-brother’s steelier side. “You said you didn’t want him at the Club, not ever.”

  “Changed my mind.” Tony roll
s another slice of ham into a funnel shape and wedges it into the corner of his mouth.

  “Why the sudden switch, Tony? You’ve been against it forever.” Chuck scratches his neck again but seems to be gathering himself.

  “Whasammatter, scratchy? You not like the idea?”

  “’Course I do. I’m nervous as hell, but I’ve gotta say I’m up for it. Only a fool wouldn’t be.”

  For some reason, they both turn instinctively and look at me. But all I can do is shrug; my head might be on my shoulders, but my mind is in another state.

  “Mother wants me to take her home.” James gulps down his strong cup of tea as fast as he can.

  “You ain’t going nowhere, Jimmy.”

  “She has a slight headache.”

  Tony gives James a derisory look, then leans forward and lights one of the table candles. He waits for the candle to start dripping wax, and then he pulls it out of its holder, stretches over, and fixes it firmly and squarely in the middle of James’s dinner plate. His eyes meet James’s.

  “Imagine this candle is your dick, Jimmy . . . okay? Just imagine it. It’s on fire, it’s melting, and it’s going to burn like this for at least another six hours. Imagine what that’s going to feel like. . . .” I have never seen Tony so cold or so calculating. James swallows nervously. “No one leaves the Club. No one.”

  Tony leans across and suddenly blows James’s candle out. The suddenness of it makes all of us jump, and I admit that I am genuinely impressed by this unsettling display. I also try my best to memorize Tony’s speech about the candle.

  James gives a meek shrug. “In that case, we’ll stay.”

  “I think this calls for a celebration. Your round, Dougie.” Chuck sucks hard on a cigarette, eyes squinting through the smoke, as he tries to get the party mood going again.

  “I’m always buying the drinks.” These must be the first words I’ve said in an age. I find them reassuring, and they help my confidence. “I must’ve bought more drinks than everyone else combined.”

  “Why break a habit?” Chuck gives an ironic laugh, and I can see he is getting back to his old self. I signal to the deaf waitress, who is busy at another table.

  Betty pushes back her seat, and the grating noise it makes draws everyone’s attention. “I’ve got to go to the powder room.”

  “Gonna make yourself pretty for KK?” Tony laughs, but Betty says nothing as she gets up and leaves the table. As she passes me, she inadvertently puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. I understand instinctively what she means by that and look up, catching her eye as I do. She then bends and whispers in my ear, “I want to see you. . . .”

  I didn’t think I could get any more excited, and my skin stretches as tight as it can go trying to hold everything in. Betty moves past me, and I drink in that sweet canine odor.

  The deaf waitress appears, and I pick up a glass, point to it, and then splay my fingers wide apart, indicating that I want five of the same. The waitress nods, then turns to Chuck, who gives her an encouraging look. She nods to him and walks to the bar to get the drinks.

  Tony leans over and grabs my wrist suddenly, and for one horrible moment I think my sweat bands are going to be wrenched off, revealing Tallulah’s ink dots. “Headless chicken.”

  He gives me a big grin and a sly wink. He looks round and makes sure no one is listening as he leans up close to me, our faces barely inches apart. “Chop chop.” He pronounces the words like they’re some kind of code, and at first I don’t get it.

  “What?”

  Tony scowls, tries again. “I saw Burt off.”

  Finally I get what he’s saying and instantly break into a big smile and start nodding my head enthusiastically. “Oh yeah—I kinda realized that when he didn’t show tonight. Great gag, though. Saw him off. That’s funny, Tony. Great joke.”

  Tony beams at me, and just to make sure I truly do understand, he draws a line across his throat and make a nauseous guttural sound from the back of his throat as he does.

  I feel like tossing him one of the photos I have of him and saying, “No need to labor the point.”

  “That’s a weight off my mind, I can tell you, Tony. I’ve been barricading myself in every night, I’ve been so scared.”

  Betty returns from the powder room, sees me talking and laughing with Tony, and I immediately sit back and try to make like I’m just playing along with him. She stops again and bends to me.

  “Can you do tonight?”

  I give a slow nod. “No problem.”

  “We’ll go somewhere quiet.”

  “I know a place.”

  Betty takes her seat as the deaf waitress returns with the drinks and starts putting them down in front of us.

  Chuck watches her for a moment and then stands. “Listen up, everyone, I’ve kinda got this announcement to make. I wasn’t going to say cuz of me wanting to quit and all, but now that it seems like I’m staying put—well . . .”

  We all turn to Chuck, who now reaches for the waitress’s hand and grips it tight. She stands beside him, smiling demurely at all of us, and I can’t help but think they make a lovely couple. While the waitress signs, Chuck translates slowly for the rest of us.

  “Hi, everyone. I know this is a little out of the blue, but I would very much like to join your Club. So far, I’ve only killed seven. The manager, the headwaiter, and five guys who made up a quiz team. I poisoned them all.”

  I glare wild-eyed at the cow pie that sits in front of me with two big bites out of it. Even Tony looks alarmed as he starts spitting out a mouthful of food all over the table and hacking up as much debris as he can.

  “It’s okay . . . I’m very careful. . . .”

  My heart starts to slow.

  Tony drags a hanky down his rough tongue, cleaning every last scrap of chewed food from it. “Fuck!”

  “I would like to be known as Raquel Welch.”

  Tony immediately holds up his hand. “Whoa there. We’ve already had one of those.”

  “And believe me, one was enough.” I laugh on autopilot, not realizing that no one else is joining in. I get a look from Betty that tells me to calm it a little.

  “What does it matter?” Chuck seems surprised.

  “I can’t allow it, Chuck—sorry.”

  Chuck seems disappointed and rapidly signs to the deaf waitress, and she too looks really crestfallen.

  Tony shrugs to her. “Rules is rules.”

  The deaf waitress looks lost for a moment and then gets very animated, signing faster than Chuck can speak.

  “Myrna Loy? You had one of them?”

  Tony pauses to think it over for a moment, glances at James. “Have we?”

  “Can’t remember one.”

  “Myrna it is.” Tony grins at Myrna and Chuck. “Well, this is sure turning into a night to remember. Everything is rosy in the garden again. Welcome aboard, Myrn.”

  As he speaks, Chuck signs to Myrna, who offers a fey smile.

  Then, like the gentleman I am, I pull out a chair for Myrna. “You can have Cher’s chair. Probably still warm.”

  I watch Myrna take a seat and begin to wonder how many goddamn killers are out there. Seems I can’t kill one without another one springing up. I could spend the rest of my life doing this.

  SEX TIME

  BECAUSE WE CAN’T BE SEEN leaving Grillers together, I arrange to meet Betty at the same motel room that Tallulah Bankhead was killed in. I phone ahead, using Agent Wade’s name, and it gives me a slight thrill to pose as someone new—the excitement of pretending to be a loser like Grandson-of-Barney for nearly four years is starting to lose its allure. The woman who checks me in is at the very least in her nineties, and I figure she must have been incredibly attractive seventy years ago. Her straight chin and high cheekbones have kept her skin taut and almost wrinkle-free, and even today she is what I would call a handsome woman.

  “Kenneth Wade?”

  “Kennet. Kennet Wade. There’s no ‘h.’”

  The wom
an nods and scrawls the name into her check-in book with a shaky hand.

  “I’ll be expecting company, so if you could—”

  “Company?”

  “My, uh . . . my girl’s calling round. Very pretty, big glasses, lovely smile. So if you could just direct her to my room . . .”

  “I’ll have to charge you double.”

  I study the woman, giving her a very stern look. It seems everywhere I turn someone is trying to make a fast buck, and I’m getting just a bit sick of it. I give the woman a solemn, unforgiving shake of the head, letting her know exactly how I feel.

  The woman hands me the same keys that Agent Wade dropped in the rain all those weeks ago now. “Room eight. Better warn you that some girl died in there a while back. . . .”

  I give a good impression of looking really surprised. “Wow. No kidding?”

  “They told me ink poisoning did her in.”

  I make a good joke here. “Listen, I promise not to take any fountain pens in there with me.” I open my jacket wide and, grinning, let the woman see that I have absolutely no pens in my inside pockets. “See? I’m unarmed.”

  The joke causes the woman to start coughing and hacking, and I pat her bony little hand. “No more jokes. I promise.”

  After watching late night television in room eight for about half an hour, I hear a timid knock at the door. I have switched on the lamp, and the red hue from the new bulb they screwed in gives the room a powerful, near mystical aura. I flick the remote and kill the sound on the television.

  “Yeah?”

  “Douglas? It’s Betty.”

  I get up from the bed, walk to the door, and open it. Betty is dressed in a cream-and-tan patchwork blouse, and her beige skirt stops just above the knee. I realize that she must have gone home and changed, just for me.

  I step aside to let her into the burning scarlet light of the room. She seems reticent as she scans the room, and I note that she grips her purse tightly to her.

  “It’s okay, there’s no Mexican muggers in this room. I’ve checked all over.” Betty nods as I pick up the remote and gesture to the television. “Are you interested in bats? The Nature Channel is devoting an entire evening to them.”