“You weren’t so bad off when I met you.” Montgomery lied a little as he remembered that there had been many more quirks, and fears, and insecurities swimming within her gaze when they had first started dating. Now that he really thought about it she was almost a completely different person. The change was gradual and it was hard to pinpoint the particular moment that she shifted, but odds were it coincided with the ingestion of flesh. It did something to you psychologically, perhaps even physiologically.
And after all of this time Montgomery couldn’t believe he never took a second to connect the dots.
Duh, of course she was stronger.
She rarely, if ever, mentioned her past. When they began and initially became comfortable with one another she let it all out – the molestation, the death of her brother, the abuse, and referred to it often, but now it was all about the future and her career and an ever-building wall of pride, armor plating the transgressions of the past.
Like tribes of old, she seemed to absorb the power of those she devoured.
“But I was bad off. I guess I didn’t show it, or maybe you didn’t notice,” she paused for a split second, narrowed her eyes and then continued, “In any case, I feel like I have a modicum of control, Montgomery. I don’t want to lose that.”
“So you’re saying you can’t quit?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I know what we have to do. It’s just going to be hard. When we run out I’ll feel like going crazy, but if we grit our teeth and get through it, I’m sure things will eventually even out. I think I need…” her eyebrows dipped in deep concentration. “I think I need to experience everything. At least once. The last one.”
“Everything?”
Liz leaned in even closer, their bodies practically one, her intoxicating scent making him light headed for a moment. Whispering into Montgomery’s ear, her voice seemed to take on a gravelly tone – part smoky, part sexy, part animal hungry, and part wee bit crazy, “The kill, Monty. I have to experience it.” She pulled away and leaned against the back of the booth. Normality returned to her voice. “Then we can quit.”
Montgomery didn’t know what to say or how to react. It wasn’t about murdering or killing, that wasn’t the experience, it was merely the grueling obstacle that stood between them and blissful flavor. She didn’t get it, or rather she got it, she just got it in a completely different way. It wasn’t only about taste or culinary delight like it was with him. She vibed off the kill.
Whereas Montgomery felt horrible about ripping someone’s life away from their loved ones, Liz derived an odd satisfaction from the act. Whereas he was purely fixated on the food, she seemed to need both the exquisite flesh and the knowledge that it was ripped from the carcass of a slain victim (preferably male – from upon which one could dreg up tons of Freudian ammunition and analyze her to pieces).
It was almost as if Montgomery was killing all of the assholes from her past. Which was ridiculous, but at the same time it served as a cathartic balm for her wounds. If Liz could benefit from such so be it, but Montgomery didn’t think actually getting her hands red, actually killing, would be everything she hoped it would. It was a bad idea. Things could go wrong in so many ways.
“No.” He looked her dead in the eyes and then said it again to make crystal clear she understood his position, “No.”
“But–”
“It’s not what you think it is, Liz.”
“I just–”
“It won’t make you feel any better.”
And it wouldn’t. It couldn’t. Most of Montgomery’s murders went off quick, without a hitch. They were so fast and unremarkable, a slit throat here, strangulation there, he didn’t see how they could have any sort of lasting, positive impression. If anything the act would only lend itself to filling Liz’s head with more uncomfortable dreck.
“I need this, Monty.” Her eyes pleaded. The alcohol made them shine glassy and they stared at him, two glittering jewels in the dark, eagerly awaiting an answer.
“No.”
“You don’t understand–”
“No, you don’t understand. You think killing someone is going to make up for what happened to you but it won’t. It’ll do the opposite. It’ll eat you from the inside out and fuck with you. Why do you think I’m so screwed up all the time? Do you want that?”
“I’m not you, Montgomery. Just one and then we can quit.”
Holding firm, “No.”
“You have to let me. If you don’t I will do it on my own.” Her eyes flashed with fire.
Montgomery sighed loudly and shook his head emphatically. He would just have to wait her out. Downing his beer he gestured at Liz’s empty martini glass and asked, “Would you like another?”
Staring off in thought she nodded her head and Montgomery slid out of the booth for the bar.
Suppose he let her do it.
No. No question.
He pictured the succession of the dead in his mind’s eye. There were tons of homeless, women, a few men, dirty, but easy and almost inhuman. They were rarely coherent and Montgomery never engaged their eyes. It was the dates that were the hardest. They were nice because they usually came home with him and unknowingly went willingly to their deaths, but they were tough because he generally got to know them and it hurt to dispatch them. None of this was for Liz. Regardless of how stubborn she was he had to talk her out of it and help her to understand that it wasn’t the answer.
Back at the booth Montgomery tried to change the subject. Liz drank her martini and played along, but the excitement had cooled. The night was going to end in one of two ways. Once at home all of this murder talk would come up again and eventually erupt into a big fight or they would continue on half muttering quiet pleasantries until Liz fell asleep on the couch and Montgomery stared off into space wishing he could fix things that seemed beyond repair.
After the fight Montgomery found himself sleeping on the couch.
He didn’t know the girl’s name but he had seen her on several occasions. Once, he wrapped a length of rope around her neck and choked the life from her lovely body. Another time she stood alongside her friend and stared on in silence as he stammered on and on. Finally, she followed him around the city, cried violently, suddenly, and then almost ran over his foot. Presently she was hanging about in his dream, taunting him with her toothy smile, eyes grinning from somewhere behind the dark recesses of her over-sized bug-eyed sunglasses.
“Leave me alone,” Montgomery hissed at her.
“Kill me.” Her voice sounded just like Liz’s.
“Leave me the fuck alone!” The yelling made him see white stars.
“I want to kill me.”
“You aren’t even making any sense. You aren’t even real.”
The dark haired girl smiled even bigger. She removed her glasses to reveal a pair of eyeless sockets.
It felt good to be returning to work. It gave him something else to think about.
Almost.
Before heading in he took a drive downtown in search of the record store Heather had mentioned. Again, Montgomery couldn’t remember the name, but he distinctly remembered the area and, of course, the fabulously reviewed Perfect Pizza. He had been meaning to try the place and see what all the hype was about anyway. Maybe if he was feeling up to it he would have a little lunch after he found the record store.
It took him no time to find the pizzeria in question and within two seconds of driving along he spotted a graffiti style marquee that read ‘CHAOS RECORDS’ three storefronts down.
CHAOS, that was it and just like that the name clicked.
There was limited street parking and at this time (noon) spots were impossible to happen upon. Around back there was a half full parking lot and it was here that Montgomery noticed Heather’s friend’s worse for the wear Jetta. He parked a few spaces over and then carefully walked up to her car. Looking over his left shoulder then his right, satisfied he wasn’t being watched, he peered into the driver’s side wind
ow and tried to gather any useful information.
The interior of the car was littered with makeup detritus, compacts, lipstick tubes, girly stuff. There was a mound of CDs practically obliterating the passenger’s seat. Other than that there was nothing of interest or anyway in which to identify the woman as more than a music-obsessed, cosmetics-junkie. He took note of the license plate number (why? It just felt like something he should do. Cop mode) and then headed around the front of the building for the store.
Normally Montgomery wore his chef’s jacket and pants if he had to run an errand before or after work, it was easier and he was proud of his profession, but this time he wanted to blend inconspicuously so he had intentionally dressed like a civilian. His work clothes were folded neatly in the trunk of his car.
Before he entered the building he saw the girl through the store front. Flyers and band posters and stickers filled in most of the window, but through cracks and crevices he could clearly see her standing at the counter near an old, beat up looking register (it too was emblazoned with stickers and flyers). She was flipping through a magazine, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. Not that much required her attentions – the store looked like it was empty from his vantage point.
Montgomery stared from behind a black and white poster that featured the iconic image of Joe Strummer smashing his guitar from The Clash’s London Calling album. He debated whether he should enter the store or not.
Would she start crying?
Did she fear him?
Did she somehow know what he had done with her friend?
It was impossible, but she obviously suspected him of kidnap or rape or some other wicked deed. Why else would she follow him?
It was remarkable how much she looked like his first victim. He could remember stripping away the filthy blanketing on that cold, fateful night and how shock gathered and blasted through him like a streak of lightning when he discovered how young and pretty she was. If he hadn’t killed her, if he had chickened out and perhaps tried again at another time with another victim, was this how she would look, living, animated and quite lovely?
The girl’s dark eyes scanned back and forth over the magazine pages and appeared to dance. She playfully chewed gum and he felt his heart skip a few beats as he watched her facial features shift with vitality and awareness. She blew a little bubble and then her pink tongue darted out from between her full lips to retrieve any residual chewing gum.
Montgomery felt faint.
It was as if his first regret, the act that set him on a path of selfish destruction and need, never happened. Or worse, it did happen, but those regrets were back to haunt him.
In actuality the girl looked a bit like his first victim, there was definitely a passing resemblance and a sameness of styles, but there were marked differences that memory and time blurred. Also, she was too young. If he hadn’t killed and eaten his first victim she would be in her early thirties by now, and this girl was clearly a little younger. Regardless, nostalgia was a powerful force.
Montgomery wavered near the door.
Should he approach her?
What was he to say?
He had to approach her.
He had to set things right and tell her he hadn’t seen Heather since their date.
He should probably even tell her they never went on the date, that he went to meet her and she never showed. But what if she freaked out?
What if she called the cops?
He still hadn’t disposed of the acid barrel in his garage. It was definitely over due. Yet he didn’t want to be too hasty. The barrel would hold at least one more carcass and whether he hunted for more meat in a few months time (despite his wishes to quit) or gave in to Liz and let her have her way with this whole murder thing they would need it for their “last” victim.
The decision to approach the girl began to crystallize. This was a bad idea. He was ready to walk away. But then again she did follow him. She suspected something and wasn’t likely to just let it go. How long before she showed up at his work or got the cops involved? After all, her friend was a missing person and he was the last person to supposedly see her.
Fuck.
Deep breath. Deep breath.
Montgomery pushed his way into CHAOS.
Door chimes chimed and the girl at the counter looked up for moment, squinted a greeting and then went right back to reading her magazine. She didn’t recognize him. The two times she had seen him, when he got Heather’s phone number at the mall and when the girl followed him in his car, he had been wearing his work clothes.
“Can I help you find anything?” Apart from her striking appearance and the sense that she really belonged in a record shop like this, the girl wasn’t exactly the best at customer service. She asked the question without even looking up from her magazine.
Montgomery wasted no time. He got within five feet of the counter, took another deep breath and then blurted, “I need to talk to Heather!” It came out too loud. He scratched at his head nervously and planned his next move.
The girl looked up. Her eyes widened and her lips froze mid chew.
He figured it would be best to keep her on her toes and take advantage of her surprise. “I don’t know what the deal is with you following me, but I need to talk to her. She won’t return my calls and I’m not trying to come off as a stalker, but… Is she here?”
Hopefully the dumb act was working. He didn’t want to lay it on too thick. The girl still looked like she was trying to recover. Montgomery backed down a bit and waited for her response.
A wall of tension rose between them and made the silence that much more unbearable. They both stared awkwardly. Their eyes met and held.
Montgomery fought against the blush and heat rising within.
He couldn’t help but to envision victim number one. Naked. Prone. Waiting to be… filleted.
Finally, the girl spoke. “Fuck you!”
Eloquent.
Her right hand abandoned the slick pages of her magazine and went for the phone. Montgomery stammered and then tried to intercede before things got out of hand and the police were called. “Wait. I... I…” Words were failing him. He put up his hand, fingers splayed in stop sign formation and pleaded with his eyes. The girl seemed to calm a bit. She kept her hand on the receiver but left the phone in its cradle and looked to him for his plea.
“I’m not trying to cause any trouble. It’s just that you were following me and you flipped out –”
“I didn’t flip out!” Her brows narrowed and her lips pouted.
“No. Um, well, look, I’m just here to speak with Heather. Could you get her please?”
Tension was beginning to ease up.
“She’s not here.” After a little pause the girl removed her hand from the phone and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nobody has seen her since she went out with you.” It came out very accusatory.
“We never went out. I thought she stood me up, that’s why I’m here. Well, not because she stood me up, I don’t care about that, but because you were following me around. I tried to call Heather afterwards to ask her what the hell was going on. If she didn’t want to go out, fine, even though she sounded excited about it on the phone, but fine. I was going to ask her why you were following me. I got to thinking that something might be wrong or something weird was going on.” This all came out very fast and the girl was listening but there was a look in her eye that told Montgomery she didn’t completely understand him.
He mustered a weak smile and added a nice, easy, direct question. “So I guess I should just ask you. Why were you following me?”
“Heather is missing.” Her reply came out monotone and flat and she stared at him as if she were looking for tells.
“What?” Montgomery tried his best at feigning surprise.
“She went out with you and never came back.” Her eyes narrowed to near slits.
“We never went out. I already told you. I was supposed to meet her at the mall. She never sho
wed. She… so she just disappeared?”
“Like I’ve already told you three times, she’s missing. Look Montgomery, I think you better just go.” It looked like she was going to cry again.
“I feel terrible. I didn’t know. I–”
“Please leave.” She gestured to the door and as Montgomery was about to respect her wishes and turn away she seemed to rethink her decision. “Wait.” Strength filtered in and whereas the tears were ready to flow a moment ago, she looked harder and angry and confrontational. “I saw you,” she seethed.
Montgomery tried to recall anything, something, but was drawing nothing but a big, fat blank.
“At her car. At the mall.”
“Excuse me?” What the fuck was she talking about?
“The reason I followed you is because I saw you staring at Heather’s car the day after she went missing.”
“How long have you been following me?”
“I wasn’t following you, I just happened to be at the mall and then I saw you walking by in your cook’s outfit and I… well, I followed you, and intended on asking you what happened to Heather –”
Cook! Montgomery couldn’t let the slight go. He had to correct her, “Chef’s.”
“What?”
“You said cook’s clothes. I’m a chef.”
The girl rolled her eyes, “Whatever. Anyway, I –”
“There is a huge difference.” It probably wasn’t the time, but Montgomery still couldn’t let it go. Besides it seemed to lighten things up. It was almost as if they were bantering 1940’s style.
“Great.” The girl sighed loudly and continued. “I was trying to catch up to you and you walked out of the mall and right to Heather’s car.”
“So?” It was unnerving to think he was being watched.
“So? So you walked right up to her car and you just stood there staring at it.”
He could see how she would get herself worked up. The evidence was seemingly incriminating (and it was), but easily twisted around. “I was surprised to see it on the way into the mall. I had to get a few knives for work from the cutlery store. When I saw the car I thought Heather might be shopping around. On my way out I stopped by and considered leaving her a note, I’m not used to being stood up and it bothered me some. Good sense got the best of me though and I left things alone and just walked away. That’s how everything would have stayed if you hadn’t followed me. Now I guess I can walk away for good. I hope everything turns out.”
As Fate Would Have It Page 14
