by Mia Thompson
As soon as she got to the slaughterhouse, she removed the sunglasses and wig hoping to get a genuine reaction of recognition from him. It had to be him. It had to.
It was the first time she had done anything like that…get so physically close. She didn’t have a pit, and he was too heavy to trap in anything else, leaving her little play room.
George Rath picked up his speed, feeling safer in his environment. Everything was still and Sapphire counted down to make her move. Three. Two…
Suddenly, Usher’s song played, filling up every inch of the silence, bouncing between the walls of the vast space.
Sapphire’s whole body stiffened, the phone ringing loudly in her pocket. She swung out from her corner and found George Rath on the other side looking confused. In a flash, the confusion quickly turned into anger or satisfaction; she couldn’t tell which.
He launched toward her as she turned to round kick him in the face. He fell to the ground, nose first. He moaned and rolled over, then looked up at her and Sapphire shot him with a tranquilizer gun. She didn’t mean for the dart to end up in his crotch but felt pretty good about it once it happened.
Lacking a stun gun, she had stolen the tranquilizer from a vet off Sunset. She hoped it would do the trick. The label said it would be enough to tranquilize a large riding horse. However, Rath was fat. Maybe even fatter than a large riding horse.
Chapter 10
When he woke up, he was dangling upside down above a gigantic meat grinder. He looked from side to side, his face as red as a tomato from all the blood that had gathered in his head.
It hadn’t been easy, but with some elbow grease and a wheelbarrow, Sapphire had gotten him up there. She had improvised and done it well. But she decided to save her pat on the back for later. She had only just started.
Sapphire stood a few feet away, head level to him on a metal ramp, holding the controller to the meat grinder in her hand.
“Hi,” she said and tilted her head along with his.
“What the fuck!?”
“Yes, why don’t you take a few extra seconds to deal with your situation,” Sapphire suggested. “Let me start by thanking you for the wonderful gift.”
Sapphire hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. Truth was she was terrified. Terrified she would find out what she already knew. Something so obvious, it was almost embarrassing.
“What the hell are you talking about!?” He swirled, spun, and thrashed his body around, trying to get out of the chains she had wrapped him in.
“Riiiight.” Sapphire pushed the big green button on the remote and started the meat grinder below him. Its sound was loud, overpowering, and had the perfect intimidation factor. George Rath looked down in sheer panic and Sapphire smiled at him. “Where is she? Is she alive?”
“Who?”
Sapphire demonstrated her index finger for him, and then pushed the arrow down button. The chain began lowering him.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!”
“What? I can’t hear you!” Sapphire joked as she shook her head and leaned her ear closer to him.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about, you crazy bitch!”
The disappointment was overwhelming. Sapphire took an extra second before she pressed the up button and shut off the grinder. It wasn’t him; she knew before she started searching for him, but she wanted it to be him so badly, she had done a damn good job playing make believe with herself. She had conjured a suspect out of thin air.
Usher’s annoying voice once again interrupted her at work. She picked it up and looked at the display. Shit! She’d missed her lesson.
“You, shush. Or I’ll drop you in the meat grinder,” she warned Rath. “I’m so sorry, Marco.”
Silence on the other line, then he took a breath. “Are you okay?” he asked. “I mean, was there an emergency or…”
“Heeeeelp!” George Rath shouted and Sapphire quickly held the phone to her chest to drown out his voice. She turned on the meat grinder for a quick second, which immediately shut him up. Sapphire brought the phone back to her ear, giving Rath a warning look.
“Yeah, I was at work and my boss hit his head pretty badly, so I had to take him to the emergency room. That’s him in the background; he’s delusional.”
“Oh, is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine now, as long as he doesn’t do anything sudden,” she said staring coldly at Rath. “I’ll still pay you for the session.”
“How about you make it up to me by buying me dinner?”
Sapphire felt a sting in her heart for him. He sounded so hopeful.
“Um…I have to go, but I’ll definitely see you on Friday, right?”
“See you on Friday.” He was trying to not sound disappointed but didn’t do a very good job of it.
Sapphire hung up and looked at Rath.
“Fine, I believe you, but what about all those women?” Sapphire turned on a recorder and set in on the floor next to her. A puzzled expression took over Rath’s face.
“Wha…what women?”
It was such a bold-faced lie; even George Rath knew it. Sapphire tilted her head, expressing how she felt. She turned the meat grinder back on and lowered the chain.
This time she dipped him almost all the way down before letting him come back up.
“Okay! Okay!” he screamed.
Sapphire rewound the recorder and started it over. Rath was silent again and Sapphire dipped him two feet.
“There were four…”
Sapphire dipped him another foot.
“FIVE! Five women. I killed them. I killed them!”
Sapphire turned off the machine and the recorder. “Good job, buddy,” she said as if she were talking to a child or a dog. She wiped the recorder free of prints and set it down with a note that said: Play Me.
“Are…are you gonna let me go?”
“Yes, just like you let all those women go when they asked you to.”
Rath stared at her, his eyes big.
“Oh, that’s right, you didn’t.” She snapped her fingers then looked at the time. “So you’ve been hanging upside down for about forty-five minutes, your face is getting purple, and I’d say you have about five more minutes before you pass out. The good news is when you wake up, the cops will be here to take you down. Yay.”
George apparently didn’t feel like it was a yay moment. He squirmed in his chains terrified. “You can’t leave me here!”
“Mmm, I’d love to stay and hold your hand, but I’m a little busy today, Georgie.”
Sapphire picked up her voice-altering device and made her standard phone call. Rath stared at her like they always did: confused, angry, and shocked. It was understandable though. He, like all the others, expected to have the upper hand, to get to do what they dreamt of at night and what they did best. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the tables were turned and they were now the victims.
As she walked off, Rath’s panicked screams came on cue. Sometimes, Sapphire felt as if she was dealing with the same person over and over again. They were all monsters. However, even monsters had lives. Daily routines and things they liked to do, besides killing. The minute she walked away, she knew they realized nothing was ever going to be the same. They would never kill again. They’d spend the rest of their lives in a small cell and never get to sleep in their own beds again. Their loved ones, if they had any, would find out who and what they really were. All that combined was what panicked them.
The volume of his screams abated as she made her way down the ramp. For a second she thought she heard sobbing. It didn’t surprise her; it wouldn’t be the first time she had made a grown serial killer cry.
“I’ll tell them what you did! Hey!” he screamed. “I will!”
“Sure you will,” Sapphire said and left.
Outside, Sapphire leaned against the building allowing the emotions she couldn’t show in front of Rath to come out now.
Rath wasn’t the guy, so who was? Sapphire had no clues, no leads, nowhere to e
ven start. Meanwhile this girl could be out there somewhere, slowly bleeding to death or worse. Hopefully she was still alive. Hopefully it wasn’t too late.
Sapphire tried hard to shake the guilt off, but it lingered, taking hold of her heart and twisting it until it throbbed. Slowly, she exhaled then pushed herself away from the wall.
* * * * *
John was lying naked on a silk 2000 thread count sheet, the Heinz heiress wearing nothing but panties on one side of him and a well-known Victoria’s Secret model fully nude on the other.
The Heinz girl was worth above and beyond the amount his father had quoted and was perfect marriage material. The Victoria’s Secret model was there just for the fun of it. So why wasn’t he happy?
“You got any coke?” the model asked, sliding out from the bed.
“In the fridge,” he answered.
She disappeared to the kitchen and the Heinz girl turned on her side meeting his eyes.
“So my grandfather’s birthday is coming up and my father wanted to invite you and your family to the yacht.”
“That’s nice,” John said in his father’s voice.
“We’ll pop in right before all the old farts go home and then we’ll party.”
“That’s nice,” he said again, staring at the ceiling.
She was exactly what he needed to please his father, but somehow it didn’t seem like enough. He couldn’t stop thinking of Sapphire. She was simple. Different from the girls he grew up around. She never asked him what he was thinking, nor did she ever complain about gifts, affection, or anything else in the relationship. She was always satisfied with whatever he did.
The model was standing naked in the doorway with the can of coke in her hand.
“This is a coke!” she exclaimed. “Could you even begin to imagine my face on a ten-foot billboard with coke-stained teeth?”
John ignored her as thoughts of Sapphire kept spinning in his head. He hated how he had hurt her and he hated his father for making him break up with her. She was perfect. Though they never actually had sex, it didn’t bother him that much. Sapphire wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to his little slip-ups with other women. He had been able to go and have sex with whomever he wanted and then have dinner with Sapphire, watch a movie, or just chill. With her, he could be himself.
“Hellooooo.” The model held out her arms.
John snapped out of it and looked over at her.
“Sorry, I forgot you were here.”
* * * * *
Aston looked at the man sitting in front of him in the plush chair, holding a box of frozen dinner to the top of his head. The food belonged to the modelesque female store director and was her lunch. Aston was surprised. Who knew that Beverly Hills women ate frozen dinners for lunch? Or ate lunch?
“Egen, I donit ondirrrstand,” said the angry man in such a thick French accent that Aston hadn’t been able to understand a single word.
Twenty minutes earlier Aston had spotted the man about to stroll out of the Christian Dior store without paying for the items he had put in his purse. As Aston saw the man approach the exit, he had sprung to action, pulling out his gun and screaming at him to stop, as he would to any criminal.
“Don’t move!” Aston yelled and aimed his gun straight toward the man who looked over his shoulder terrified.
Unfortunately, the people in the store did not seem to be as accustomed to firearms as Aston was. A mass panic broke out. Anorexic mothers grabbed their bulimic daughters. Grown men hid behind mannequins. Old ladies swallowed their jewelry. Store clerks screamed, “I’m too young to die,” in hysteria.
Aston could have taken his badge out, but he didn’t. Partly because he didn’t want to waste the time, but mostly because rich people running amok was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.
The man who stole the items realized how close he was to the door and made a run for it.
Since Aston wasn’t technically allowed to shoot someone for stealing, he lowered his gun, much annoyed, and took off after the thief, feeling his bad leg tightening with every step. He continued the chase hopping on his good leg and dragging his bad one. Fortunately, the man in front of him was not a downtown Los Angeles thug and ran like a sissy. Unfortunately, the man in front of him wasn’t a thug at all. He was the CEO of Dior, taking samples home to his wife. Aston learned this only after he caught up to the man, slammed him on the ground, clanked him in the head with his gun, and dragged him back into the store to make him return the items.
“I donit ounirrrstand,” the CEO repeated, shaking his head in bewilderment. The chief had been forced to come down and stood next to Aston and the store director, pale-faced and in complete shock.
“On the behalf of the entire Beverly Hills Police Department I apologize, sir. This is inexcusable and…I…my deepest apologies,” the Chief said, holding his hand over his chest. “Detective, perhaps you should say a few words,” the chief added in a more serious tone.
“Well,” Aston said. “With all due respect, I did try to stop someone from stealing from your store. I didn’t know who you were; all I saw was some guy stuffing things in his purse and not paying for them.”
“Et’s not a purse,” the CEO said, with that offended French look. “Et’s a andbag.”
“Well, either way, if you choose to look at it from a different perspective, I kind of did you a favor.”
The CEO looked at him. The chief looked at him. The store director closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Je polled a goun on me. Je hit me in the ‘ed. Je shed be fired. I cod be did,” the CEO stared at Aston angry.
“I’m sorry…” Aston said, looking right at the CEO, who nodded. “I could not understand a damn word of what you were saying.” He looked at the other two. “Can you blame me, really?”
The CEO got up and cussed at him in French before he got too dizzy and had to sit down again.
“Je!” the CEO said and pointed at the chief. “He apologizes or JE fire im! I will go to ze magazines. Oui?”
The CEO crossed his arms, waiting impatiently. The store director looked over at the chief, anxious to get the mess cleaned up. The chief peered over at Aston with a look that said one thing: This is your choice. Grovel and stay…or go. Going would mean Aston lost the finger case, which although not very high profile on its own, was very intriguing. There was something drawing him to it, something that made him think about it first thing in the morning and right before he fell asleep. The chief had put in a transfer and it would only be a few months before it hopefully passed through. Then Aston would be free to return to a wonderful life full of crime. Then again, a few more months of Beverly Hills made eternity in hell feel like a pot of piss in the ocean.
For the first time in Aston’s life, he apologized. And it was to a snotty French guy with a defrosting box of mashed potatoes and Salisbury steak on his head.
“I am…sorry, sir. Truly, truly sorry.” Aston held his hand over his chest like the chief had done and after a thoughtful moment, he nodded.
“Je wil pay forrr ze damaghes and I can perk wherre everrr I vant in Beverrrly ’ills. Oui?”
“Wee.” Aston and the chief said and nodded in unison. It was a good deal for the guy; finding parking in Beverly Hills was a bitch.
As they walked out of the store, Aston’s phone rang. It was Barry letting him know that the lab results had come back on the finger, along with the prints.
* * * * *
Sapphire came home to find her mother out cold on the chair in front of the pool in a bikini. The half-filled red wine glass dangled between her fingers as she slept face down in the chair cushion. Sapphire thought about splashing a handful of water in her face, then thought why poke the passed-out bear, so she left her mother there under the setting sun and went inside.
In the living room, she found Charles parked facing a wall and immediately rolled his chair around toward the TV. He smiled at her. “Hhhhrrrmmm,” he said.
“Don�
��t worry about it.” She sat down next to him and flipped the channels for him.
“Rrrrp,” he said and she stopped at the Discovery Channel. She sat there for a while as Charles’ eyes drifted in and out of sleepiness watching the machinery of World War II.
She took the green Gucci blanket off the couch and wrapped it around him. “Good night, Charles.” She kissed his forehead and he let out a sigh.
Even before his stroke a few years ago, from which he lost seventy-five percent of his bodily functions and put him in a wheelchair, Sapphire and Charles never had a father-daughter relationship. Because he was always at the office or away on business trips, he seemed more like an absent grandfather. Nevertheless, she really did care for him. More than she cared for Vivienne.
Sapphire went to the kitchen to get some water. She stopped in the doorway and watched Julia singing along to a song on the radio as she mopped the floor. Julia could rarely ever get the lyrics right. The song on the radio was The Final Countdown, one of Julia’s favorites.
“Es a fire downtown!” she belted out and dipped her mop into the bucket.
Sapphire smiled. She never had the heart to correct her.
“Hey,” Sapphire said and smiled cautiously. She still wasn’t sure where she and Julia stood.
Julia stopped singing and went back to mopping without even shooting Sapphire as much as a look. “No hablo Ingles.”
“Ok, I get it, you’re mad. I really didn’t mean—”
“Es okay,” Julia interrupted and pushed the mop around, but the lines on her forehead said no, es wasn’t okay. Es wasn’t going to be okay until Sapphire agreed to do the unthinkable.
“Julia. I want to meet him,” Sapphire lied. “I want the three of us to go to dinner and I want to get to know him.”
Julia stopped mopping and smiled at Sapphire, then switched to a stern look. “I don’t want no guilty dinner.”
Sapphire leaped over to her and gave Julia a tight hug. “No, I want to. I do. I’d love to.”
