by Matt Drabble
Dr Sara Rizzoli was a police pathologist and a horrible lay. She was somewhere in her late 30’s he’d always assumed, but never bothered to ask. She was a short woman but with generous curves that looked passable as long as they still supported when her top was off. She had frizzy dirty blonde hair and a smattering of freckles overshadowed by large unfashionable glasses. She had been a borderline virgin with only the single unsuccessful fumbling when he’d found her. She lived with a domineering mother who had instilled an almost pathological fear of men and sex. He had coaxed her out of her shell slowly and delicately taking his time and holding his temper. Sara was pivotal to his plan as she would be the one to falsify the blood work and fingerprints and identify the body as his when he faked his death.
As far as he could tell there was no point in faking a death with an absent body. He had to be dead and he had to be identified as being dead, pure and simple. The life insurance policy also had the bonus of paying double should his death be murder. The plan was to stage a burglary gone wrong. He’d surprise the intruder and be stabbed to death in a horrible act of senseless murder. The only thing that he needed was a body to substitute for his own. The local bus depot was often full at night of poor desperate souls, lost and lonely. The bums congregated in small numbers and he was sure that he could find someone of his own approximate size. Sara would provide him with a strong liquid tranquilizer that she was able to procure and since she was doing the autopsy it didn’t have to be undetectable.
Sara would also be there to help stage the scene before the police were called. Working with the police for over ten years had made her an expert on crime scene layouts. Being the pathologist it would be her responsibility to have the body transported to the city morgue for an autopsy before releasing the body to the family for a swift cremation. He had a police record from a bar fight assault charge a few years ago so his prints were already on file within the system. But Sara had assured him that she could gain access to the computer and alter the records. She would simply substitute the bum’s fingerprints as part of her report along with blood work and DNA samples all identifying the bum as Donnie Jacobs. All evidence would show that Donnie Jacobs was officially dead and Donnie could simply change his name, disappear, and start his new life.
He pulled the car over to the side of the road opposite the bus depot. The lights were dim as they operated on a night time economical setting. Several shadows moved listlessly in the dark avoiding what low light there was, trying to stay hidden. Donnie had cased the place several times in the past few weeks, always carefully avoiding the CCTV cameras. He had a guy all picked out; a large long haired and busy bearded guy of equally generous proportions to himself. Now he had returned for his prize armed with Melanie and a bottle of booze for bait.
He hadn’t furnished Melanie with the details of his relationship with Sara, only to tell his wife about the part that the doctor was playing for a cut of the money. Sara on the other hand had been spun a tale of marital disharmony and a wife who didn’t love or understand him. He had seduced Sara with similar tales that he had told his wife about running off into the sunset together. In reality whilst he might have every intention of taking Sara with him, he didn’t envisage the relationship lasting too long. He thought that a cruise would be the perfect way to start off his and Sara’s new future, and the perfect place for her to have a little accident overboard.
After his “murder” he was off to sunnier climes for a little cosmetic surgery paid for with Sara’s life savings while Melanie waited behind for the insurance check to come through. It was perfect.
“Now tell me what you’re going to do again?” Donnie demanded of his wife as they sat in the car waiting. “Take your time and get it right because we can’t afford any mistakes. Mistakes are what will get us caught babe.”
“I approach the guy,” Melanie started, recited his words carefully. “I tell him that I work with the local church offering help to the destitute. I tell him that we have a bed for him for the night in a local hostel,” she finished, sighing heavily through concentration.
“And if he doesn’t come with you straight away?”
“I offer him the bottle.”
“And why?”
Melanie’s face crinkled as she desperately tried to remember.
“FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!” Donnie snapped. “Because it’s cold out. If you worked for a church you wouldn’t be handing out booze. You give the guy a little wink and tell him that it’s just to take the edge off. But you don’t let him drink too much ok? Just a sip, that stuff is lethal. I want him dozy and manageable, I don’t want him dying in the terminal.”
“I don’t know Donnie,” Melanie whined as her eyes started to water. “Maybe you should do it? I’m probably just going to screw it up.”
“You’re going to do great baby,” Donnie said earnestly as he held her gently. “If I go over there then all sorts of alarm bells are going to go off in the guy’s head. Not to mention the fact that that I guy my size is far more likely to be noticed than you are. I’ve seen sisters from the local outreach programs up and down here a few times. Besides, just think about everything that we’re going to have when all of this is done.”
“But killing someone…” she trailed off.
“Don’t think of it like that. If anything we’re putting the poor guy out of his misery, I mean just look at him,” Donnie said pointing as the man shuffled by, momentarily lit by the cool moonlight.
Donnie realised that the man was looking worse than he had been when he’d first spotted him. The bum’s outfit looked far more shabby and filthy than before. His long dark overcoat was now of an indeterminate colouring. His hair was a wild crow’s nest and Donnie was suddenly fearful of putting the man in his car; God only knew just what diseases the bum was carrying.
“Look let’s just get it done ok?” He said soothingly. “You just sweet talk the guy, give him a small nip from the flask and I promise he will be so out of it you’ll be able to lead him over here without any problems.”
Melanie stared at him for an age to the point that he started to feel uncharacteristically uncomfortable under her gaze.
“You really want to go through with this?” She asked in a small voice.
“It’s our ticket baby,” he answered, meeting her gaze. “It’s our way out to everything that we deserve, ok?”
She nodded slowly and got out of the car. The flask was in her hip pocket and he watched as she touched it through her heavy coat. He watched as she walked awkwardly across the road towards the bus depot carrying all of his hopes in her fat waddling frame. He calmed himself with thoughts of the beach bronzed beauties who would be occupying his lap when he had the money and after he took care of Sara. Firm young flesh who would care little about his appearance, only the size of his bank account.
The phone rang again in his pocket and he snatched it out. “What Sara? What?” He barked.
“I was just worried,” Sara replied timidly. “I wanted to make sure that everything was going ok. You did tell her to only let him have a sip didn’t you? I mean I tried to water that stuff down as much as I could but it’s still pretty strong.”
Donnie gripped the phone hard enough to make the plastic creak. Screaming abuse at Sara was never the way to handle her. She was too delicate and far more likely to shut down than do as she was told. “Baby it’s all good. Mel’s over there right now and we’ll be back soon. Before you know it we’ll be sipping umbrella drinks on the sandy beaches and all of this will be a bad memory.” He was waiting for her to answer when he suddenly spotted Melanie flapping her arms wildly from the other side of the road. “Just be at my apartment on time,” he said tersely to Sara as he hung up the phone.
He stared at his wife in disbelief; this wasn’t exactly the low key abduction that he was hoping for. He keyed the engine and swung the car across the road quickly.
“What are you doing?” He hissed through the window as he lowered it. “Where the hell is he?”
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“I, I, I…, I don’t know what happened,” she wept. “I tried to give him a little bit from the bottle but he snatched it from me and drank too much, now he’s not moving.”
Donnie was out of the car in a flash. He barged past Melanie and over to the bench where the man was now lying slumped and unmoving. He grabbed the man’s wrist to check for a pulse but his sweating fingers couldn’t feel one.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” he mumbled to himself whilst trying to slow his racing mind. This was made all the more difficult when he heard a large throaty engine approaching in the distance.
He grabbed the man hard by the wrists and started trying to drag him forward towards the car. “Help me!” He hissed to Melanie who was standing helplessly with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “Damn it Mel, hurry!”
At long last her trained obedience kicked in, overruling her fear and she ran to help. Together they dragged the bum towards the car with muscles straining at his weight. Donnie used every last ounce of strength to heave the man up with his arms under the man’s armpits. Melanie opened the car’s back door and they shoved him in. Donnie leapt into the driver’s seat not caring if his wife was in the car or not. He fought every raging instinct not to peel away from the curb noisily attracting unwanted attention as the loud diesel engine behind them turned the corner and the bus’s powerful lights lit up the road. As the bus pulled up to the depot Donnie was just rounding the corner and out of sight with his cargo inside and his sobbing wife.
Donnie pulled up outside the apartment block. The area was as run down as his credit and it was as much as he could afford, and even then they were behind on the rent. Fortunately the whole place was the epitome of “nobody saw nothing” whenever the police bothered to come around to deal with the local wildlife. The junkies and winos were in abundance but Donnie had resisted the urge to snatch one from on his own doorstep; even he wasn’t that stupid.
He checked around outside and couldn’t see any prying eyes. He had pulled up around the rear of the building to use the rickety fire escape that led up to their apartment. He had watched enough cop shows to believe that time was of the essence here. Although Sara should be performing the autopsy he didn’t want to run the risk of there being something wrong with the time of death. His animal instincts told him that things always went wrong no matter how carefully you tried to plan. The case in point being the dead bum currently propped up in the back of the car.
He was wondering just how the hell they were going to get the guy up the fire escape when the dead man began coughing and Donnie’s heart damn near gave out. Melanie screamed and began clawing the door handle for a swift exit.
He silenced her with a hard slap. “Shut your freaking mouth before you wake the whole neighborhood!” He hissed. “Hey buddy how you feeling?” He asked the bum.
The man turned towards him and slow life dawned again in his eyes as he awoke from a dangerously deep slumber. The bum opened his mouth and slurred something nonsensically.
“I thought he was dead?” Melanie bleated and he had to stop himself from slapping her again, there wasn’t the time.
“How am I supposed to know? I’m not a fucking doctor am I?” Donnie said as he got out of the car and opened the back door. “Come on fella,” he said to the bum, dragging the man out.
Donnie took the fortunate turn of events as a sign from God that the big man really did play favorites. Now he wouldn’t have to try and carry the bum up the fire escape. As it turned out he only had to half carry the slumped filthy beggar.
Eventually he got to the top and the window popped open like magic and Sara poked her head through wearing a funny looking kind of shower cap.
“Where have you been?” She asked worriedly.
“We’re here now just help me in with him,” Donnie whispered. “What the hell are you wearing?” He asked looking at her headwear.
“It’s to keep my hairs from dropping all over your apartment. I can only control what happens in the lab remember? This place will be a crime scene and they’ll be checking for prints, hairs, and fibers.”
“I knew that,” Donnie said sulkily.
A few minutes later Donnie stood back and ran through the scenario in his head again. The bum was snoring loudly on the couch whilst the two women stood by nervously. Nothing had really changed, save for the fright of the guy first being dead and then waking up. “Ok, ok,” he said as calmly as he could muster. “Let’s get this done.”
“What do we do now?” Melanie asked in a quiet voice.
“This is where the good doctor here earns her share, isn’t that right doc?” Donnie said keeping his tone neutral. The last thing that he wanted was for Melanie and Sara to get into some kind of pissing contest over him at the most crucial of times.
He watched as Melanie sat on a kitchen stool and Sara went to work. The pathologist was a meek and timid mouse by nature, but for the first time he saw her as a professional. The woman was all concentration and precision. He would have just started tossing furniture around the room imitating what he thought looked like a struggle. But Sara was carefully tilting and leaning items, pointing fallen pieces in cautious directions. He watched as Sara began bringing various items from the kitchen and other rooms. She would wipe them down before pressing them into the sleeping bum’s hands. She took a clean toothbrush from her bag and ran it around the inside of what must have been a horrendously foul mouth.
“Is all that really necessary?” Melanie piped up.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy the idea of getting the chair, do you? In my book there is no such thing as too careful. This guy has to be Donnie, so his prints and DNA have to be all over this apartment just in case some nosy detective starts checking in the bathroom. We have to remove all trace of Donnie and replace it with this guy’s.”
Donnie had spent the day before cleaning the apartment thoroughly and removing all traces of himself. He was annoyed at having his efforts questioned, but he knew that this was not the time to start throwing spanners into the works. For the next hour they wiped every surface clean whilst Melanie followed behind leaving her prints followed by them dragging the unconscious bum around between them to add his as well. Sara was dressed head to toe in full pathology crime scene attire; a plastic suit, hat, and gloves to ensure that no contamination was ever left behind by the investigators.
Next they stripped the bum who barely stirred and Sara checked his vitals again. Melanie trimmed the guy’s hair and beard into a manageable state that resembled more of a human being again. They dressed him in a freshly dry-cleaned suit that was one of the two that Donnie owned. Donnie steeled himself as he put on the bum’s clothes. The fabric felt crusty and stank to high heaven.
Finally Sara stood back and survived the scene carefully. “Alright then,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Who is going to do the business?” She said nodding towards the slumbering bum on the couch.
Melanie’s face went pale and Donnie’s mouth went dry as the moment finally arrived. He went to the kitchen and took the large knife from the block on the counter top. The weight felt heavy in his hand and his palm was sweating profusely. They had dumped the bum back on the couch and Sara took a syringe from her bag and started to walk towards him.
“What the hell’s that?” Donnie demanded.
“It’s adrenaline,” Sara said as she flicked the needle.
“What do we need that for?” Melanie asked.
“I’m kind of curious about that myself,” Donnie joined in.
“If you stab him in this state it will show up on the blood splatter. It would be possible for a trained eye to see something wrong in the scene. This guy’s heart is pumping so slowly now that the blood wouldn’t spray like it should,” Sara explained slowly.
“So you’re going to wake him up?” Donnie said incredulously.
“We have to,” Sara answered in a tone that was starting to irritate Donnie. The situation seemed to be slipping out of his contr
ol and into hers. “This is supposed to be a home invasion, two men fighting for their lives, hearts would be pounding with adrenaline.”
“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Donnie snapped nervously as Sara pressed the needle to the guy’s neck. “I’m not ready,” he said gripping the knife hard.
“Well you better get ready,” Sara said as she pushed the plunger.
Donnie stared in disbelief as the reality of his world came crashing down. The bum exploded into life as the adrenaline hit his bloodstream. He flew off the couch with wild abandon glowing in his fiery eyes. His expression was one of complete and utter confusion and he charged across the room not knowing where he was or where he was going. Donnie had rehearsed the moment a million times in his mind but now he stood rooted to the spot in absolute terror. If the bum had had any senses functioning fully then Donnie would have been lost. Instead the man ran full pelt straight into Donnie’s outstretched knife hand. The blade plunged effortlessly into the bum’s chest and the man sagged like a deflated balloon clutching at Donnie’s new disgusting coat. Donnie could only watch as their two gazes locked and he actually saw the bum’s life force fade from his once fiery glare.
Donnie watched as the man sank to the floor with only a small gurgle for his final last non-prophetic words. He felt Sara take the knife from him as he stood there in a daze.
“You need to go now,” a voice troubled him from out of the darkness. “Donnie? DONNIE!”
He felt the stinging blow of a slap to the face which brought him back to the present. He looked in shock at Melanie who had delivered the slap for the first time instead of being on the other end. “Alright, alright,” he mumbled, trying to find his centre. He took a final look down at the body; a man felled by his own hand and left before the image could be indelibly burned into his retinas.
