On The Edge

by Daniel Cleaver

  “Not when you destroy families in your wake.”

  “What, the families of serial killers? Ya think I should let the killers walk free so as not to upset their relatives!? Are ya insane? What am I saying? Of course you’re insane.”

  He snarled, “I was devastated when you killed the original Hangman.”

  “I killed him?”

  “Yes. You made him kill himself. It’s the same thing.”

  “Oh really? How did I do that exactly?”

  “You left the noose and he did the rest.”

  “Not really me, then, was it?”

  “He had no choice.”

  “He’d done the crimes, right?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Who was he?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Sorry, lots of filthy scumbags have needed dispatching since then.”

  “So, you’re admitting on tape to killing more than one person?”

  “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You coerced them into killing themselves.”

  “I showed ’em the error of their ways, that’s all.”

  “Enough! It doesn’t matter. Tonight you die and by your own hand.” The spotlight shone on the noose again for effect. “There’s no way out. You’re guilty and you’ve admitted it. Up the scaffolding to your execution.”

  “Nah, I don’t think so.”

  “I can shoot you where you stand, or you can play along, prolong your pathetic life and, who knows, it might give the reinforcements time to arrive.”

  I smirked at that and slowly sauntered to the steps of the scaffolding.

  “As if!” scoffed the Hangman. “No one’s coming! You’re suspended and are working alone again and that will be your undoing.”

  I ascended the steps, my eyes fixed firmly on the Hangman’s noose and wondered, darkly, how many condemned had seen that rope and the dread it must have evoked. I stood on the rickety trapdoor. I stomped on it a couple of times. “Ya sure this thing is safe?”

  “That’s it, make a joke. You won’t be laughing soon.”

  I was needling him. That was good.

  “Place your head in the noose if you’d please,” his metallic voice boomed. He took out his cellphone and clicked on the screen. “Well, well, well, Detective, we have record numbers tuning in tonight. It seems like there’s a market for killing famous cops.”

  “Have ya got another noose? This one’s chaffing a bit.”

  “Stop with the jokes. You can’t get out of this, Detective. This is the end. Your end. You’ll meet your death in sadness and sorrow.”

  “Oh, yah, how come?”

  “Because of the ultimate betrayal. Its bitter sting is worse than any physical pain, I can assure you.”

  I slipped my head in the noose and tightened it. The Hangman addressed the camera. He really did love the sound of his own voice. It gave me a few moments. ‘Betrayal?’ then it must be someone I knew, for it to matter. But if I knew them, it might give me an edge.

  Who could it be? Milo? He could speak the strange Peruvian dialect that seemed to be important to the ritual earlier. Why hadn’t I followed through on that? How many people in LA would have knowledge of the Hangman’s strange language? One, maybe two? He’s highly religious, as was the Hangman. There was some evidence sure, but it just didn’t sit right. Could it be George McGinty, I knew he was a gasper, from his psychiatric records: he got sexual pleasure from oxygen starvation. Maybe he found that he liked to do it to others. Maybe he’d progressed to strangling. I just didn’t think he had the brainpower to concoct all these dramas and events. Nope, he just didn’t have the intelligence to arrange something so devious, to go to all the trouble. He was just too lazy. The captain? It didn’t figure. In fact, if it’s him and I was that far off base, I’d jump through the trapdoor willingly.

  Then with a slow, creeping fear it dawned on me.

  Perry!

  I hadn’t known him all that long. And he befriended me. He went out of his way to pal up with me when most people gave me a wide berth and steered well clear. He knew all about the medieval stuff and he even carried a flail for self-defense: I mean, who carries such a weapon? A gun or a knife I could understand, but a medieval cudgel? I thought it through and tried to make it fit. While he had the guile, wit, strength, and ability to carry out the crimes, I couldn’t figure out the why. Besides, he’s my best friend, my only friend. It couldn’t be him, or is that what the Hangman had meant about the ultimate betrayal?

  “I know who it is . . .” said Sheldon.

  “Who?”

  “Think it through. The answer’s been there all along.”

  “Why can’t ya just tell me?”

  “Oh, man, I know, too,” said Elvis.

  Then with a slow, sinking dread it came to me.

  It hit me in a blinding flash. My blood ran cold as I knew who the Hangman was. I took out my cellphone, and pressed a number. . .

  CHAPTER 44

  And the theme tune to Hawaii Five-O rang out around the cavernous warehouse from the cellphone in the Hangman’s hand.

  With a sinking heart, I said slowly, “Hello, Mia . . .”

  She took off her hood, shook out her hair and took out the voice changer. “Aren’t you the clever one?” She slowly clapped. “Congratulations, Detective. You’re not as stupid as you act. I underestimated you. Not that it’s going to save your life.”

  “You’re showing your face to the world.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I can change my appearance and disappear: I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again.”

  I slapped my forehead, trying to clear my thoughts. “I still ain’t getting this. We were together most of the time. We were each other’s alibis.”

  “I have a disciple that assists me.”

  “Disciple?”

  “I’ve had over a thousand total strangers begging to join in my crusade.”

  “Online?” I queried, pointing at the camera.

  “I couldn’t trust them,” she said indignantly. “They could be mental.”

  “They could be?!”

  She pointed the gun at me. “Tighten the noose, it doesn’t hurt as much like that – oh, you already know what it’s like to hang, I’d forgotten.”

  I fiddled with the rope and drew it tighter.

  “When did you realize it was me?” she asked.

  “I had my suspicions right from the beginning.”

  “Never!” She dismissed it, then her curiosity got the better of her. “How?”

  “You’ve upper body strength from your rock climbing. The way ya shimmied up to my apartment and I figured that ya hanged from the ledge outside Candy’s to escape detection and similarly on the cliff, and I’m guessing when I had ya cornered down the dead-end street that ya scaled the wall fairly effortlessly. That would also explain how ya arrived at the scene of the crime so quickly.”

  “I wasn’t going to reveal myself, but you rang my phone, remember?”

  I clicked my fingers. “Oh, man, of course.”

  “I thought my performance was flawless.”

  “Nah, I saw those movies ya were so proud of . . .” I pulled a face. “Wow, your acting was bad.” She looked stunned by the remark. I continued: “I mean, maaan, you really sucked.”

  “Silence!”

  “I also saw you in Dirty Little Whore.” That brought her up short.

  “I was tricked into that.”

  “No, your performance in that looked real.”

  “I was tricked!” she said, getting angry.

  “Ya seemed to be enjoying it.”

  “I’m a good actress.”

  “Not that good.”

  “I paid my dues.”

  “Evidently.” I mimed giving head.

  Her eyes flashed angrily and she started up the stairs and then controlled herself. “No, I mustn’t. I told my fans –”

  “Fans?!” I scoffed.

  “Yes, fans, I’m a worldwide
celebrity.”

  “Ya couldn’t cut it as an actress, so ya became a serial killer?”

  “Oh, you’d like it to be that simple, something to do with my ego, my vanity: do you really think I’d go to all this effort for something as mundane as that?”

  “Why are ya doing it, most homicides are either for sex or money: my money’s on money.”

  “That was an interesting sideline and something I will be continuing when I resurface somewhere else in the world.”

  “You’re acting like you’re gonna get away with it.”

  “I am getting away with it.”

  “Not from where I’m standing.”

  “From where you’re standing? On a rickety trapdoor? You think you’re going to take me in?”

  “I’ll put money on it,” I said confidently and with a smirk.

  “Now who’s got an ego?” she asked and then slowly smiled. “I see what you’re doing, stalling until the cavalry arrives? It’s not going to happen. You’re relying on that clueless bunch of Keystone Cops? I’m afraid you’ve finally been outwitted.” She checked her cellphone, “Right, it’s the witching hour, time for your execution.”

  “What’s this all about, did I kill ya father, or ya brother?”

  “My husband, as a matter of fact. My one true love.”

  “Sounds like a match made in Hell.”

  “You may sneer, but he was god-like, an originator. I was in awe, you wouldn’t understand, you’re too feeble-minded to grasp –”

  “Maaan, he was the original Hangman . . .”

  “Oh, aren’t you clever? He was a genius and you killed him.”

  “He killed himself.” I clicked my fingers. “That’s where I’d seen him before. He was in that porn movie with ya, Harry the Horse.”

  “We had to make those movies. We needed the money – our hobby was an expensive business.”

  “Harry the Horse was the original Hangman!? What a nut job.”

  “His only weakness was sleeping with his many fans.”

  I clicked my fingers. “The betrayal.”

  “The whores who would throw themselves at him, what could he do? He succumbed to their lusts.”

  “And they say I’m crazy,” I chuckled and shook my head in amazement, or tried to at least. “But it still doesn’t explain ya killing all those innocent girls.”

  “Innocent! None of them were innocent, I can assure you of that. They were dirty little sluts who had mutilated their sacred place.”

  Sacred place! She could still make me laugh, even now, what a nut.

  “The dirty girls, with their slutty piercings in their dirty places.”

  And then it fell into place. The dirty, infected girls, her super-skinny body. “You’ve got AIDS . . .”

  She stopped dead in her tracks, “I did underestimate you.”

  “One of your co-workers was pierced, and I guess it was bleeding? Is that how ya got it, she gave you AIDS?”

  “Harry caught it like that if you must know and he passed it onto me. A gift from one of the dirty whores.” She climbed the stairs to the scaffolding, quickly glanced at the knot. “If you haven’t tied it properly, you’ll slowly strangle. Although that’d be better for my audience.”

  “I loosened it a bit, it was scratching my neck.” I rubbed my neck to prove it.

  She stared at me and said quietly, so her ‘fans’ could not hear her. “What really put you on to me?”

  “I was curious when ya said that you had studied me. I mean, why? Then, when semen evidence was planted, well, it could only be you and that was why ya insisted on me wearing rubbers, so you could keep the semen. And,” I continued, “the fact you went out with me, I knew I was punching above my weight.”

  “Don’t put yourself down. You’re not that bad. You’re at least a six.”

  Six!? I know I ain’t been working out lately, but six? I really must get back down the gym.

  She turned to the camera. “Ladies and gentlemen, this will be the last live execution for a while, but I will be back, watch this space.” She turned and smiled at me and said, “Revenge really is a dish best served cold.” And pulled back on the lever and the trapdoor opened beneath my feet.

  * * *

  The rope yanked tight and for a moment I thought the jolt had broken my neck. The fact that I was still alive meant it hadn’t. My eyes bulged, I choked and spluttered. The hemp tightened against my carotid artery and I felt light-headed. I needed to stay conscious for my plan to work. I concentrated.

  I could hear Mia speaking to her audience as she sauntered down the scaffolding stairs and came over to me. She stared into my bulging eyes, grinned, and spoke some more to the camera. I couldn’t make out the words as the blood hissed in my ears. She checked my pulse and nodded satisfactorily, spoke more to the worldwide audience. My tongue pushed up from my throat and I let it push out from my mouth. This made her sigh in triumph: her eyes twinkled and her lips curled.

  She bowed to the camera with a flourish. She strolled toward the door when I said in a normal voice, “Where do ya think you’re going?”

  She skidded to a halt and slowly turned in disbelief. “But –”

  I gave her my best grin and she trembled in utter fear. “You’re dead?” She was dumbfounded and shook her head in disbelief.

  “I can make myself catatonic, I told ya, remember?”

  “I checked your pulse?”

  “I trained myself to lower it.”

  “Why aren’t you choking?”

  “I placed my switchblade through the rope and it acted like a brake.”

  “Well, you’ve still got to get down from there,” she said, regaining some of her composure.

  “That’s where I come in,” Perry said, stepping into the room, holding his mighty Desert Eagle 0.50, two-fisted in front of him, aiming at her body mass. He circled around her, slowly climbed the stairs to the scaffolding and took out a Ka-Bar knife and slashed through my rope. I dropped heavily to the cement floor six feet below and it winded me slightly.

  I heard a click and looked up to see Mia pointing her gun down at me. “Get up. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

  I stood slowly and raised my hands to shoulder height. I thought she might remember the maneuver, but she was too wrapped up in the events. She smiled at me triumphantly. “Tell me, when you said you loved me, did you really mean it?”

  “Yah.”

  “Yet you thought I was a murderer?”

  “Yah.”

  “Why spend the night with me, I might’ve killed you in your sleep?”

  I couldn’t answer.

  She smiled broadly. “It’s your dark side. The danger is seductive, isn’t it?”

  I swiftly snatched the gun from her hand and turned it on her. “Ya really should learn the gun snatch. It’s easy.”

  She looked horrified, glancing from me to Perry and back again. I said, “It’s over, Mia, it’s two onto one, give it up.”

  She watched Perry but quickly drew her eyes back to me. “Well, I don’t always work alone, either. Let me introduce a fellow convert – my disciple.”

  Ferdy walked through the door.

  CHAPTER 45

  My mouth dropped open in utter shock, giving Mia the chance to snatch her gun back. “You’re right,” she said. “It is easy.” She gave me a quick smile.

  Ferdy! I couldn’t believe it, then remembered his knowledge of the weaponry, his hobby of medieval life, his keenness to be involved in the case: it all fitted, but at the same time didn’t.

  He seemed oblivious to the guns but noticed everyone staring at him. He looked bemused and said, “What?”

  “You? You’re helping her?” I nodded towards Mia.

  “Not him!” she hissed.

  “No way,” Ferdy said. “I’m one of the good guys, remember? I came here with Perry. I just came to tell you I’ve patched into the broadcast and have the subscriber list.”

  “Give it up, Mia. It’s over,” I said gentl
y.

  Her eyes were wild: it was clear that she was not used to losing. After all her meticulous planning it was unraveling fast.

  Ferdy said, “Not only do we have your list of subscribers, but I’ve also jammed their computers and the relevant police forces are rushing to their homes as we speak.” He grinned widely. “I think that’s what they call a slam dunk, don’t –”

  A wicked-looking blade slashed through the air and embedded itself into Ferdy’s back. A woman screamed like a banshee as she flashed past and I just managed to sidestep out of her way.

  Perry took a shot at her but missed, as she darted into a gateway in the false wall of the castle. The set was full of places she could hide. “What the bloody hell?” Perry exclaimed. He fired through the false wall, hoping for a lucky hit. Ferdy had slumped to the floor with blood pumping from his wound. He wasn’t going to make it unless he got help soon. I crouched by him and looked at the injury. It was bad, very deep and had severed an artery. I kept pressure on it, as I looked around for Mia who’d slipped away, along with whoever the crazy banshee was. I used Ferdy’s radio, gave our location and requested backup and an ambulance. I said, “Officer down,” and saw a smile appear on Ferdy’s face just before he lost consciousness. I looked up at Perry up on the scaffolding, where he could cover the door, “They’re still in here somewhere.”

  It was Perry and me, our two guns in expert hands, against one gun and a blade. I thought our odds were good when a shot rang out and I saw Perry stagger on the scaffolding, he’d dropped his gun and was clasping his bleeding hand. I’d forgotten that Mia had scored highly on the rifle range. Perry ripped a part of his shirt off and wrapped it tightly around his hand. He used two fingers to point to his own eyes then the same two fingers to point through the portcullis to show me their position. He made a lot of noise stomping down the stairs from the scaffolding as a distraction, and as I watched closely, I saw the barrel of a gun followed by Mia’s hand. I chopped down on it, grabbed her arm, twisted it up behind her back and cuffed her all in one move.

  “No!” she screamed. “Not like this, noooo!” She bucked and heaved and began frothing at the mouth. “Not like this! Not like this!” She slipped from my grasp to the ground and her eyes rolled back into her head: she appeared to be having a fit. I laid her in the recovery position and made sure she was not going to swallow her tongue.