"Mais non, I would remember. I'm very good at faces."
David shrugged. "Over the phone you mentioned that you needed assistance with some financial planning."
"Oui. My last accountant left the books in disarray. And I'm looking for someone who can make sense of the multitude of numbers."
David rattled off his rates.
"Your cost does not frighten me, monsieur. Of course, I may ask you to start with one set of books first. The ones dealing with my U.S. possessions. The European investments could be taken care of later."
"Do you have any immediate questions?"
"No. I will try to have most of my books available to you on Saturday evening."
"Excuse me?"
"This Saturday when you come for dinner."
"It's really unnecessary..."
"If I am to feel comfortable with you, monsieur, I would like to get to know you on a social level."
"If you want references, I can give the names of a number of my clients."
"No, monsieur. I need to get to know you on my own, not through the eyes of someone else." From the looks of the apartment, Louis didn't think that Petry could afford to turn away any job.
Grudgingly David agreed to a seven o'clock dinner engagement for the coming Saturday.
After leaving the apartment, Louis felt an enormous thirst. Luckily, David Petry did not appeal to Sade's sensuous side, or else he would have found it impossible to leave without sampling the accountant's blood. But now that he descended the steps, he realized all the exertions and stress of the day were weighing him down into a sluggish fog. His mind still had its edge; however, physically he began to move more slowly, yet not so slowly that he couldn't capture a stray human.
"No, no, no. That's enough, Ginger. We must go back inside now."
Easy prey, Sade thought, but how unpalatable. The woman and her dog came into view just as Ginger decided to crouch down for a piss. Sade was uncertain whether he disliked the woman or the dog more.
"Bad, Ginger. Naughty." The woman gave no indication that she knew anyone was coming down the stairs.
Perhaps, thought Sade, she herself wanted to be invisible at this point in time, and she hoped the person would pass by without acknowledging her.
"Ginger has gotten over her shyness, I see."
The dog immediately started yapping.
"Merely an accident. She's ten years old and sometimes she misjudges where she is."
"Ginger does not know whether she is outdoors or indoors?"
"You startled her, and that's why she wet herself."
"She not only wet herself, madam, she seems to have flooded the hall."
"Are you leaving, sir?"
Sade hesitated.
"I could stay. Would you like me to stay, madame?"
"I would like you to leave. Who buzzed you in, anyway?"
Sade drew closer to the woman and smelled the odor of age. He encountered the smell every day when he rested inside his coffin. He hated the smell. This would be a violent killing, one that would surely cause him d'avoir l'estomac barbouillé. Already he thought he felt a burp coming on.
Just when Sade had come to a decision to find a tastier morsel, Ginger snagged onto the cuff of his trousers and began to rage.
"See what you did now? You have Ginger all upset."
Slowly Sade stretched out a hand while keeping the woman within his constant glare. He settled his thumb deeply into her voice box and spread the rest of his hand around her neck.
"Mrs. MacManus, if you can't keep Ginger quiet..."
The voice came from behind Sade. He judged that whoever it was could not see the hold he had on the old woman.
"Can I be of any help?" The voice tinkled in his ears. Young, he thought, probably a good deal younger than his current pitiful sack of a meal. But if he let Mrs. MacManus go in order to take the fresher meal, what would happen? What chaos could this old woman reek in the soggy hallway? He noticed that he stood fully in Ginger's puddle. Quickly he twisted the woman's head, and she fell dead into his arms.
Free of the leash, Ginger tried climbing his leg, gnawing holes in his trousers.
"Madame is ill, and I'm afraid the dog misunderstands my intent."
A woman in her mid-twenties rushed to his side. When she saw the limp body of her neighbor, she immediately offered to call 911.
"I think it would be better if I could lay her down somewhere first."
"Of course." She began to move away from him.
"The chienne"
"What?"
"Gin--ger," he pronounced the name slowly to keep from screaming.
"Of course." She scooped up the dog and beckoned him to follow her.
"Maybe I could take her from you. Can she walk at all?"
"Mademoiselle, she is unconscious. True, she is très thin, but still a dead weight."
"Are you related to her?"
"Merely a Good Samaritan who needs to lay his burden down."
She opened the door to her apartment, and Sade brushed past her before she could ask any more questions.
The living room glowed with the flickering of the television. A settee with a white lace coverlet stood opposite the flickering picture. Gently he placed the body down on the lace.
"Will she be all right?"
The dog emitted a low growl and snuggled into the young woman's bosom. The woman seemed to be wearing nothing under her cotton robe. The material defined every inch of her body, revealing a full-bosomed, narrow-hipped redhead. He could tell her hair color was true, because even in this dim light he could make out the cluster of red pubic hair under the translucent robe.
Sade looked down at Mrs. MacManus.
"No."
The young woman moved in for a closer look at her neighbor.
"What do you mean?"
"Perhaps you should lock Ginger in the kitchen with a bite to eat."
"The hell with Ginger!" She dropped the dog to the floor, and to Sade's relief the animal ran out the apartment doorway, which still stood open.
"Oh my God, what did I do? Mrs. MacManus will be furious when she wakes up and can't find Ginger." She started for the door. Sade followed closely behind. He reached beyond the young woman and swung the front door shut.
Some mail sat on a table near the door. Sade noted that the mail was addressed to Evie Springer.
"Evie, I don't think our first concern should be the chienne. I mean Ginger." He hated it when an English word escaped him.
"You're right. What am I thinking. I'll call 911."
As she walked to the phone, Sade noted the thrust of her ass, not broad but certainly shelf-like. He moved forward, and his arms circled Evie's waist.
"There is no more we can do for poor Mrs. MacManus."
"You mean she's dead."
Sade kissed the back of Evie's head.
"I don't want a dead body in my apartment."
"Where do you think we should put her? She must have the keys to her apartment in a pocket." He let go of Evie in order to rifle through the dead woman's raincoat.
"I can't have the police finding a dead person in my apartment. There'd be too many questions. They might even search the apartment."
Sade wondered what Evie had to hide, but it didn't matter as long as she wanted to be rid of the body.
He found the keys pinned with a safety pin to the inside lining of Mrs. MacManus' raincoat.
"Voicí!"
Evie gave him a blank look.
"Take the keys."
"Why?"
"Mademoiselle, I cannot open la porte, ce que je veux dire c'est, the door and carry the old... Mrs. MacManus."
"You want me to help you?"
"I could leave her ici... here."
Evie grabbed the keys. Sade lifted his burden and followed Evie to the door.
"Perhaps I should take a peek into the hall first. Don't see anyone through the peephole." Slowly she opened the door.
"Hi, David."
Mais no
n. Sade wanted to pounce on them all and end this in a serious blood orgy. Liliana, never doubt that I love you.
"Hey Evie, have you seen Mrs. MacManus? She doesn't answer her door, and Ginger seems to be stranded in the hall."
"Mrs. MacManus? Gosh! I can't imagine where she would be."
"You wouldn't happen to have an extra key to her apartment, because I'm thinking it might be a good idea to check on her."
Evie quickly brought her right hand behind her back. Sade could see the golden-colored keys sparkle in her palm.
"She'd never give me a key. Are you kiddin'? You know how she is. She trusts no one. I doubt she has any friends to hold a key for her. Besides, I think it would be too soon to barge into her apartment. I did see her earlier in the day. Maybe Ginger snuck out while Mrs. MacManus was locking the door or maybe Mrs. MacManus is asleep. Who knows how Ginger managed to get into the hall? She can be quit mischievous. Ginger, I mean."
Tais-toi!
"I guess your right. I'll take Ginger up to my apartment and check in again with Mrs. MacManus later in the evening. By the way, Evie, could I stop by later tonight?"
"Not a good idea."
"Already booked with another client?"
Client? wondered Sade.
"Sort of. Good night." Evie closed the door, leaned her back against it and signalled Sade that he should be quiet.
Sade didn't plan on revealing himself to David while holding a dead body and cavorting with a soon-to-be-dead young woman.
Several minutes passed with both of them barely breathing.
"Let's try again," Evie finally said.
This time the hall was empty. Sade waited inside the apartment while Evie unlocked Mrs. MacManus' door. As soon as he heard the squeak of the door hinges, he rushed Mrs. MacManus back to her apartment, depositing the body on the first object he saw, an old pine dresser. He stepped back and thought about how inappropriate she looked. The floor would be better, but did it matter? If they do an autopsy, which they probably will, they'll see she has a broken neck. Hmmm.
"What will the police think when she's found?" asked Evie. "I mean, I can't afford to have the police knocking on my door asking questions."
"What are you doing?" Evie watched Sade search through several closets, finally pulling forth an aluminum stepladder.
Sade had decided to ease Evie's qualms and to make it look like Mrs. MacManus had fallen from the ladder. He undid the raincoat, removed it from the body, and hung it up in the closet. He set the ladder up so that it appeared that the old woman had been searching a kitchen cabinet. Easily he hoisted the body up the ladder and dropped her from the top step. He paused to look at Evie.
"What the hell..." Evie's mouth and eyes were round.
He walked past her to the outside hall while suggesting she lock up. Evie followed and did as she was told.
"The keys. What do I do with the keys?"
Sade grabbed the keys from her hand and dumped them down the garbage shoot.
"She won't be needing them again. And I expect after a week or two someone will suggest breaking down the door. L'odeur de la mort never fails to attract the scavengers."
Evie shivered and padded her way back to her apartment with Sade following closely behind. At the door she stopped and looked at Sade.
"I hope to never see you again."
"I have assisted you in being rid of a body."
"There wouldn't have been a body except... What did you do to her?"
"Moi! Nothing! I merely came to the aid of someone who appeared ill." Sade brushed back a red curl from Evie's right cheek. "Mademoiselle Evie." He brushed his thumb across her deep red lips. "It is obvious you are truly a beautiful, sensuous woman. Une femme de petite vertu." She watched his lips form the sound of French poetry without comprehension. "I could promise to never speak of your contribution tonight if..."
"The pound of flesh."
"Literally."
Evie guided Sade into the apartment and immediately into her bedroom, a room draped in black and red with a standing bondage post. A wall rack and padded bondage table were to his right. Upon the opposite wall hung an assortment of whips, canes in a variety of materials, leather hoods, and on the aluminum table various piercing devices.
"Mademoiselle, the acoustics?"
"Three layers of soundproofing."
"C'est le paradis!"
"...I am in a state of the most violent agitation: I shall not describe the night I passed: my tormented imagination together with the physical hurt done by the monster's initial cruelties made it one of the most dreadful I had ever gone through."
Justine
by the
Marquis de Sade
Chapter 18
The Vault. Paddles. The Hellfire Club. Garrett had made his way down to the meat packing district, a part of Manhattan bustling during the day with humans cutting and packing meat and at night with rats licking up the scraps and blood left over from the day.
Garrett took a turn onto a dark side street. A dim streetlamp revealed the presence of a few rats scurrying across the blood-stained surface of the sidewalk. The rodents didn't appear to fear him; they were busy seeking dormant flesh. Uncomfortable with the sight, Garrett stepped down from the curb into the street to avoid confrontation. Once past the rats he stepped back onto the sidewalk. He wanted to find Rapture, the fourth club on his list. Business associates had talked about their slumming at sex clubs. Just to watch, of course, they always added. Garrett decided to browse alone in case someone caught his interest. He also left his chauffeured car at home, fearing it would attract attention. If an acquaintance saw him at one of the clubs, he could turn on his machismo attitude and join his friend in having a drink while sharing a laugh over the scene they viewed. He had scanned all the s/m magazines and noticed that several of the clubs were grouped together in Chelsea and the Meat Packing District. Rapture seemed to be the hardest to find.
No one walked the streets. It amazed him how desolate the streets near the clubs were, since the clubs themselves were crowded. He wondered whether an underground tunnel existed, or whether the players never left the scenes.
An oasis of a restaurant appeared in the midst of the sweltering silence of the summer night. A cab pulled up in front of the restaurant, and a man and a woman stepped out. Perhaps they would know. But he hadn't moved quickly enough, because the couple rushed into the restaurant.
He moved closer to the restaurant and peeked in the window. On the inside the restaurant looked like a pretentious diner. Formica-topped tables with chrome-frame metal chairs crowded in on each other, and at every table customers ate their meals elbow to elbow. The young, professional couples appeared to be dressed down in their designer jeans and environmental T-shirts. Several people waited near the door for a table.
Garrett mulled over whether he wanted to go in and ask about Rapture. He didn't. He couldn't say whether his hesitancy was because he didn't want to appear out of the loop in the midst of a crowd that obviously thought they made up the loop, or whether he would be embarrassed if someone did recognize the name of the club.
The people at the table directly in front of the window started waving at him and beckoning him to come in. He knew they didn't want him to join them, since he couldn't have squeezed himself in anywhere at the table. He guessed they felt as if he were gawking at them. When he looked down at the food on the table, he saw what he expected. Meat loaf, fried chicken, and Salisbury steak. Old-fashioned diner food being served up as a culinary experience.
A deep bark distracted him away from the restaurant. A tall, baldheaded man in leather walked his Great Dane. The dog and the man wore matching spiked collars. If anyone would know...
"Excuse me." Garrett approached the stranger. The man's pale blue eyes inspected Garrett's clothing. That day Garrett had worn his undertaker special, a plain black single-breasted suit with a white shirt and a black and white paisley print silk tie. "I wonder would you know where the Rapture Club is."
<
br /> The man stopped, and the Great Dane sniffed Garrett's crotch.
"Are you a member?"
"I didn't think a person had to be."
"Only for the locked portion of the club."
"So I can get into at least a part of the club."
"Anyone can. Regrettably." Garrett expected the man to sniff, but he didn't. "I should say any male with forty-five dollars can get in. Females, of course, get in free. But you look like you'd like that idea."
Not wanting to antagonize his source of information, Garrett simply asked again for the location of the club.
"You're standing in front of it."
Garrett turned around and peered at the restaurant's window.
"You mean..."
"It's right above Ernie's."
"Ernie's. I take it that's the restaurant."
"Yes."
"And the entrance?"
The man pointed to a fire door nestled in between the restaurant and a packing house.
"Hard to find. There's no name on the place."
"People usually don't need to see the name to find it."
"This is my first time." Brilliant statement, Garrett. He felt the weight of the dog's paw settle on the tip of one of his new Ferragamo shoes. If he pulled his foot away, the leather would definitely be scratched; however, if he waited, his big toe might fall asleep. Brusquely he pulled his shoe from under the dog.
"I'd better get Rin Tin Tin home. He's getting a bit antsy."
Garrett laughed. "Rin Tin Tin?"
"That's right." The man didn't crack a smile, but he continued. "Perhaps I'll see you later." He winked and walked off with the dog.
Garrett went over and knocked on the fire door. It swung open an inch and then all the way.
"Good evening." The voice sounded like a bad impression of Marlon Brando. The body looked like Mr. America on a double dose of steroids, and instead of glistening with oil his body neoned in bright-colored tattoos. "Member or a guest?"
"Guest."
Immediately the man spun around and lifted a xeroxed sheet from the table behind him.
"That will be forty-five dollars, please."
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