“Milo.” Jerry smiled. “New friends?”
“Suspects,” he said. “Only they don’t know it, so let’s keep that between us.”
Jerry nodded. “They look more eccentric than you.”
“I guess that’s the nicest adjective to use.”
“That girl has no fingers.”
Milo looked at Estella. “She bit them off.”
“Why?”
“Got hungry, I guess.”
“Hard core.”
“Preaching to the choir, Jerry.” He opened his bag and pulled out three plastic cups wrapped in plastic. “I’ll have a rum and coke. Send Maria around to see what the nut jobs want.”
Jerry took the cups and set two on the back of the bar. The third cup he carefully opened and then set on the small counter beneath. Milo watched as he poured the drink, and then set the cup on the bar, handling it so his fingers only touched the base.
“Thanks,” he lifted the cup in a mock toast. “Open a tab? Whatever they order is on me.”
“Sure.”
“I still have plates here, right?”
Jerry reached under the bar. He pulled out two plastic plates wrapped in cellophane, cutlery neatly bundled on top. “Yep.”
“Good.”
He walked to the table. The only vacant chair was between Estella and Buggy. Ozzie sat on Estella’s left, eyes fixed on his hands, which were currently ripping a coaster into tiny shreds. Maria appeared, took their orders, and then scurried away.
“So.” Milo put a notebook on the table. He placed a brand new pen next to it, and then hung his bag on the chair before sitting between Estella and Buggy. He waited until Maria disappeared into the kitchen and then turned back to the group. “Is that the first group member to die?”
“Why would you ask—cunt-ball fuck your sister—that?” Ozzie didn’t look up.
“Shamus.” He was done playing games. These fuckers would fess up or he’d stress them to the point Rochelle would have to take another one out.
Estella shifted in her chair. “I’m really uncomfortable.”
“Because of Shamus?”
“No.” She rubbed the stumps where her fingers used to be. “Your hands. They’re making me nervous.”
“Well, Stella.” He lifted his drink to his lips, and then sipped, savoring Jerry’s heavy handed shot of rum, and then set it back on the table. “We could put mittens on, which I found in Rochelle’s bathroom hamper, by the way, and look like a bunch of loons, but you’ll have to spill about Shamus before I’m willing to make that sacrifice for you.”
She rubbed the stumps with more ferocity. “Can’t. Please, Milo.”
He tapped the side of his cup. “Anyone?”
“We can’t.” Buggy parroted. “It’s not like we don’t want to.”
“Really?” He placed his palms down on the table. “It’d take me a second to knock those glasses off your face, Bug-man. Know what color the walls are in here?”
Buggy shivered. “Come on, man. I thought you were cool.”
“Tell me about Shamus.”
“Why do you want to know?”
Estella whimpered as Milo began tapping his fingers, his hands only inches from hers.
“Because,” he said. “I think Rochelle is taking advantage of you guys. Worse than that, I think she’s killing off the ones that can’t be “fixed” with her bullshit quackery. She’s using you, although I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s just an ego thing. God knows she’s as fucked up as the rest of you. Not sure how she’s even allowed to practice.”
“I’ll bite your fucking fingers off,” Estella warned. “It’s what I do.”
“And I’ll shoot you in the face with the gun I’m carrying under my jacket,” he said.
“You can’t shoot me in front of all of these people.”
“You try to bite my fingers and I’ll be justified, so just try it. Tell me about Shamus and I’ll put the mittens on.”
“Cunt-ass-pissy-tits!” Ozzie yelled.
He hated to admit that he was startled by the outburst, because he was trying to play it cool, but he was. He looked toward the bar and nodded at Jerry, who stared at their group like every one of them had sprouted horns and feathers. “Calm down, Oz.”
“I’ll tell you about Shamus. Anus-eating fucker.”
“He wasn’t an anus eater, was he?” He had seen some fucked up shit in his day, but an anus eater would be a first.
“No,” Buggy said. “Just birds.”
“Mittens,” Estella said.
Milo sighed and reached into his bag. He felt around until he found the ridiculous mittens, and then lifted them out. “You liked my fingers just fine the other night.”
“I wasn’t looking at them.”
“Freak show,” he muttered. “You guys clam up and I’m taking these fuckers off and ticking Estella until she shits herself. Then I’m smashing Bug-man’s glasses and painting him green.”
Estella met his gaze, her blue eyes wide. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me, you fucking nutcase. I’m tired of the bullshit and I’m tired of treating you all like children. Spill or face the consequences.”
“Shamus was doing a test,” Ozzie said.
“She’s gonna be pissed,” Buggy said.
He slid the mittens on. They felt and looked ridiculous, but at least the bar was empty. Only Jerry would witness this foolishness. “And?”
“I went with him—ffff…cock—to the pet store earlier that day.”
“The day he died?”
Ozzie nodded. “He did good. Asshole couldn’t hold one of the little cocksuckers, though, so he—c-c-tit-sucking-wanker—felt like he hadn’t really passed.”
“So Shamus ate birds?”
“He just bit the heads off of them,” Buggy said.
“Just? I’d say that’s enough.”
“One time we were at the park, and he chased down a pigeon.” Buggy smiled as though reminiscing about a happy event. “Caught it too. He was as stealthy as a cat. Amazing, really.”
“Yeah, amazing,” he said.
“Anyway, he just ripped its head off with his teeth.”
“Was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” Estella added. “Blood and feathers everywhere.”
“And yet you still fucked him,” Ozzie pointed out.
Estella scowled. “He had many oral fixations. Some of them were pleasant. And he didn’t have to be shit-faced to indulge, unlike some people I know.”
They all fell silent as Maria set their drinks on the table.
“Cum-guzzling-twat-licker.” Ozzie muttered.
“Food will be a few minutes,” Maria said and scurried away.
He imagined they all looked like lunatics with their mittens, Estella’s fingerless hands, and Buggy’s weird glasses. Ozzie’s gingerness and his random outbursts were the icing on the crazy cake. He was proud of himself for looking past Ozzie’s hair color. He actually kind of liked the guy.
“So Shamus went back to the store?” Milo asked. He was finished discussing Shamus’ oral fixations. “Did anyone go with him?”
Ozzie shook his head. “Asshole-snatch-dick.”
He wondered if Ozzie knew most of his profanity made little or no sense. Probably not. He focused on digging for more information. “What happened?”
“Rochelle said he called her, but she was sleeping,” Estella explained. “So she didn’t answer her phone. Shamus went back to the store and you know the rest.”
“So Rochelle, the control freak who didn’t want a grown man to go on a date by himself, and who forces you all to meet every single day, didn’t answer her phone on the day one of her babies was doing a test?”
“Yeah,” Estella said. “So?”
“Sound a bit out of character to you?”
Ozzie rubbed his head. “Something… fuck. Something is in there.” He knocked on the side of his head.
“Well that’s new.” Wonderful. Poor bastard was going to have a fu
ll-on psychotic break. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea he had ever had. “You okay, Oz?”
“Rochelle said something.” Ozzie knocked on his head again. “To me. Mmmm…sh. God damn it, motherfucker. About Shamus.”
“You don’t remember?”
“Hypnosis a few days ago. Bullshit always leaves my—thunder-cunt—memory a little mushy.”
“Thunder-cunt?” Estella giggled. “I like that one.”
“Fuck off, whore. I’m sorry.”
Milo wanted to punch his own head a few times. “Does Rochelle hypnotize all of you?”
“Yeah,” Buggy said.
“And do these little sessions occur before or after a group member dies?”
“Both,” Estella said. “No. Sometimes it’s before. Sometimes just after. Sometimes not at all. Only four have died, though. Not so much in the grand scheme, really.”
He knew it. There was more than one death linked to Rochelle. “So, it wasn’t just Shamus?”
“Just Shamus.” Buggy said. “Just him. No one else. Estella doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Hey, I bet the broccoli soup here is amazing. They look like they would really know what they’re doing with broccoli.”
“Is that right?” He was so close. One of them would crack or he’d die trying. “Anyone else like broccoli? Maybe a pyromaniac named Pete?”
“No. Pete only ate pasta. Thought vegetables were the devil’s food and meat would turn him into an animal, because he thought the animal’s soul stayed in the meat after its death.”
Estella slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Jesus Christ, Stella.” Buggy shook his head. “Remind me to never tell you any of my secrets.”
“So Pete was part of your group too?” Milo hadn’t planned on getting so much information. He couldn’t write fast enough. “Do you know if—”
“Sally loved broccoli,” Ozzie interrupted. “Tit-twisting-ass-muncher was a nice girl. A total slut, but nice. She cut my hair for me once.”
“Do you realize Sally died by a snake bite?”
“Yeah,” Estella said. “But she did weird shit. Worse than Nina.”
“They found her with a snake in her ass.”
He watched their reactions. Estella was suitably shocked. Ozzie blinked, his face losing the little bit of color it had. Buggy nodded. Interesting.
“What did Rochelle say about Sally?” he asked.
“Nothing. We don’t talk about her,” Buggy said. “Hurts the group. Can I go now? I really need to go home.”
Milo sighed. “Maria’s bringing food any minute. Look guys, I don’t want to hurt the group. I want to make sure you’re all safe. These deaths worry me, because they seem to happen when one of you fucks up. Don’t you ever wonder when your turn will come?”
“Fucksakes,” Ozzie moaned. “I’m next.”
“Why you?”
“Hello, ass-face, I killed son-of-a-bitch Andy.”
“And you think it’s the first time she’s manipulated you into such a thing?” He doubted Rochelle got her hands dirty often. She had an aversion to germs, after all. “She’s not right. As messed up as you guys are, you have to see that.”
“She loves us,” Estella said. “No one would help me before I met Rochelle. She’s the only one who didn’t treat me like a freak. She took me in, got me off my meds, and then she said I could get better. I am better.”
Milo slid off a mitten and put his hand on Estella’s arm. She shrieked and jumped out of her chair, sending it sliding noisily across the floor. “Are you really?”
“Asshole,” she spat. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
He chuckled as he slid the mitten back on. “She hasn’t fixed a single one of you. Besides, you guys are smart. I know you could get a handle on your shit if you truly wanted to.”
“Nope.” Buggy shook his head. “Green is my kryptonite.”
“Because you allow it to be,” Milo said. “How long have you all been seeing Rochelle?”
“Two years,” Buggy said.
“Four shit-tastic years,” Ozzie muttered.
“Eighteen months,” Estella said as she righted her chair. “Why?”
“And not one of you is able to confront the demons that make you certifiable?” Milo asked. “You guys meet every week and you check in with Rochelle every single day.”
“Sometimes more than that” Buggy said.
“Exactly! All those meetings, all that time, and not one of you has been able to shake the monkeys on your backs? Has anyone checked her credentials? Asked around about her reputation? Why is she running a clinic out of her house, for crying out loud?”
“She said it was more relaxing,” Buggy said. “You now, not impersonal like a hospital. Makes us more comfortable.”
“Right.” He sipped his drink again. “I’m not against Rochelle.” But he really was. “I just want you guys to protect yourselves in the future. I like you.” Sort of. “So I want to see you all get better and I’d prefer it if you stayed alive.”
“So would we,” Estella said. “But Rochelle’s not hurting us. You don’t know her well enough yet. Trust me, she would never do anything to harm us, and she’s definitely not a killer.”
“Okay.” Milo nodded. He had enough information for one day. “Let’s drink to Andy and then move on from this miserable day.”
“Let’s do that.” Ozzie chugged his beer and then let out a loud belch. “Ball-sucker, that’s good shit.”
He scribbled a few notes in his book as Maria brought their food to the table, and smiled as she set a set of plastic utensils wrapped in cellophane next to his plate. “Thanks, Maria.”
She nodded. “I need to worry about these guys?”
He shook his head. “I’ll be taking them back to the zoo soon.”
“Good.” She hustled away.
“That woman doesn’t like us,” Ozzie said. “No one really likes us.”
“She doesn’t like anyone,” Milo lied as he unwrapped his fork and knife. “I see you got the broccoli soup.”
“Don’t,” Buggy warned. “Just let me enjoy this. Haven’t eaten broccoli in a month.”
Milo nodded.
“She told me to take care of him. Shhh—ass-dodging-cunt.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Rochelle.” Ozzie met his gaze. “Bitch hypnotized me so I’d forget, but it’s there.” He knocked on the side of his head. “Fuck me, I can’t tell you this.”
“Really?” He noticed the way the other two stiffened, food only half-way to their mouths. “Let’s talk about this another time, Oz. Cool?”
“Fuckers.”
“We cool?” He repeated.
“Yeah.” Ozzie stared at his burger. “I killed that poor bastard.”
Milo sighed. “Yeah, and that poor bastard strangled and then chopped up a tiny little woman who only wanted to shag him. Then he ate her.”
“Perspective.” Buggy said.
“Amen, Bug-man.”
CHAPTER 14
Milo checked his watch as he walked up the stairs. Ten minutes before seven. He always preferred the station early in the morning, when the night shift, calling it a skeleton crew would be generous, was hiding in the cafeteria guzzling coffee and waiting impatiently for the day shift to arrive, and almost no one roamed the halls. He usually arrived shortly after six, sat at his desk and filled out his reports before the rest of the homicide menagerie arrived and made it impossible to think with their ruckus.
He’d never seen the captain at work before eight. That she was willing to meet him early was no surprise, though. He’d called from Rochelle’s the morning after Andy’s accident, and Joy had said Cunt would fit him in before the day started. He knew she wanted him there before Jones and McTaggart got in. Wouldn’t want her babies knowing she didn’t trust their investigative prowess.
He walked through the double set of doors that led into Cunt’s office. Joy was already at her desk. He wondered if Joy ever left the place.
/> “Good morning” he said.
Joy smiled. “Go on in. She’s getting coffee.”
He went into the private office of Captain Cunt, feeling a little strange. She never let anyone in there alone. Seeing an opportunity he might never have again, Milo took the package of wipes from his coat pocket. He pulled three out, and then cleaned the seat and armrests of the chair. The wipes were almost black when he’d finished. Curling his nose, he tossed the wipes into the over-full wastebasket next to her desk. He took another wipe from the package, returned the package to his pocket, and then cleaned his hands.
They still felt sticky. He took the small bottle of hand sanitizer from his other pocket. He squeezed a generous amount on his palm and then tucked it away again. Rubbing his hands vigorously, he inhaled the soothing antiseptic smell.
God, he’d wanted to do that for so long. A sense of contentment settled over him as he sat in the finally clean chair in front of her desk.
“Are you seriously going to insist you don’t have a problem after all that?” Her shrill voice startled him.
He didn’t turn around. “After what?”
“I just watched you clean that chair, and then your hands, and then you smiled like I’ve never seen you smile before.”
“It was filthy,” he said. “Most people would say thank you.”
She sighed. He said nothing as Captain Cunt walked around the desk, took her seat, and then set her stained and chipped coffee mug on a stack of file folders. He read the side, “That’s CAPTAIN bitch to you” and rolled his eyes.
“So.” She folded her hands on the desk. “What the hell happened the other night?”
“Guy lost his shit and fell on a knife.” He wasn’t giving her any real evidence. She would get the same statement he gave McTaggart. He just wanted to make sure she left Ozzie alone until he had enough proof to arrest Rochelle for the other murders. “I wish it was more interesting, but there you have it.”
“You saw it?” she sounded doubtful.
“Every mind-boggling second,” he lied. “Andy, the victim, snapped, went at Ozzie, your suspect, with a rather large knife. They struggled. Ozzie was trying to push Andy away, but Andy kept lunging at him. Somehow they slipped. I watched them fall. Only Ozzie got up.”
Mad Page 14
