Flawed Beauty

by Ernesto Lee

  The hallway has a slightly musty smell, and noting the general disarray and takeaway cartons in the living room, Erin reminds herself that Tony has been living alone for quite some time now. Wondering if he would take offense if she were to offer him the number for a maid service, she is brought back to the task at hand by the sound of Tony’s voice. “In here, boss. I’ve just put the kettle on for a brew. Would you like one?”

  “I’m good,” Erin starts to say. “I’ve only come to—”

  Her words freeze on her lips at the sight of the figure facing away from her. Barely able to speak, Erin can only stare dumbfounded at the casually attired woman washing the dishes without a care in the world.

  Hypnotized by her long blonde hair, and seemingly unable to process the obvious, her first illogical thought is that Tony’s wife may have got back with him. “Um, I’m sorry. Is it Rhonda? I was looking for Tony.”

  The familiar and masculine response sends a chill down her spine. “You’ve found him.”

  Slowly turning to face her, Tony smiles and quietly asks, “Surprised, DCI Blake?”

  Paralyzed with fear, Erin struggles to compute what is staring her in the face. Her shock at the sight of her long-time colleague wearing make-up and a blonde wig is surpassed only by her horror at the darkening blood stains splattered across the front of his hoodie and jogging bottoms. The make-up once so carefully applied is now sweat-smeared and spattered with Heather Baxter’s blood. Her blood is also still fresh on the head of the claw hammer gripped tightly in Tony’s left hand.

  Suddenly and acutely aware that she is unarmed and vulnerable, Erin slowly raises her hands. “Please, Tony. Please don’t do anything stupid.”

  “A bit fucking late for that,” he chuckles. “Anyway, you’re the stupid one for coming here.”

  He lunges forward, and his superior bodyweight effortlessly sends Erin crashing backward against the wall. Stunned and pinned to the floor by Tony’s powerful knees, she gasps, “Why?”

  Raising his fist, he shrugs and shakes his head. “You know what, boss? It’s a long story, which I’d love to share with you. But I really can’t be arsed right now.”

  The first punch breaks Erin’s nose. The second renders her unconscious. The third is for no other reason than it feels good and he can.

  . . . . . . . .

  The first of the kicks is painful, but still semi-conscious, mercifully, the pain doesn’t fully register. The second blow to her ribs is a different story entirely. Winded and choking on dried blood, Erin’s anguished moans elicit a wave of laughter and mockery from her tormentor. “Shut the fuck up, bitch. I haven’t even got started yet.”

  Her wrists are cuffed behind her back and have been trussed to her plasticuffed ankles, leaving her in a position that even a yoga-loving masochist would be reluctant to try.

  Ignoring her protests, Tony seizes her ankles and drags her towards the living room, cackling, “Don’t die on me yet, princess. You’ve got a visitor.”

  As helpless as an overturned turtle, Erin can do nothing to prevent her already badly swollen face from being dragged painfully across the cheap hallway carpet and then the laminate flooring in the living room, leaving a bloody smear in her wake.

  Panting heavily, Tony releases his grip and jokes, “Bloody hell, girl. You’re more of a bloody heifer than you look. You could do with losing a few pounds.”

  Then laughing to himself, he continues, “On second thoughts, no need to worry about losing weight. You’ll be a lot lighter when I chop you up. Anyway, like I said, you’ve got a visitor. Let’s get you both introduced.”

  Grabbing her ankles again, Tony spins Erin around so that she can see what or who he is talking about. Although both of her eyes are almost swollen shut, the sight of her friend is unmistakable and heart-rending. Terri has been hogtied in a similar fashion but she has also been gagged. Mercifully, however, she appears to be unharmed apart from some light swelling over her left eye.

  The two women’s eyes meet, and Erin gasps, “Terri, are you okay?”

  Her question is answered with a slight nod and a muffled yes. It also elicits another chuckle from Tony. “Yes, she’s okay. You’re both okay for now. Now let’s get you both comfortable.”

  Taking a box cutter from his pocket, he cuts through the plasticuff joining Erin’s wrists and ankles. He drags her up and shoves her backwards onto the sofa. “Sit there. Shut your mouth and don’t bloody move.”

  He repeats the operation with Terri and dumps her down unceremoniously next to Erin before taking a seat in front of them. Nodding, he removes Terri’s gag. “The same goes for you, Marchetti. Keep your trap shut unless I ask you to speak.”

  “That might be a bit difficult with you looking like a retarded drag queen,” Terri defiantly sneers.

  The response to her defiance is swift, retaliatory and brutal. The force and accuracy of Tony’s backhander across Terri’s cheek sends her head careening towards Erin’s face. Unable to react in time, the top of Terri’s head slams into the side of Erin’s mouth with a sickening thud that explodes her top lip and smashes two of her teeth.

  Distraught at the consequence of her ill-chosen words, Terri begs for forgiveness from her semi-conscious friend. “Oh God, Erin. I’m so sorry. Erin, please wake up.”

  Then venting her emotion in a different direction, she rages, “I’m gonna fucking kill you. You sad excuse of a man. What kind of a man—”

  “The kind that you would be well-advised to be wary of,” Tony snarls, raising his hand again as a warning. “So, unless you want another one of these, I suggest you keep that filthy mouth of yours quiet.”

  “Okay, but let the boss go,” Terri quietly pleads. “Or at least do something to help her. I think she’s dyi—”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Tony laughs. “She’s not dying. She just needs a drink to wake her up. What do you say, DI Marchetti? Should I give her a drink?”

  “Yes, yes, give her a drink, please,” Terri says.

  Taking a mug from the coffee table, Tony nods. “Okay, then. Good decision. I offered her a cup of tea earlier but she turned me down. A nice cup of tea always perks me up, though, when I’m feeling a bit rough.”

  Horrified but powerless to stop him, Terri’s protest is frozen in time as a grinning Tony hurls the liquid toward Erin’s face.

  The bite of the icy water shocks and splutters Erin back to consciousness, and hysterical with laughter, Tony points to Terri. “Oh, Jesus, I got you there, didn’t I? What? Did you think I was a monster or something?”

  Failing to get a rise from her, he stops laughing and sneers, “Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud, Terri. Nobody ever said that murder can’t be fun.”

  Turning to Erin he asks, “What have you got to say on the subject, ma’am?”

  When she doesn’t respond, Tony leans forward and waves his hand in front of her face. “Hello, is anybody home? Nod your head if you’re still with us?”

  Conscious but groggy, Erin nods and forces herself to speak. “I’m here, and I’m not done yet, Sergeant Bolton.”

  “Wonderful.” Tony claps. “A bit disrespectful, but wonderful all the same – anyway, now that the gang’s all here, we can get started, can’t we? Firstly, Chief Inspector, I owe you an apology. Before your little nap, you asked me a question. Do you remember what that was?”

  “I asked you why?” Erin says.

  “Correct!” Tony says. “Go to the head of the class. You asked me why, and I told you I couldn’t be arsed to answer that question, didn’t I?”

  Leaning forward, Tony asks, “Isn’t that what I said?”

  “It is.”

  Nodding to both women, Tony says, “Yes, it was what I said. And that was very rude of me, so please accept my apology, Chief Inspector. You do deserve to know why.”

  Looking to each woman in turn, Tony’s eyes settle again on Erin. “To be perfectly honest, I was planning to finish you off after breakfast without telling you why – but as luck woul
d have it for you, halfway through my excellent sausage sandwich, another dirty little fly wandered into my web.”

  Pointing to Terri, he says, “But then, I think you’ve already figured that out for yourself, haven’t you?”

  “Anyway,” Tony says, sitting up straight in his chair, “having the team reunited has given me time for a change of heart. I am going to tell you why.”

  Pausing to gauge any reaction from his captives, Tony then smiles and continues, “But first, the rules, ladies. Rule number one. You are both welcome to contribute to this discussion, but when I tell you to shut the fuck up, you shut the fuck up. Understood?”

  Both women nod, and Tony says, “Good. We can be civilized, can’t we? Okay, rule number two. I think you’ll like this one.”

  Raising his eyebrows and a finger, he smiles and says, “No hitting.” Then he chuckles to himself. “Well, not until the end anyway.”

  Noting the impassive expressions, Tony tuts and says, “That’s the problem with dykes – no bloody sense of humor.”

  “Is that the why then?” Terri asks. “I always knew you were a homoph—”

  A swiftly raised hand causes Terri to flinch away before a laughing Tony pulls it back and sneers, “Shit. I nearly forgot rule number two, didn’t I? That’s not a great start, is it?”

  Then frowning, he resumes, “Okay, so you both want to know why, don’t you?”

  Obviously not expecting a response, Tony continues and points to Terri. “It’s a combination of things really, but the straw that broke the camel’s back was this bitch taking my job.”

  Dumbfounded, Erin shakes her head. “You murdered Heather Baxter just because you were overlooked for bloody promotion? Who else? Shreya? Shell—”

  “Not just because of that,” Tony snarls. “You had a big part to play in this as well.”

  “Don’t you dare put this onto me and Terri,” Erin says. “This is all down to—”

  “You fucked me over,” Tony screams. “You fucked me over in favor of your bitch girlfriend.”

  “So that justifies murder?” Terri asks, horrified. “How many was it? Two? Three?”

  Chuckling, Tony shakes his head. “You’re doing me an injustice, DI Marchetti. By my reckoning, my tally is up to five. But we’ll get to that soon enough.”

  “You killed Shreya Singh and Shelley Wilton,” Erin says. “Who else, you sick bastard? Darren Pope?”

  “I said we’ll get to that,” Tony snaps. “We’re not done with the why yet, and it would be unfair of me to blame my cull entirely on you two.”

  Standing up, he takes a photograph from the top of the fireplace and places it onto Erin’s lap. The photograph is of Tony and a tall, blonde-haired woman.

  “Does she look familiar?” Tony asks.

  “It’s the woman that was with Shreya in The Taverna,” Erin replies.

  Shaking her head, Terri says, “So this is the real reason why. Your wife was having a lesbian affair. Kind of poetic justice, don’t you think, Tony? What with you being the king of the homophobes?”

  Seething, but remembering rule number two, Tony scowls and says, “Keep going the way you are, Marchetti, and I’ll kill you last and make it slow.”

  Distracting his attention away from Terri, Erin asks, “Did your wife leave you for Shreya Singh?”

  “No,” Tony grumbles. “I don’t think she left me for her particularly. That whore was just a distraction. It was more about looking for something different.”

  “Different?” Terri laughs. “She certainly found that all right.”

  “Terri, please,” Erin pleads. “You’re not helping.”

  “Seriously?” Terri snaps. “There is no helping this fucking mani—”

  “Enough!” Tony screams. “You’re all to fucking blame. You, her, this bitch and every other dirty little queer out there. It’s because of scum like you that decent hardworking men like me are marginalized, overlooked and generally made to feel that we’re the ones with the problem.”

  Wary of his increasing agitation, both women wisely remain silent and allow Tony to continue his rant.

  “Well, let me tell you both – it’s not me with the problem. It’s muff divers like you.”

  Shaking his head, he adds, “What I’ve been doing is nothing less than natural selection. I’ve been doing God’s work.”

  Unable to stop herself, Terri laughs. “You’re an absolute lunatic. Really? God’s work? I’ve heard it all now.”

  Lunging for her, Tony uses his thumbs to exert direct pressure on Terri’s windpipe. Her eyes start to bulge, and Erin screams at him to stop. Dangerously aroused, he presses down harder and snarls, “I did this to Shreya. I did this to that bitch before I took her face.”

  “Rhonda!” Erin screams.

  With the spell now broken, Tony suddenly releases his grip and slumps back into his seat. While Terri gasps hungrily for air, he wipes sweat off his forehead before turning to Erin, bizarrely mumbling, “That wasn’t hitting. That was strangling.”

  As if reassured by this rationalization, he then calmly asks, “What about Rhonda?”

  Turning away from checking on her friend, Erin says, “Rhonda. She’s not in Spain, is she?”

  Shrugging, Tony responds, “Did the hallway smell a little funky when you first came in?” Then he says with a smirk, “I had her under the stairs for a few days until she started to pong. She’s in the shed now.”

  Then seeming to ponder a question, Tony covers his mouth with a hand before saying, “I think I should get myself one of those alligator saws. I didn’t think it was worth wasting my money on, but now there are three of you. Well, that’s a different value proposition entirely.”

  “When?” Erin asks, confused. “She called you just over a week ago. But Shelley Wilton was killed in December. If you killed Rhonda because she left you for another woman, then why ki—”

  “You haven’t been paying attention,” Tony barks angrily, pointing again to Terri. “I told you it was her that broke the camel’s back. I never intended to kill Rhonda. I never intended to kill anyone. It was this bitch that turned me into a killer when she took what was rightfully mine.”

  “When I took your job?” Terri croaks sarcastically.

  “You didn’t just take my job,” Tony tuts. “You humiliated me.”

  Mustering a laugh, Terri says, “So to get back at me, you go on a killing spree. That’s reasonable enough, I guess.”

  “That’s not what happened,” Tony snarls.

  “So tell us what did happen,” Erin pleads. “Help us understand.”

  “I’m bored with this,” Tony grunts, shaking his head. “So shut up and listen.” Taking a breath, he points again to Marchetti. “It started with this bitch showing up on Christmas Eve. But you know that bit already, so let’s fast forward to Boxing Day.”

  “Darren Pope?” Erin asks.

  “Bingo, Chief Inspector. Superintendent Anderson’s speculation for motive was bang on – ‘wrong place, wrong time, wrong punter,’ I think was how he put it.”

  He then pauses before adding, “The dirty little bender propositioned me.”

  “That’s not an excuse to kill,” Erin says.

  “You’re right. It’s not. But I’d been drinking non-stop since Christmas Eve and, well… well, the little fag got what he deserved.”

  “Did you go out with the knife?” Erin asks.

  Chuckling, Tony replies, “Really? You’re trussed up like a chicken and you’re still playing the cop? No, Detective, I didn’t go out tooled-up. Killing Darren Pope wasn’t premeditated. I bought the knife and went back for him.”

  “Sounds premeditated to me,” Terri snipes.

  “Unless you want another throttling, I’d keep bloody quiet, Marchetti.”

  After advising her colleague to be quiet, Erin asks, “And what about Shelley Wilton? What did she ever do to deserv—?”

  “Nothing,” Terri interrupts. “Nothing at all. Her only crime was talking to me at a ba
r. Isn’t that right, Tony?”

  “It’s a shame that you’re going to be dead soon,” Tony concedes with a shrug. “Because, otherwise, you’d have probably made a good DCI. Yes, you’re right – killing Wilton was a dig at you.

  “After killing Darren Pope, I realized just how easy it was, but also how easy it was to get away with it. As a detective, it’s way too easy to make CCTV and other evidence disappear. And funnily enough, it’s even easier to make evidence miraculously appear.”

  “Johnny Murray and his hammer,” Terri says. “Another dig at me because of our history?”

  “Right again,” Tony laughs. “I expect you know now why he wanted to speak to you so badly?”

  “You framed him?” Erin asks.

  Laughing again, Tony says, “I didn’t frame him.” Then sneering, he says, “I fucked him, boss. It wasn’t that hard, though. He’s not the sharpest tool in the box, is he?”

  Turning back to Terri, he continues, “He wanted to speak to you because the dumb fuck thought he recognized me from somewhere.”

  “Which, presumably, he did?” Erin asks.

  “Of course he did. He changed my exhaust a couple of days before I battered Shelley Wilton.”

  “You lifted his hammer?”

  “Yes, boss. It was me that lifted his hammer. It was me that planted the empty acid jars in his apartment. It was me that sent him the gift voucher for Paddy’s Day. It was me that gave him the vodka bottle and it was even me that tripped him up in the park to make sure he couldn’t get home that night.”

  Laughing, he says, “And while we’re at it, it was me that made sure Heather Baxter was in The Jolly Mariner last night. And it’s me that has been feeding information to Edgar Balmain.”

  Incredulous, Terri asks, “Do you really despise me that much? That you would kill these women and frame an innocent man just to try to implicate me?”

  “Yes, I do,” Tony affirms with a nod. “And it was working, wasn’t it, boss?”

  “What?” Erin asks.

  “Oh, don’t go all coy on me,” Tony says. “We’re all friends here. The reason I was able to cuff Ms. Marchetti without too much of a struggle was because I knew she was coming.