That Devil Woman

XIX - Desperate Times

Her father was finally out of her way. She had trumped all the obstacles between her and her destined greatness; Mr. Dubois, Mrs. Elliott, Roger, and now, in the most dramatic fashion, her own father. But even still, as Cruella sped her father's roadster up the hill to Hell Hall, she thought that she should feel more pleased with herself. Her goal was as good as accomplished now, assuming Jasper and Horace would comply. She would regain her fame once more. But all she felt was a potent sense of dread and emptiness. She did not want to grieve her father, because he was an awful person, but it still felt as though something within her had corroded and wasted away. She also had the gnawing sense that she had made a mistake. She was now not only a wanted criminal in the case of the stolen Dalmatians, but now also a murder case. She figured that, being a public figure, she could avoid suspicion by speaking out about it fast. But she knew she could only do so once the job was done. She did not have time to dwell on it though, as she pulled up to the gates of Hell Hall.

Later, in the living room of the old building, Cruella was storming. She was pacing back and forth in fury and panic, her fur coat billowing with every step. The ninety-nine Dalmatians in the room cowered from her. She gave them no attention, but inwardly, she enjoyed frightening them. Jasper and Horace were calmly seated on the couch, watching What's My Crime? on the television. Cruella thought the show was foolish. She did not find it amusing to watch failed dull criminals get questioned by a panel of inspectors.

"I've got no time to argue," Cruella finally said. "The job must be done tonight." The two Badun brothers stayed fixated on the television. Neither wanted to carry out Cruella's deeds anymore, but they did not want to anger her any further. So, they were paralysed. Jasper even leaned forward and turned up the volume. Cruella rolled her eyes and switched the television off. She leaned in close so they could no longer ignore her, waving her draping sleeves in the air.

"Do you understand? Tonight!"

"But they ain't big enough," Horace noted.

"You couldn't get half a dozen coats out of the whole caboodle," Jasper echoed.

"Then we'll settle for half a dozen," Cruella compromised, exhaling smoke into Jasper's face. "We can't wait. The police are everywhere! I want the job done tonight!"

"How're we gonna do it?" Horace questioned.

"Any way you like," Cruella responded exasperatedly. "Poison them, drown them, bash them in the head. Have you got any chloroform?"

"Not a drop," Jasper answered.

"And no ether, either," Horace said.

"Eye-ther!" Jasper corrected, taking a beer bottle and knocking the top of his head with it. Cruella grew increasingly tired of their ineptitude.

"I don't care how you kill the little beasts, but do it, and do it now!"

"Aw, please, Miss, have pity now, will you?" Horace pleaded.

"Can't we see the rest of the show first?"

"We want to see What's My Crime?" Jasper brought the bottle to his lips. In a spontaneous fit of rage, Cruella snatched the bottle out of his mouth. Splashes of beer sprayed onto Jasper's face as he spluttered and coughed. Cruella stood in front of the fireplace, staring at the two. Then, she violently tossed the beer bottle into the fire. The bottle immediately exploded. The blast ballooned Cruella's coat dramatically. Jasper and Horace huddled together to avoid being damaged by the wave of sharp glass. Cruella wanted to be perfectly clear; she meant business. She raised her gloved hand above her and slapped the two men hard.

"Now, listen, you idiots," she threatened through gritted teeth. "I'll be back first thing in the morning, and the job better be done or I'll... I'll call the police! Do you understand?"

Cruella did not need a response. She aggressively slammed the door behind her, cracking part of the old brittle wall. She stomped down the stairs in front of Hell Hall. She was stressed and outraged; but, she was not willing to give it up now.