Settle For Less: Short Stories For Those Who Like The Little Things

Detective Work

 

Story One:

Detective Work    [Horrific Scenes]

The club music was loud, to the point where the bartender was talking to his customers with hand gestures. I called him over with a wave and pointed to the nice bottle of scotch sitting across from the bar on a crowded shelf.  The bartender looked at me with a raised eyebrow and rubbed his index finger and thumb together; asking if I had the money to pay. I smiled as I screamed at him, “My buddies treat!” I jutted a thumb out, pointing behind me where a young man sat at a table that was not too far, but not too close.

He was a sinister looking fellow. Every once and a wile he’d take a sip of his beer, but he wouldn’t take his eyes off me for one second. He sat crouched over the table, like he was getting ready to jump over it at any moment. He was wearing a black pin-striped fedora, and a nice and loose satin black button up shirt, a red cotton v-neck under that. Past that he had on some well fitted black jeans with a regular looking black leather belt to keep them in place. It was just too dark towards the floor to really tell what he had on his feet. His head snapped up a little when he saw me move.

The stupid bartender took that as an ok and poured me the scotch in a crystal half-glass. I held it up to my face and inspected its clear purity. “Nice cup.” I grunted. Then took a long drink of the cold liquid, and slammed it on the table surface.  I took another glimpse of my personal little stalker as I stood up and walked out of the club. Since the music in the club was so loud I didn’t actually hear him get up and follow me out, close but not too close behind me.  Like always. As I hit the cool Denver night air I picked up my pace, he fallowed suite, I took a corner into and ally way and preformed my famous disappearing act. My little shadow man turned the corner not long after to find nothing there. Whatever he had been holding in his hand was thrust to the ground in anger. He walked back out to the club parking lot. After climbing out of the dumpster I followed not too far behind getting slyly into my own car tailing him down the highway, and to his house.

It was a long while before we reach our destination, and when we got there it wasn’t what I thought it would be but I wasn’t disappointed. He pulled into the driveway of a small two story building. Its outer walls where painted a light blue, but it was peeling very obviously in some places to reveal the wood paneling behind. It was a quaint middle-class house.

I parked across the street and watched as he sat in his idling car for a moment, probably cooling down from the failed attempt at a capture. Then the sound of the engine died away, the headlights went out, and he made his way to the front door of the house slamming it behind him. A smile began to grow on my face, “My turn.” I whispered. 

The inside of the house was very well lit, so I had to be quick. He had made his way to the kitchen and was now drinking another beer at the table. I came from behind, getting close to his ear I said, “Tut tut, didn’t you just have one?” He tried to jump up but I caught him by the neck with both my arms. I kept them wrapped tight, till he slumped over, now the work begins. I set him aside, but in my view, up against a wall. After that I swiped everything off the table and moved it to the middle of the room, then going around and closing all the blinds, windows, anything that would let sound out. I ran back to the kitchen to make sure my new friend hadn’t run off. He still lay there, unmoving. Next was the hard part, getting him on the table. He was a big man, well built, so it wasn’t easy; but I got him up there.  I went and rifled through a black bag I had brought with me; pulling out a nice thick roll of silver duck tape and rope. I secured our man to the table with ease.

After that I just waited.

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First his eyes just fluttered for a moment, and then they began to carefully open. At this point he began looking around; he tried to movie his arms. That’s when he released the situation.  Now anger sets in, he grunts and tries to flail a little, but cant. Then fear, he breaks out in a small sweat. Finally his eyes rest on me grinning from across the room. Now horror set in, my favorite emotion in people. He stopped moving because now he really knew where he stood. I stood up and made my way to him. If he could have cringed he would have because from behind me I brought a horrifically large meat cleaver to his face.

“You got really close you know; you almost had me going there for a bit.” I said, resting the cleaver on his chest.  “But by getting so close you should have realized.” I violently grabbed his face to make him look at me. “I wasn’t going to let anyone catch me.” I let go of his faces soft flesh and grabbed up my blade, raising it high above his neck.

“Goodbye. Detective.”

Thwak….thwak…..crunch.

It wasn’t too much work, dismembering the limbs of a man who would have given me so much grief.  “I guess that’s how things go…” I sighed slightly relieved. As if I could even feel relived, or any kind of emotion.  To me this was just like taking out the trash, and being kinda ‘happy’ about it. I wiped the sweat from my brow; my arms burned from cutting threw his thick muscle. I went to the sink and turned the handle with my elbow as not to get blood on it. The water poured out in a thick stream. My hands, witched where caked thick with warm gooey red blood, felt much better as the cold, clear liquid cleaned them. As I bent over to splash my face I knocked something over with my arm. I looked up to see that it was a picture frame with, obviously, a small picture in it. I picked it up already recognizing my victims face smiling proudly as he held up a magnificent fish. Next to him was another young man, a little less happy as he held up a smaller prize. “I didn’t know you had a family, detective.” I said to the mutilated crops behind me. I threw the thing back on the counter and started to pack up.

        Zipping up my bag I turned to take another look at my work. If I could feel proud about anything this would be it. His body still secured to the table hung a little limp. No big surprise though, his arms and legs had been severed at the joint. His chest cavity lay hanging open, his innards pulpy from my rithamatic chops.  His head had fallen off and rolled towards the kitchens entrance where it now faced up to the ceiling mouth open, stump of a neck still tricking blood. The flood was filling up with more and more blood by the minute so I decided to take my leave.

I walked right out the front door, got back into my car and drove off.

                                                                       End