The Barbershop Slaughterer

Part 1

"Excuse me miss, can I buy you a drink?"
The sentence moved around Elsie's head, getting more sluggish with each intake of breath. Every breath she took was more and more painful. It was only a matter of time. What had led up to this moment?
"Excuse me miss, can I buy you a drink?" The panic she felt was exacerbated by thoughts of what might have happened if she hadn't accepted.
....................................
"Excuse me miss, can I buy you a drink?"
Elsie took a while to acknowledge the question. She was unaccustomed to men asking her anything. Men were Margot's area. But her sister wasn't there. She smiled nervously and squinted up at the figure before her. The light over the bar was dim and his silhouette was half obscured by the glare from a candelabra that stood next to the cocktail menus. Elsie nodded at him.
The man seated himself on the beaten bar-stool next to Elsie's. Now he was in her direct line of vision, she could see his features more clearly. Blonde, slicked back hair with a single oiled tendril hanging down on his forehead, framed a square face. She recognised the smell of the oil. Hardings. Her father had used it before...never mind. Grey-blue eyes smiled at her, though his mouth was set neutrally. "I must say, that dress is perfectly exquisite. A French make? I knew a woman who had one just like it. Only in green." He turned to the bartender. "Scotch and," he eyed Elsie for a moment, "a Cognac."
"How'd you know?" Elsie was impressed.
"You strike me as a sophisticated young woman. Guys would kill for a chance to be with you." This made Elsie blush and she played with a curl behind her ear to distract from her burning cheeks. "I'm Montgomery. My friends call me Monty and my father calls me arsehole." Elsie laughed and accepted her drink from the bartender. Montgomery brushed down his pinstripe suit and payed the man before turning back to Elsie with a grin on his face. "What do they call you?"
"They call me Elizabeth, but I don't like sounding like an old maid. So, I'm Elsie."
They talked for what seemed like hours. After a while, the only people left in Marlow's Speakeasy were the two of them and the pianist. The keys on the piano tapped out Watin' for Katie, but at a slower, sultrier pace than the version that Elsie had heard when it first came out last year. She preferred this version. It matched the mood of the place.
Montgomery told her about growing up in Manhattan, and how he owned 15 barber shops all over the country, from Maine to Minnesota. Elsie told him about growing up in Alabama, and how she had moved to New York with her sister to work as an apprentice for a seamstress on the upper east side. They shared stories about their families, Montgomery's mother was ill, and his father wanted little to do with him. Elsie's father had died in a farming accident when she was 9. She teared up as she told Montgomery how her father had become trapped under his tractor whilst trying to fix it and had suffocated. Her companion saw obvious distress in her eyes and held her hand sympathetically.
Elsie watched his face as he talked and in turn, listened. His eyes were so animated, and his every emotion was painted across his face in brilliant detail.
Montgomery's hand rested on Elsie's thigh. Elsie had just finished telling him an anecdote, and they were both laughing hysterically. Elsie suddenly became very aware of the lack of distance between them now. She cleared her throat and stood. "I should really be getting home. It's late and I don't want Margot to wait up too long for me." To Elsie's dismay, Montgomery didn't look too dejected. He noticed her face fall and quickly jumped in.
"Let me walk you home?"
Elsie told him that she was on East 63rd Street, and Montgomery's eyes lit up. "I know a shortcut. Round the back of the department store. Goes right past one of my barber shops." Elsie felt a little uneasy, but he took her arm and they strolled leisurely through night-time Manhattan, which was just as busy during the day. They turned in to a narrow alley, and Montgomery stopped abruptly outside a small building with darkened windows. "This is one of my shops. The newest. Bought it at auction a few months back." He pointed up at his name, printed in black above the window. "I think this one is going to be one of my favourites."
These words had sounded distant to Elsie, as if Montgomery was far behind her. She turned in the dimly lit side-street; she couldn't see him anywhere. She heard a shout, then something hard slammed in to the back of her head. She fell to the ground, her head bouncing a few times on the pavement.
When she opened her eyes, it was pitch black. Where was she? She tried to move but couldn't. There was something solid in all directions. Her head pounded, and she could feel hot blood trickling down her neck. "Hello? Help..." Her words were lost in the emptiness around her. She tried to sit up, but her head hit something only and inch or so above her. She put her hands up above her and felt along the surface and down the sides. It felt like wood. She was in some kind of box. Panic erupted in her chest and she thrashed around as best she could. "Oh God, oh God..." she screamed and cried out, not knowing what else to do. She could sense the closeness of the air around her and felt bile rising in her throat. Then she heard a voice.
"Elsie? Elsie is that you?" It was Montgomery. He was muffled and quiet, but she was sure it was him.
"Yes! Montgomery! Help me!" she cried out to him, imploring him to hear her.
"You need to calm down, where are you? Tell me what you see."
"I...I'm in a box of some kind. It's so tight, please..." a fresh wave of tears fell down her cheeks.
"I am as well." Montgomery seemed surprisingly calm.
"What's happening?  I'm going to die!"
"I'm going to get us out of this, alright? You need to calm down. What can you see? Or feel?" Elsie heard scratching emanating from the left. Montgomery was next to her. She felt her way along the box again with shaking hands. All she could think about was her father trapped under his tractor, slowly running out of air. "Elsie! Elsie, the end of my box is loose! I can see light!" Elsie heard the thumps of Montgomery kicking and pushing the panel. There was a gigantic crash, and then silence.
"Montgomery?" she ventured after a few seconds. "What happened? Don't leave me!" No one replied, and she started to scream again, hitting her head against the ground. Then, light poured in above her. The box was open. Montgomery stood above her, a crowbar in his hand. He dropped it and helped her up, hugging her tightly. They were in a bare room with nothing but their boxes inside. Elsie cried in to his shoulder, her knees weak. "What's going on?" she asked when the tears had subsided.
"I'm not sure. I lost you out there in the alley. It was so dark, I couldn't see that there was someone else with us. There must have been..." He held her tight. "Come on, let's get out of here." He took her hand and they crashed through a door out in to a small shop. "There's a phone on that wall. I'm calling the cops."
The only light was the moon coming in faintly through the darkened windows, and Elsie could hardly see where she was going. She walked straight in to a chair that clattered in to a shelf. Glass smashed, and metal clanged against the floor. The impact made her stop for a second. A vile of something rolled and she stopped it with her foot. She picked it up and squinted at the label. Harding's hair oil. Suddenly she felt Montgomery's breath on her neck. She turned around, dropping the bottle.
"Sorry, I'm a bit jumpy."
"You're alright now." His hands were on her waist.
"Shouldn't we get out of this place?"
"There's no one here. I checked."
Elsie didn't know if it was the adrenaline or the handsome man before her, but she felt the urge to be close to him. As if sensing her thoughts, Montgomery leaned in and kissed her gently on the mouth. She breathed in deeply and kissed him back. Their kiss intensified, and she ran her hands through his hair. Her dress was unbuttoned before she knew what was happening and she found herself pinned against the back wall. They resurfaced for a moment. They were both smiling, but Montgomery had a different sort of grin. That's when Elsie noticed the knife against her stomach. "Something for you, now something for me." Montgomery's previously kind features were emotionless and cold.
"What..?" She didn't finish her sentence.
"Do you know what I admire about H.H.Holmes, Elsie?"
"Who? What...What's going on? She laughed nervously.
"His theatrics. He locked people in their worst nightmares. Tight spaces, the dark, rooms filled with knives, anything you can imagine. It's an art, really. But, how does one compete with America's first serial killer? How does one make their act more perfect than the man who personifies pure fear? Then one day, it hit me. Take away the obvious theatrics and you have the greatest show of all. I made you feel scared. You told me what scared you." He pressed the knife further against her. "But I saved you! You're safe!" The old Montgomery was back. He smiled at her jovially. "Oh, but it's all an act. When it comes down to it, it's the bare bones of eccentricity. No fear, just false safety." His face became stony again.
"Please..." Elsie whispered.
"No, no. Don't be scared. That's not how this is supposed to go." He kissed her again and slid the knife in to her gut. Elsie gasped. Montgomery held her there, suspended on his blade for a moment. "I'm glad the box was a perfect fit. Coffin's are so hard to buy without measurements."
Elsie watched the blood spill out over the floor.
Montgomery leaned in one more time. "I am the nightmare you think you've awakened from." Then he whispered in her ear. "Sleep tight." He drew the blade up through Elsie's torso, ripping through everything. Then he simply walked away.
Elsie lay on the cold floor. The pain was indescribable. She had minutes. Seconds. Lying next to her was the bottle of Harding's hair oil. She was in his barber shop. One of 15.
"Excuse me miss, can I buy you a drink?"
The sentence moved around Elsie's head, getting more sluggish with each intake of breath. Every breath she took was more and more painful. It was only a matter of time. What had led up to this moment?
"Excuse me miss, can I buy you a drink?" The panic she felt was exacerbated by thoughts of what might have happened if she hadn't accepted.
..................
The man who called himself Montgomery sat in the auction house. There was a small building for sale in Chicago. As he waited for the auction to start, he read the newspaper.
WOMAN DEAD. BARBERSHOP SLAUGHTERER STRIKES AGAIN
The article went on to talk about the other 14 women. They had so much press time. Real showmen never got the praise they deserved. He sighed and said to the woman next to him, "Excuse me miss, can I buy you a drink?"