“I need to see Mary Ellen,” I said over my bowl of cereal that Sunday morning,
“I’ll bring her to the pub,” The Brit said. He meant the building, we had worked on all week. It was still empty and on a Sunday afternoon the whole downtown would be. I loved The Brit at that moment. There was no question about what I was planning, or had I thought it through, there was a simple, I’ll get her.
I wanted to ride the bike or run but my butt was too sore for either. So I sat at the door of my box house and drank cup after cup of coffee. I also swallowed a couple of OTC pain medication. I didn’t think too much about what I was going to do, I prepared myself for it. I found the old blue tarp I had used to cover my building material and rolled it up tighter so it would fit in the cruiser van.
Then I drove to the pub. I sat in front of it till The Brit drove up with Mary Ellen. I watched as he drove around to the alley behind the building. I hadn’t seen her in the SUV, since she had been laying in the black seat. I noticed when he opened the door that she had a bag over her head. He hustled her inside the pub. “Don’t do this upstairs, that’s my home.” he made sure Mary Ellen heard him.
“Take her hood off Brit. I want her to see every thing we are doing,” He pulled her bag off, but did not remove the duct tape from her mouth. I didn’t speak to her at all. I spread the tarp over the newly finished hardwood floor. Then I put one folding chair in the center of the tarp. I personally pushed her to the chair.
“Sit your ass down,” I said as I pushed her down. “I would ask if you were comfortable, but I don’t give a shit.” She tried to speak. “Not yet Mary Ellen you will get your chance to communicate.”
I removed the large box opener from my pants pocket. “Here is what I think you did. Now don’t even make a sound while I talk. I think you have been providing talent to the Mountain home parties since their beginning, two years ago. Like most addictions it grows. First they just wanted to have girls come up and they got a little strange ass. I was there for some of those parties. But after a while that wasn’t enough for them. So you started providing hookers who would do the kinky shit for them. After all there are a great deal of housewives in need of money in such poor area as Warren County. So you were pimping for those parties. Now Mary Ellen you can nod or shake you head. Were you pimping for them?” I said. I stood in front of her holding the box opener. “If you fucking lie to me Mary, your face will look like a patchwork quilt when they find you, if they ever find you at all.”
She nodded her head.
“Now that’s a good girl Mary Ellen, What I asked myself is what can I take from you that will cause you great pain. There aren’t a lot of things you value. Certainly exposing you would ruin your business and make you a outcast in the community. But if I know you, you would land on your feet. I could fuck your face up, but God knows you aren’t a raving beauty now. See I can do anything to you, because you aren’t going to the cops no matter what I do. If you do go to the cops, you will be in the cell next to mine. You do believe that don’t you Mary Ellen.”
She nodded her head again.
“Give me the password to all your websites. Write them down,” I demanded. The Brit managed to come up with a piece of paper. “Mary Ellen I want them all including the underground ones the men use to contact you. We are going to remove your presence from the Web, or we will remove you. Sweetie that is your only choice.”
She wrote and continue to write for at least twenty minutes. I was pretty sure she just gave us part of them, she would hold back the ones she thought I couldn’t find.
“Now Mary Ellen, I want all your blackmail materials write down where they are, and how to access them.” After she finished that I said, “Mary Ellen pull up your bank account,” I pushed my laptop to her. Now I want the name on the pay pal accounts of Jeff and Phil. She wrote it down for me. Now Mary Ellen, if you want to live you will transfer all the money from your account to their pay pal account. Use your pay pal account to make the transfer.” She balked, so I cut off her ear lobe.
After that there was real terror in her eyes. I saw it and I didn’t flinch there was more evil in me at that moment, than there was in Mary Ellen. When she finished she slumped back in the chair. “I will never know how many real victims you took to Mountain Home. I wonder how many of them would like to be here to see you die. It is a shame I can’t call a meeting and take a vote like a jury.
I walked away to let her think a moment. To let her make peace with her god. Then I put a bag over her head again. The bag I used was from home depot and was made of plastic. I held it tight over her face cutting off all oxygen. In spite of how they show it on TV, that is not a clean way to die. She struggled she vomited into the bag and probably her air way. In the end she was just gone. She was just alive and struggling one moment and dead the next. We wrapped her body in the tarp and carried her into the alley where the cruiser van was parked. We force fitter her into the back of it.
“What are you going to do with her?” The Brit asked. He didn’t seem at all worried just curious.
“The sun will be down soon. I’m going buy some house hold cleaning rubber gloves, then I’m going to strip her and in the dark of night I’m going to drop her in the reservoir.” I explained.
“I’ll buy the gloves and meet you at your place,” he said. “You will need some help getting her into the reservoir.”
We took her clothes off at my place while wearing the gloves. We returned her to the plastic tarp. At 2am we dropped her body off a bridge on county road 1181, She went into the water where the county road crossed an inlet of the regional reservoir. The tarp went into a dumpster reserved for county residents on the far side of the county near the photographers house. She would no doubt turn up in a few days, the tarp probably never would. Not only did she go into the reservoir, but my computer she had used went in as well.
When she turned up, the cops would start running her background. Find her computer trail, and then the money trail leading to the two photographers. I wondered what their alibi would be for a Sunday night.
The Brit called Jeremy several times and told him I wasn’t doing well and he didn’t want to leave me. At 5AM The Brit went home and I rode the bike for two hours. I didn’t feel the need to justify Mary Ellen’s death. She had proved to be not just quirky, as I once thought, but evil. She knew what was going to happen to me, at Mountain Home. I wondered why in the name of god, she thought that I wouldn’t take revenge on her.
I showered then dressed in my work clothes. I stopped for a biscuit, but I couldn’t eat more than a single bite. It had never killed anyone who had once been a friend. It had not been a kill or be killed situation. I had complained about unprovoked killing to Karl, and there I was wrestling with having done the same thing. It was a murder, no matter how you cut it.
The Brit and I met and worked on his pub without mentioning Mary Ellen. Why should we mention her. We had both killed people for a damn sight less compelling reasons. Mary Ellen needed killing, pure and simple. She was going to get someone killed, if she hadn’t already. I regretted only that the Brit had gotten involved.
I threw myself into the work and ignored that part of my brain trying to make sense of what I had done. It made no sense, I was not going to sit around playing what if, I told myself. Instead I cut and measured boards that day.
Jeremy showed up and worked upstairs. He looked shaken. I looked at The Brit and knew my secret was safe with him. He hadn’t told Jeremy. The kid was shaken by what happened to him up there as well. I had no idea what that was and didn’t need to ask. I was dealing with my own demons.
The Brit looked at me as Jeremy past and then said, “He is not going to be a problem. Do you understand me Sylvie.” I nodded. and went back to putting wood screws in the back shelves of the pub. Even with all the bullshit going on, I still had to go to the bathroom every once in a while. Nothing ever happened in there.
We finished the back bar shelves. The Brit insisted that they be made of wood not glass. So the three of us had worked a whole day on them. About all I could do was hold the shelf in place, and drill a hole every now and then, and run in a wood screw.
I was pretty exhausted by 4PM when Tomas left for the day. The Brit, Jeremy and I sat at the folding table with a coke each. Jeremy spoke first, “I’m sorry for what happened to you in Mountain Home,” He said.
“Oh don’t worry Jeremy, I have had worse things happen. I’m just glad I had a friend like Allen to help me through it.” I said. “We can all put it behind us.”
Jeremy said, “Yes that is for the best.” It was the right thing for him to say.
I drove the cruiser van home to the box house. I sure hoped that Jeremy didn’t become a problem. I went to bed early Monday night, I was exhausted. Even with all the things on my mind, I fell right to sleep and slept until 5AM.
At 5:30 I was on my bike and riding along the country roads. I was sitting at the Cafe on the Square at six thirty. I bought breakfast and check for gossip, Mary Ellen’s name was not mentioned. Something about a new farmer’s market was being discussed, so I tuned them out.
Nobody seemed to miss Mary Ellen until Wednesday, when the Sheriff finally declared her a missing person. That only came about because her teenage girlfriend reported her missing.
The Brit and I stayed busy with Tomas working on the pub. It was the end of the second week and we were ready for kitchen equipment. At the same time we declared the place ready for the outside contractors to take over, Jeremy declared he was ready to move into the upstairs loft. The Brit figure he could supervise the contractors better, if he lived in the building. So on the second weekend I helped them move their meager possessions into the space above the bar. There was a fire escape entrance to the apartment that could be used to avoid going through the bar. There was also a set of steps leading from the bar up to the loft. Tomas had built a false wall around them. The wall had a door with a good lock as well.