Sylvia 195

Sylvia 195

“So we are going to do it?” I asked,

“Yes, we are going to do it, unless you say absolutely not and have a good reason,” The Brit said.

“No, I guess you don’t have to be a mass murdered to be evil.  So we have her address and the brochure from when it was advertised for sale.  That gives us the layout of the apartment.  I’m kind of surprised that it isn’t on the top floor of a high rise,.  It seems as though she was killing to end up there.”

“Maybe that is next,” The Brit said.

“I’m going to need a day to work out a plan.” I said.

:This time Sylvie make it a plan for two.  I’ll want to review it of course,” The Brit interjected.

“Brit that’s fine, but we can’t be in any hurry.” I said.

“Absolutely not,” he agreed.  He also did something most unlike The Brit, he kissed me passionately.  He almost seemed ashamed of it, he was so flustered as I left.

“You don’t have to be ashamed of having straight thoughts, I have twisted thoughts without any shame.” I said as I left through the back door.  I had to walk down the dark alley to get to my car.

“Want me to walk you to your car,” he ask.

“Then I would only have to walk you back to your door,” I said with a laugh.

As it turned out I should have accepted.  He could have carried the file for me.  That way I wouldn’t have dropped it, when I stabbed the teenage boy from Dobson.  He was obviously one of the kids the dance teacher had complained about.  One of those harassing her girls after practice.  He had stayed way past the time he should have been in bed.

He grabbed me from behind.  Now if I hadn’t had that damn file I would have handled it differently.  For one thing I wouldn’t have stabbed him till after the dance.  But as it was I went right for the bit of orange plastic drives way spike that fit inside the side pocket in my cargo jeans.  The pocket meant for a carpenter’s large pencil.  I dropped the file went with the motion of the clutching man till I got the spike out, then drove it into his leg.  I also twisted at the same time and kicked  him in the testicles.

The next thing I did while accompanied by his screams was collect all the papers by the light of the streetlight.  Then I walked to my car.  Since the kid hadn’t stopped screaming long enough to call an ambulance, I called 911.  No since letting him bleed out,  I got out of my cruiser/van an locked the door.  I left the file safely locked inside.

The wait for  the ambulance and Sheriffs deputies wasn’t too long, but I expect it was long enough for the kid laying in a pool of his own blood.  Since he was cussing at me I decided not to help him any more than the 911 call.  I figured it he was strong enough to call me bitch, then he was going to make it to the ER.

The ambulance came and left me standing with the deputy sheriff on duty and The Brit.  I told The Brit what happened.  His response to it was, “Do you want to have him killed.”

“Thanks Brit but he really isn’t worth spending the night in jail, let alone years.  I think he probably learned his lesson.” I said with a very small smile.

“In five years he might well meet the requirements,” he said looking around to be sure no one was close.

“He never will.  He will always have a connection to me,” I said.

“True,” The Brit said.  To be honest I was surprised not to see Jeremy standing around.  I didn’t mention it though.  “Speaking of that the file?”

“Under the driver’s seat in my locked van.  I wasn’t in quite as big a hurry as I might have been to call 911“ I said smiling.  “It was a puncture wound and it didn’t appear it hit and artery so I doubted he would bleed out.”

Unlike the deputy I told of my diagnosis The Brit accepted that I knew what I was talking about.  The Sheriff’s Detective didn’t even get woke up, so I expected him to come see me.  What I didn’t expect was the deputy requiring me to go to the ER.  I could have refused but it wouldn’t look good.  I wanted to drive myself there, but they refused.

After an hour’s wait I stripped off my very light weight parka, tee shirt, cargo pants and bikini panties in front of a forensic nurse.  I also removed the upside down shoulder holster and the .22 Mag revolver. She took pictures of my strip.

“Could I have a little music to get in the mood, if we are doing a photo shoot,” I suggested. It seemed over kill but she photographed the bruises I was developing where the kid grabbed me.  I even had a finger nail scratch from  him on my forearm.  I hadn’t noticed that.  She was very efficient and thorough,

The stab and his release happened so fast there was none of his blood on me.  Not even on my shoe from where I kicked him.  The forensic nurse delivered the photo and sample collections to the Sheriff.  It seemed to me that it was a lot to do about nothing.  I was pretty sure he had learned  his lesson.  My only reason for going along was to prevent any liability on my part,

Then after an hour I found out that there had been other reports of girls grabbed and assaulted by young men.  The others had not been so lucky.  They had been raped and traumatized.  If he was going down for the others I needed to get my shit in order.  Number one priority BeeBee would have to wait.

The Brit had waited in the lobby for me, even though he was there all night.  I came out wearing a hospital green paper outfit  I wasn’t really surprised to find The Brit.  “Hey Brit, I need a ride back to my van.”

“No you don’t he said,  You have one old girl,” as he smiled at me. “So you are okay, and the rapist is suffering from a stab wound. Still you lose your clothes.  How does that work?” The Brit asked.

“Shit don’t you watch TV.  There might be a grain of sand on my clothes that will link him to fifteen other rapes.” I said with a laugh.  “The one that gets me is they took my .22 to test for evidence,  They are going to put it in the national data bank, just in case it gets used in 20 years.”

“Sounds more and more like England all the time,” he said.  “There gun paranoia runs rampant.”

“Well they are welcome to the slugs.  When I get it home I’ll run a wire brush or file down the barrel.” I said.  By the time I said that, I was outside the hospital and inside The Brit’s SUV.

“Is our project still secure?” The Brit asked.

“Yeah, but that is the beauty of this thing of ours.  If it were at all compromised I would dump it and get a new one,  We have no substantial reason to choice one over another.” I said and meant it.  “But we need to let it cook a few days,” I said.

“I agree, Just take it nice and slow,” he said to me.  The drive from the regional hospital to my car back in County Seat took no more than fifteen minutes,  “How about I buy you breakfast at the cafe?”

“Breakfast sounds good but I’ll buy,” I said.  “I do want to show off this fashion forward outfit.  Paper pants and tops are going to be all the thing next year in Paris, maybe not in this color.”

“Or jail house orange, but I could see it in black or while,” he agreed.

I had a thought go through my mind.  “I’ll bet you watch project runway.” I commented.

“With Jeremy, how could you even question it,” he said with a laugh.  By that time we were seated at one of the table in the rear.  Well as much in the rear as there was a rear in the wide open space.

“Girl I do love the outfit, are you alright?” Lucille asked.

“Yeah, just bring me the usual and trust me you don’t want to see the other guy,” I said.

“If he is like the last one, who had you wearing one of those outfits,  I need to send flowers?” She asked.

“No Lucille, I done got mellow,” I said.

After breakfast I drove the Cruiser/van home to an empty but warm house.  The temperature at night was falling.  The paper outfit was chilly, but the Box House was warm.  I hide the file I had gotten from The Brit and went to bed.  I didn’t do my morning two hour ride.  I just slept.  Of course the incident reran itself.  In my version I left him shouting in pain to go back to my car to get the cell phone I had locked in it.  Keep the lies as close to the truth as possible is how one became a successful liar.

I could still feel the plastic dagger, I had made from a driveway marker, pierce his skin.  I had stabbed him hard like a snake striking.  Since I had never stabbed anyone with one of those daggers, I wasn’t sure how much force it would take.  It had taken very little and I wasn’t surprised, well maybe a little, at how much I enjoyed it.

I had put the final edge on the blade with a crank type pencil sharpener. I had found one in a storage unit.  The son of a bitch put one hell of an edge on the plastic stake.  I didn’t expect to get it back, but they were easy to make.  I had found a Dremel tool in one of the storage lockers as well.  With a cutoff blade in it, I could cut the three foot long orange stake to any size I wanted.  Then put it in the rotary pencil sharpener to put an edge on it.  I found that I could just heat the other end with a propane torch, also from a locket, and bend it to make a circle for a handle.  It did not look anything like a weapon, which is what I loved about it.  I had learned to manufacture a very sophisticated tooth brush shank from a sign post.

I couldn’t slash with it, but that is what the craft store snap blade knives were for.  Throat cutter should be listed on the package as well as all the other uses.  Right out there in the children’s craft section was one hell of an edged weapon.  They could give detailed directions for throat cutting with diagrams even.

Anyway I was home taking a long hard nap before starting on the replacement for my dagger.  When the phone woke me.  “Hello,” I said.

“Sylvia this is Vivian, how much time to do you need to get the cash?” she asked.

“That depends Vivian we are talking for real now.  Before we were talking what if prices, now we are talking cash in the hand prices.  Bring it to my house, stalks from a wood chipper and dried.  I’ll give you the cash right now,” I said.

“I can be there in ten minutes you have the money and I’ll bring the product but I got over 100 pounds.” she said.

“Let me tell you sweetie, you don’t want to try fuckin’ over me.” I said it sounding as mean as I could.

“I have already heard that.” she said.

“We agreed $2000 and I get all, you agreed one price takes all,” I said.

“I know.  I just told you so you could make room for it,” she said.

“The one price takes all was so that once we hit a hundred pounds I could stopped worry with weight.”

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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2 Responses to Sylvia 195

  1. jackballs57 says:

    Hmmm, things moving right along.

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