My My Little Prince Page 2

  “Why are you doing this?” she barely got out. “I told you baby, for fun. And I no longer need you. Let’s just say you have ‘outlived’ your usefulness! Hey, next time you should be careful who you let into your life.” He smiled as he relished that thought.

  “Oh, Marilyn; can I ask you something?” He knelt down again and whispered into her ear. “Who’s going to hear you out here baby? Your precious David? I don't think so.” He reached over and Marilyn flinched, but he only finger-flicked her a mean thwack on the forehead. He stood chuckling again, “Hey Marilyn, what do you think? You’ll be in the Gulf Stream soon. Sorry I have to leave you here, but alas, I must.

  Marilyn passed out, but the reprieve was too short. When she roused, she felt something wrong with her arms and hands. She started; eyes wide as she realized her hands were tied behind her back. At this same moment she became aware of him doing something to her feet. He had a huge roll of Duct Tape and was taping her ankles. She screamed with what she thought would be a cry the gods would hear, but actually was a mild cry for help. She fought again with every ounce of energy she had left. She thrashed and she flailed, but he already had three or four good turns around her. It was easy for him to finish another couple. When he was done with the taping, he leaned over and tore the tape with his teeth, finishing the job with a hearty rip. Moving rapidly, his breathing quickened. The adrenalin now crashed through his body like a freight train in a giant pin-ball machine. He opened one of the storage compartments lining the sides of the boat and grabbed a diver’s weight belt he had brought with him. He displayed it tauntingly in her face.

  “Perfect”, he thought. His chest was heaving and a cold sweat trickled down from an armpit. “This is the perfect end of another one of life’s little chapters. She’ll sink slowly and perfectly, feet first. All that money is mine and I don't even exist. It’s ... well; it’s perfect!”

  He stood and walked around behind her as she futilely tried to scoot away. He reached through her bound arms and picked her up and lifted her onto the engine compartment shoving her gently backwards. She flopped over the edge of the engine compartment and landed on the diver’s platform with a thump. The boat rocked a bit and a wave doused her. Coughing and spitting, she tried to sit up but couldn’t manage it. She lay there just like a contrite fish out of water, all gasped out. “I’m sorry Marilyn, am I hurting you?” He started chuckling to himself but his breathing was quickening again. He stifled a belch of acidic bile, and then stepped over the back of the boat onto the platform with her. He bent over with hands on knees as he waited for the acidic burn in his chest to calm, breathing in and out slowly through his mouth. “Where’s my fucking Tums,” he thought as he wrinkled his face and spat over the side.

  He reached back inside the boat and grabbed an oar that was U-clipped along the side. Without warning he turned and slammed the oar over her head. Blood gushed out into the water from a deep laceration along the side of her skull. “It’s a good thing I had your head over the edge of the boat, isn’t it Marilyn?” He was twitching like the Joker before a trapped Batman. “Ah yes, that’s me, always thinking. Got to plan it all, isn’t that right Marilyn?

  “OK honey; a kiss good bye, what do you think? I’ll make it one that you can remember.” He reached over and brushed her long wet hair back. He wiped away some blood as he leaned over to kiss her. She mustered up all the energy she had left in her body and, raising her head fast to meet him, she bit him hard over the eye. She tore his upper eye lid in the exact spot he had a small scar already, leaving an open wound.

  He reared back in pain, as she lunged forward trying to find another target. “Damn you, you bitch, I thought you loved me!” He mopped at the eye with the back of his hand and held it out to check the damage. Blood smeared the crook of his thumb. He shook his head and grinned, “and to think, I was really going to give you a fair-well kiss and to wish you a good trip into your new world. Well, so be it, screw the sentimental, right? It’s time. I love this!” he screamed as he gave her one last violent kick and she flew off the platform.

  She kicked and thrashed her bound body and was actually able to break the surface for a second, but she couldn’t maintain it.

  Ended here on the plane

  Strangely, she calmed, and as she sunk in the crystal clear water she stared back at him, her blond hair streaming. He couldn’t decipher the look on her face, but he enjoyed it thoroughly. He shrugged and thought, “well, it didn’t matter before and it hardly matters now.”

  The water was so clear he could see her for a long way down. He even saw her final exhale. It sent a jolt of pleasure throbbing through his body as he imagined the burning sensation that that fatal gulp of water would cause and especially her helpless panic. He knew she was suffering, and he smiled slowly. “Wow, it worked; feet first.” He said out loud as if she could hear him. “I was going to be kind and kill you first, but I couldn’t make that fit in my plan. You see Marilyn, I had to see it, I had to see that last breath and it was so fucking worth it. Easily as good as watching the light die in all their eyes! Thank you Marilyn, thank you for that! I will never forget it.”

  Once he was sure he could see her no more, he turned and crawled back over the engine compartment. “H-m-m,” he thought to himself, “Sociopaths ... I do not understand why the general public does not like them. We perform such a valuable service for society; population control, getting rid of the riff-raff ... and all for free.” He shook his head like he just couldn’t understand the dilemma.

  He headed for the console and wiped his cut eye again with the palm of his hand. “Damn that hurt.” he said to himself. “That bitch...” he continued to mumble as he wiped off the blood that was dripping into his eye. “All in a day’s work,” he hummed to himself as he turned the ignition key and the already running motor protested. “Shit!” he laughed at his error.

  The Gulf Stream will take her to North Carolina where some poor slob fisherman will find her, half eaten and half rotten. Ha, that bloody scalp will ensure she gets some ‘pesky’ attention. Ha again, man, I crack myself up. ’Pesky’ … pescado … I’m a funny fucker!

  He let the boat idle and started to move about the deck, checking for tell-tale evidence. “I’ve got to start the next part of this adventure; out of town this time, out of the country in fact, until things settle down.”

  He looked around for any other items that might raise suspicion and noticed blood on the engine cover, He grabbed the boat hose and sprayed off the engine cover and the floor around it. He looked over at the diver’s platform and saw that the waves had taken care of business there. He took his time and tried to do a thorough job. He was enjoying the domesticity.

  Twenty-five minutes later, after running the boat at full speed, he returned to Port Canaveral Marina. He throttled down to no-wake speed and angled for the dry dock storage facilities on the left. The air was sharp; sour and salty with the bouquet that only low tide can render. He pinched his nose against it, but there was nothing for it.

  After another quick inspection, he noticed a small amount of blood between the cracks of the engine cover. “Damn! Fucking shit gets everywhere!” He looked around nervously.

  At that moment, one of the dock hands walked by and shouted down at him, “Hey there, ain’t seen you here lately, where’s yer wife?” His southern accent grated.

  “Oh she, uh, decided not to come today. I can only come out when the office allows, you know?”

  “Yup,” the dock hand replied. He was tall and wire thin. He couldn’t stop tapping his thumb and middle finger together in a nervous staccato that hinted at some type of substance abuse. “Know whatcha mean, hard to get the time. Big boat fer only one person though. I thought I seen yer wife earlier; musta been thinking of someone else.”

  He quickly agreed, nodding his head vigorously. “Must have been … ”

  “Yup, mighty big boat for one person. Here lemme grab a line.”

  “Uh, ok, thanks.” He stammered. “D
amn where the hell did this dick come from?” The dock hand headed toward the back of the boat. “No, no, not the back line, grab the front one.”

  The hand gave a puzzled look, but shrugged and said as he took the front shore line, “Wanner put up on the rack now?”

  “No let me hose it down and get all the salt off, give me a few, ok?”

  “Sure, but that is my job.”

  “Well not this time, OK? I like doing it.” He gave his best friendly smile and threw all his body language into a message that said “Nah, you go on along now.”

  “Well, fine by me I guess.” He stood there pondering for a second, then pulled off his dirty Evinrude ball cap and ran a long thin grease-stained hand through greasier hair. “Jus lemme know when yer ready to have ‘er put on the rack.”

  “Will do.”

  He watched the stringy overalls disappear among all the Bertrams, Bayliners and Chris Crafts and blew out a bated breath, “Wow, that was close, almost made a mistake there. Got to clean this boat better and get out of here.” He aped the dock hand’s drawl, “Wanner put up on the rack now?” He laughed as he started moving things around looking for items he might have missed.

  About twenty minutes later he was still talking to himself. “OK, looking good, no blood, all prints wiped clean, it’s time to vamos.” Looking up he scanned the tethered boats and the meandering paths of floating dock. He spotted the deck hand over by the gas pumps. He stood up on the engine compartment and waved and yelled and quickly got his attention.

  A dirty hand cupped an ear but he yelled, “Wanner put away now?”

  “Yes,” he mouthed and nodded theatrically, “put her away.”

  The stringy dock hand trotted over to the giant lift, started it up and maneuvered toward the lift out area handling it like he definitely knew what he was doing.

  Calmer now after the concentrated labor of cleaning the boat, but as usual his mind revved, already thinking about his next moves. His inner dialogue never seemed to stop. “Maybe this time I need to get a girl a little older than the last two. I do like young girls, but this time I think I need one a little older. Hell, I do not need a lady. I need to relax, have some fun and begin a new life. Smiling, the thought of another country with a new identity filled his mind. He stepped over to the floating deck and a huge Brown Pelican splashed sloppily into the oily water beside him. “Nothing for you today bud ... you should have been out there with me earlier, I might have been tempted to slice off a few pieces of Marilyn sushi for you!”

  “Yeah,” he thought, returning to his fantasy, “If I did go for another lady she cannot be as young as Sherine. She was too young. God she was so sweet and easy to control but she had the magic within her. I bet she is a wild one now; too bad I had to leave. She might be fun to be with. She might be as crazy as me. I could see it when she was with her friends . I swear if things had been a little different she and I could be enjoying my adventures together now . And she cannot be as old as Sherine’s mother, Evon. She was too old.” He started to smile, almost grinning, as he walked down the dock towards the exit. He liked the way the slanting rays of the sun made the water sparkle between the gaps of the old weathered boards. “I did have fun with them though.

  I always wondered if those three really loved me or hated me. I would imagine they always hated me, but I do wonder.” He stopped dead in his tracks a second. “You know ol’ boy, that sweet little minx Sherine would be about the perfect age now. “It may be time to pay them a visit. No. I need some R and R now. Later.... Wow. I will save that fun for later.”

  He marvelled at this thought as he popped the hatch door on the little luxury SUV and threw his small duffle in. He hit the automatic close button and was around and in the driver’s seat before it latched. As he waited to pull out into the traffic he looked around for the silver Mercedes he thought might have been following him earlier. It was nowhere around and he breathed a sigh of relief as he melted into the anonymous .

  2

  David looked up as Frank’s approaching footsteps echoed in the cavernous metal building. “Frank, where is Jim?” he asked. He looked extremely agitated and even his three thousand dollar Valentino suit did nothing to change his demeanour.

  “In the trunk, zipped-tied and gagged,” Frank answered. He was a tall man, and slim, and he betrayed no emotion at all except for a faint satisfied smile curling up a corner of his lip. It caused a dimple in his cheek to deepen.

  “I hope you didn’t hurt him,” David said as he smiled.

  “Me? Why would you think I would hurt him?”

  David gave him a bigger grin and winked, “because I know how much you love him.”

  David visibly relaxed now that he was sure of his prey. “Don’t bring him in now. Wait until it’s a little darker out. Then bring him in through the side door. Make sure he can breathe a little so he will live long enough for me to have some fun with him.” He comically rubbed his hands together, but sweat beaded in the course black hair on his pylon-thick wrists.

  “Will do. What’s your plan for the asshole?” Frank stepped over a puddle and stood next to his mentor. Their silhouettes would have reminded you of Abbot and Costello’s, except theirs was all muscle and meanness.

  “When?”

  Frank looked up at David and another smile flicked across his face. He stood with his legs spread and his hands on his hips. He took up a lot of room with his stocky body and nothing was getting past him. “After you talk to him.” The sun was dropping. It slanted enough now through the big four-paned window that it illuminated both men’s feet.

  David looked down pensively at its reflection on his shiny Salvatore Ferragamo’s and said “Yeah; his toes; start with his toes and work up and see how it goes.”

  Frank dusted a space and then sat down on a packing crate. “I was hoping you would say something like that.” He brought his leg up and crossed his knee, rocking his foot up and down excitedly.

  “I’m still shocked that Marilyn would think I’m so stupid. Well her little game is over. I want you to bring her and her fling to me tomorrow after we dispose of Jim. Stupid bitch thought she could pull this shit on me!” He punched a fist into his hand as he paced. He thought to himself, “I let that bitch get too close to me god-dammit … she really had me going!”

  David turned, “No wait Frank. Let me think about that. I need to think about how I want to handle this. How long has Jim worked for me? What’s it been, a couple years now, right?” He chewed a knuckle as he crossed an arm over his massive chest. “Did he have any idea we knew he was the pickup and drop off man?”

  “I doubt it because he knows that when someone double-crosses you they usually are not seen again. Everyone knows that.”

  David turned his back to the setting sun fighting its way through the dirty glass. He twisted his torso and, using the waning light, looked down at the seat of his suit pants. He brushed off some imaginary spec of something with his hands and then looked back up expectantly at Frank.

  “I guess he didn’t want to work much longer or he wouldn’t have double crossed me. It won’t be long now.

  A couple hours later, as David was getting off a call, Frank entered the side door and slammed Jim’s bound and gagged body on the floor. “He looks different gagged and tied, doesn’t he?” David laughed and continued, “Don’t think that fancy Captain’s outfit he’s wearing makes him look very commanding either, does it?”

  “Sure doesn’t sir, but I think the way his dislocated arm is under his back adds a certain je ne sais quoi?" David walked up to Jim directly and took his chin almost tenderly. He asked in a gently quiet manner, “Tell me about this asshole that Marilyn was working with.” Jim started out of his torpor and his eyes flared like a horse’s in a barn fire. Spittle slipped down his unshaved face but he shook his head no and tried to pull away. David shrugged, then grabbed Jim by his hair and slammed his head several times on the concrete floor. He stood back up and slowly slid out of his suit coat, folding it
neatly. “Looks like we are going to be here a while,” he smiled. He looked back down at Jim with a quizzical smile. He picked up his head again. In his quiet voice he asked, “Oh, Jim, I forgot to ask; where is the next drop off taking place Jimmy boy? And at what time?”

  An almost unconscious Jim tried to talk this time. “What’s that Jimmy boy?” David now squatted next to Jim, arms resting on his knees. His thick body looked like a medicine ball; tough … durable ... ready to tire you out. “Frank, cut the poor guy’s gag so he can speak.”

  Frank whipped out a slim looking knife from some untold place and had it open before David punctuated his last sentence. He leaned over to cut the gag off and caught the edge of Jim’s mouth with the thin blade. Jim recoiled but Frank sliced through the corner so deep his teeth showed. He screamed again and his body bucked but he had nowhere to go.

  “Nice job Frank, thank you.”

  “Hey, no problem sir, I thought so myself.”

  “So Jim,” David continued, “Did you not understand the questions?”

  “No, no, I understand,” he sputtered. He tried to tuck his mouth into his shoulder to staunch the gushing flow. The amount of blood didn’t seem plausible. It had already soaked Jim’s white shirt. “Stop! Stop! I will tell you anything you want!” he gurgled and choked in his own blood.