‘How old are you?’
‘None of your fucking business.’
Carey smiled. ‘That’s a very unladylike way to talk.’
‘Listen, junior, it’s late, I’m tired, and I’ve seen this movie sixty seven times so can we please dispense with the male-female, hostage-captive repartee and get to what we came here for?’
‘You’re awfully eager to die. I expected better, given your illustrious career.’
‘So did I, as it happens. I’ve pictured my own demise dozens of times over the years and not once, in any of those scenarios, did I picture being taken out by a reject from American Pie.’
‘I’ve always wanted to do an older woman, now that you mention it.’
‘Actually, I see you more as the grinning, feckless idiot who’s mother was the town bike.’
‘If you’re expecting me to take a whack at you in defence of my mother, you’ll be disappointed.’
Samantha laughed. ‘Oh my fuck, you have mummy issues! That’s just terrific. The one and only time I manage to get myself caught and it’s by little Normy Bates. I must say, though, you are an improvement on the original. I mean, whatever’s wrong with you, at least you can say you get laid occasionally.’
‘Oh, you heard that?’
‘I couldn’t very well NOT hear it. Good thing your pecker’s a damn site bigger and more functional than your brain.’
‘What makes you say that?’
Samantha sighed.
‘I’m a cop, and the only person who knew I wasn’t coming in to work tomorrow was the person whose grey matter you used to repaint my bathroom. I’ve never had a single day off in my entire law enforcement career, so when neither of us show up or call today, it’s going to arouse suspicions and you do know what that means, don’t you?’
‘What?’
‘It means that, in a couple of hours, there’ll be more cops on this place than flies on fresh shit.’
‘On this place?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘You sure about that?’
Samantha shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
‘Seriously, man, if this is the caliber of banter I can expect from you, just kill me now.’
‘What makes you think we’re still at your place?’
‘It might be pitch dark in here, but I know my own bedroom when I see it.’ Samantha hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
‘If it’s pitch dark, how can you see anything?’
‘I can still make out the layout, genius, so I know that that blunt edge over there is the corner of my bed, and that the thing I’m sitting next to is my dresser, and that the thing I’m sitting on is the high back armchair with the grey and black pine tree print that I bought after I first moved in.’
Carey flicked on the light. Samantha blinked.
‘The layout’s the same in all these places. There’s only so much furniture you can fit in and only so many places you can put it.’
‘Been in a lot of other people’s townhouses, have we?’
‘I’ve cut my own key to a few places, yeah. To be honest, I wasn’t really all that interested in you until you threw something over the wall and hit me in the head. Things didn’t quite work out with my date so I thought I’d try my luck.’
‘Charming.’
‘Only morons rely on charm.’
‘And you’re not a moron?’
Carey shrugged. ‘If I want a girl, I tell her what she needs to hear, and I get her.’
‘Doing a top job with me so far.’
‘You’re not a moron, either.’
‘High praise coming from a hipster twat. What’s with the Buddy Holly specs and the fuzzy tickler? I like your usual clobber better. It takes balls to strut about town with the words Aborted Alien Foetus emblazoned across your chest.’
‘That was my ex-girlfriend’s shirt.’
‘So why the change?’
‘More fun taking out hipsters…usually.’
‘Put up a fight, did she?’
‘No, actually. I was out there, lying on top of her with my hands around her throat, and she just closed her eyes and said “Finally.” Turns out she was just a nut job masquerading as a Hipster.’
‘And that turned you off, I take it.’
‘I hate depressives; no joy in killing someone who wants it.’
‘But you killed her anyway.’
‘I’ve never had trouble finishing; some times are more satisfying than others, that’s all.’
‘If you’ve come to me looking for satisfaction, you’ll be leaving sorely disappointed.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning I’ve reached a point in my life where I just don’t give a shit anymore.’
‘I think the lumberjack in your tub would beg to differ, if he could.’
Oh fuck; I forgot about that.
Carey smiled. ‘I’ve never faced a challenge I couldn’t meet.’
‘More than I can say about Kevin.’
‘That guy’s name was Kevin?’
‘I know, right?’ Samantha snickered in spite of herself. ‘You never can tell.’
‘‘The bigger they are, the harder…etcetera.’
‘You can’t cover up a cliche with etcetera; that’s like covering up a cliche with a cliche.’
‘You used one.’
‘Difference is, in the very rare instances where I use a cliche, I own that shit. Anyway, ol’ Kevin didn’t so much fall as he was pushed.’
‘I imagine that took quite a shove.’
‘Several of them. He wasn’t really a challenge, though. I like ‘em mentally strong; the big units only give my back a workout.’
‘Do you like fucking them? The older guys?’
Samantha gave him a look. ‘Again, that’s none of your business.’
‘I don’t like fucking women my own age. Not really. I mean, yeah, I get there in the end, and I always get them there, but they all start to look the same after a while.’
Samantha said nothing.
‘It doesn’t matter whether they like tongue, or teeth, or fingers, there are very few variants in the way they react. The silent ones are pains in the ass, because you have to be a mind-reader, the moaners don’t know the difference between an ouch and an oh and the screamers, well they come with their own set of problems.’
‘What makes you think an older woman would be any different?’
‘I figure that by the time a woman hits her forties, she’s learned what she likes and what she doesn’t like, and she’s over the all that mysteriousness bullshit.’
‘Mysteriousness bullshit?’
‘The delusion that men can’t get it up without a little mystery. Sure, it’s a turn on in the beginning, but if you’ve been seeing a guy for six months and he still doesn’t know whether you like it upside down or right side up or bent over a balcony, it’s time to share.’
‘If you still don’t know the answer to that after six months, you might not be looking for it in the first place.’
‘That’s the thing that pisses me off about women; they’re born full of all this wisdom and desire that’s busting to get out, but they lock it away and make us poor dumb men crawl around on our hands and knees searching for it like fucking beggars in the street. They’re all the fucking same. They deserve everything I do to them and more.’
‘Is that why you kill them? Revenge?’
‘Maybe. Maybe I just enjoy it…I know I enjoyed it in the beginning. You obviously don’t. Maybe this was fate, our meeting like this. Maybe we can help each other.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’ll bring them here, I’ll do my thing, and you tell me where I’m going wrong, how to pick them, how to get the best out of them.’
‘You want me to be your murder consultant? Who do you think I am, Jacquie the fucking Ripper?’
‘I don’t see that you have much choice in the matter. It’s either this, or jail, and from what I’ve heard they just LOVE killer cops in jail. Especially hot ones.’
‘And how do you suggest I explain Kevin, or my friend with the cleaned-out bonce or, once again, the fact that I suddenly decided to play hooky?’
‘You’re not taking any time off. You’re going to go into work tomorrow like nothing happened, and be just as concerned as everyone else when your friend doesn’t show up or call. I’ve already cleaned up your place, and I’ve stashed her body in your basement until the lumberjack’s finished reducing.’
‘What about your parents? Won’t they think it’s strange, me coming over here every day, spending hours in your bedroom?’
‘They’re in Australia. My mother got the job of a lifetime. They won’t be back until next year.’
‘They left you behind?’
‘My mother never includes me in her shit. Anyway, she didn’t want to pay a house sitter.’
‘Lovely.’
‘It is what it is. Do we have a deal or not?’
Samantha thought it over. ‘Fine, but may I propose a small caveat?’
‘Okay.’
‘I’ll give you tips, insights into how I’ve managed to keep at it for this long, what to look for in a victim, in yourself, and if by the end of this little experiment in futility you still find yourself at a loss, then my suspicions about you being a johnny-no-stuff will be proven correct, and you’ll let me go with no recriminations whatsoever. If, on the other hand, you find your passion restored, then you’ll have proven me wrong and I’ll give you carte blanche.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning you can kill me, torture me, fuck me like a drunk shepherd fucks a blind ewe, whatever you want.’
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