Fanatic, page 9
Chapter 27
It was two days after I had strategically disposed of the corpse of Summers that it was found, slumped across the uncared for grave of the late Graham Green. It hadn’t taken long for the police to attach this murder to that of Delia Anderson, and by that point, as the hammer had been used once again, they felt confident weren’t certain the murders of the other three victims were all actioned by the same person. Five dead bodies spread over three houses and an old graveyard. This was a big news story, and I couldn’t help but let the cat out of the bag to someone.
‘No fucking way,’ Joseph screamed.
‘Calm down, Joseph.’
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ he asked.
At first I thought I had made a mistake telling Joseph what I had been up to, but after a few minutes, in which he grabbed himself a whiskey and slowly got used to the idea, he became more curious than anything else.
‘So, how did it feel? I mean, you really used a hammer? That’s fucking gross! Who the fuck does that? Jesus. Man you should have said and I’d have sent you the file for printing your own gun. That would have been far less messy. Or why not the anthrax?’
‘You’re missing the point, Joseph. I need this to be big. The more blood means more time on the television, more people would talk about it, then the story will get so big that The Phantom will have to pay attention to me.’
‘If you say so,’ he conceded. ‘So what does she say now? Has she taken you under her wing? Is she going to tell you who to kill or what to do next? How does this work?’
‘Well, we haven’t seen each other since I did Summers, the detective, but I’m sure she’ll be excited and keen to see me,’ I explained. ‘All the patients watch the news in that hospital, it’s their only way of knowing what goes on outside in the real world. There’s no doubt she’ll have heard about the latest murder, and from our previous conversations she’ll understand that the credit is all mine.’
‘Jesus. You know, I’m not sure if I’m scared or happy for you! This is fucking insane!’ Joseph said.
‘Sometimes I can’t believe it myself. I’ve idolized Lily for so long and now I get to be close to her and to speak to her. I’ve just felt an inner strength grow within me that I never thought possible.’
‘I bet, man.’
‘I’m going to continue her legacy, Joseph, and one day people won’t be able to talk about The Phantom without mentioning The Hammer in the same sentence. You’ll be talking about me, too, Joseph! Soon I’ll be your new favourite serial killer!’
‘Maybe, my friend,’ Joseph responded. ‘Just stick to that list of rules you made, that’s the way forward. And don’t tell anyone else about this, not even Steven. This is some serious shit you’re into, Martin, or Hammer. Whatever I should be calling you now.’
I laughed.
‘I know, Joseph. It’s just you, me and Lily who’ll ever know about the identity of The Hammer. I trust you. Your love for this art is up there with mine.’
‘Right on, brother.’
‘Listen, I’ve got to go,’ I said.
‘Time to masturbate?’ he replied.
‘No. I’ve been keeping an eye on our friend from the pictures, my old supervisor, Lucy Turner.’
‘I’ve been keeping an eye, too,’ he quipped, ‘at least those pictures you sent me of her!’
‘You’re a pervert, Joseph.’
‘Thank you. So what are you going to do with our friend, Lucy? She’s too pretty to hurt, no? Or is that a good enough reason to do it?’
‘No, I can’t do anything to her because there’s a link between us from working together, no matter how briefly. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.’
‘So, why are you wasting your time with her?’ Joseph asked.
‘Curiosity, I guess,’ I replied. ‘She was the spark that ignited the rage within me. The straw that broke the camel’s back with regards to all the shit I’ve taken throughout the years. I guess I also want to know how the loved one of a victim copes ... my work can only be measured in terms of the impact it has on the world, after all.’
‘That’s deep, Martin’
‘I’ll speak to you soon, Joseph.’
‘Later.’
Chapter 28
Lucy Turner, the beautiful yet self-entitled young university graduate had had the happiness from her life stolen away from her. Her once bright, bespectacled eyes and her rosy cheeks had been dimmed by the dark realities of death. So too had her long, blonde hair, which seemed to have greyed more than I thought possible in such a short space of time. But then maybe these changes in appearance had been due to the fact Lucy hadn’t, for all I could tell, ventured outside of her parents’ house since moving back home. The spoilt child, having suffered a huge blow to the easy future she had planned with Mr. Right, a blow that she had brought upon herself might I add, had run home to mummy and daddy.
But there was seemingly little the parents could do for their precious angel. Hidden in a tree to the side of the detached house of Mr. and Mrs. Turner, I had found the ideal place to spy on the woman who acted as a catalyst for my new life. I had seen with my own eyes what Lucy had been reduced to; a quivering wreck wearing nothing but a dressing gown, and who could barely move from the sofa of her parents’ lounge. A doctor had visited, and along with her parents, had talked to Lucy for nearly an hour to no avail. Exactly what was said, of course I would never know, but the defeated looks on the parents’ and the doctor’s faces convinced me that Lucy was on a dark road to nowhere, at least for the time being. The doctor handed Lucy’s mother what must have been a prescription for more of the same pills that Lucy had been taking with no improvement in her condition, I say that because although I couldn’t hear Lucy’s mother’s response to being handed the medical document, I’m pretty sure I correctly lip-read her words.
‘More bloody pills? Is that that only idea you have? More bloody pills?’
Or something like that.
I remember Lucy not registering a thing as her father tried to calm his wife down while at the same time usher the doctor towards the exit, appreciating he was doing his best but aware that any understanding he may have shown to the practitioner may have angered his distraught wife further. I chuckled. What a mess. That was the last time that doctor would see Lucy Turner. It was the last time any doctor would need to see Lucy Turner.
Shortly after when it was just the three of them, mother and father sat in the lounge eating soup and using a softly, softly, approach, tried to get Lucy to eat too. It didn’t work. Lucy hadn’t cried for a while, but her head was somewhere else. Not once acknowledging the words of her nearest and dearest, she may as well have been asleep for all the good it was doing them. Eventually, after they had finished eating and had given a last hug and kiss on the forehead of their only child, the parents would retreat upstairs, where I could just about see the mother break down into tears and her husband comfort her as best he could.
Meanwhile, as had happened the two nights previously that I had spent perched against the trunk of the great oak, high enough above ground level to easily peer over the wooden fence that surrounded the sides and back of the property, I watched as Lucy lifted herself from the sofa and poured herself a whiskey from the drinks cabinet. She drank it neat, then refilled another before pulling out a cigarette and slumping back onto the sofa with her drink and smoked her cigarette with a trembling hand. I watched as she once again broke down in tears, and witnessed in amazement on two floors of this beautiful house, two women, two generations of the same family, were both in complete distress and utterly helpless, and it was all down to me. I did that. Lucy screwed me over and I paid her back a hundred fold. I felt so powerful, like a king. But then Lucy did something that took my excitement a huge step further.
My ex-line manager, the young lady who only a month or so earlier had the world at her feet, a successful fiancé, expensive house, new job, was defeated, and she’d had enough. To her side, she took the bottle of her medication and threw it to the ground, tears running down her face. She knew they would be no help. She was beyond help. Her man was gone. She had seen the mess. The blood. She would never forget that. She could never continue and no drug or no amount of time would ever change what she saw and what she had become. She hated herself. Lucy Turner stood once more and downed the rest of her glass of whiskey before feebly letting the glass fall to the heavy rug beneath her feet. She then took hold of the wooden chair that her father had just recently sat in and eaten his supper and dragged it towards the large, double-glazed back doors. She stood inches from the windows, those of which I had watched her and her family fall apart in dramatic circumstances, and then she looked up.
Lucy undid the knot at the front of her dressing gown and pulled the fabric belt away from the main garment, which then opened up, unintentionally exposing her naked body to me, not that she knew I was there, or even in her current state of mind would have even cared. Lucy stepped up onto the chair and tied one end of the belt around her neck.
‘You’re going to kill yourself!’ I screamed.
I couldn’t believe it. I was seeing with my own eyes the absolute destruction of someone’s life, at my doing. I wasn’t just a king, I was a god.
I climbed down the tree and ran to the front of the house, hopped over the side gate and slowed my pace as I approached the back of the house. The parents were still fully occupied with each other upstairs, I was sure of that, but I didn’t want to disturb Lucy so much that she had second thoughts. I was excited, but had to keep my cool as best I could. I hadn’t planned what was happening, but I had always heard we make our own luck, and that moment was one of my luckiest.
I watched as she kicked away the chair from beneath her feet before I approached the outside of the heavily glassed door. Instantly I could see the fear in her face, the regret; she had realized she had made a terrible mistake and there was nothing she could do about it. Her hands were up by her neck, frantically trying to create a space between her throat and the tightening cord but to no avail... and then she saw me. Just as I opened the back door and pulled it open, Lucy stopped fighting so wildly. Her hands had created just enough space to gasp at the air she needed, but I could tell from the reddening of her fingertips that she couldn’t stay like that for long. Her eyes met mine and she looked confused, maybe she was asking why I was there, but then maybe when she looked further down she would understand.
Lucy Turner spent the last two minutes of her life, gasping for air and wording the word ‘help’ to The Hammer, a man who stood and watched her as he masturbated as she slowly died. I was completely innocent concerning the death of Lucy, at least that’s what I figured in regards to the law, but I had definitely killed her, in one way or another.
Chapter 29
I’m not sure who formally identified the corpse of Summers and there had sadly been no mention of the sexual nature of the crimes committed against the deceased. By the time I had returned to work, the police had issued an official statement linking the murder of the respected doctor and retired detective to that of her friend, Delia Anderson, who had been murdered recently in Summers’ home, as well as the three other victims from a separate attack in a newly-built cul-de-sac the other side of the city; all were victims of the person the media were now calling The Hammer Man. On a related note, the news channels reported that the fiancée of one of the recently deceased had committed suicide, having been overcome by the grief of losing her loved one. It was a wonderful day, and I only hoped that the next day would follow suit.
But it didn’t.
It was nearly lunchtime by the time Devon and I had arrived at the common room. As per usual, I made my way toward the back of the room to start my bin collections nearer the wonderful Lily, and for the first time, I noticed something different about her.
Lily wasn’t slouching in her chair as per normal, she was upright and sipping from the plastic cup she held lightly in her hand. As I walked toward her, she turned her head and looked at me, as if she knew I was approaching, like she had been waiting for me. Before long I realized she had indeed been waiting for me, as she nodded at a chair beside her for me to sit in. This was against the rules, I understood, to mingle with the patients in such a manner, but I thought it was a special enough occasion to push my luck a little.
I sat down next to my hero, The Phantom.
‘You’re looking well, Mrs. Green.’
She stared out of the window, occasionally taking a small sip from her drink. I could see she was thinking of the exact words she wanted to say to me. ‘Well done’ or ‘I admire your work’ would have been a start, but alas it wasn’t to be.
‘You seem more alert, Lily, like you’ve been given a boost,’ I said. ‘Maybe you’ve seen what I’ve been up to? You’ve realized I’ve been doing this all for you? For us? Everything can carry on as before. Do you remember before? Forget Ben, and forget Benny, they let you down, Mrs. Green. They will call me The Hammer and I will continue your legacy.’
Then Lily smiled, and I thought all my hard work had paid off. Right up until the moment she threw the rest of her orange juice into my face then spat at me.
‘You’re nothing but a pretender!’ she scowled.
Wiping down my face with the back of my hand, I looked over at the staff and patients at the other end of the room, and fortunately nobody had noticed the selfish old bitch’s foul outburst. I stood up and towered above her.
‘You ungrateful old witch, you don’t deserve my love or my loyalty, I hate you,’ I said, meaning every word from the very bottom of my darkened heart, my hands turning to fists and shaking whilst I spoke. ‘You don’t want me? Then fuck you. You stay on your own. I was doing this for you.’
And that was it. The day I had been working towards fell flat on its face. It was a joke, a sick and twisted joke that only Lily could laugh at. I signalled to Devon that I wasn’t feeling well and headed to the toilets. In truth, I did vomit, it’s just that it wasn’t caused by a bug or a virus. I was sick with myself, sick with Lily, sick with the betrayal. She had led me on. She could have said those things right from day one. She was using me. I vomited again and again, emptying my stomach of the cereal I’d consumed earlier that morning. I wanted to go home, to quit my job and never go back to that awful place, but the reality was that I needed the job since the little money I had put aside in my savings account wouldn’t last long without a regular income.
STAY CALM
THINK FIRST
What had I done? I was trapped in my place of work which was home to hundreds of lunatics, but worse than that, as I begrudgingly continued my day’s work, the magnitude of what I had done became clear in my head.
TRUST NOBODY (EXCEPT JOSEPH & LILY)
Lily had betrayed me. She had suckered me in and now she had the upper hand. I didn’t believe she would tell any officials about my project, the fact I’d boasted to her about the killings and offered to continue her legacy, but I hadn’t judged everything correctly up until that point, so I couldn’t be sure. And though I hated to admit it, the knock to my confidence that Mrs. Green had just given me led me to question my judgement with regards to my other confidante, Joseph.
Chapter 30
I had cried continuously when taking down my pictures of The Phantom, and binned everything that related to her and her family and their crimes. In truth, it wasn’t until I had driven to an abandoned industrial estate on the outskirts of the city and watched all the empirical evidence that linked me to The Phantom go up in flames that I began to compose myself, to realize that this new chapter in my life had in fact not been all about Mrs. Green after all. It had been about me.
I had been stuck in a rut for years. I’d been overlooked, laughed at, disrespected and generally ignored for the vast majority of my life and those last few weeks had been about me taking control of my life, my destiny. Lily had been a bridge to help me cross over to my new destination, even though I wasn’t exactly sure where I was headed. As I climbed back into the car, the flames fading into the distance as I drove back towards my flat, I knew that before I could continue my journey, there were a couple of loose ends that needed tying up.
Back at home, I had been thinking about the story of Winston, the southern state American who went on a rampage before disappearing completely. This was, after all, the position I had found myself in. I couldn’t stay in my current life knowing that as long as Lily was alive, she could let slip about my adventures just to hurt me, to show me once again how much I had disappointed and embarrassed her. But then if I killed her, in the surroundings where she was to be found, it would be impossible to not get caught, unless I did change my identity and Martin Day no longer existed to be brought to justice. Of course, I could have just run and let her be, hoping that if she never saw me again, perhaps her drugged-up memory of me would fade in no time at all, but I wasn’t the same weak man that would have once upon a time thought of that as an option. Lily had called my bluff. She’d said I wasn’t good enough. She was at one time my hero, my teacher and my everything. But she changed that, she decided to belittle me, as many others had before. However, she had chosen a bad time to do it, a time that I had never felt stronger, more confident of my abilities and capable of fulfilling my newly chosen destiny. Before I made my way into the abyss, leaving the life I hated from day one behind me, Lily was going to pay.
It didn’t take long to find more details about Winston and his victims on the dark net. He was highly praised among American fans. Discovering how he managed to escape justice, vanishing completely in the way he did, took a little longer, as I had to sift through numerous stories in the forums, but eventually I came across an identification card service that got mentioned by veteran murder fan forum members that was used by many criminals. The online and anonymous company offered an ID card that was recognized throughout the civilized world, not a passport, but a globally recognized ID card that was introduced as a result of the relentless globalization pushed forward by the progressives. A good idea perhaps, except that when the whole world used the same ID card, the whole of the world’s forgers and criminals became focused on ways to abuse the system. The result being, I had uploaded my photo and made a payment in the form of Bitcoins that decimated my savings account, yet ensured at least a second chance anywhere else in the world. The ID card would be sent to an anonymous post office box within a week, which gave me time to sort my other, more pressing affairs.
