Edward Lee - Header 2

The black and white of it socked right into her brain: They’ve just murdered a girl with a power drill. They’re having sex with the corpse. She gulped. And they’re filming it with the camera I sold them…

Eventually the dim commotion ceased and Helton pushed through the curtain, bearing the big Sony. He pulled out her cotton balls. “We’se all done, sweetie”—he looked at the camera—“I shore hope I did this right. You shore the movin’ picture’s on here now?”

She flicked the dome light back on and took the camera. “Yep,” she said, trying as best she could to sound normal, to sound like she had no idea what went on back there. “The properties bar says that 19 minutes of space have been used on the memory card.” She snapped it from the slot and handed it to him. “The doohicky.”

“Well that’s just peachy, Veronnerka!” but then he scratched his beard. “Now all’s I gotta do is think’a the best way ta git the doohicky to Paulie, so’s he can watch the movie…”

The SNUFF movie, she corrected with a chill. Again, she struggled to act normal, unaffected, as though she had no clue as to what they’d actually done. “You could leave it in his mailbox—”

“Naw. He wife’s house is just over yonder but…the fella there’s more’n likely calt the police by now.”

Act normal!

“Then send it to him through the mail.”

Helton seemed doubtful. “I’se guess we could but—jiminy, hon—we want him to have it soon as possible.”

“How about leaving it someplace and calling him up and telling him where to find it. Do you have his phone number?”

Helton winced. “Aw, see, he calt us once”—he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cellphone—“on this here cellphone he had delivered to our house, but he never give us his number. ”

Veronica frowned. “Didn’t you say that this man Paulie was also a crime lord? In the Mafia? ”

“Well, yeah, hon.”

“If he really is into organized crime, then he surely has some mode of internet access—”

“Huh? Oh, you mean ‘puters’n all that?”

‘Puters. My God. “Yes. Does he have a computer with email access?”

Helton looked mystified. “Shee-it. I gots no idea.”

“He must. Of course, he might not want to give you his email address, but I can create a screen name for him on my account, tell him the eddress, then he can download the movie himself. Right now.”

“Don’t know what ’cher talkin’ ’bout, darlin’,” Helton said with enthusiasm, “but if’n you could make it so he could see our movin’ picture right now, why, I’d be so dang happy… ”

“Happy enough to let me go?” she dared to ask.

“Why, shore!”

Veronica reached around. “I’m just getting my laptop,” she said and lifted her knapsack off the floor behind her.

“Lap… what? ”

“It’s a portable computer,” she wearily explained, “that has a mobile-wireless card. If you want Paulie to see the movie, you have to let me use my laptop.”

“Well, fine. Go on ahead,” and then he watched in confused fascination as she extracted the laptop, booted it up, and went online. It took less than five minutes to create the guest-account, download the video clip from the memory card, and email it. “Now,” she said. “Call Paulie back on the phone he sent you.”

“I done tolt  ya, hon. He didn’t gimme no number. ”

Veronica sighed. “If he called you on it, the number’s on the phone. Was he the last person to call you?”

Helton frowned at the tiny phone. “Well, yeah. He’s the only one ta call us on it.”

“Then highlight the number and push the call button.” How can people be so OBLIVIOUS! she thought. “Here. I’ll call him,” and she took the phone from Helton’s huge hand, hit the number of the last call, and listened.

“Yeah?” a gruff voice answered. A Jersey accent.

“I’d like to speak to Paulie, please,” Veronica said.

“Who the fuck  is this? You Tuckton’s whore or somethin’?”

Veronica hated foul language. “My name’s Veronica. I’m calling on behalf of a man named Helton—”

“You fuckin’ asshole! What’d’ya want!”

Appalled, Veronica covered the mouth-piece and whispered, “He’s very rude. He called me an asshole, and he doesn’t even know me!” She resumed the call. “I’d just like to talk to Paulie—”

“He’s asleep!”

“Well, I have an email for you. Do you have internet access?”

“Of course, you stupid broad! We’re in the Mob! We got dozens of blinded email accounts,” the man bellowed.

“Would you please stop yelling!” she shrilled in response. “I’m trying to give you information! Get a pen and piece of paper, please!”

A moment passed, then, “All right, I got it! Now what the fuck do you want?”

Veronica grew infuriated. The nerve of some people! “Go to AOL-dot-com, click the guest box. I’ve created a screen name for you on my account. Got it so far?”

“Yeah! Who the fuck are you!”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Your screen name is Pauliecrimeguy and your password is your cellphone number.”

A pause. “What the fuck is this all about!”

“I’ve sent you an attachment from Helton,” she continued, tempering herself. “Go to your in-box and download the attachment.”

“What’s the attachment!”

“A digital video file—”

click

The connection severed. “He hung up!” Veronica snapped. “That was the rudest man!”

But Helton seemed concerned. “So’s…how do we know he got the movin’ picture?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll get it, all right. And I have a funny feeling that when he does…” Veronica gulped. “He’ll be calling you back real fast…”

««—»»

Helton took her into the back of the truck and re-cuffed her wrist to the table. “Howdy, Miss Veronnerka!” the younger man said. He was wiping the floor with paper towels. The smile on his face couldn’t have been broader. “So’s Unc Helton tolt me you figgered some fancified way’a sendin’ our movin’ picture to Paulie.”

“Yes,” came her glum response. “Over the internet—”

“Dangest thing, tek-nollergy,” Helton said in stifled awe. “She had this here li’l ‘puter box that sent the movin’ picture ta Paulie, and it didn’t even have no wires on it.”

“No wires?” Micky-Mack asked, bewildered. “How’s can that be? ”

“Just…don’t worry about it,” Veronica told them. “It’s magic. ”

“Wow!”

When the blond one finished wiping up the floor, he exhaled some aspect of relief and—

Oh for goodness sake!

—rubbed his crotch.

“I’ll tell ya, Unc. That there was fer shore the finest nut I’se ever h—”

Helton pointed his finger. “Quiet.” Then he looked down at something, grit his teeth, and—

SMACK!

—laid an opened palm across Micky-Mack’s head.

“Holy fuck,  Unc Helton! What’cha keep smackin’ me fer!” the man wailed, a hand to his temple.

“I done tolt ya to clean this place up! We cain’t have Veronnerka seein’ anythin’ that’ll be upsettin’ to her!” Helton grabbed some paper towels, then knelt before the power drill, which lay on the metal floor.

Veronica caught one glimpse…

One was sufficient.

A strange hollow cylinder stuck out of the end of the drill, a cylinder rimmed with saw-teeth. Blood dripped off of it. Helton very quickly wiped it up.