Part II: A Twisted Mind
A million shades of grey flashed before his mind’s eye, carrying images of past times like distant dreams. He saw his fourteen years old self standing over his parents grave, rain pouring hard all around.
Joseph and Lorain McKinesy
May their souls rest in peace.
He felt a hand of his shoulder, turned and saw the chief in his police officer’s uniform, with an awe filled smile on his face. The wind carried him skywards; he floated amidst the vacuum of his mind. These blue eyes stared at him.
His lucid mind awoke, but he couldn’t move. Gradually, he began to recollect what happened.
John McKinesy felt a pang at his forehead, his nose and lips hurt too. He heard a soft whistle every time he inhaled and deduced that his nose was broken. Sweat poured down his back like waterfalls under his shirt. All of a sudden, everything went back to him. He opened his eyes but his corneas were met by a blast of white light that made his eyelids drop once more. He began to turn away from the light and try to open his eyes again, but something cold poked at the back of his neck. Some sort of metal rod, a round one. A barrel of a gun. John was surprised at how calm he felt, he knew that he did not have a slight chance of surviving this situation, yet, something inside of him mellowed him down.
“Rise and shine, detective.” that cold whisper reached John’s ears like a lightening bolt “You’re a very smart man for piecing this thing together, for this, I salute you. Yet, I see you made the same mistake you did last time; you came alone.”
“I did not come alone,” John tasted blood on his lips, he opened his eyes little by little “Your mother came with me.”
His eyes began to adjust, he saw three figures standing before him, silhouetted by the white light. A short chubby man standing between two others, the one on the left was of middle hight, a little taller than the man in the middle, and a tall one on the far right side.
“Listen to the mouth on this one,” a familiar voice said “You’re gonna die you punk!”
“Well hello, Pietro,” John whispered “Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to talk to people?”
“I’m gonna kill this bastard.” Pietro said moving forward, he was the man on the left.
“Settle down, boy.” The sound of the Don’s voice filled the room.
“Oh, would you look at that,” John said “The whole gang is here. Tell me Don, how can such a huge mansion have a small basement light this one over here?”
“We’re not in the mansion, smart-ass.” The Don said “I can’t have gunfire in my home, my grandchildren are there.”
Suddenly, the white light turned into darkness with a loud click, then the over head lights of the room came on and John saw the faces of the three men lined up in front of him. The Don, Pietro and Mr. Cat. John ignored the others and kept his eyes on The Surrealist. John tried to turn his head but was met by that gun barrel at the back of his neck once more.
Four men, maybe more. John thought to himself as he realized for the first time that his hands and feet were tied to a wooden chair in the middle of a room which he figured to be the basement of the De Luca mansion. John turned his head to Mr. Cat who looked back at him with a crooked smile.
“Oh, you won’t believe how glad I am to see you, McKinesy.” Mr. Cat said.
“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Cat.”
The Surrealist turned his head to the Don then back to John McKinesy.
“I see someone’s being talking about me.” He said.
“You’re a very interesting man, Mr. Cat, I couldn’t help but ask around about you.” John said.
“Well, how kind of you, detective.”
“What’s the matter with you?!” Pietro yelled “Why don’t we get a fuckin’ room for you two. Shoot the fucker already.”
The Surrealist turned slowly to Pietro who took a few steps backwards.
“The fact that me and the detective are enemies does not mean I do not respect the man.” The Surrealist said with a cold tone.
“Let’s cut to the chase boys; I ain’t got all day.” John said, trying at the same time to figure a way out of this situation; he tugged at the rope tying his hands behind his back, but again, he felt a gun barrel at the back of his neck.
“I can provide that,” the Don said stepping forward “You see, detective, someone stole something of value from me.”
“The accountant’s book.”
“Exactly,” The Don continued “Some young punk who works for the family, a part-time waiter stole that book and gave it to my daughter, may her soul rest in peace. She intended to expose these numbers to the public, which would’ve led the family to crumble. That ungrateful whore wanted to ruin me, so I had to take care of her. No one wanted to do the job, they all thought this was some kind of trick, so I called upon the only man who could do it. Mr. Cat.”
“You pushed the button on your own daughter.” John said staring at the Don right in the eyes.
“You do what you have to do to survive.” The Don said.
John looked at The Surrealist who still wore that smirk on his face of pale white, his hair greased up and combed backwards, not a hair out of place.
“This man put a hit on you, Mr. Cat” John said nodding his head towards the Don”And now you’re working for him.”
“We have an understanding,” the Don said “He accepted my offer on the terms that I could help in capturing you for he wanted your head on a platter. We’ll also benefit from the death of someone like you, detective.”
“This is hard to believe, Don.” McKinesy said “A man as talented as Mr. Cat wouldn’t need help from anyone to kill another man.”
“We have an understanding,” the Don said looking at The Surrealist “Don’t we, Mr. Cat?”
“No, we don’t.” A knife appeared from under the sleeve of The Surrealist’s right arm, he swing his hand in front of the Don and a fountain of blood gushed out of his neck with a gargling sound.
“Papa!” Pietro screamed running towards the man who just slit his father’s throat. A blast came from behind John and Pietro fell to the floor with a bullet stuck in his head. John McKinesy bent his head down to his chest and held it there. When he looked up, he saw the Don and his son in a pool of blood that stretched to John’s feet.
“You’ve become a sharp-shooter, I’ve trained you well.” The Surrealist said “How rude of me, Detective John; I would like to introduce to you my apprentice.”
A figure appeared in front of Detective John McKinesy.
“Daisy!” John yelled from sheer shock of seeing Daisy standing before his eyes, he shook his head trying to make sense of this.
“I… I don’t understand.” John stuttered “H… How can this be?”
“Oh come on now Johnny, how can I kill this piece of art? I thought to myself, how can I make this fun. Do I kill him? No, no. Do I capture the woman he loved, train her and have her kill him? I tell you, John, that thought appeared to be much more appealing to me.”
Baffled, John McKinesy looked deep into Daisy’s blue eyes and tried to find a clue that would prove either this whole thing was a hellish nightmare, or that the man who supposedly killed his love was lying.
“Oh, shut up John.” Daisy said holding the gun to McKinesy’s head “You’re weak, you’ve always been weak; you couldn’t even save me when he had his hands around my neck. He showed me the way, he taught me everything he knew.”
“That is true, my love.” The Surrealist said walking towards Daisy, putting his arms around her “She’s very talented, John; you’ve seen her work yourself.”
John looked at Daisy, still trying to find the woman he love in her.
“Esther…” John said.
“She had it coming too,” Daisy said “Angela gave her the book before Mr. Cat got to her, after snooping around; we found that Angela had only one friend. Esther Miller.”
Think damnit! Think! You need to get out of this right now, you need to figure this out and kill this mother-fucker. John McKinesy told himself as he tried to find that thing inside of him that kept him calm. But the thought of seeing the woman he loved and lost standing in front of him holding a gun to his head with a killer’s arms around her kept kicking at his guts. He was tugging at the rope binding his hands together when he felt his watch. Something came to him like a speeding train; he remembered that when he leapt from the tree to the top of the wall surrounding the compound, he hit his watch on the concrete and the glass on it broke. McKinesy bend his left hand stretching his fingers, something pierced his fingertip and he felt a drop of blood oozing out of his skin. John McKinesy pulled that small piece of class and began cutting the rope.
“What happened to you, Daisy? Oh, sweet Daisy.” John said.
“It is true, John,” The Surrealist said with a chuckle “If you love something so much, sooner or later; it’s gonna kill you.”
“How can you transform a sweet girl like that into a blood thirsty monster?” John asked leaning back in his chair.
“Oh, I can be very persuasive.” The Surrealist said.
“Shut up, John,” Daisy screamed getting closer to John “You’re gonna die and that’s the end of it.”
“Oh really?” McKinesy said.
“You’re a fool John!” Daisy said grabbing McKinesy’s tie, her face only a few inches from his “Goodbye, John McKinesy.”
John smacked Daisy under her jaw with a left hook and she fell to the floor. The Surrealist sprang towards him with the knife but John ducked forward hearing the blade whistling past his face. John fell to the floor, his legs were still tied to the chair. The Surrealist attacked John once more, but John lifted his legs up making him crash with his face into the chair, breaking it right away. The Surrealist fell down and McKinesy sprang to his feet. John McKinesy dashed to grab the gun from Daisy’s hand, who lay on the floor unconscious, but felt a piercing pain in the back of his thigh where The Surrealist stabbed him with his knife; John howled and The Surrealist began laughing. McKinesy looked back at the man who stabbed him and saw him on the ground, blood trickling down his nose and lips.
“You can’t kill me, John.” The Surrealist said grabbing the knife, twisting it “It is love that made you weak.”
John screamed in utter pain as he fell to the ground. He grabbed The Surrealist’s knife wielding hand with all his might and kicked him in the face with his other foot. Once, twice, thrice, but The Surrealist kept laughing as blood splattered all over his face, his hands not letting go of the knife. John kept kicking him but the man somehow stayed conscious. McKinesy turned his sight towards Daisy and saw the gun was only a few feet away. He fixed his feet to the ground and leapt, feeling the knife slicing deeply down at the back of his thigh towards the back of his knee. John kept crawling with his hands and feet; The Surrealist grabbed his pants and began to climb over him. John looked back and saw the man’s face right in front of his, the man pulled the knife and pointed it to McKinesy’s back. John kept crawling as the man raised his knife up high and was coming down. The detective felt the gun in his hand, pointed and fired with his eyes close. When he opened his eyes, he saw the face of the man called Mr. Cat staring at him, a trickle of blood ran down from the bullet hole in his forehead, the man fell to his side with his eyes open, still staring at Detective John McKinesy.
The pain from the knife wound shot right to McKinesy’s head; he never thought such pain existed. John ripped off piece of cloth from his shirt and tied it around his thigh. He got up, but fell right down for he felt dizzy and weary. His eyes turned to the blue eyed girl who lay unconscious. He moved towards her and felt her pulse; she was still alive. He brushed her hair behind her ear and looked at the face he knew so well, he saw his Daisy with all her innocence once more. He knew so well that what lay inside that skull of hers was not Daisy, the woman he loved, but some kind of monster created by The Surrealist. However, he knew it in his heart that his Daisy was somewhere in their, waiting for him to save her. He pulled himself up and used all his power to pick up Daisy in his arms. He climbed a flight of stairs and found himself in the middle of a wooden shack. He walked across to the front door and went out. Detective John McKinesy was met by the distant light of dawn; he held Daisy close to him and began limping towards the main road.
[End of Chapter Six, Part II.]
(To be continued…)