How to Kill Men and Get Away With It(87)
‘I think we’re past the stage of having any secrets from each other. Fire away.’
‘What really happened to your dad? He’s dead, right? You killed him?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Walked in on him trying to rape my mother and smashed his skull in with an antique vase.’
‘Did he go through the mincers?’
I nod. ‘You really can’t trust processed food these days.’
‘True. But what can you trust?’ She sighs and leans back into the sofa, taking two long gulps of her wine. I also take a slug of mine before placing the glass on the coffee table and reaching for my bag.
‘I’m going to need a hell of a lot of fucking therapy to get through this,’ she says, tucking her feet under her bottom and closing her eyes.
‘Tired?’ I ask her.
She laughs that hollow laugh again. ‘Funnily enough, yes. It’s amazing how exhausting it is having to lie like that. Thank fuck I didn’t have to do it in court.’
‘What? Lie about what?’
‘He didn’t really rape and abuse me,’ she says, sitting up and smiling at me like we’re ten and playing dolls. ‘I only said that because I knew it would be the one thing that would get to you. That’s probably the only truthful thing he said.’ She sits up straighter, opens her eyes wide and smiles at me. ‘Maybe you’re not the only one who can be all sweet and psycho.’
What. The. Fuck?
‘Wait. So you’re telling me that you lied about being sexually assaulted by your own dad so I’d kill him? After stalking me for months through my phone and scaring the shit out of me on Instagram? There’s no doubt about the psycho part, Hen.’
She shrugs. ‘Takes one to know one and all that.’ She settles back into the sofa, closing her eyes again, looking peaceful and at ease.
The mad fucking bitch.
‘That reminds me actually. That saying you couldn’t remember earlier about secrets. It’s “three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead”. I looked it up on my phone.’
Her eyes open again. Just in time to see me lunge at her with the stun gun, right through her left temple.
‘Sorry, Hen,’ I say. ‘But I’m not taking any chances.’
70
COLLINS’ CUTS ABATTOIR, HAMPSHIRE
I have to admit that I get absolutely zero joy out of cutting Hen up and putting her through the mincers. Especially when I realise that I need to put something on her Instagram to convince people she’s gone away for a while. I figure this will tie her nicely to her dad’s death, what with her DNA being all over that apartment anyway. The trouble is her phone is facial recognition only and I’ve already thrown her head into the waste disposal where it will eventually end up as dog food or fertiliser.
I doubt there’s anything recognisable about it now.
I frown, wondering what her passcode could be. She says that mine was predictable. I take a punt and tap my date of birth into her phone. Amazingly it unlocks.
Fuck.
She really was one crazy bitch.
I scroll through her apps and open Instagram. I post a black square on her feed and write: ‘Following the devastating revelations about my father, I’ve decided to take some time away from the spotlight as myself and my family try to process what has happened. Thank you for your support and we appreciate your respect for our privacy at this difficult time. I will be away from social media for the foreseeable future as I take some time alone to heal.’ I smile as I hit post and chuck her phone into the waste disposal to join her.
Well, some bits of her.
One thing I will say though is that it was much easier moving and disposing of a female body. I found a suitcase in one of the wardrobes and just folded her right up in that for our trip to the slaughterhouse. Maybe this is why so many men kill women. It’s far less hassle than picking on someone who actually stands half a chance in a fight with you.
The sun is beginning to peep over the horizon as I lock up, and begin the drive back to London. Hopefully I’ll make it home before Charlie wakes up so I can snuggle next to him and pretend this was all just a horrible dream.
71
APPLE NEWS
Shamed music mogul found dead in Belgravia home
Shamed music mogul James Pemberton has been found dead at one of his London properties, the Metropolitan Police confirmed earlier today.
Pemberton, 58, was on bail after being arrested on suspicion of historical sexual assault, sexual offences with minors and rape.
The accusations date back to the 1980s when Pemberton was launching Ripe Records, the recording company that went on to make him one of the most respected names in the music industry.
Unconfirmed reports on social media say Pemberton’s body was found dressed in lace underwear and stockings. Officials believe the death resulted from a sex game gone wrong.
A police spokesperson confirmed the death. ‘James Pemberton was found dead by his wife earlier today. Police are investigating the death but aren’t looking for anyone else in connection at this time.’
Pemberton had pleaded not guilty to several charges of historical sexual assault earlier this month and was awaiting trial.
Claire O’Donohue (@ClairyFairy1999)
Does anyone else think it’s a bit weird that not only has that pervert been found dead, but now Hen Pemberton has disappeared? Have you seen her latest post? It’s just a black square which – hello? Tone deaf or what – is meant to be for the #BLM movement. Anyway, she’s saying she’s taking an indefinite leave from social media and is going away to ‘heal’. WTF? What about his victims? They’re the ones that need to heal. Whoever killed him though is a hero. #MeTooKiller