Nails In A Coffin (Demi Reynolds Book 1) (3 page)

Demi came out of her building two minutes later. She was holding two jerry cans in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. The Aston Martin with Nathan’s body in it was idling a few yards from her front door. She paced toward the car. Once she reached the car’s front bumper, she dropped the jerry cans and gripped the baseball bat with both hands. She took a swing at the headlights. They cracked in the night air, reverberating off the emptiness in the atmosphere. She dented the hood with the bat a few times, leaving a rather large sag in the metal. She then went to town on the windshield, first cracking it and then smashing it into a billion pieces. The sound of the windshield disappearing into the driver and passenger seats made her squirm. She looked around quickly to see if she was being too loud. She then looked at her watch. It was now 3 a.m.

The housing complex was quiet. Nobody was around. But she knew that if she made any more noise, it could draw somebody out. Maybe they’d call the police. And then she’d be arrested and tried for the murder of a rapist. But they wouldn’t know he was a rapist. There was no evidence. He didn’t rape her, after all, so no DNA. She’d be left with only her word, and unfortunately for her, her word wasn’t worth anything.

That’s why she was doing what she was doing. She needed to make it look like a clear-cut robbery gone wrong. There could be no DNA. There could be no traces of her left behind. So the only choice was to stage the scene of the crime. Make it look like something different from what it was. And with the way she was making the scene look, the police would be looking for somebody who had a score to settle with Nathan. Somebody who smashed up his car and cracked his skull open. Somebody who burnt him in the car. Somebody who left the scene of the crime without a trace. But little would they know that the person responsible for his death was a woman. A trained killer who knew how to lie low. A female with heart and courage. Somebody who wouldn’t make any mistakes. After all, she had plenty of experience in her field. There weren’t going to be any cockups. She’d get it done. And that’s what she did.

Demi opened the driver’s door and saw the deceased rapist slouched in a heap on the front seat. His face had gone purple. His eyes were still open and looked strained. She could see that he’d died in agony. His limp arm was still wrapped around his throat like a flaccid snake. She ignored the feelings of satisfaction that were running through her system. She still had the baseball bat in her hand. She raised it up, and swung down hard. She heard a crack. It was his skull. A little bit of blood started pouring out of his head. She swung again. Another crack. Some more blood. This time more. And another hard swing. This one was the hardest. A louder crack. And then a gush of blood. She dropped the bat onto the tarmac with a thud. She heard it roll a little, but stopped it with her foot. She grabbed Nathan by his shirt, which was now drenched in red and black. She dragged him off the seat slightly and let his head and arms dangle out of the driver’s door. She could still hear the blood gushing out of his head. This time it was hitting the tarmac underneath her like a dripping tap.

She stood there for a long while and breathed. That was all she could do. For some reason she was finding this kill a little harder than the others. She had killed plenty of people, but this one felt different. It was as if the pit of her stomach was warning her about something. Like a foghorn sounding off in the distance, although this one was becoming clearer. With every second that passed, the horn sounded louder and louder. But she didn’t know what it was warning her of. Could it be trouble ahead? Maybe an iceberg in the form of a revenge hit on her. What if somebody found out she did it and wanted her dead? It was too late, though. The deed had been done, and now all that was left was the finishing touches. She grabbed the two jerry cans and started pouring petrol into the interior of the car. She drenched the dashboard, steering wheel, front seats, and the back. She then emptied the rest of the can onto Nathan. She could smell the petrol fumes running up into her nostrils. She squinted her eyes, since they were stinging from exposure to the solvent.

She then grabbed the other jerry can and started pouring the contents on the outside of the car. The sides were done first, and then the roof. Luckily, the car was low, so it was an easy enough endeavour. She then did the hood of the car. She emptied the contents of the second can and flung it into the back of the car, along with the other can. She took another look around and grabbed the bat. She wiped the handle clean with a bit of her skirt. She then flung it into the back as well. She stepped back and reached under her short dress. She produced a Zippo lighter from her tights. She flicked it open and sparked it. An inch-high flame bellowed in the light breeze. She looked deep into the flame and swallowed in the orange and blue. She then flung the lighter into the car. The interior went up in flames immediately. The steering wheel and dashboard came alight. Then Nathan’s legs and torso. Then the back. Finally, the roof started to flame up. She was satisfied with her work. She looked down at the floor and scanned for anything she may have dropped. After a few seconds, she saw she was in the clear.

The heat from the car was intense. She felt satisfied with her work. She quickly walked away from the burning car and made her way back inside. She’d be safe in there. Nobody would call about the burning car. Not until the morning.

It was standard practice around these parts.

Turns out nothing was standard about this situation. Everything changed after that night. Nothing was the same again. The walls were caving in. The darkness was coming for her. She had no idea, but her days above ground were numbered.

Everything was about to change forever.

Demi opened her eyes suddenly. She was on her back, in her bed. The covers were half on and half off. The smell of fresh linen lingered in the air. She twitched her nose and stopped herself from sneezing. She sometimes had a reaction to the fabric softener she used for her bedding. But she liked the smell so much that she decided to tough it out. After all, it was only a sniffle here and a cough there. She’d been through much worse. It would take a lot more than a cold to break her spirits.

But then there was a knock on her apartment door. It sounded like an official knock. A bailiff, maybe. Or even the police. She’d grown accustomed to distinguishing between a friendly knock and a possible hostile one.

She heard the door rattle once again. She yawned and got up. Looking at the time, she saw it was 11 a.m. It was late by her standards, but sometimes on a Sunday she’d find herself sleeping in. The wooden floorboards underneath her feet felt cold. A shiver ran down her leg, but she shook it off and walked down the hallway. She looked down and saw she was wearing a rather revealing nightgown. It was laced and barely hung onto her petite yet strong shoulders. She shrugged and made her way to the door. Demi felt as if she didn’t have time to indulge decency. Whoever was on the other side of the door was going to get a nice view.

She opened her door slowly and peeked around the crack. She saw two uniformed officers standing in her hallway. The door behind them closed. They must have been knocking on every door. Looked like they were there because of the burning car in the car park. It didn’t take a genius to work it out.

“Miss Reynolds, is it?” the female officer asked. The male officer smiled.

Demi gave a smile in return and opened the door. The expression on the male officer’s face was priceless. The female officer looked uptight and didn’t appreciate the view.

“May I help you?” Demi asked, sticking her right leg out a little. The nightgown barely reached her thigh, so her perfectly toned legs really stuck out. Both the male and female officer gave Demi a look. It was one of humor. They found what she was doing to be a little funny. Demi, on the other hand, didn’t, and decided to act normally. There was a time and a place for seduction, and unfortunately for her, the police weren’t really into that sort of thing.

“Do you mind if we come in, Miss Reynolds?” the female officer asked, still looking rather stern.

“As a matter of fact, I do. What is this all about? You arresting me for something?”

The male officer smiled again. “Being beautiful isn’t a crime,” he said, rather shyly.

His colleague pulled a face. It was obviously a joke, but, judging by her facial expression, jokes weren’t allowed in her presence.

“We need to talk to you regarding an incident that occurred last night,” the male officer began to say, this time in a much more professional manner. Demi could tell that it pleased the female officer somewhat, now that her colleague was being more attentive to the situation. Demi enjoyed reading people’s body language and sometimes got caught up in it all. She would go in a zone and spectate.

“Miss Reynolds?” the female officer said.

“Oh, sorry. I just woke up. You’ll have to excuse my lack of energy.”

Both officers nodded, and Demi stepped aside to let them in. They strolled past her. The female officer came in first and the male afterward. Demi brushed her hand against him as he squeezed past. It was harmless fun on her part. She liked to see men squirm at her actions. It was cute and got her through the boring parts of her day.

“Take a seat in the front room. I’m just going to get into something less — ”

Demi was interrupted before she could finish. “Less revealing?” the female officer asked, sitting down on her sofa. Demi immediately hated the woman. She couldn’t stand women who were intimidated or jealous of beauty.

“Yeah. We can’t all look like our grandmas,” Demi offered back, and made her way to the bedroom. She could hear the officers talking in hushed voices as she left. From what she could tell, the male officer was telling his colleague to stop with the personal comments. Demi smiled as she reached her bedroom door and shut it behind her.

She always got her own way, whether it was getting what she wanted whenever she pleased, or playing two police officers off each other for fun.

She always got what she wanted.

Four minutes later, Demi Reynolds came out of her bedroom dressed in a plain white T-shirt and a pair of Levi jeans. She made her way around the coffee table and sat on her two-seater sofa, which was placed opposite the police officers. They were sitting on a larger four-seater, facing her. She hadn’t taken long in her bedroom, so they picked up the conversation pretty much immediately.

“You aware that somebody was murdered around these parts last night?” the male officer asked.

“Nope, I wasn’t. Who died?” Demi asked, trying to look as if the news came as a shock.

“The identity of the victim is being withheld at the moment,” the female officer interjected.

“In other words, you don’t know who he is?” Demi asked.

There was a sight pause, and the room went silent. Demi could hear her stomach rumbling. She was hungry.

“We were wondering if you knew anything about it?” the female officer asked.

“Um, why would I?”

“Because we know that you work for Donny the Hat,” the male officer said.

Demi was caught off guard by the comment. She didn’t think anybody knew who she worked for. If anything, she tried to keep her private life…private. But for some strange reason, the police knew who she associated with. Demi knew deep down that the police knew something was off with her. She’d always get visits from the local nick. Sometimes they’d mask it up by stating they were asking for witnesses to a crime. But Demi felt as if they were always sizing her up. As if they wanted to get a better feel on her. Like they knew something but weren’t quite prepared to go in for the kill. It bothered her that they were sniffing around her affairs, so much so that she had been contemplating whether or not to disappear. That was usually the safer option when it came to evading prosecution.

The safer option being moving away and ceasing the activities for which the police want you locked up for. That usually did the trick. But not right then. Right then, they were fishing for something. Something bigger than her. They wouldn’t have approached her if they thought she did it. But something was off. Something they weren’t divulging.

“I don’t know who you are talking about,” Demi finally said.

“Is that so?” the female officer asked. The male officer was tapping his fingers on his leg nervously. The faint sound of his skin hitting the fibres of his trousers reverberated off the atmosphere.

“I’d like you to leave,” Demi said out of the blue.

The officers stood up.

“Sure. But don’t go anywhere. We’ll be back today,” the male officer said.

“And why would you do that when I told you to leave? Don’t you get it? I don’t want you here. I have things to do.”

“We don’t really care about your private life, Miss Reynolds. We’ll be back. Whether you have a million and one things to do, we’ll be knocking on that door anytime today, with a search warrant and some backup. Then we’ll haul your arse off down to the nick and process you for some bogus charges. We’ll call these charges aiding and abetting and conspiracy to commit grievous bodily harm. You’ll get sent down for ten to fifteen years. And all because you know Don the Hat,” the female officer said.

“You can’t arrest me for knowing somebody.”

The two officers nodded.

“Oh, so you do know Donny the Hat?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Well, we thought that, seeing you know Donny the Hat, you’d know his brother, Nathan Richards,” the female officer said.

Demi stood there. She could feel her face go pale. The realization of what the woman had just said hit her like a sucker punch from Lennox Lewis in his prime.

“Donny has a brother?” was all Demi could muster.

“Yeah, he had a brother, and he was last seen with you. And then we find Donny’s brothers’ car outside your gaff, burnt out with his body missing. Seems a bit suspect to me.”

“Missing?” Demi said, feeling as if the rug was being pulled from under her.

“Yeah,” the female officer reiterated, and made her way to the door.

Her male colleague followed and turned to face Demi before leaving. “You seem surprised that his body is missing,” he said.

Demi stood there in the middle of her front room, staring at the hallway that led to her front door. She watched as both officers left and closed the door behind them. The sound of the heavy wood sucking back shut made Demi feel sick.

“Missing?” she repeated under her breath.