NANOWRIMO STORY IDEA # 7
SIGNATURES
Charles Delaware Barrington liked to say in every good man there is a little devil. Charles’ son and namesake Charles Delaware Barrington, jr. hoped the opposite was true; that in any evil man there is some good. As a young boy, Charles recognized there was a core of evil inside him, a boy he called Del. Knowing that Del was evil, Charles learned the importance of appearing overly good at an early age. To the family, friends, teachers, and his minister, Charles Jr was a good son, a good student, and a faithful Christian. To his employer, Charles Jr was management material and to law enforcement, Charles Jr was a model citizen.
Most people didn’t meet Del directly
rather when he got loose, they encountered evidence of his existence, blood,
body parts, and the smell of death. What Del called his signatures. One such signature
came when Charles was still in college. His father was found dead in the back
alley of a skid row tavern, called Lulu’sHe had been robbed and knifed to death
with his pants down at his knees. Charles Senior loved cheap booze and even
cheaper women.
A detective on the case told Charles
jr. that his father, Charlie B, as he was known in the bar, had been seen
leaving with a teenage girl. The
detective said, “We’re looking for a young prostitute who works that block.
Nothing so far, but we’ll keep looking,” he said sounding uncertain.
Angry over police indifference,
Charles let Del loose to do some looking on his own. Del wasn’t seeking revenge. He hated his father. His father a fool. He would have gladly killed him, any one of those
times he came home smelling of liquor and women. He didn’t because of his mother. Helen loved Charles Senior and he loved her,
at least when he was sober; that love sustained her. Now, some low life had
taken advantage of Senior’s weak nature and the circumstance of his unsolved murder
was destroying Helen. Charles jr. believed
if Del could restore the tie up the loose ends, he would bring balance in the
world and Charles would be able to relieve Helen’s grief.
Del knew how and where to look, and
what to do with the information. For
twenty dollars, the bartender at Lulu’s gave Del the name of another girl who
was working the bar that night. The girl
proved to be a forty-year-old woman named Sarah who lived at the back of a
four-story walkup. Sarah answered the
door in her robe which was open, revealing she was naked underneath. Sarah said
she wanted to help, but she knew nothing.
While they talked, she vaped cigarettes and drank several tumblers of whiskey
which she offered to Del. At one point,
she asked about Charlie’s funeral, saying what a fun guy he was. Del treated her like he was her social worker
or therapist, and she was a whore with a heart of gold, all the time pouring
her more to drink. Eventually, she said
she for a C-note I might have a name and an address, adding, “I usually get a
hundred for my time.”
“I'll take both,” Del said putting one
hand on her throat and the other a naked breast.
Del found Lilly Brown living with
four other addicts. After two days of careful
watching, he knew where the girl bought her drugs and the corners and bars
where she sold her flesh. He watched her drug dealer long enough to know he was
Lilly’s pimp and that he likes to flash a pocket .25 cal automatic and a
switch-blade knife.
Del picked Lily up driving a rental
car. She was standing on a corner a
block away from Lulu’s. She had on short
shorts and a Tee-shirt. When she leaned in the open window of the car, Del
played the nervous college student asking her the cost for a blow job? She asked if he was a cop.
“Of course, not. Maybe I should go,” Del stammered.
“It’s okay, sweetie, I have to ask.
Drive around to that alley and I will follow.
We can talk about prices and be private there. You won’t be sorry.”
Del wasn’t surprised when Lilly’s
pimp climbed in the back seat and put a blade to his throat. Lilly, who had her
head in his lap, seemed more surprised.
“Get his wallet,” the pimp shouted.
Del took a moment to zip his fly
before handing her his wallet.
“Look, sonny boy, she’s going to
write down your name and address. If you go to the police, I will kill you.”
“What’s his name, baby?”
“Charles Barrington.”
“What?”
“But that’s the name of the old...”
“Shut up.”
Del took that moment to Taser the
pimp and then Lilly. He took his time
to be sure they were not being watched.
He zip-tied and gaged the pimp and then Lilly. Taking blankets from the trunk, he covered
each, making it appear they were sleeping.
Finally, he loaded two new cartridges into the Taser. He had a long ride ahead of him and
potentially a longer night. Del was resolved about what he intended to do. He felt no guilt or remorse, nor was he
acting out of revenge. He hated his
father and believed his life would be better without him. The sense of pleasure
he experienced was better than sex. He
felt alive.
Two days later, at William
Barrington’s funeral, the minister declared, “William was a good man. He was a
loving man. He loved Helen, his wife of forty years, and his two wonderful children,
Mary and Charles. His death is a tragic sign of these troubled times,” the
minister claimed.
At the gravesite, the good son, Charles,
hugged his Mom and cried with his sister.
He shook hands with the minister and asked two of his dad’s friends to
see his Mom and sister home, saying “I want to have a moment alone with Dad.”
Del stood for a long time saying
nothing, just looking at the fresh mound of earth.
“You finally did it, you miserable
prick,” he said to the grave. “The troubled times didn’t kill you, a fourteen-year-old
drug addict and her pimp killed you when you wouldn’t pay the twenty bucks for a
blow job. Truth is, you loved yourself, and nothing else.”
In his mind, he pictured what he’d
done to Lilly and Jessy, her pimp. The thought brought on a smile and Del
laughed so hard he cried. Looking
around, he stopped laughing and adopted Charles’ calm and somber outward
demeanor. Del was back in the shadows.
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