Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [3]
"You're a bumshite, Fraser," she said. "What do you want me to see?"
"Just step inside."
"I don't think so."
"Okay," he said. "If you're scared of the dark, I'll go first." He stepped inside the shed, switched on the light. Nice touch, the outside electricity. He'd been impressed when Simone had shown him. "That better?"
Effie moved into the doorway, keeping the door open.
Fraser said, "Well?" cause her face was a blank.
"What am I looking at?"
These hippy-killer-types, you had to spell everything out. "These," he said, pointing at the rows of swords hanging on the walls. All sorts. He was no expert, and neither was Simone, but there were a couple of dozen types on display, from the medieval to the modern. Some decorative, some kept razor-sharp by Worm. Simone said it gave him something to do when he couldn't sleep at night.
Fraser reached up, took one off the wall. "This," he said, unsheathing it, "is Japanese." He held it, two-handed, between himself and Effie. Nice weight. Beautiful curved blade. "Run your finger over that, you'll cut it off." Made his stomach flutter just thinking of the damage this baby could do.
Effie looked but didn't react.
"Well?"
"Looks very nice," she said. "Does Worm fence or something?"
"Nope. He just collects them. A real waste."
What he didn't tell her was that he'd mentioned to Uncle Phil that he was thinking of stealing them, selling them on eBay, imagining that Phil would be up for making a quick buck, but Phil had clipped him round the ear and told him not to be a fuckwit.
"We better go, then," Fraser said, slotting the sword back in its sheath, carefully hanging it on the wall. He noticed a gap a couple of rows along. Either Worm had a sword in the house, or Uncle Phil had pulled a fast one without telling Fraser. He'd keep an eye on the new eBay listings. "Sure you don't want one?" he asked Effie. "We could smuggle one out. Killer like you is always going to need another weapon, right?"
"A killer like me," Effie said, "likes to use something that can't be traced. You want to steal me something, a length of clothesline would be just fine."
***
FRASER STARED AT the headless body in the tub. Hard as he tried, he couldn't drag his gaze away from it.
A human without a head. Triggered some kind of primeval fear of your brain being separated from the rest of your body. Or was it that having no head made you appear to be more dead than you would otherwise?
He was having a hard time seeing that thing as Uncle Phil. Come to think of it, he was having a hard time seeing. His eyelids didn't want to stay open.
"Why do you—?" Fraser said, before the rest of his sentence was choked off.
Felt at first like his collar was buttoned too tight. But he was wearing a t-shirt, so it couldn't be that. Then a sudden jerk and a shout from Effie and something crushing his windpipe. It was like the time when he was a kid, messing around with his pal, Ian. Playing at strangling each other. Seeing how far they could go.
His hands flew to his neck, feeling for the thing that was digging into his throat.
Effie said, "Relax," and grunted in a very unlady-like manner.
What the fuck was she doing? Trying to get this thing off him?
Oh, he knew.
He had always known.
Oh, fuck, no he hadn't. He just wanted to be right, even now. It was fine to be right after the event, but he hadn't known, otherwise he wouldn't have let the bitch within spitting distance.
She was strangling him. And it wasn't going to be like Ian. No chance she'd let go, finally, say, "Nearly killed you. Na na na-na na."
Fraser swiped behind his back with his hand. Smacked something. But there was no power in it. Like he was moving underwater. Resulted only in the cord—or whatever it was—tightening round his neck.
A clothesline. She'd told him that's what she'd use.
His head felt like somebody'd blocked up his nose and mouth and was pumping air through a hole in the top of his skull.
He wheezed.
Eyes back to the tub. To the body. Fraser didn't want to admit it to himself, but