MY CAMERA - YOUR HORROR (standard:mystery, 7099 words)
Author: Trina....	Added: Sep 21 2001	Views/Reads: 3339/2402	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young woman's camera disappears mysteriously, then shows up at her door steps with some horrible revelations.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Jimmy get Kasey back on her feet, “we thought you were dead!” 

“We sure did,” Nicolette added. 

“And what the hell were you people gonna to do with me?” Kasey asked,
still laughing and staggering over to the cooler for either a beer or 
soda.  Knowing Kasey it was probably the beer.  “I would have opted to 
throw your ass in the pond!” Devon blurted out, showing those pearly 
whites as she laughed.  Tired and relieved, Peppy took a few sips from 
her thermos...suddenly she had an idea, “Don’t move you guys!” And 
having said that, she rushed back to her bag a little farther down to 
grab her camera.  “No more pictures!” She heard Nicolette scream behind 
her. ”I look terrible.” 

Everybody laughed, even though they all knew like Peppy knew that Nikki
was dead serious.  Ignoring her, Peppy dove into her bag.  A few 
seconds later, a puzzled look spread across her face.  She searched 
again, “What the...” she said out loud, ”where the hell...hey who took 
my camera?!” 

Grabbing the whole bag, she walked over to where the others sat.  All
looked as confused as she did.  “You can’t find it?” Brenda asked, a 
beer in hand.  “Good.” Nikki added off handedly. 

“Like you all don’t know that already.  Stop playing around, who took
it?”  They all only smiled and shook their sweaty faces.  “Seriously 
Pep, none of us took it.” Jimmy finally said.  Jimmy wasn’t a practical 
joker, if he said no one had it...that probably meant no one did. 
Unless of course the guilty party hadn’t let him in on the joke, which 
they probably wouldn’t since Jimmy wasn’t a good liar.  A good lawyer, 
but not a good liar, that was another one of their inside jokes. 

Frustrated, Peppy went back to the spot where they had been playing and
searched the area.  No camera.  “Is your wallet still there?”  Devon 
asked from somewhere behind her. 

“Yeah, its here...I just don’t understand.” Peppy turned around to see
if anybody was secretly laughing, no one was.  “I could have sworn, I 
put it in the freaking bag!” 

Kasey, chuckled and took a gulp of her beer, ”Why would someone steal a
cheap disposable camera, yet not take any money?” 

Peppy, had had it, she had taken some damn good pictures with that cheap
camera, now some pervert had stolen it right from under their noses. 
She huffed and puffed as she searched, then finally...seeing the 
fatigue in everybody else’s eyes said, ”The hell with it...lets go 
home.” 

Later, Peppy, Jimmy, Devon and Kasey sat in Peppy’s hot, small, living
room playing an even hotter game of spades.  There was a slight 
dizziness in Peppy’s head; she wasn’t quite feeling herself.  Too much 
time in the sun, maybe?  Across the table she eyed her partner and 
ex-boyfriend secretly.  Every now and then, his dark eyes would drift 
towards hers and she would look away. 

He had came in late one night into the ‘The Lounge,’ looking rather
depressed, disheveled and out of place.  Always attracted to the 
‘preppy’ type, Peppy had spotted him immediately, and slyly made her 
way over to his end of the bar to serve him.  Three hours and a lot of 
coke with rums later, she knew practically everything about him. 
Everything, except for why he had came in looking the way he did.  He 
‘didn’t want to talk about that.’  So she never mentioned it again, 
after all she was a total stranger.  They were ‘friends’ at first, and 
then started seriously dating a very short while after that.  Four 
months later, he was always so ‘busy’ that she could never get in touch 
with him.  In the end, they decided it would be better if they just 
remained ‘friends’.  Yeah, friends who slept together every now and 
then. 

He looked up at her, their eye’s met, and as usual he seemed to know
what she was thinking.  He smiled at her, a dark mysterious smile, as 
dark as his huge liquid, brown eyes.  She smiled back slyly and threw a 
spade out on the table.  Devon threw her an evil look; Kasey only 
smiled obviously plotting her next move.  Peppy looked back at Jimmy... 
oh yes, he would be spending the night. 

Early the next morning, around 2 a.m., Jimmy kissed her gently on the
cheek and promised to call later.  She rolled over, happy with their 
new little arrangement, and went back to sleep. 

Three apartments down, Mr. Ligget heard a door open and close.  He crept
over to his door and with the chain still latched on, ignorantly opened 
it.  The tall, dark, well built man was leaving once again in the 
middle of the night.  He turned to look at Mr. Ligget who fearlessly 
stared back at him with old yellow eyes that had seen plenty.  The 
young man smiled at Mr. Ligget.  Mr. Ligget slammed the door and locked 
all locks. 

Around 2pm, Peppy finally willed herself out of bed.  Jimmy had called
sometime around dawn, waking her from a hilarious dream.  “Are you 
okay?”  He had asked. 

“Of course,” she had answered.  “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Just checking,” he had answered sharply before hanging up.  Peppy had
only shook her head, before hanging up and falling back asleep. 

Now she was fully up, her shift started in exactly five hours, and the
time she had planned to develop her film would now have to be spent 
doing other things. 

So...she took a shower, made some afternoon pancakes, rolled a joint and
sat down to watch ‘The Matrix’ for like the thousandth time.  About 
half way through the movie, she dozed off.  A sharp knock at the door 
woke her up.  In a purple haze, she drifted to the door, turned the 
tarnished copper knob and pulled the door open. 

The door way was empty. 

She blinked twice, and then moved up into the doorway.  She leaned over
to the right...empty.  She leaned over to the left...empty. 

She stood there in the doorway in a stupor for what seemed to be the
longest time.  Still in a glorious fog, she was about to close the door 
when a tiny voice whispered in her ear, “The floor.”  Stupidly, she 
scratched her head and mumbled something even she couldn’t understand. 
“The floor.” The voice said again.  That’s when she looked down and saw 
it there.  So silent, so small...so yellow.  Just sitting there on the 
old crusty, red and gold carpet that hadn’t been cleaned in years, 
waiting to be let in. 

A door creaked open, she looked over.  An old familiar eye was peering
at her.  The old weirdo, Mr. Ligget, who never seemed to leave his 
apartment. 

She snatched the camera and shut the door. 

Sometime later, Peppy was fully dressed.  In the room were Brenda,
Devon, and Kasey.  They sat in a circle, elbows on their knees, balled 
up fists underneath their chins.  The object of their scrutiny lay 
silent and defenseless on Peppy’s over used coffee table dead smack in 
the middle.  “What sick bastard would do such a thing?”  Brenda 
wondered out loud, her bright red hair clashing terribly with 
everything she had on. 

Peppy eyed the camera.  “If this is a joke—“ 

“It’s not us Pep!”  Devon swore. 

“I didn’t say it was.” 

“You think maybe Jimmy might have—“ 

“If Jimmy did this, I’m gonna kill him,” Peppy interrupted, abruptly
cutting Kasey off.  Kasey started to nibble on her nails; Devon got up 
and lit a cigarette.  Brenda got up and began to raid the refrigerator. 
“What’s the big deal anyway,” she said from within the cave of the 
fridge.  “So what some psycho knows where you live.” 

“This isn’t funny Brenda.”  The room suddenly went silent, all eyes
turned to Kasey.  Her eyes were still on the camera.  “The fact is, 
some psycho does know where she lives.”  She paused and lifted her 
light eyes to look at Peppy.  “I think you should just toss it...throw 
it away.” 

“Hold your horses okay,” Devon interrupted, ”You are taking this wwway
too seriously.”  She put out her cigarette and went to grab the 
camera—“Don’t touch it!”  Kasey screamed. 

“Why the hell not?”  A stunned Devon asked. 

“We don’t know who had that camera...or what they did with it.” 

“Well I already touched it,” Peppy said picking it up. 

“So, send it in,” Brenda said, rejoining the group with a dry ham sand
which. 

“What?” 

“If you want to figure out who took the camera and why...send the thing
in, develop it, and see whether or not some psycho’s ass crack shows up 
in some picture you know that you did not take!” It sounded simply 
enough, but why was there such dread on Kasey’s pale face.  And why did 
Peppy feel that same dread creeping up her spine.  “Toss it.”  Kasey 
mumbled. 

Devon spoke up, ”Look, I’m tired of sitting around looking at this damn
camera!”  She reached deep in her pocket and pulled out a shiny lonely 
penny.  “Heads, you develop it, tails you toss it.”  She was handing 
the penny to Peppy who didn’t except it.  “C’mon, C’mon, we don’t have 
all night.  Make a decision!” 

The unwelcome silence was in the room again.  Ignoring Peppy’s
indecision, Devon started to toss the coin---Peppy snatched it and did 
the deed herself.  It landed with a thick ‘smack’ sound in the middle 
of her sweaty palm.  All leaned in to see the final result, and as fate 
would have it, it was of course ‘heads’. 

The film was dropped off on their way to work. 

Peppy didn’t think about it again until the door buzzer rang annoyingly
early the next Monday morning.  “Hello?” 

“Ms. Peppy Marshall?” Inquired a deep male voice. 

“Yes.” 

“This is the police.  We need to come up...I’d like to talk to you.” 

Moment’s later Peppy was still in her robe staring into the bloodshot
eyes of a huge bald man.  Sweat poured down from his forehead into his 
eyes. Gently, like a magician, he produced a sparkling white 
handkerchief and made tiny beads of sweat disappear.  Two anxious 
looking uniformed cops stood behind him.  “Ms. Marshall?” the huge man 
asked. 

“Y-yes.”  Peppy’s throat was extremely dry all of a sudden. 

“My name is Detective Powell,” he said off handedly, flashing his shiny
badge.  “Ms. Marshall, I need you to get dressed and come with me.  You 
have a lot of questions to answer for me--” 

“This is about my camera isn’t it?”  Peppy asked somewhat reluctantly. 

The bald man cocked his big round head to the side and smiled,
“Please...get dressed Ms. Marshall.” 

At the station Peppy sat anxiously in a small gray room.  She was alone,
but not for long.  When the door swung open, Detective Powell was 
behind it.  Behind him was a female officer with an arm full of audio 
equipment.  As she hooked it up, the Detective laid a small manila 
envelope on the table that stood between them.  Though the room was air 
conditioned, he seemed immune to it.  When he lifted up his arms Peppy 
saw huge circles of sweat underneath the arms, glistening beads of it 
decorated the top of his hairless head.  With a long absent, minded 
finger, he tapped the envelope.  “Ready chief,” the other officer said. 
There was a quick tap at the door, a well-dressed man with Mel Gibson 
features and eyes as blue as Detective Powell’s shirt entered the room. 
The female officer vacated as he came in. 

“Ms. Marshall,” Powell said,” this is Detective Santucci; he’ll be
joining us.  Santucci only nodded towards her and plopped his 
well-portioned butt on the right edge of the square imitation wood 
table.  He placed a well-manicured finger on the ‘play’ button and 
started the recording.  He then leaned close to it...slightly and said 
the time, the day and the date. 

It was Detective Powell who started the questioning: ”Ms. Marshall, I’m
gonna ask you once again.  Do you have an attorney you’d like to have 
present?”  Peppy thought about Jimmy, Jimmy was probably busy.  “No.” 
She answered dryly. 

The Detective shrugged and continued, ”Ms. Powell, did you or did you
not own a Kodak Disposable ‘Flash’ Camera, series LS-455?” 

“Yes?” 

“You don’t sound so sure.”  Santucci said.  Powell main while wiped
sweat from his brow for the thousandth time. 

Peppy stuttered, ”I mean I know it was a k-Kodak and disposable and all
that...b-but I’m not sure about the serial number.”  Santucci glared 
down at her with a smile.  Out of nowhere Powell produced a clear bag 
with the small camera lying quietly inside.  “Is this your camera?” 

“Oh,” she said, ”Yes, i-it is.” 

“Ms. Marshall, you were the one that dropped off this camera at the
Drakes pharmacy at 5:45pm Saturday?” 

“Yes.”  Peppy was getting anxious.  Get to the point, she wanted to say.


“And about how many pictures would you say you took?” asked Santucci. 

“Um, I’m not sure...maybe about ten...maybe less.”  She tapped her
fingers nervously on the table.  When Powell seemed annoyed by it, she 
abruptly stopped.  “You see, my camera was stolen—“ Powell held up a 
long finger.  “We’ll get to your story in a minute Ms. Marshall.” 

“Do you smoke Ms. Marshall?”  She looked up; Santucci held a fresh pack
of Marlboros towards her face.  She had never had Marlboros, but she 
sure wanted one now.  “Thanks.”  She said as he lit one for her, and 
took one for him-self.  “Relax.”  He said with a sly smile and a wink. 

“Can you tell us, where you took your pictures, Ms. Marshall?”  He
asked. 

She inhaled some poisonous smoke, ”Umm, I took some of the people at my
job.  T-Then some more at a little get together we had in the park on 
Friday.” 

Both Detectives just sat and stared.  In a few minutes Peppy feared her
armpits would look just like Detective Powell’s. 

“You said your camera was stolen?”  Powell started to say, ”When did
this happen?” 

That’s when she told them—the whole story.  Including a lot of things
she was sure they felt was irrelevant to whatever was in that manila 
envelope.  From the football game, to the mini meeting that took place 
in her apartment. 

Not once did they interrupt, they only nodded every now and then.  She
even thought at one point she actually saw a small smile on Detective 
Powell’s priestly face.  When she finally stopped, they simply looked 
at each other, then back at her. 

“So you thought this was all a prank.”  Santucci asked, puffing on
another cigarette. 

“Well yeah at first.”  She giggled.  “But umm, w-when the camera just
showed up like that I started to panic—a little.” 

“Why?” 

She was stunned by the question for the minute...then, ”We’ll it was
spooky!  It’s not everyday that a camera just disappears then shows up 
at your door like that!” 

“If you were so spooked, why didn’t you call the police?” 

“I thought that would be a little extreme, don’t you think?”  She was
starting to get annoyed.  “It’s only a camera!  What the hell was I 
suppose to say to the 911 operator?”  She felt the tears coming, she 
wished she wasn’t alone.  Quietly she caught a hold of her self and 
lowered her voice.  “I thought it was a joke.” 

Santucci slid off the table and began to pace. Handcuffs dangled behind
him. 

Powell reached for the dreaded manila envelope, he handed it to her.
“Open it.  I want you to put all the pictures you took on your left, 
any others will go on your right.” 

Peppy’s moist fingers crawled over the latch.  Once she reached inside,
she felt a plastic bag; she pulled that out and took out the stack of 
pictures. 

In the first one, Brenda and Kasey stood frozen in time, laughing at
her.  Brenda had two fingers behind Kasey’s head.  Peppy placed it on 
the left.  The next one was similar, so was the next. 

When she came to one that had been taken by Devon, she got confused.
“I’m in this one...my friend took it.” 

“Then, it goes on your right,” Santucci answered in a sort of
condescending tone.  For the first time since he arrived he looked 
slightly uncomfortable.  Loosening his tie, he took an empty chair in 
front of the tape recorder. 

Peppy didn’t recognize the next picture.  A young woman, about her age,
lay across an unfamiliar scarlet bed on her side.  Her smile was 
bright, beautiful actually.  Her long jet-black hair was strategically 
combed to the side, so that it came down cascading in dark licorice 
waves.  “I don’t know who this is,” Peppy commented out loud, but 
really to no one but her self. 

The next picture was familiar again.  Peter, Jimmy and the rest of the
gang had posed for her before the start of their doomed football game. 

Then the woman appeared again.  Sitting up this time on that scarlet
bed, everything in the background was too dark to decipher.  Peppy saw 
that the woman’s red silk shirt was long, very elegant.  It had ruffles 
at the neck and at the cuffs.  The black jeans she wore were skintight. 
However, she wore nothing on her pale feet but bright red nail polish. 
Her pose was very sexually suggestive; legs wide apart, a seductive 
smile with a finger hooked in her scarlet mouth.  The lush black hair 
fell in her face.  Peppy quickly put it to her right. 

Thankfully, more familiar pictures followed.  Then...just like Peppy
feared the black haired woman was there again.  She was in bed this 
time.  Whoever took the picture must have been in bed with her because 
her smiling face was awfully close.  With sheets covering her bare 
chest, she had leaned into the camera; her smeared lips were puckered 
up in a mock kiss, frozen in time forever.  The next picture was too 
dark to make out anything, though Peppy swore she could almost see the 
young woman’s profile tilted away from the camera, her mouth open, as 
if she had been laughing. 

The next one drained all the blood from Peppy’s face. 

The picture was blurred, but Peppy’s keen eyes could see the woman’s
distorted face, looking anguished as if she was fighting something that 
could not be seen.  The view of the picture was taken from somewhere 
above her.  As if the photographer had been on top of her, causing her 
some painful affliction that had caused the camera to shake violently. 
Peppy looked up at the two Detectives.  Cool as cumbers they seemed, as 
they watched her with almost no emotion.  Only Santucci’s sky blue’s 
seemed slightly troubled as her eyes met his.  With trembling hands she 
laid the blurred photograph to the side.  It took her a minute to look 
at the next one.  When she finally did, she saw the woman again. Naked, 
huddled in a dark corner like a frightened animal.  Her knees were 
drawn up; her long pale arms were wrapped tightly around her legs. 
There were marks on her arms; circular half moons that resembled bite 
marks.  Once again the predator had taken the picture from somewhere up 
high.  Standing over the frightened woman, it seemed, as she looked up 
into Peppy’s camera with a battered face that was flushed from 
excessive crying.  There was a huge unmistakable bite mark on her cheek 


Peppy dropped the remaining pictures and backed her chair away. 

“I can’t...I won’t!” She screamed.  “I can’t look at anymore!” 

Her eyes were blurred as she looked at the stone, faced Powell who
picked up the remaining pictures.  Peppy wiped the tears that were 
threatening to roll down her cheeks, she didn’t want to let strangers 
see her cry, but the woman’s paranoia was affecting her.  She felt 
trapped suddenly and she wanted out. 

“Ms. Marshall,” Santucci said,  “you don’t have to look at all the
remaining pictures if you don’t want to...” She breathed a sign of 
relief but was sure there was more...”But,” said Powell picking up 
where Santucci had left off.  “There is one you should see.”  He picked 
a lone picture out of the remaining few and slid it towards her. 

A face of death looked up at her with lamented dead eyes.  Long streams
of blood were making their way towards the dead open mouth from a deep 
slash in her throat.  The picture had been taken at an angle, upside 
down; the woman’s head was hanging from the scarlet bed.  The image was 
horrifically close, capturing the dead woman’s pasty face and sliced 
neck vividly.  Luckily, her face was turned slightly away so that Peppy 
couldn’t see that bite mark.  The rest, the photographer had left to 
the imagination. 

When Peppy turned away from the picture she heard Powell speak, ”Still
think it’s a joke?” 

“I didn’t do this!”  She fired back with clenched teeth. “Why would I do
something like this, then send in the evidence!” 

“Nobody has accused you of doing anything.”  He said calmer then a monk.


“Then why the hell am I here?” 

No body answered.  One glance at the silent camera and Peppy had the
answer to her own question.  She brought her hands to her face and 
started to cry. 

Moments later, she felt a cold hand touch hers.  She looked up and saw a
stark white tissue with Powell’s hand on the other side of it. 
Thankfully, she took it and blew her runny nose.  Finally, she was able 
to stop crying, the trembling, however, was another matter.  Crazy 
thoughts of her being sentenced to death stomped through her mind. 
Would the real killer be at the execution...disguised as a friend?  She 
thought of Kasey. 

She didn’t know whether or not to cry or laugh...so she did both. 

“Are you okay, Ms. Marshall?”  Santucci asked. 

“Do I look okay, Mr. Santucci?” 

He smiled, “Something to drink maybe?” 

“No,” she said, “I just want to get out of here.” 

“I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible just yet, Ms. Marshall.” 

“Why not!  I haven’t done anything!” 

They both only looked at her.  “Ms. Marshall,” Powell said in that now
familiar monotone, “this may not mean anything to you, but I do believe 
that you are innocent. But...that doesn’t mean that you are.  You may 
either be the boldest, coldest murderer I’ve ever met or the most 
stupid.  But the fact of the matter remains!  Either you or someone you 
know murdered that woman in cold blood!  And I’m going to find out 
who.”  His eyes had grown wide with those last words, Peppy lost in the 
heat of his words, could only stare. 

“What if that person knows me, but I don’t know them?” she suggested. 

“What do you mean?”  Santucci asked. 

“I work in a bar.  Once in a while we get guys that don’t know how to
take no for an answer...” 

“Has this happened to you?”  He asked again, puffing on a new cigarette.


Peppy stuttered, “W-well no...but I did see it happen to a girl I worked
with.” 

Both Detectives only shook their heads.  “Pushy guys do not equal
murdering psychopaths, Ms. Marshall.”  Powell stated. 

“No, no,” she said, “this guy wasn’t just pushy, he was a stalker!  The
girl had to leave the job!”  Both men seemed totally unmoved. 

“The question is this Ms. Marshall,” the bald headed Detective said,
“has-- this happened--to--you?” 

Defeated, she quietly answered, ”No.” 

Santucci stood up, putting out his cigarette, he said, ”Ms. Marshall,
you said your camera was in your bag when it was stolen, correct?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you have money or any other important items in your bag like your
license maybe, or credit cards—“ 

“Yes, I had money and two credit cards I’ve never used.  No license
though, I don’t drive.” 

“I see.  So why would you leave a bag carrying such important things
unattended in a crowded park.”  He demanded.  More and more he was 
starting to sound like Powell, who had taken a back seat and was 
nonchalantly still wiping sweat away. 

“I never said it was unattended!”  Peppy snapped. 

“You never said it was attended either,” Powell stated, rejoining the
interrogation. 

Peppy was losing patience, “I told you guys that while we were playing
football my friend Kasey was on the sidelines taking score—“ 

“Oh yes, the coward.”  Santucci interrupted.  Peppy could almost see the
old charm coming back, but right about now she didn’t give a damn. “You 
didn’t tell us that she was suppose to have been watching your bag.”  
He added. 

“Well, she was keeping an eye on a few things.  But once we started
playing tag,” she shrugged, “of course all those things were neglected 
for a few minutes.” 

“Uh huh, and how long do you suppose that was?”  Powell asked. 

Peppy shrugged again, “I’m not sure, m-maybe ten, fifteen minutes.” 

The Detectives looked at each other. 

“But we didn’t run far, “Peppy continued, “If anybody had been over
there, near our stuff...we would have saw them.”  She thought about the 
scare that Kasey had given them, how occupied they had all been, so she 
added, “I think.” 

“Everybody was playing this time, correct?” asked Santucci.  “There was
no one on the sidelines keeping track of who was ‘it’ or anything 
right?” Peppy nodded.  Still not appreciating his sarcasm or any jokes 
for that matter. 

There was a silent exchange between the two Detectives.  Then Powell
turned a great blood shot eye towards Peppy’s worried face and said, 
“Book her.” 

“What?!” Peppy shrieked, ”What the hell for?” 

“Calm down Ms. Marshall,” Powell warned. 

“But why?” she shrieked again.  The thought of staying in a cell no
bigger then the room they were currently in running through her 
sensitive mind. 

Powell was going to speak again when a knock interrupted.  Santucci
opened it; a female officer mumbled some words that Peppy couldn’t 
quite make out.  Though she thought she heard her name mentioned. 

“Powell,” Santucci said, “seems this young lady does have a lawyer after
all.”  He said looking straight at Peppy instead of Powell.  “You’d 
better get out there, he knows we’re keeping her and seems to be 
causing some raucous.” 

The bulky Detective sighed; looking at Peppy he gave her malicious ‘I’m
not finished with you yet’ look before taking his heavy frame out the 
door. 

Santucci stood facing her, hands in his pockets.  Without warning he
glided to the tape recorder and turned it off.  Then he sat at the edge 
of the table, in that masculine way of his, and said, “He doesn’t think 
you did it...but he does think you know who did. 

“In other words, he thinks I’m an accessory,” Peppy said looking down,
away from those pictures. 

“Oh sorry,” he said noticing her aversion. “Let me collect those.” He
was silent for a while...then, ”Don’t protect who ever did this.” 

Startled by the unexpected words she looked up sharply and caught his
stern look.  Not knowing what to say...she looked away. 

“I hate to admit it,” he went on as he picked the pictures up, putting
the different piles in separate envelopes, “but you get use to 
it...after a while.” 

Peppy didn’t answer, she was still thinking about the dead woman.
Wondering how anyone, in their right mind, could ever get use to such a 
thing.  Lost in morbid thoughts of her ‘pending execution,’ a rap at 
the door brought her back to static reality. 

No words can describe the relief she felt when she saw Jimmy walk
through that door.  Even with Powell on his heels, the sight of him in 
his elegant shirt and tie was enough to bring her to her feet.  She 
hugged him tightly with closed eyes as he whispered words of relief in 
her ear.  “What are you doing here?” she asked tearfully after she 
finally let him go. “How did you even know I was here?” 

“We’ll discuss that later,” he said sternly, though his face was quite
tender. “Till then, I need you stay here...quietly, while I go and take 
care of some things...okay?  I know you’re scared but can you do that 
for me?” 

She looked at Santucci whose blazing eyes were on the back of Jimmy’s
neatly cut hair, she thought about what he had said to her.  She looked 
at Powell and saw that he was looking at her.  A well-earned chill went 
up her back.  “Yeah,” she sighed,” I really don’t have a choice do I.” 

About an hour later, he was driving her home. 

“But how did you do it?” she asked, “how did you get me out of this
mess?” 

He didn’t seem happy with the question.  “You’re not out of the woods
yet, Pep.  You’re still a suspect.  You should have called me earlier. 
Trust me, those two detectives will be back...soon.  And with search 
warrants, they’re gonna question everyone who was at that park.“ 

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “God Jimmy, you should have seen those
pictures—“ 

“I saw them,” he said quietly, “I can’t believe you had to go through
that alone.  With two male detectives breathing down your neck!” 

“What I’m going through is nothing compared to what ‘she’ went through.”
Peppy said, her eyes watering again.  “And with my freakin camera! Why? 
 Why me?  Why her!?  Why any of us!” frustrated, she tugged at her dark 
hair. 

“Don’t do that, you’ll go bald.” Her lawyer said. 

“Where’s the body?” She asked.  “Was she raped?  Did anybody claim her
yet?” 

“They don’t know that hon?”  Jimmy answered, almost smiling. 

“What do you mean they don’t know?  How could they not know?”  She
thought for a moment.  “Unless...” 

“Unless they haven’t found a body.  Which they haven’t.” Jimmy pulled up
at a red light.  She felt his warm hand go over hers, so different from 
Powell’s touch.  “And that’s why they had to let you go.  They still 
haven’t found her.” 

“Do they even know who she is?”  Peppy asked. “No, but I have a feeling
they will know soon.  Either way you’re still a suspect, so you haven’t 
seen the last of Detective Powell and Santucci.  They’ll be back, 
they’ve got only your prints on the---“ 

“What?  But Devon took one or two pictures...how come?” 

He pulled off, getting closer and closer to her home.  He seemed angry
now.  “Pep, who ever did this wiped that camera clean when they dropped 
it off at your place.  And when you picked it up with out thinking...” 

“I know, I know.  I was smoking...I wasn’t thinking straight.”  She let
go of his hand. “So I guess it’s between me and photo shop guy huh?” 

“Very funny.”  Jimmy said, not even cracking a smile.  “You need to
leave that stuff alone.” 

He insisted on walking her to her apartment after she refused once again
to stay at his place.  When they reached the door she placed a hand on 
his chest, “You don’t have to come in...I know you have another 
‘friend.’  I don’t want to be a burden.” 

A look of denial flared in his eyes.  “And who told you this?” She
didn’t answer.  He and Peter had been friends long before she arrived. 
She wasn’t about to ruin their friendship by spilling the truth. Though 
she suspected Pete only told her in hopes of getting into her 
pants—which was not happening. 

“It doesn’t matter who told me,” she finally said.  “In fact it doesn’t
matter how I found out at all.  What does matter is how the hell am I 
gonna pay you?” 

He laughed, good heartedly.  “If you don’t already know the answer to
that... then I’m not going to tell you.” 

She smiled, ”Seriously though...when they find this girl’s body, I’m
gonna need a good defense attorney.  Defending ax-murderous such as my 
self is time consuming...not to mention dangerous.  Are you sure you 
want to do all this for free?” 

His expression grew serious, “You worry too much.”  He said smoothly,
consuming her with those dark sensuous eyes.  “I’ll take care of you. 
Besides, I have faith that they won’t find that body.” 

Peppy was asking him why, when they both heard a chain rattle and a door
open.  From where she stood she could see half of Mister Ligget’s 
wrinkled profile in his door way.  “Why are you always looking at us 
you stupid old man!?”  She went off, headed for his door, which he 
slammed shut.  Doubly enraged, she banged on it with both fists.  “Why 
are you always hiding behind that fucking door?"  Strong hands settled 
on her shoulders.  “Pep, calm down!”  Jimmy said, dragging her towards 
her own door. 

“He’s always looking!” she shouted, “He freaks me out!” 

Jimmy had to place a strong hand over her mouth to shut her up.  “Calm
down,” he whispered this time.  “He’s just a crazy old man.” 

She pried his hand away from her mouth, “I know...I know.”  She said in
a much lower tone.  “It’s just that—“ 

“I know, you’re stressed out and you’re scared and the last thing you
need now is some weird old man peeking at you.” 

Leave it to Jimmy to always know what she was thinking.  “That’s why I
told you not to stay here.”  He added. 

She reached in her bag and drew out her keys.  “It’s a generous offer
Jimmy...but I have to pass.” 

He sucked in his breathe and gave her his dark eyed father look, “Why do
you have to be so hard headed?” 

“If it’ll help you feel better, I’ll ask one of the girl’s if I can stay
with one of them when I get in okay?” 

“You promise?” 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

“Don’t do anything stupid Pep.”  He warned, his voice dropping to a low
whisper. 

“Of course not,” she replied, practically pushing him out of her door. 

Finally, with the apartment to her-self, she looked at the phone.  She
had no plans of calling any of the girls, she didn’t trust them.  Jimmy 
had proven himself to be the most worthy out of the bunch.  Jimmy was a 
friend. 

She stretched out on the bed and yawned.  All she wanted to do next was
go to sleep. 

And that was exactly what she did, with the elusive Mr. Ligget on her
mind. 

In the dead of night, a woman’s eyes snapped open.  They were filled
with lust.  Lust for something very familiar.  She was like a werewolf, 
awaking to a full moon.  Only tonight there was no full moon and she 
was no werewolf.  With a watering mouth, she crawled out of bed and 
slithered into the kitchen. 

No need to turn on any light, her night vision was excellent.  She
opened the cabinet door under the sink and reached way back to grab a 
tall bottle of gin.  Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the half full 
bottle with the clear liquid swishing around in it.  The alcoholic in 
her wanted it badly, but the vampire in her would want blood once the 
alcoholic was through.  It was always the same, the two monsters living 
inside her for as long as she could remember. 

She opened the gin and took her first sip...straight.  After that, she
took another one...then another.  Then she got up and flopped herself 
down at the kitchen table.  A crooked smile distorted her pretty 
features. 

Since she was a teenager she’d known it was best for her to stay away
from alcohol.  But alcohol was irresistible to her, like the blood lust 
that came afterwards.  Living things disappeared whenever Peppy drank. 

Like Puffy, the family dog. 

Then later, Ms. Fleetman, the neighborhood ‘witch’ who was eventually
found strangled, practically drained of blood a month later. 

There were others, but of course Peppy had no memories of doing any of
those horrible things...at first. 

Then later, she saw fragments of her misadventures in her dreams.  Such
as chopping little Puffy into little pieces and burying him in the back 
yard, or holding Ms. Fleetman's scrawny little neck in her own small 
hands until the old witch turned purple.  She would have brief flashes 
of memories too, where she saw her self through her own eyes doing 
horrible things.  Like when she slid out of bed after Jimmy had left 
and drank a pint of rum.  Coming home in the wee hours of the morning 
she had saw her own hand place the yellow camera in front of the door. 
After all, the camera was never really missing.  It’s funny what a 
thermos full of beer instead of water can make a person do.  In Peppy’s 
case, it had made her think of the perfect joke.  And that was all it 
was at first...but some how her alters had turned it all around. 

She took another gulp from the bottle.  The hot liquid, oozed down her
throat and into her burning stomach, the blood lust would come soon 
enough. 

Yes, she thought, bad things did happen when she drank.  Very, very bad
things.  But she didn’t remember laying a finger on the young woman 
from the pictures.  No, not at all!  She shook her head furiously, no, 
no, no!  Not at all! 

Finally, she stopped this delusional display of denial and began to
laugh.  Well maybe she did kill the woman, what was her 
name...’Rebecca’ or something.  Such a beautiful name, she had picked 
her because of her long dark hair.  Didn’t Jimmy show up after it was 
all over?  She had been sitting on the floor, her mouth tasting bloody, 
staring into to the dead woman’s face and when she looked up he was 
there.  In a daze, he had cleaned her up, sat her in a chair and told 
her not to move.  As he was trying to get rid of the body, she had 
wandered out and escaped.  Hours later her alter egos had left the one 
thing that could incriminate her right in front of her door...and to 
her surprise; no body had even bothered to really steal it!  She 
laughed out loud, and then covered her mouth when she realized she was 
getting too loud. 

Oh well, Jimmy would take care of it...he always did. 

She smiled, taking another sip. 

She was thinking of someone.  Mr. Ligget. A little old, probably
rubbery...but tasty she bet.  She grinned wickedly.  She would visit 
Mr. Brittle... tonight...perhaps?


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