Eugene Hitchens seemed to be a reasonably normal 28 year old, at least until you got the “what’s your name” question answered. As normal as Australia’s dealing with the virus could allow him to be in public. The conservative government had made many decisions and many required closer scrutiny, it seemed that many decisions hadn’t been granted any. The virus was rampant, running free and only being slowed by medical professionals, not politicians. Certainly not by screaming shock jocks and deluded doom sayers on late night cable TV news.
Prior to not being allowed, he’d a passion for cruising bars of all sorts. Each one packed full of very sexy people of all sorts of sexy persuasions. Eugene had a few of his own and flicked amongst those who shared his penchant for commitment, condom, respect free love making. The cravings he had hidden from this popular vibe he acted on in public, weren’t free. They were final.
As a child
Eugene grew up an angry and weird only child. Mollycoddled within a religious family somewhere on the North Shore of Sydney. He was raised to believe that he should be considered better than others, luckier, better funded, educated and groomed than the other boys and girls. Those that tormented him with a feverous pitch usually reserved for those that really deserved it. He did, he was a spoilt, ugly, rich prig. The other kids weren’t wrong to harass him and they did relentlessly. As per books, films and TV shows that explain psychopaths surviving such an upbringing, he was text book case of cause and effect, i.e causality. Did the stranglehold upbringing contribute to his vicious proclivities or did his deep seated nature cause him to bloom into the killer he became.
Liz was walking home through the lane behind the shops and restaurants in Merlin Beach. She’d finished her shift and after afters, made the short journey home. She didn’t notice Eugene’s van drive past the end at Second Avenue. Arriving at the corner, expecting to right, she collapsed like a rag doll. The bullet pierced her eye socket like a fishmonger preparing dinner for the Japanese tourists. Very quick, precise with immediate effect. Eugene scoped her up in a flash, in the van and gone. The CCTV showed the what, but provided nothing at all. Nothing that could help identify the who.
The van was found burnt out in Gloryville three days later. Bleach, diesel, acid and fire removed any possible trace elements. As far as could be identified there were no human remains. Were was Liz? was the main focus of the investigation. DCI Thomas now had two listed under the less than glamorous Gloryville post code. Were they connected? Maybe, but with two very different MOs.
Back in 2015
The New Tattoo enjoyed the output of their own costume / disguise master. Grant was a second cousin who’d spent three years in jail, without offering any information on the family business. He was caught with 8 kilos of cocaine in a stolen car. He was taking orders and delivering sweet baggies about Sydney’s Kings Cross and the rest of the Eastern suburbs. He was loyal, keen and reasonably ambitious, but not too much to be of concern. He’d spent his time in custody with an unsuccessful drug dealing theatre design student from Sydney’s NIDA. In addition to being only “being gay inside” he’d learnt a lot about fashion, makeup and when putting it together he realised he’d become very good at creating disguises.
The New Tattoo needed three characters. Qld Police outfits and gear was easy as they stole what they needed. It was amazingly easy, even a car was nicked and it was all hidden away. Always remaining aware of any changes occurred prior to their being required. The second was an old man. Just like Ocean’s 13. The third like any heist robbery scenario was well tanned, well breasted, long legged blond super model who’d had a drink or two. A very large distracting scene was required. Ruth and Mark filled that role remarkably. They’d been rehearsing the scene with Leo for two months and had it down pat. No one would be safe. They even tried a reduced version at Spacial Fair Shopping Centre, it went off a treat. The entire place seized up, security, public, even emergency response.
The remaining crew weren’t to be dressed in anything other than black overalls, masks gloves and boots and be completely shaved all over, all over everywhere. The shaving was carried out by Mark and Ruth as a team bonding reward type exercise. Everyone loved it. Coconut oil, electric razors, loads of drinks with no inhibitions. It all went off like a bomb. continued …
An increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024
