Page 84 of One of Us Is Guilty

Then it would only have been the small matter of identifying the real-time location of this bartender, and inviting him into the quiet gentleman’s van for a ride here, to his home.

Tony Two Fucks opened the front door. It was difficult to tell, at first. A solid reinforced barrier of a door had been opened to reveal an equally impenetrable barrier of flesh.

‘Eddie Fly, ya fuck! How the fuck you doin’?’ said Tony.

Some people ask why Tony is called Tony Two Fucks – that is, until they hear him speak.

‘I’m okay, Tony. Denise said she’s keeping a lasagna warm in the oven for you.’

‘Fucking A, I love Denise’s lasagna. I think she’s half Italian, you know? She denies it, but I’m pretty sure. Come on through, we’re out back.’

My secretary and Tony were dating, and as a result even a reminder of Denise tended to help Tony moderate his cussing. Denise didn’t mind it, but she worried about what her mother thought of Tony’s language and had been training him to broaden his vocabulary. As a result, he was rapidly becoming Tony One Fuck, which was about the best that could be hoped for. Tony No Fucks wasn’t on anybody’s bingo card.

The custom license plate on his Caddy read TNY 2FCKS.

He might need to get that changed.

He led me through the house and out the back door to a spacious yard with a separate one-story purpose-built building about the size of three shipping containers laid side by side. It had its own central-heating system to include state-of-the-art temperature controls. Soon as I walked in, I felt the high humidity and the heat. It was really hot in here. It had to be.

For the pets.

The interior was divided into two spaces by a thick wall of triple-glazed glass. It was dark on the other side of the glass, but I could make out a bed of straw on the floor over there. The space I stood in was clean and set up like a workshop. Tools hung on the walls, along with an assortment of handguns, shotguns and assault weapons. A large worktable sat in the middle of the room with a vice at each end. But this wasn’t a conventional worktable. First, it was solid steel, and it had a series of purpose-built holes drilled through the center, for drainage.

The paparazzi photographer who had drugged Amy lay naked on the table, held down by thick leather straps on his wrists, thighs, waist and ankles.

On the other side of the table, wearing a leather apron over his bare chest, was the Lizard. His moniker hadn’t been given to him. He had insisted on that name and it wasn’t solely because of the large reptile tattoos he had on his arms and legs.

‘Eddie, the Lizard is glad to see you,’ said the Lizard.

He often referred to himself in the third person, which creeped me out, along with most other people he knew, but strangely nobody thought to mention it to him. Certainly not in moments like this, when he held up the twelve-inch filleting knife to the LED lamp hung over the table, and inspected the edge of the blade.

The paparazzi didn’t say anything, which was understandable considering there was a ball gag strapped over his mouth, but I heard a high-pitched whine escape from behind the gag when he saw the Lizard holding that knife.

‘What’s his name?’ I asked.

‘He’s called Cory Hill,’ said Tony. ‘Freelance. I had a look at some of the pictures in his home studio. Likes to take photos of female celebrities in short dresses when they’re getting out of cars. Fuckin’ perv.’

Tony handed me Cory’s phone.

I approached him and he was able to angle his head just enough to see my face. His eyes bulged in fear, his chest rising and falling rapidly, fighting for breath, sweat soaking his body, panic making his frame shake so hard he was practically vibrating with fear. I reached behind his head, unlatched the restraint and took off the gag.

‘Please, I’m sorry. Let me go . . . I swear to God, I’m sorry . . . Help! Help!’

I stared at him, and said, ‘You can scream all you want, but this room is soundproof. What happens next is up to you, Cory. Is this your phone?’

He nodded.

I held the phone up to his face and it unlocked. I opened the tab for emails and started scrolling.

‘You sent photos of me and my daughter to an editor at theManhattan Starand theDaily Post. The trolls have picked up this article and run with it. How much did you get paid? Oh, twenty-five thousand? Not bad. Here’s what’s going to happen now. I’m going to email this guy from your phone and tell him that the twenty-five grand will be refunded. You’re coming clean, Cory. You’re going to say those photos are not real and were made with AI. The editor will take them down straight away. Does that sound okay to you?’

‘But . . . but . . . the pictures were real,’ he said. ‘I’ll . . . I’ll be blacklisted. I won’t be able to sell a picture anywhere after that. Please, I’ll split the money with you—’

‘I don’t think you understand the full picture here,’ I said. ‘No pun intended.’

I gestured to the security glass. The Lizard stepped forward and knocked it.

Cory’s gaze flitted from the glassed enclosure, to me, then Tony, then the Lizard.