Howard Trenton wriggled uncomfortably on the floor.
"We can stay here chatting all night, but I'm warning you now, if you don't use that knife on me, and I get the chance, I WILL kill you, Shark." He threatened.
"Oh, I know you will, Howard, and I get that completely. I mean, let's face it, we're never gonna be the best of friends, are we? Just like you said.” Pointed out Shark. Howard didn't reply. "But Mary. What you want to do to her. I just don't get that bit. Why put her through the same misery that your mom experienced?"
"Because she deserves it." Replied Howard, angered. "She's a nasty little whore…"
"No, she's not, Howard. She's no such thing, and you fucking well know it. She was your friend. She's still a part of your family. Mary was straight with you when she found out that you were interested in her. She never led you on…"
"Yeah, she did." Interrupted Howard.
"No, she didn’t. This isn’t really about Mary at all. This is all about you. This is all about you wanting to satisfy some sick and twisted fantasty…"
"It's not a fantasty. It's what I do. Just like my father did!" Protested Howard.
"And that makes it alright?" Asked Shark.
"I don't care if it's right or not. It's what I do, and you can go on, trying to lay the guilt trip down on me, but it's not going to work. Do you hear me, Shark? Do you get what I'm saying? It’s not going to work.” Howard argued.
"I hear everything that you're saying, Howard. I understand your resistance…but I don't think that you're beyond redemption." Shark said, softly, and at this, Howard began to laugh.
Howard rolled onto his side. He had his back to Shark, and was chuckling to himself.
"What's so funny, Howard?" Shark wanted to know.
"You are… you’re what’s funny… ’I don’t think that you’re beyond redemption’… what the fuck’s all that about then? I know what you're trying to do, but like I said before, it's never going to work. If you think that I'm suddenly going to change…"
"Mary's in serious trouble, Howard." Shark suddenly confided. At this revelation, Howard rolled onto his back and stared up at her.
"What sort of trouble?" He asked, with curiousity.
"Why do you care, Howard?" Shark responded.
"You know why. Because I want her all to myself." Grinned Howard.
"Well, that's certainly not going to happen now." Commented Shark.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" Scowled the serial killer.
"Someone else has gotten to her." Replied Shark. "That's who I got the text from. Mary. She's being held captive…"
"Is this some sort of wind-up? Or a trap? Are you trying to trick me into…"
"I'll do a deal with you, Howard." Butted-in Shark.
"Where is she? Where's Mary?" Howard wanted to know.
"I told you. She's being held captive, and no, I'm not trying to trap you. But I do need your help. Which is why I'm willing to make a deal with you." Shark said, before standing back up, and moving away from Howard.
Howard propped himself up on an elbow. He ran his fingertips across his split lips, which were still running with blood. Howard looked up at Shark.
“You’re the toughest fucking bastard that I’ve ever met.” He acknowledged. Shark smiled. “Just my luck for Alex Crennell to invite you along on the little excursion up the Black Pathway.”
“I had to deal with a shit-head, abusive boyfriend for a long time. Compared to Mike, you’re a fucking pussycat. It’s no big deal.” She said.
“Mike who?” Howard wanted to know.
“Mike Gudden. Did you know him?” Asked Shark. Howard nodded.
“Everybody knew Mike Gudden around Coldsleet. Him and his brothers… they were the sort of family that everyone went out of there way to avoid. One of his younger brothers… Phil… he was in my class at junior school. Nasty little bastard, even back then. I didn’t know that you were Mike’s girlfriend.” Stated Howard.
“Well I was… biggest mistake that I ever made getting involved with that psycho.” Said Shark.
“Hey, what happened to Mike? I heard that he’d left Coldsleet, moved somewhere…”
“Mike isn’t around anymore.” Shark informed Howard.
“Well I already know that, but where did he…”
“Like I said. Mike isn’t around anymore.” Repeated Shark, with a cold edge to her voice.
Shark Mako stared down at the knife that she was holding. Howard Trenton looked up at her, grinning.
“Did you kill him, Shark?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“As if I’m going to tell you.” Answered Shark. Howard began to get to his feet, watched cautiously by Shark.
“Hey, if you wanna do a deal, you’re going to have to learn how to trust me. So, tell me, did you kill Mike Gudden?” Howard asked again. Shark took a long, deep breath.
“His family… I told them that Mike had upped and left, gone to live down on the south coast. He’d got some tart on the go down that way, and his brothers knew about her, so it was a pretty convincing story. My brother, Ash, he lives in that area too, these days. Every few months, he sends the Gudden’s a postcard, pretending to be Mike, and telling them how well he’s doing.” Said Shark.
“Except he’s dead, right?” Asked Howard.
“Yeah. He’s dead. But I didn’t kill him, Howard.” Shark confided. This was followed by silence for a few moments.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened, or what?” Said Howard. He reached around to his back, and rubbed the palm of his hand across the stab wound, that was bleeding heavily again. He put his hand up in order for Shark to see the blood.
“You may as well just tell me everything. I’m dying anyway, Shark. Dying. I won’t get the chance to grass you up about anything.” He grinned. Howard wasn’t lying, either. He could feel his life-force slowly beginning to ebb away. “Not that I’d snitch on you to the coppers anyway. I fucking hate the police.” Howard continued. That knife-wound from Alex… it’s done something really bad to me, inside… torn or ruptured a vital body part, fuck knows what… but it’s killing me. I’ll be lucky if I see the morning come around.
Shark looked at the blood on Howard’s hand for a few moments.
“Looks like you’re fucked.” She commented, without emotion.
“Yep… I reckon that I am. So, are you going to tell me about Mike Gudden then? Or am I going to die like an idiot, in eternal suspense?” Quipped Howard.
“A few weeks before he died, Mike had learned, the hard way, not to fuck around with me anymore.” Revealed Shark. “He’d spent a few years previous to that beating the shit out of me. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t leave. So I started taking lessons. From a friend.”
“What sort of lessons?” Asked Howard.
“Martial arts. That’s how…”
“That’s how you’re so handy with your fucking fists.” Howard interrupted.
“Yeah… so, one night, Mike had come home, pissed as a fart, as usual, and decided that he was going to use me as his punchbag… that was one of his favourite pastimes… except on this occasion, I was ready to fight back. And I did. I floored the fucker. He didn’t know what had hit him. It stopped the little shit from every trying to hit me again… but it didn’t stop the arguments. A few weeks later, he’d been out, down to ‘The Stagecoach’, on the piss again, not to mention that filthy fucking stuff that he’d started putting into his veins…”
“What, he was a junkie?” Quizzed Howard. Shark nodded.
“He started using a few months before he died. It’s what killed him. He came back home that night, we had another blazing row, I went to bed. The next morning, after I’d woken up, I went into the living room, and there was Mikey, lying across the settee, eyes wide open, staring up at the ceiling, his face all fucking purple… he’d suffocated on his own vomit in the night, killed himself with the drugs and booze.” Smiled Shark. “Stupid little fucker.” She added, as both an afterthought, and very accurate epitaph, to her former boyfriend.