The phone rang again – incoming video call.
This time, Mary slotted the headphones into her ears and accepted the call. As she did, she laid down flat on her bed, facing the wall, and pulled the thin covers over her head. If anyone looked through the door’s peephole, it would look like she was asleep.
The image that materialized on the cellphone screen shocked Mary.
Quaddra was sitting back on an adjustable hospital bed. His right hand was bandaged, together with both of his arms, but it was the state of his face that really surprised Mary. His right eye was practically swollen shut – the dark bruise around it so severe it looked like his nose had been broken. His bottom lip was cut and puffy, and his right cheek had ballooned up, as if he’d been stung by a couple of wasps.
QUADDRA: ‘Hello, Mary…’
Quaddra waved his bandaged hand at her. Due to his swollen lip and cheeks, it sounded like he was speaking with a hot chestnut in his mouth.
QUADDRA: ‘Or shall I call you Grace-Kelly?’
Mary squinted at the screen and spoke in a whisper.
MARY: ‘What the actual fuck?’
QUADDRA: ‘What? You think you’re the only one who can play a role, give yourself bruises and run a long con? The injuries had to be real.’
MARY: ‘Who the fuck are you? Really?’
QUADDRA: ‘Didn’t the detectives tell you? My real name IS Thomas… Thomas Cameron.’
MARY: ‘So, you’re a con artist?’
THOMAS: ‘No.’
He gave her a very subtle shake of the head.
THOMAS:‘I really am an investor… and a billionaire.’
He tried to smile, but with his swollen lip, it came out a lopsided grimace.
MARY: ‘So, what the fuck?’
THOMAS: ‘You haven’t put it together yet?’
MARY: ‘Put what together? That you created that whole “serial killer” set-up down in that secret basement to get me arrested?’
THOMAS: ‘You must admit that it was a great set-up… and a great sting. You finding the secret basement “by chance”… then the Polaroids and the footage on the computer… checking the Internet for some of the victims’ names… believing that I was a serial killer… then coming back to the basement to film it all.’
Thomas shook his head disapprovingly.
THOMAS: ‘Honestly, I’m a little disappointed on how easy it was to manipulate you, Grace. Everything that I counted on you doing… you did.’
MARY: ‘Fuck you.’
THOMAS: ‘For it all to work, I needed the ultimate alibi. I needed for the cops to witness YOU come running out of my house, covered in my blood, and holding the same knife that YOU used to stab me with.’
He tried smiling again.
THOMAS: ‘Last night, in the kitchen, you think that you placed that knife between my hand and you?’
A new shake of the head.
THOMAS: ‘I was gunning for the knife, Grace. I needed to get my blood on that knife and on your hands. Painful, but worth it. And since the cops were the ones who found me, all bruised, cut and bleeding on the kitchen floor, it will take a miracle to prevent you serving time for attempted murder.’
MARY: ‘Fuck you, you sonofabitch.’
