East Harlem
November 27, 1.20 a.m.
The suitcase had been light as a feather with this one. He reckoned that she could be no more than ninety-five pounds. He lugged the suitcase up the street and no one batted an eyelid. He was just simple old Mo and no one cared enough to get involved.
His small apartment was a stinking hole in a disused schoolhouse. At one time the whole building had been alive with people. But the school had shut down and now the building was in a state of progressive decay. Each day it seemed that more windows were broken and boarded.
Once in his apartment, he had a fixed routine. He used chloroform, which meant you could bathe them without having to restrain them.
He opened the case and the curled body of Lucy James lay inside like a little snail in a shell. Maurice stroked her cheek. She did look different from his previous girls. She looked younger, and clean too. Much more healthy than the others. Maybe she was new to the game. Still, it didn’t matter much to him. She’d be just as nice to take care of and hug up to.
He picked her up and put her on the bed. Lying flat out, she was probably only just five foot three inches tall. A real little ’un, he thought. He liked her, though. He liked her little button nose and her straight shiny hair. Her skin smelled of cream.
He was light as air as he tiptoed into the bathroom to run a bath. He put in some special nice bubbles that he bought from the store and opened his bathroom cabinet. It was stocked with things he thought his girls might like. Anything a girl could want.
He returned to the girl with a bottle of disinfectant and some cotton wool. He dabbed the dried blood from her head. There was an inch-long gash from the cosh, but it would heal real soon.
Then he undressed her, took her denim skirt off, her black pantyhose and black panties. Her jacket came next and a large pink woolly sweater and a T-shirt. No brassiere. That was new, but it was good if she didn’t wear one. Buying brassieres was not easy. The girl lay naked on his bed. Mo looked on, scared by his own trembling excitement.
Maurice took her clothes to his little desk and took out a notebook. He flicked through the pages. He came to the next blank page. He wrote her name real neat. It was Lucy. He liked that, too. Lucy with the button nose. Yes.
He took each item of clothes one at a time and wrote the details in his notebook. The size, the colour and anything else. He just liked to know so that when he went to the department store he could get something right for her. He wanted to keep her for a good long time.
He wrote down:
Skirt — blue, denim, short, petite
Sweater — pink, wool, small
T-shirt — orange, cotton, Jeff Beck logo, petite
Pantyhose — black, opaque
Panties — black, size six, polyester and cotton
Now he knew the girl liked different colours and was size small or petite. It felt good to know a little more about her.
The trickle of water from the hot faucet had filled the bath and Maurice lifted the girl into it. He liked the washing and cleaning and looking after. He soaped her all up with a sponge and got her all clean and soft. Then he put her in a nightdress and laid her back on the bed.
The restraints were not strictly necessary as the room had no window and the only door was locked with a single key Maurice kept on a string round his neck. But still, it was best at the start in case they went crazy at you.
He had a really good set of bed restraints straight from a mental hospital that a guy gave him for nothing. The bracelets were leather on the outside and a soft material inside so it didn’t hurt their wrists and ankles. There were four body restraints but he left these untied. She was only a little thing. He couldn’t imagine she’d need them.
When the job was finished, Maurice sat and turned on the TV. He liked TV. He liked to watch it with his girlfriends. It was like being married, sitting there together with the TV on, and it made him feel safe and happy.
He couldn’t wait to go to bed and hug up close to her and smell her hair. He reckoned she might be a stayer if only he could keep her alive. It was hard to keep them alive, just like the rabbits he used to be allowed to keep. Sometimes they just died on you. Maybe it was the cold, maybe they were scared or maybe Mo just wasn’t feeding them right.