Rear Window: Part 9 and last.
Rear Window: Part 9 and last. the fall stories
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hyle
hyle Dahhling.... I am soo, soo soo... ermm?
Autoplay OFF   •   2 months ago
Epilogue.... The dust settles, not least 1000 feet below the bridge.... :)

Rear Window: Part 9 and last.

"We were going to do some building work, honestly !" Anson struggle against the handcuffs. Dwight said nothing as he wound a roll of duct tape round and round the body of Bartram who was just starting to recover from being cattle-prodded.

"Tell him Barty !" Bartram was still feeling rough from the electrical shock. He was also confused as his surroundings came into focus. The last thing he could remember was getting into the van outside of Anson's place.

Now he was trying to figure out why he was propped against a rusty old bus and was staring out across a canyon at some ridiculous height. Bartram was too confused to answer Anson's appeal.

"Listen mate, let us go huh? We know some people, right? Travs, they'll pay. Good money, right? Huh?" Dwight snipped at the roll of duct tape and smoothed down the free end across Bartram's chest. He closed on Anson, face to face, nose to nose.

Anson could see right into Dwights baleful dark eyes. What he saw scared him. Dwight covered Anson' s mouth with a short strip of duct tape then simply put a finger up to his lips... "Shhhh.. "

Joe was at the wheel of Kirsten's car as they drove home after the party. Anneka was tired out. Kirsten turned around and smiled at her sleeping daughter. Silja smiled too then turned her head to watch the streets go by.

"What do you think happened to the clown Joe? " Kirsten asked. Joe just shrugged and watched the road ahead but his mind was on other matters. Kirsten settle back in her seat and smiled softly. "At least Anni didn't seem to miss the clown. She was having a grand time with the kids.". Joe nodded, glanced in the mirror.

Silja turned her eyes away and looked out of her window again.

Now that Anson and Bartram were efficiently cocooned in duct tape, Dwight set out his small portable table and camp chair. He opened a basket then neatly set out a plate and cup on the table, filled the cup with tea and set sandwiches on the plate. Dwight liked the evening sunset view from the bridge.

He enjoyed how the sun's orange rays illuminated the rock of the canyon wall opposite. "What a pleasant evening." He murmured as he nibbled his sandwich and sipped tea. Smiling happily, oblivious to the muffled grunting behind him.

The sun was just short of setting when Hanne arrived at the bridge. Anson heard the car arrive and twisted his neck to see what was happening. He saw the shapely woman walking towards them.

Tight jeans, heels. They leisurely sway to her walk. He saw how the wind blew at her loose blouse and hair, the dark glasses. 'Who the hell is this?' he muttered into silver tape. Dwight got up from his table and carefully folded the chair before leaning it against the rusty bus. The woman came and stood in front of Anson.

She pulled away her shades and despite the wind blowing her blonde hair across her face. Anson saw her ice blue eyes, they looked somehow familiar, but different. These eyes were not full of love, they were cold, piercing. He shivered involuntarily. Hanne pulled the tape from Anson's mouth.

"So nice of you to join us. I am Hanne Berg, President of The Ranyhyn Company. This is Mister Frye, I hope he has been making you comfortable?" Hanne indicated toward Dwight, who nodded with a smile, it was not a nice smile.

Hanne went on. "I do apologise for keeping you waiting, but I was busy shooting a clown !" A smirk crossed Hanne's face. "Not something one does every day, really."

Hanne watched. Anson and Bartram exchanged instant and involuntary fear filled glances of surprise. Their reaction to her bluntness was all the proof Hanne needed.

"I have to admire your nerve, Mr. Anson." Hanna paced a few steps in front of Anson she looked thoughtful. "Most people are wise enough to think better than to go up against Joe Spivey. Clearly you are not that wise."

Anson bit his tongue. Hanne prodded his chest with the leg of her sunglasses. "And to think you could kidnap his daughter?" Hanne shook her head ruefully at Anson, "Not a wise thing at all."

Hanne looked over at Dwight then leant her head towards Bartram. Dwight nodded.

Anson looked on in increasing horror as Dwight bodily picked up the tape-wrapped figure of Bartram who began to whimper in abject terror. Dwight paused for a moment at the parapet then dumped Bartram over the edge of the bridge.

Hanne and Dwight peered over the edge as the scream faded, wincing slightly as the package hit the canyon floor. They looked at each other.

Dwight smirked "Not bad" Hanne tilted her head in agreement. "Not bad at all, was that a double bounce?" Dwight shrugged. "Not sure... This one now?" Dwight turned his attention to Anson.....

Later that evening... Somewhere at the bottom of a canyon, a phone rang, It was enough to momentarily scare away the mutated beast which was pawing away at strips of duct tape. The phone stopped ringing.

The beast sniffed the air and sensing no danger returned to it's meal. After the phone rang several times more, the beast no longer saw the need for caution, it simply ignored the sound and continued to tear the two carcasses apart.

Hanne stood in the dark doorway opposite Anson's apartment. She watched the young girl sitting in her car stabbing at her phone, each time looking more distressed.

Her step-sister had gone into the entrance of the apartment block a few times already only to reappear minutes later with a look on her face somewhere between anger and anguish. Hanne almost stepped from the doorway to speak to the girl, but decided not to. Life is cruel, she thought. But life goes on.

As the traders in the plaza collectively opened up their various stalls and shops the following morning there was a certain amount of chatter concerning the shooting of a clown in the plaza the previous day. Many theorised and a few made some really poor jokes jokes.

Union guards Lisa Milton and 'Bob' were back on duty but suffering from 'selective amnesia' brought on by the receipt of a brown envelope each, courtesy of The Ranyhyn Company.

Joe Spivey was opening his mail. Most curious was an invoice for 53r 78b 21w from The Ranyhyn Company 'For services rendered. It was neatly hand written.

Joe even recognised Dwight Frye's writing. Carefully itemised were travel costs, bribes (though not who to, naturally) and so on. The last two items had a familiar significance.

Heavy calibre rifle bullet .50 calibre hollow point x 1 Duct Tape (silver, 50mm x 50 m ) x 2

Joe chewed on his cigar. There was a postscript. 'We are absolutely certain that ALL persons of interest in our investigation have been taken care of.'

Joe took his cigar from his mouth and looked up at the fourth floor of the office block. He saw her nod at him then close the rear window.

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