Blood drenched walls

If walls could talk...they would speak of acts of murder most foul, and the evil, wicked hearts beating in voluptuous heaving bosoms of fair beguiling maidens. OHHHHH! Naughty, naughty guys and gals. Let me just say that once, I was coated in paint the color of innocence. But now I feel kind of tarnished, creeped out and kinda dirty. My surfaces have been subjected to such tainted acts of debauchery, I have lost my chaste and immaculate splendor. Now all around me there is nothing but red! It is splashed on the ceiling, on me, the walls of this mansion drip with red death, and I choke with the scent of murder and deception.

Fair enchanting Angelina stood in front of me covered in blood. In her hand was the Vogue stainless steel Chinese meat cleaver, with which she had been preparing chicken for her Chicken Cacciatore dish, a meal she prepared "hunter-style" with onions, herbs, usually tomatoes, often bell peppers, and sometimes wine. As the juice from the overturned dish of chopped tomatoes spilled onto the white tablecloth, so did the pool of blood slowly seeping from the still, silent body lying on the floor. In some areas it spurted intermittently, where arteries had been severed. Red tomatoes, and red blood intermingled and formed a serpentine trail slowly creeping away from the prone and quiet body, eyes opened wide, staring at the ceiling in shock and terror.

Red, red everywhere!

Angelina stood shaking in anger and fear, as the seriousness of the situation slowly began to register in her mind, with wine induced incredulity.

"What have I done"? She turned to look at me, actually I realize, she was looking in the large mirror which hung upon me. Her face was almost obscured by splashes of the red liquid. She lifted her hand to wipe it away, but it only made it worse. Her hands were even more unclean than her face.

She started it, he had said. Well, to be fair, it was partly his fault as well. It was both their faults if my humble opinion matters. Milano was always away from home, away from this lovely goddess whom he had, as Sherlock liked to say, purloined from another and installed in his beautiful, lonely mansion. Far away from the 'Maddening crowd', he had phrased it. He loved to read Thomas Hardy. She once found it quite endearing, now she was just bored by it all.

Oh! The trials of us quiet and faithful walled protectors. Do we not stand steadfast and true, day after day, months, year after year being slave to your every whim. Do we not withstand, rain, snow, devasting terrible wind and harsh weather, just to keep you safe. Yet, now here I stand covered in the life giving liquid of a fallen human soul. I weep for my lovely Angelina. Yes, I weep for him too, I'm glad you asked.

Angelina Perez. That is not her real name. Only I know that. Her true identity is hidden in a removable wooden slat hidden in her closet. I keep it safe and protected. No, I will not tell you, what kind of a wall do you think I am. She has been living here for three years. Most of the time she is by herself, he did not want her working anymore. And the many arguments about the many women everywhere which he found to be ok for him, but she should be his 'very good little girl', a term of endearment which she hated.

Milano had promised to marry her, she had wanted to have children, but he just kept stalling. She behaved herself for the first two years, but this past year she has been a really bad and naughty girl. Who can blame her, you would need the patience of Job ( the guy from the Bible), and the chastity of???, (honestly, I can't think of anybody, the walls in the (nunnery, don't say it to anybody) told me tales of, well you know. I won't say anything more about that) to be this comely creature with needs and wants, yet just be expected to wait and wait, at the whim of a neglectful suitor, while life was slowly passing her by. She began to entertain herself with two quite handsome and rich friends of Milano's. Frederick and Jakar came at her beck and call, each not knowing about the other. Angelina used them to get information about his affairs and his many business ventures. They each were hoping to steal her away from him. One was his banker and the other his financial adviser.

Angelina never really cared about any of them, and if she were true to herself, she would admit that she no longer loved Milano. I heard her speaking to her best friend Rachel about the whole situation many times. It always went the same.

"You knew what you were getting into with him Angie. He is a narcissist and a monster. I told you he would never allow you to leave. He doesn't love, he controls. Women have gone missing and the authorities can prove nothing. He is dangerous, love can blind us sometimes, and by the time we wake up to the truth, it is usually too late". The phone was on handsfree mode so I was able to hear the entire conversation.

"He has managed to take control of all of my aunt's inheritance without my permission. But I have found a way to get everything in my name. I will need your help, let us meet and discuss it. I can't risk him finding us here".

"Ok, Meet me at this office downtown". Angelina scribbled the address on paper. She avoided doing a lot of things on her phone these days. He had the habit of going through it when he thought she wasn't looking.

I wish I could have told her he installed a camera in front and back of the house when she went out that day. For her protection, he told himself, only we both know that was a blatant lie. He wanted to watch her. Apparently what is good for that fabled goose is not good for the gander. That is how he found out about the affairs.

Angelina came home that evening with papers for him to sign. He had long wanted her to sign over some additional land of hers to him. She smiled at him, flirted, captivating in sheer silk and satin sexy ensemble, she enchanted and charmed him into submitting to her will. Silly, egotistic and smug in his love of self praise and adoration, he read the agreement and signed his part of it.

Unknown to him he had just signed away everything to her. Cleverly hidden disguised, and not easily discernable, unless your full attention was focused on the task at hand, was the original and damning thing that he had just forfeited. His entire life's work was now hers. All she had to do, was have his attention dual focused and befuddled. He was a man after all, she knew how to mislead and delude.

But Milano was no fool. Next day he had the authenticity of the transaction verified. The lie was discovered. He saw his dear friends on the camera coming and going for a few days. He plotted and he planned. He drove her to an all day spa, for rest and relaxation, he had some urgent matter to attend to in the basement. Fumigation, and overall cleaning, the workmen were coming soon. He feared for her health he sweetly admonished.

Fair Angelina knew his secret. Under that basement floor where only us walls and her knew about, was something he was hiding. He kept it locked, she never really cared much before. Men have their mancaves, that was fine by her. Kept him out of her way whenever he was home and in his moody state. Now however, she was curious. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks, she had a very guilty one, but only to the extent of being discovered for her fraudulent escapades.

She begun to watch out for where he kept the keys. Friday rolled around and off he went to work. Grabbing the keys, she headed for the locked door, down the creaky steps and into the semi-darkness of the basement. Only one stark lightbulb came on when she pulled the switch. This was no mancave, it was stacked with plastic wraps all around, tools and boxes, miscellaneous knickknacks and arbitrary items were everywhere, neatly stacked against the walls. A large pickaxe and shovel were leaning against the far wall. On the floor was a huge green tarpaulin appearing to cover something underneath. Angelina stepped closer and lifted the corner nearest to her, and gasped. There was a gaping hole dug in the floor, wide enough and long enough to fit a body, was the first thought which came to her mind.

She looked around, searching for a reason for the hole to be dug in the basement, finding no clue to her satisfaction, she hurriedly replaced the canvas, went back up the stairs, locked and replaced the key carefully.

Angelina did what she always did when she was stressed, she started to cook. A bottle of Chardonnay stood open nearby on the counter, she sipped from her wineglass as she cooked.

The phone rang on the wall. It was Rachel.

"You need to get out of the house Angie, Jen, his secretary whispered to me that he had cameras installed at the house. He is watching you. Leave, go to a hotel or something. You can't come here, this is the first place that he will look".

Angelina was quiet for a moment. Her mind was conjuring up the hole in the basement.

"Are you there"? Rachel asked, sounding worried.

The sound of a vehicle pulling into the front driveway startled her. Peering out the window, she saw him opening the door of the Audi A5 Cabriolet, he always tended to go overboard spending her money.

"It's too late Rachel. He is already home".

"I'm coming over. Just be calm and wait for me. Make an excuse and I will pick you up. See you soon".

Her back was to him when he came in the door, soft music was playing, a classical relaxing piece by Chopin. She pretended not to hear him come in, humming and cooking, oblivious to the surroundings.

"Why were you in the basement today Angelina? I specifically forbade you to go down there". He was very angry.

Her whole body stiffened in fright.

"Shit, he has a camera down there too. Why did she not think of that"? She thought to herself.

He stormed over and grabbed her by the neck. Oh! I wish I had arms and legs, I want to break his arms and legs myself.

"Let me go. You are hurting me"! She gasped.

"I will kill you, you cheating bitch. I know about those two traitorous asses who call themselves my friends. I know about your plans to swindle me out of my hard work and achievements. Did you not think that I would find out. I burned the paperwork. I will burn those two dogs too, who are they to dare try to make a fool of me"!

Luckily the original papers were left with Rachel. What she had in the house were only copies.

"Oh, the helplessness of a wall. Someone call the police"! My voice is sadly inaudible and of no help whatsoever".

Wait, what is this.Angelina swung the meat cleaver and got him in the back of the head. He let go with one hand and reached up to touch his head, blood was on his hand. She swung at his leg. He let go with the other hand and clutched his leg. He grabbed her dress as she ran, reached into his jacket and came out with a small handgun. She turned and chopped his hand, the blade was sharp, she heard bone snap. She snapped. She kept raising the blade up and down without realizing what she was doing.

Blood was everywhere. He was certainly dead. There was a gun still clutched in his hand.

Rachel had arrived at the house and was devastated by what she was seeing as she came in the door. It was unlocked and she had been knocking and calling. She rushed over and grabbed her friend, Angelina turned and raised the blade, ready to defend herself.

"It's me Angie, it's Rachel. Please stop. Calm down. Tell me about what happened". She pulled a chair forward, Angelina sat down, dazed and confused.

Rachel hurriedly fetched a towel from the bathroom, dampened it in the kitchen sink and wiped some of the blood off her friend. She moved her to a clean spot, got her a drink of water, and waited for her to collect herself. She locked the front and back door and pulled the curtains shut.

"He tried to kill me. He dug a hole in the basement, He tried to shoot me". Everything came out in one whole big perplexing jumble.

"What. There is a hole in the basement. What for? Oh! Realization dawned on Rachel.

"Oh my God. Did he plan all of this. Come, lets get you cleaned up and we will figure all of this out".

They stripped the bloody clothes off Angelina, got clean ones on, she could shower later. Right now they had work to do.

Rachel called Stefano. Stefano had worked for Milano for longer than he cared to admit. He was ex-military and had done something really bad. Milano had found out and had been blackmailing him all these years. Rachel was the only other person who knew. Rachel and he had been together for some time now, Milano never knew, he would not have been happy. Stefano knew where all the bodies were buried. His hands were dirty. No one in this house was in a position to call the cops. What were they to do?

"Way I see it, Milano just solved everybody's problem. Stefano there is a large hole in the basement I believe". Said Rachel.

Stefano got the key, he already knew where it was, down in the basement he looked around quickly. He ripped the canvas off the floor, Stefano was huge, at six feet two inches tall, with rippling muscles from his military days, he would have no problem dragging Milano's stinking corpse down here and bury his ass in his own grave which he had dug himself. He had been a horrible human being and no one would miss him. I guess Milano never heard the saying "when you dig one fiendishly wicked pit, dig two, one for your brother and one for you". How convenient that he had taken care of his funeral arrangements unconsciously, before he died.

Angelina had snapped out of her stupor. Her first instinct had been to start cleaning. Bleach, mops, scrubbing brushes, buckets, rags, towels. My walls were in a state of distress, the women were frantically cleaning and filling garbage bags with bloody things. Stefano was taking care of business in the basement.

I was a mess. They worked all night, they cleaned and scrubbed, mopped and cried, hugged and cried and cleaned some more. I stank of bleach and ammonia, but at least I was almost feeling like myself again.

Down in the basement, Stefano mixed cement and sand, it seems Milano had thought of everything. Stefano redid the entire floor. He had stacked things on shelves, rearranged the whole place to look lived in and well used, nothing seemed out of place. When he was done, he moved Angie's car from the garage, drove his van in so all the evidence could be stashed away, he would take care of it later. He then showered, got a set of sweats from Milano's closet, removed his van from the garage, the women had placed all the damning evidence inside to be burned. He parked the Audi in the garage, he would dispose of it the following night. He knew a chop shop where no one cared where a car was from. It would be disappeared without question. People were used to comings and goings at Milano's house. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary if anyone even cared to question anything. He had been a bad neighbor.

The women showered and handed the last bag of bloody things to Stefano. He bid them goodnight. Rachel was taking Angelina to her house for the night. Tomorow they would return to double check that all was ok.

Angelina had all the legitimate paperwork with Milano's signature. No one doubted it's authenticity. As far as anyone knew, he had finally decided to do the right thing and return what was Angelina's in the first place. He had just left and gone away. He did that a lot. Nothing was different.

She only took what was hers in the end. Her aunt had left her a significant inheritance. It had actually grown under Milano's management. The house and the rest she gave to his sister and family. They had always been kind to her, and they needed the help. She did not want anything of his anyway.

Angelina, Rachel and Stefano wrote a book under a nom de plume, a sobriquet which they hoped no one would actually investigate. In it they detailed the escapades of Milano, all names were fictitious within the book. They described the whereabouts of five murdered women, the demise of the murderer and where he was buried. Nothing was specefic. The book sold well, and they eventually moved on with their lives. It had been Angelina's idea. Secretly, she really wanted the police to find the poor women and give their family peace. She didn't know if anything concrete could be pinned on them later, but only time will tell.

The mansion was sold and the new owner decided to overhaul the basement. They found Milano and a few other women. It had been ten years.

Detective McKnight had read the book. The similarities caught her interest. She stood staring at my walls for a long time. I could see the wheels turning in her head. My poor Angelina was in trouble. But was she though. No one ever really knew her real name. Her inheritance was kept in her aunt's maiden name per her request to the lawyers. Angelina no longer existed.

But, I'm a wall. What can I do?