Star could hear how distressed Max was about Ray’s passing. Sometimes, she had wondered how Max would end the man’s life, having grown so attached to him. She knew he had spent a lot of time with Ray, listening to his problems and fears, offering wise advice and encouragement to keep going.
She had even speculated murdering the man herself, if it meant her and Max achieving their dreams and a life together. She would not let anything or anyone spoil their future in paradise.
Now they just had to dispose of the body, the same problem they’d had with Anna. It had to be hidden forever, with no chance of discovery.
Max returned to the bedsit to wait for Star. She took a taxi to a large department store, changed into jumper and jeans in the toilet and continued on to the bedsit. It was agreed after their final grand slam caper, as they referred to it, that a posh Anna should never go to the bedsit, or a scruffy Star arrive at Anna’s luxury flat.
Max was close to tears when she walked in, so she put her arms around him and quietly cuddled him. It was more for her benefit than Max’s, as she missed him whenever they were apart, but this was a good reason to share closeness.
“We have to find some way of disposing of Ray. We were lucky with Anna but I don’t think we would get away with a double burial again.” Max murmured into Star’s ear.
“Perhaps we could pop Ray into a coffin destined for cremation?” suggested Star, helpfully.
“The funeral director would certainly notice the extra weight, with two bodies in the coffin. Good idea though. With more thought perhaps I might come up with something.” He always tried to support her suggestions, even daft ones.
Max ran through different ideas in his mind, but they all had significant flaws. He even speculated about slipping Ray into the mass concrete foundations of a large building or bridge, like gangsters did. That was really impractical, without the help of the concreting team. The body would have to be dropped in early on in the pour, so there would be plenty of concrete to weigh down the buoyant body.
Star had gone off to make lunch and vaguely listened to the news on television. Constantly monitoring the world news was a habit they had got into. It might alert them if trouble was about to strike, or offer ideas for safe countries to live in. This time, an abattoir was in trouble.
“Max, can’t we take Ray to an animal rendering plant. He could be converted to animal feed, or pet food?”
“Good thought, but introducing a human body into a container of animal corpses would be most difficult, and the staff always inspect what passes through the process. Still, we are on the right track, and I think we may have the answer. If we take the body out to sea and dump it, the chances are that it will bob back up and be discovered. However, if we pop it through an industrial type wood chipper, bag up the mince, so to speak, then pour it into the sea-. that would be the end of it. We need to hire a shredder, steam cleaning equipment and a boat.”
After some thought, Max realized that this was not a solution. Safety mechanisms fitted on the chipper would have to be removed and later refitted; the steam cleaning may not remove all traces of Ray.
Max could not return the wood chipper in a cleaner state than before, so actual chipping would need to be carried out. He had no access to tree fall and it would be suspicious working with such a noisy machine on someone else’s land.
“Star, I don’t think the plan will work, I have to come up with something else.”
“Why can’t we chop him up at sea and spread the bits over a wide area. If the boat is running at 10 knots, and it takes 30 minutes to cut up the body, chunk by chunk, it will never be found,” replied Star.
“Cutting the body up at sea would be more convenient, we can’t do it in Ray’s flat. People might notice us taking large containers in and out. The only downside I can see is how to protect the boat deck from blood stains and damage from the cutting equipment.”
Max was actually thinking aloud, expecting Star to come back with pros and cons, but she just wanted it all over with and to start living their perfect life together.
In his usual way, Max broke down the task of disposal into small parts, solving each problem as he worked through the broad concept.
He rattled away on the laptop and sourced what he needed. A phone call to a packing case maker resulted in the purchase of a stock size crate, made of thin ply and external wood frame, with an overall size of 1.0 x 0.50 x 0.50 meters.
The following afternoon, Max and Star collected the crate and other hardware items in the hired van, and drove to Ray’s flat. They both found it particularly creepy, entering the dead man’s bedroom and seeing him lying there as though he were asleep.
Rigor mortis had passed several hours ago, hastened by leaving the body covered with bedding, keeping the warmth in for longer. The downside was that Ray’s belly had bloated with gas from the increased bacterial action. Even though he had not eaten more than a cereal breakfast before he died, the gas pressure was expelling urine and excrement from previous meals, into his pajamas.
They quickly opened the windows wide to freshen the air in the flat and avoid the stench reaching other flat owners. Common areas of flats often smell revolting, a mixture of cooking and stale air combining, so it was important not to add to it.
The bedding and mattress would have to be superficially cleaned and replaced, which was unpleasant enough, but handling Ray in this state was deeply harrowing for Max. Star on the other hand, appeared indifferent. Max put it down to the fact that she had no personal connection with Ray.
He prepared the inside of the box, sealing all the joints with silicone and lining it with two layers of thick polythene. The box had to be perfectly airtight.
Having both dressed in disposable decorator’s overalls, plastic aprons and thick rubber gloves, they pulled Ray from his bed, onto plastic dust sheets. To fit him into the box, Max stood behind the body with his arms around Ray’s chest and lifted him upright. Star lifted Ray’s legs into the box, keeping his feet to one end. The gas pressure and squeezing of the rib cage caused a long, spluttering release of foul smelling gas and liquid from Ray’s mouth, over Star’s neck and head, as she worked below him. She let out a short scream and proceeded to wretch uncontrollably, into the box. When the smell of her vomit reached Max an instant later, he vomited as well, over Ray’s shoulders and neck.
The body was dropped, head down, ass up and neatly folded, into the box. A perfect fit.
Empty and weak from urging, they lay together on the floor to recover. Star’s eyes were closed tightly and she had emotionally shut down - what had happened was too revolting for her to deal with.
She sobbed quietly in shock. Max tore up a bed sheet and wrapped it around her head. He tenderly wiped her cheeks and ears, and lastly her neck and back.
He stripped off all his clothes and ran the shower to get it warm. Returning quickly, he cut away her overall, lifted her up and carried her to the shower.
Max gently undressed her, as she lay limp and whimpering on the cold vinyl floor and lifted her under the warm, cleansing spray.
He shampooed and rinsed her hair several times, flushing the filth off her skin as it drained down her body. Once she felt clean again and the nightmare seemed over, she became alive and back to her normal self.
She grabbed the only towel and dried herself. Now it was Max’s turn to get clean.
Star had no intention of returning to the bedroom, or wearing her clothes, ever again. They smelt of vomit and putrefaction according to her, although to some extent it was the smell from the bedroom, permeating through the flat.
Max needed to get fresh clothes for them both, from the bedsit. Before he left, he carried her still naked into the lounge, and switched on the television for company. He wrapped her in a couple of fresh sheets to keep her warm.
Time was now running short. He still had to return the van and collect the hired cabin cruiser, all within a tight program.
By the time he returned to the flat with the fresh clothes, Star had cleaned up and packed the waste into the crate. The windows were open and the air was fragrant with disinfectant and polish.
“Thanks Star, cleaning up has helped enormously.” She smiled and thanked him for taking care of her. There was a depth of love in her eyes that Max had never seen there before.
He carefully folded in the thick polythene and tape sealed the body and waste into an air tight envelope. He used the suction tube on the vacuum cleaner to remove as much air as possible from inside the polythene envelope. Next he applied a thick bead of sealant to the top edges of the box, put the lid on and screwed it down.
He cradled the box with rope, forming handles at the ends for the heavy lifting. It was going to be a hurried struggle, getting it down two flights and into the van.
With time against them, Max bore the full weight, bent over with the box on his back. Star steadied it, as they navigated down the concrete stairs. They were both aware that with all the commotion, neighbors would want to know what was going on. They would all come out and demand an explanation. Flat doors opened and faces peeped out, but no one spoke. Max had prepared his answer that the box contained books, but the box was too large for that and no one could have lifted it full of books.
The crate was now aboard the van and they were speeding through the city to the Thames. Max would drop Star off at the next jetty, leaving her with the crate and two large suit cases of tools, clothes and cleaning materials. He would return the van and take a taxi, to pick up the cruiser.
It was 90 minutes later when Max eased the cruiser in at the jetty. They both struggled to lower the box down to the deck, way below them. The nailed sides and bottom were showing signs of pulling apart. The very thin ply, like on a tea chest, was cracking and splitting under the strain. A stranger approached and watched for a moment, then offered to help.
“Fuck off” was Max’s first thought. The last thing he and Star needed was the slithering corpse to dangle from the crate, in front of the man. The game would be up for them, good and proper.
The crate made a loud splintering noise so Max shouted to Star to let go the rope. Just seconds away from discovery, Max let the thin plastic rope slip through his gloved hands and the crate thumped down on the deck, tearing seams apart and exposing the thick grey/blue polythene liner.
“What the hell have you got in there?” asked the stranger. He was actually thinking they looked suspicious with this large unmarked crate on a hired cabin cruiser. It could not be luggage as they had suitcases for that, enough for a 90 day world cruise.
Max had not anticipated this scenario. A crate of books on a cabin cruiser was not going to cut it as an answer. “Our St Bernard dog wanted a burial at sea,” was also a nonstarter. Perhaps a touch of humor would defuse the situation?
“OK, you got me - I murdered the fucking mother-in-law and I’m dumping the miserable bitch in the Thames, God rest her fucking soul.” Max looked across at the man, who was by now quite sure the box contained a body. He was reaching into his pocket, probably to get his phone, take a couple of snaps and dial 999, thought Max.
“Do you know anything about boats?” Max asked the man, giving his most mischievous smile. At the same time he looked back to the entrance of the jetty. “There’s no one around or looking this way. I could lure the interfering bastard onto the cruiser to look at the box and deal with him in the cabin. What’s one more corpse at this stage?”
Star started giggling hysterically, adding to the uncertainty in the man’s mind.
“No, nothing actually. I can’t swim, so I’ve never wanted to go on one.”
The crate made a splintering noise and opened up slightly more. Max and Star felt their guts drop through with dread. After all the hard work and danger they had endured, this was the end.
“Well, I am casting a new mooring block. The box is filled with dry sand and cement and there is more in the suitcases. The polythene holds it together in the box, in case it splits. See how it’s bulging already. Anyway, I push chain and an eye into the mix, tie a rope to it with plenty of slack, and toss it over the side. The water makes the concrete go off and a couple of days later, it will be rock hard and I can moor to it. Beats trying to lug a giant block of concrete around and dropping it over the side” Max smiled again, a smile of warm sincerity.
“Why don’t you come down and have a look,” suggested Max.
“No, sorry I asked, but there are so many weird people around these days and it looked very suspicious. I would never have thought of making a mooring, someone has to, I suppose. Neat idea. Mind you, the mother-in-law buried at sea, sounds so much better on many levels.”
Star burst out giggling again - it was a nervous giggle, one that starts and is very hard to stop.
“Don’t mind my daughter, Mary; she suffers from a nervous disorder.”
The chap decided these two were weird, but in a nice way.
“I’ll be going now,” he said, “great to talk to you. I’m going home to make a box for the mother-in law.” A chuckle could be heard as he walked away.
Hastily, Max and Star lowered and stowed the two suitcases and shoved off. The plan was to sail down the Thames, out to sea towards France, keeping well clear of other boats. That night, they would dismember Ray into lamb chop pieces and throw him to the fishes.
The cruiser was not classed as sea going, just inshore waters, but the weather forecast was fine, with good visibility and no cloud. The moon would not be a problem either. Max thought the radar was adequate for keeping distance from other vessels, so they would not be seen and could avoid collision at night.
As they sailed out to sea, the sky was frequently lit with exploding fireworks and the warm glow of many bonfires along the shore. All those people thought Max, having fun and unaware of the gristly event that was about to take place.