Beautiful Creatures Page #3

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...in a green nylon knapsack...

...all tied up with a ribbon | through the post.

Bloody hell.

Tell them you have to speak to Brian.

I have to speak to Brian.

- To know that he's all right. | - To know that he's all right.

We can't bring him to the phone.

They can't bring him to the phone.

Then how do we know that they haven't | already decapitated Mr. McMinn?

Ask him something.

- Brian.

- Ask me to ask Brian a question. | - I have to ask him something.

- What? | - What do you want me to ask him?

Something only you and Brian both know.

Something only me and Brian both know.

On you go.

Ask him...

Tell him to...

God, I can't think of what to ask.

Tell them to ask Brian to tell you | when and where...

...you and him last made love.

When and where did Brian and me...

...last make love?

Half an hour ago, up the bottom.

That is precisely...

...100 percent spot on.

You're not contemplating | something silly here, are you, hen?

It's a favorite spot, you know.

It's lovely.

It's not lovely | when you're fishing them out of the water.

Away home and take an overdose.

They've hung up.

Did they answer the question?

What did they say?

They said, | "On the leather couch in his office...

...Tuesday lunchtime...

...twice."

And would that be correct?

Then I have to say | that I think Mr. McMinn...

...is a very, very lucky man...

...because obviously...

Obviously he hasn't had his head cut off.

I'm so sorry.

- I thought you meant... | - You've had a massive shock.

Now, let me ask you before I go:

Do you have an easily accessible | back entrance I can make use of?

Dave, have you seen Neil Mclndoe?

- Who's Neil Mclndoe? | - Regional pathologist.

Big ugly f***er, no taste in clothes, | bad personal hygiene.

Got you. In the canteen.

Reason I didn't know who you meant, | was everybody calls him "dog-breath".

F*** me. You're not eating that swill | out of choice, are you, Neil?

Detective Inspector Hepburn.

How's the golf, George?

It'd be a lot better if some f***er | hadn't ripped off my clubs out my car.

The reason I come here to eat this swill...

...is so I can enjoy my lunch | without being surrounded by body parts.

I thought pathologists had no feelings.

That's a myth...

...like all pathologists have bad breath. | Where is your finger from?

You tell me. | Off a dead person or a live one?

Obviously dead.

If you cut a finger from somebody | that's alive that finger will exsanguinate.

All the blood will drain from it.

Cut that finger from a corpse, | the blood is already semi-coagulated.

That's what I thought.

Somebody playing practical silly f***ers?

Some medical student, no doubt. | They're such scum, those f***ers.

This is Brian's finger.

- You recognize the ring? | - I know my own flesh, George.

Does this mean he's alive?

On balance, Ronnie...

...all things taken into account...

...and after listening to expert advice, | I can say...

...absolutely.

He was alive when it was cut off.

The girl's spoken to him.

If they hadn't killed him by then, | they won't kill him now.

What are you... Sorry, I have to keep that.

I'm going to see it's returned | to my brother.

Not now, later. I have to keep it | in custody for the time being.

Custody?

I mean, as evidence.

Don't! Sorry.

Sorry, Ronnie. Please.

Don't touch that. | I haven't had time to have it dusted yet.

For fingerprints?

I'm sorry, Ronnie, but I have to ask you | one question just to get...

...the possibility out of the way.

And this is simply to eliminate | a line of enquiry.

George, ask me.

There's no possibility, is there...

...that Brian would be so hard up for money | he would sacrifice his own finger...

...in an attempt to finagle funds | out of his big brother?

He'd only have to ask me.

Right.

In that case, we proceed with this being | a bona fide kidnapping and extortion.

They want precisely 2 million.

All right, then.

Well, I'll meet you about 7:00 tonight.

- Listen, can you drive? | - So, that's it then?

Sorry. What do you mean, that's what?

That's the famous couch | where it all happened:

"Tuesday lunchtime...

...twice."

Does Brian think | he can still keep you happy...

...with only nine fingers?

- What? | - Still...

...that's a lot of money | for a wee bit of your body.

Isn't it?

Which bit of your body | is worth the most to you?

Stop it.

Those are lovely lips.

My wee brother was still alive | when his finger was cut off from him.

Can you imagine how sore | that must've been...

...chopping through bone | and gristle and tender flesh?

Brian's too soft for any of that.

Isn't he?

I don't know what you're talking about.

You didn't do it for him...

...did you?

'Cause if I thought...

Well, you could kiss | those lovely lips goodbye.

And I wouldn't stop there.

Any messages for me?

Somebody called Ronnie McMinn | phoned this morning. Got his number.

Just a pal of mine wanting a game of golf.

- Any luck with your clubs? | - What do you expect?

The police are a bunch of worthless, | skiving a**holes.

What about your missing persons?

F***ed off in a drunken huff | and left his missus.

Is she a dog?

Stuart, my son, she is a total f***ing dog.

Can't blame the poor f***er.

Maybe he topped himself having to gaze | at her ugly mug while trying to digest.

Clutch, accelerator, brake.

No. Brake, accelerator, clutch.

Surely.

Neutral.

"Always make sure | your vehicle is in neutral...

...before you start your engine, Petula...

...or I will punch your f***ing lights out."

"Mirror, signal, maneuver."

Now what the f*** was that about?

Oh, my God!

We bring Brian's body here after it's dark.

We'll make it seem | the kidnappers held him here...

...and tortured him for days | before they killed him.

You have a very brilliant criminal mind.

- What are you doing? | - Torturers don't tidy up.

The place should be a complete smelly tip, | reeking of lager.

Right.

We should get some Chinese take-aways | and chuck them about.

Also, we should get some filthy socks | and pants of Tony's.

I bet you 1 million, | kidnappers' pants smell just like Tony's.

- "Fick mich in meinen Arsch", Petula. | - What?

- Are you judging me? | - No, I'm not judging you.

If I was judging you, | you would be in jail for murder...

...kidnapping, torture.

Dorothy, that is totally gross.

- Get off me, you monster. | - Sniff my cheesy "grunties", flower.

Gonna suck "mein" socks | and "fick meinen Arsch"!

Come on. That's disgusting!

I'm going for a pee.

No, dog, get out.

Bloody hell. That can't be pleasant.

That is as thick as a baby's arm.

Would you let a baby | do that to you with his arm?

Get away from there!

F***!

Is that somebody we know out there?

- Who's the f***ing stiff, Dot? | - Tony, that's...

...Petula's boyfriend. | He was in an accident.

And it's got nothing to do with you. | So just don't start!

You've got to be kidding.

Right.

I want my golf clubs.

Is this what you were looking for, | you evil bastard?

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