JOHNNY NO FACE

A man with no face comes to Glen Hartwell, & starts killing people, stealing their faces

Lino DiPucci was a fifty-something self-employed fish and chipper, owner of Neptune's Fish and Chipatorium, in Blackland Street, Glen Hartwell, in the Victorian countryside. That day, Wednesday the 9th of April, had been a great day for sales. Lino and Sophia had almost sold out their stock by 4:00 PM and Sophia had had to place a new order with a local potato farmer for more chips, and for a large order of fish to be sent down on the Midnight train from Melbourne, to be picked up from Glen Hartwell Railway Station in Theobald Street, at 9:00 AM tomorrow.

"Something tells a me 2025 is gonna be a great a year for the DiPucci family in Glen Hartwell," said Lino, a short, dark-haired, swarthy man, of fifty-something, beaming in delight. "It's been a hard a day, but worth it for all the profit we earnt a."

Crossing herself, Sophia, a tall, blonde southern Italian by birth, a decade younger than her husband, said, "If we don't both collapse from exhaustion, Papa."

"Hard a work never killed anyone," insisted Lino. "Except a for all a those poor saps, who have heart attacks and die a while working hard," he joked.

Hearing the tinkle of the bell over the shop door, they looked around to see their three teenage daughters entering the shop.

"Maria, Luna, Isabella, where have you been, you lazy girls?" demanded Sophia.

"Walking home from school," said Maria, tall and blonde like her mother. At sixteen, she was the eldest of the three teens.

"It doesn't take thirty minutes from Glen Hartwell High School to get here," protested Lino. "We've been working our butts a off all day."

"Well, be careful sitting down, if you haven't got a butt," teased Luna, a short, heavyset brunette. The fifteen-year-old stopped to open the freezer case to take out three Polar Pies, handing one to each of her sisters.

"Don't be a cheeky!" said Lino. "You never help out in the shop, and as soon as you get home, you start a eating up all a our profits."

"You just said you've been working your butts off all day," said Bella, a fourteen-year-old strawberry blonde. "Surely three ice creams for your starving daughters isn't going to bankrupt you?"

"Yeah, you should be rolling in rupees," said Maria. "If you've been working your butts off all day."

"Don't be cheeky to a your Papa, you lazy girls," said Sophia, as the three girls strolled through the chip shop, heading toward the house at the back. "Go and change, then come and help Papa and me selling."

"Can't, we've got homework to do," said Luna.

"Lazy a girls!" called Sophia.

She turned to serve three customers who came in together.

"Ah, Miss Terri, Miss Sheila, Mr. Colin," she welcomed the three police officers who stepped into the Fish & Chipatorium.

"I have a hankering for some of your delicious mini chicken spring rolls," said Terri. A beautiful thirty-something ash blonde, Terri was the top cop of the BeauLarkin to Willamby area, and was engaged to Colin.

"Only gotta four left," said Lino, "we've had a great a day selling. Lotsa profit, not much stock left."

"Don't a worry," said Sophia, "we've got more stock ordered for tomorrow."

"But we're hungry today," said Terri. "Okay, I'll have the four mini spring rolls and some chips."

"Coming a right up," said Lino, before scooping the food into a pan for frying.

"I'll have four potato cakes and chips," said Sheila. A Goth chick with orange-and-black striped hair, Sheila at thirty-six, was the second highest ranked cop in the area.

Sophia quickly placed Sheila's order in a pan and lowered it carefully into the boiling oil.

"Mr. Colin?"

"I'll have the same," said Colin Klein. A tall redheaded man, Colin had worked as a London crime reporter before retiring a year ago to start working at the Glen Hartwell Police Department.

"Sorry, no potato cakes a left," apologised Lino. "Miss a Sheila got a the last of them."

"Then make it a steak sandwich with the works, and chips."

"Good a choice," said Lino. "We've still got plenty of a steak, plus some chips."

Ten minutes later, they were seated at one of three small round tables in the Fish and Chipatorium, revelling in their meals.

"I've always said Lino and Sophia sell great chicken spring rolls," said Terri.

"Their potato cakes are grouse too," said Sheila.

"I wouldn't know, you got the last ones, marm," teased Colin. "Although they do make great steak sandwiches too, with real Aussie prime beef."

Fifteen minutes later they had finished eating and after buying cans of diet Coke, or Pepsi Max for Sheila, they headed outside and climbed back into Terri's police-blue Lexus and started back around to Mitchell Street, to stop in at the police station.

"Don't tell Suzette or Paul that we were scoffing fish and chips," said Sheila, "or they'll sulk because we didn't buy them any."

"Well, in our defence, Sophia and Lino were almost out of stock anyway," said Colin.

"That's a good defence if they find out," said Terri.

However, when they arrived back at the police station, they found that their landlady, Deidre Morton, had just been there to drop off a generous supply of hot tea and coffee, along with a large plate of jam-and-cream lamingtons.

"Yum," said Suzette Cummings, an eighteen-year-old trainee with long black hair.

"Yeah, there's plenty," said Paul Bell, a tall, lean, dark-haired sergeant approaching retirement age. "Get stuck in everybody."

Colin, Terri, and Sheila swapped guilty looks, wondering how they were going to lie their way out of their situation.


As customers kept streaming into Neptune's Fish & Chipatorium in Wentworth Street, Sophia called out, "Maria, Luna, Isabella, come and a help us serve, you lazy girls!"

"Can't, Mum, we're doing our homework," called back Maria, before putting on headphones to listen to Kanye West on her MP3 player.

"Yeah, got lotsa homework to do," called Luna, trying not to make too much noise as she leafed through the latest issue of Teen Heartthrob Magazine.

"Really lotsa homework," said Bella, playing games on their laptop.

By a quarter to six, Sophia and Lino were exhausted and looking forward to closing up for the night. Hearing the bell above the door tinkle, they looked around to see a man, who seemed to be wearing a stocking over his head, enter the shop.

Crossing herself, Maria said, "If you come to rob us, we ain't got a no money."

"If you're here to buy, we can sell a you a steak sandwich, or chips ... we no gotta no fish," said Lino.

Saying nothing, the man stepped into the Fish and Chipatorium and walked across to the counter.

Up close, they saw that he was not wearing a stocking. That was an impression given by the fact that he had no face. All of his facial features seemed to have melted and spread across his face.

"Oh my God!" said Sophia, crossing herself again.

"Have a you been in an accident a?" asked Lino, staring in horror, wondering how the man could breathe with no sign of a mouth or nostrils.

Without saying a word, the man pointed his right hand at Lino.

"I not understand," said Lino, wishing he could run into the back of the shop, but too terrified to move.

Slowly, the faceless man approached the counter, then leant across it, gesturing with his right hand for Lino to step forward.

The chip seller wanted to refuse, but despite his terror, he slowly advanced until he and the faceless man were almost touching heads.

After a moment, Lino grabbed at his face with both hands and collapsed to the floor.

"What's a wrong, Papa?" asked Sophia, kneeling to look down at her husband ....

Who now had no face, just a melted mess where his facial features had been!

"My name's Johnny No Face," said the customer.

Looking round at the man, her mouth open wide in horror, Sophia saw that he now possessed Lino's face, having somehow stolen it from her husband.'

Grinning broadly, Johnny No Face, now with Lino's face, turned and walked out into Blackland Street. Being careful first, to turn around the sign on the door to say Closed.

Sophia DiPucci stared after Johnny No Face until he had left the fish shop. Then, looking back at her faceless husband, already dead from asphyxiation, she opened her mouth to scream ... then fainted instead.

Seeing that it had gone 6:00 PM, Maria, Luna, and Bella went downstairs, and as they stepped into the shop front, Maria asked:

"What's keeping our tea? We're three starving girls!"

Then, seeing their parents lying on the floor, the three teens knelt to check them, and finding their father dead, his face somehow stolen away, they began to scream in unison.


Over at the Yellow House at Rochester Road in Merridale, they were just settling down to their own tea when Terri's mobile phone rang.

Usually, Sheila would complain if anyone rang at meal times, but feeling bloated from the fish and chips, followed by a mountain of cream-filled lamingtons, she almost heaved a sigh of relief.

"Aren't you gonna whine like you usually do, when someone rings at meal times?" asked Tommy Turner. A short, fat, blond man, Tommy was a recent retiree.

"You know me, I'm not one to complain," said Sheila.

"Since when?" asked Leo Laxman, a tall, thin Jamaican now employed at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital as a nurse.

"Since forever," lied Sheila.

"Since never, you mean," corrected Natasha Lipzing. At seventy-one, the tall, grey-haired woman was the Yellow House's oldest 'guest' as Deidre Morton liked to call her boarders.

"Hey, I am an officer of the law 24/7!" insisted Sheila. "When duty calls, I go uncomplainingly."

"Since when?" asked everyone, except Terri, Colin, and Sheila.

"So where to, Chief?" asked Sheila.

"Around to Neptune's Fish and Chipatorium in Wentworth Street," said Terri. "All I can get from Tilly is that something weird has happened there."

"Something weird in Glen Hartwell?" teased Colin. "You do surprise me."

Thirty-five minutes later, they were parked a few doors down from the fish shop, since a gaggle of ambulances were parked immediately outside the shop.

"What's going on?" Sheila asked Derek Armstrong and Cheryl Pritchard, the two most senior paramedics in the Glen Hartwell region.

"Lino DiPucci seems to have fallen headfirst into the cooking oil," said Cheryl, a tall, muscular brunette, close to retirement age.

"Burnt his face right off," said Derek. Just turned fifty, Derek was a tall, black American who had worked for twenty years at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital; he was also Sheila's boyfriend.

"Yeech," said Sheila, before following Terri and Colin into the Fish & Chipatorium.

They had to step aside as Sophia DiPucci was stretchered out, then opened the counter flap to step into the cooking area. Tilly Lombstrom was treating Maria, Luna, and Bella for shock, while Jesus Costello and Elvis Green were trying to make heads or tails of Lino's corpse.

"Yeech, what happened to him?" asked Terri.

"We were told he fell headfirst into the cooking oil," said Sheila.

"Nope," said Jesus (pronounced Hee-Zeus), the administrator and chief surgeon of the Glen Hartwell Hospital. "There's no sign of burning or cooking."

"Just his face has vanished somehow," said Tilly, a tall, attractive fifty-something brunette, and Jesus's second in command.

"Anywhere except Glen Hartwell, we would assume we were all hallucinating," said Jerry 'Elvis' Green, nicknamed due to his long black sideburns and worship of the late King of Rock and Roll.

"Well, we've done everything we can for him here," said Jesus, "call in the paramedics, please."

Sheila went across to the door to call for Cheryl and Derek.

"And we'll need to get the girls to the hospital too," said Tilly. "They found their parents."

"What happened to Sophia?" asked Colin.

"Fainted at the sight of Lino, presumably," said Elvis.

An hour later, Lino and his three daughters had been transported to the hospital. Making certain that the oil had been turned off, Terri, Colin, and Sheila searched the chip shop for any clues, including having the shop powdered for fingerprints.

"Got a whole set here, Chief," said Stanlee Dempsey, a tall, muscular, raven-haired sergeant. He was standing outside the chip counter.

"Got plenty in here too, Chief," said Jessie Baker, a huge ox of a man with dark red hair, standing in the cooking area.

"Most of them are probably Lino or Sophia's," said Terri, "so we'll have to get them fingerprinted to rule out theirs."

"Good thinking, Chief," said Paul Bell.

Forty minutes later, Terri, Colin, Sheila, and Paul were in the morgue in the basement of the Glen Hartwell Hospital.

They had taken the fingerprints of Sophia and the girls and were now fingerprinting Lino DiPucci's corpse.

"That's strange," said Paul Bell. "None of the fingerprints seem to belong to Maria, Luna, or Bella. Other than ones from the ice cream freezer and the drinks fridge."

"I've heard that they're lazy cows who never help out in the shop," said Sheila.

"Well, they do have school and their homework to do," said Colin, realising as soon as he said it how lame it sounded.

After taking Lino DiPucci's prints, Paul said, "And here's something even stranger ... The prints from the customer's side of the counter are Lino's?"

"Why would Lino be standing at the customer's side, as though ordering, in his own shop?" asked Terri Scott.

"That is the sixty-four million dollar question," agreed Paul.

"They're definitely facing into the shop, so he can't have leant over the counter to listen to a quiet customer?" asked Colin.

"No doubt about it," said Paul. "It's as though he was placing an order in his own shop."

"Well, we won't find out why until Sophia wakes up," said Colin.

"Which won't be till the morning," said Tilly, "since I gave her some strong sedatives."

"What about the girls?' asked Terri.

"Same thing," said Tilly.

"Okey dokey, then we'll see you after brekkie tomorrow," said Terri before the four cops headed off.

"Now comes the tricky part," said Sheila as they climbed into Terri's blue Lexus, "managing to get down Mrs. M.'s delicious repast."

"Why?" asked Paul as the Lexus took off.

"Well, ..." said Sheila, hesitantly telling him how they had stopped into the Fish and Chipatorium for chips before returning to the police station for afternoon tea.

"Why didn't you buy Suzette and me any?" demanded Paul.

"They were all but out of everything," said Terri. "It was the Fish and Chipatorium's best day ever."

"Until whatever the Hell happened to Lino happened," pointed out Colin.


The next morning, after breakfast, they were driving down Mitchell Street, Glen Hartwell, heading toward the hospital when Sheila was startled.

"What the Hell," said the Goth chick, almost crashing the Lexus into a power pole.

"Watch out, Sheils!" cried Terri. "You've already crashed my first Lexus into a power pole, almost killing us both."

Not responding, Sheila continued to stare after a tall, lean man walking down the street.

"I could have sworn?" said Sheila, shocked.

"What is it, Sheils?" asked Colin.

"I could have sworn that the man walking down the street was Lino DiPucci. It's amazing how shock can affect your senses."

"We all know poor Lino is dead," pointed out Terri.

"Yes, but it looked so much like him," insisted Sheila.

"Do you want to go after him to check?" asked Colin.

Calming down, Sheila shook her head, "No, I know it can't be Lino. Must have just looked a bit like him."

"They say we all have doubles," pointed out Colin.

"Yes, I suppose so, "said Sheila. Starting the Lexus again, she drove them on to the Glen Hartwell Hospital.

At the hospital, they interviewed Maria, Luna, and Bella first, however, the girls weren't able to tell them what had happened, having found their parents on the chip shop floor.

When they interviewed Sophia, she was excited and kept repeating, "Stole a his face. That thing stole a my Lino's face."

"What?" asked Terri.

"That thing look a like a man, but with a no face," said Sophia DiPucci. "It lean a across the counter and signalled Lino to come forward, then steal a his face. So poor Lino has a no face anymore."

"It stole Lino's face?" asked Sheila, remembering the man in the street whom she had mistaken for Lino.

"That's a right."

"When he leant over the counter, did he touch the counter with his hands?" asked Colin.

Sophia had to think for a moment, then said, "Yes, he held onto the countertop as he a leant over it."

"That explains Lino's fingerprints being on the customer side of the counter," guessed Colin correctly. "If he stole Lino's identity when he stole his face, he would leave Lino's fingerprints."

"Well ... it's no weirder than everything else that's happened in Glen Hartwell over the last sixty years or so," said Terri.

"We're sorry for your loss," said Sheila, "Lino was a very nice man, and a champion fish and chip maker."

"Johnny!" called Sophia as they started to leave the room.

"What?" asked Colin, looking back.

"Johnny No Face. That's a what he said his name was ... after he stole my poor Lino's face."

As they were returning to Lexus, Sheila said, "Maybe that bloke I saw, who looked like Lino, was this Johnny No Face?"

"Maybe, but we had no way to know that at the time," said Terri as they took off.


Over at Blackland Street, Glen Hartwell, Morrie Norman, owner of Morrie's Cakes & Pastries, was happily baking cakes and tarts, while his wife, Blaineley, was at the counter serving a throng of hungry customers. Morrie was a huge, burly man who looked more like a builder than a pastry chef.

"Two large apple pies, please," ordered Ellen Farmer. Although her younger sister Glenda had died recently, Ellen, a tall, redheaded thirty-something, believed life has to go on.

Blaineley Norman, a tall, striking ash blonde, wrapped the pies for Ellen, took her money and handed over her change before moving on to the next customer.

"Strawberry cheesecake, please," ordered old Mrs. Winchell, a blue-rinsed lady in her sixties.

Blaineley served the old lady, then moved on to George from the Department of Building and Works. With him was his assistant, Eunice, whom he was secretly dating.

"Two of your delicious beef pies, and two boysenberry pies also," said George. Then to Eunice, "Wait until you taste them, they make the best pies this side of BeauLarkin, at Morrie's."

"Thank you, George," said Blaineley, serving him and taking his money.

As they left the store, George wanted to put an arm around Eunice, however, they each carried a hot pie in each hand, making it impossible.

As the flow of customers continued throughout the day, Blaineley thought, Why couldn't I have married a bricklayer instead of a pastry chef? Although she had to admit they always had superb desserts and snacks during the day.

Perhaps too often, she thought, looking down at her once trim, now decidedly paunchy figure. Then, seeing her belly swollen out a little, she thought, Unless I'm pregnant? Blaineley had never had regular periods, so the fact she hadn't had one for nearly two months hadn't worried her, but now she thought, I wonder?

"We're almost out of apple strudels, Morrie," called Blaineley after serving three to Paulie Cody, a local pig farmer.

"Got more on the way, babe," called back Morrie, sounding happy in his work. Ever since he had been five or six, Morrie had wanted to be a chef, and now he was making a living at it. After a few hard years to start with, he thought.

By 5:30, Morrie had stopped baking and was helping his exhausted wife sell. As the sales started to drop off for the day, Morrie said:

"Why don't you go and rest up, honey? I'll serve here till closing time."

"Thanks, honey," said Blaineley, kissing Morrie on the cheek before heading toward the stairs leading up to their apartment above the shop. Maybe it's not so bad being married to a man who loves cooking, she thought as she slowly climbed the stairs.

It was a couple of minutes to 6:00, and Morrie was getting ready to close up shop for the day, when the faceless man entered the shop.

"What can I do ...?" asked Morrie, stopping to stare at the faceless man.

Walking up to the counter, Johnny No Face reached across to grab Morrie by the face and pull him towards him.

"Hey, what?" asked Morrie, now terrified.

Unable to answer, Johnny stared deeply into Morrie's face until it started to fade away, to start appearing on Johnny No Face.

When the transformation was complete, Johnny released the now asphyxiated chef, who fell to the floor of the shop with a crash. Picking up a brown paper bag, Johnny filled it with apple strudels and jam-filled lamingtons and turned to exit the shop.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning back, "but it never lasts. No matter how often I steal someone's face, it keeps fading away in twenty-four hours or so."

As though that made up for what he had done, Johnny exited the cake shop, careful to change the sign on the door to Closed. Then, walking down Blackland Street, he bit hungrily into one of the apple strudels. Mmmm, he thought, Morrie really did make wonderful pastries.


Over at the Yellow House, Terri and the others were sitting down to tea, still saddened by the loss of Lino DiPucci.

"Not only was he a great bloke, but he sold the best fish and chips this side of Melbourne," said Sheila.

"And Melbourne is a bit far to go for chips, allowing it's a nine-hour train ride each way," pointed out Freddy Kingston. A tall recent retiree, Freddy was bald apart from a curly ruff of black hair around the back and sides of his head.

"Unless we hired Louie Pascall to fly us to Melbourne and back in his helicopter," suggested Sheila, only half jokingly.

"Sheils, how am I supposed to explain that on my expenditure reports to Melbourne?"

"You have to explain our spending to Melbourne?' asked Sheila, genuinely shocked.

"Of course," said Colin, "that's why we're careful not to let you know where we hide the petty cash box."

"I thought you were just being mean."


After going upstairs to rest, Blaineley Norman lay on the bed to rest for half an hour or so, knowing Morrie would bring them up something to eat for tea. But she was more tired than she had realised and promptly fell asleep. She woke up shortly before 9:00, shivering from the cold, and wondering why she was in darkness.

Darkfall came early tonight, she thought, yawning as she slipped on her shoes to go back downstairs to check on Morrie. Turning on the lights as she went, the ash blonde was surprised not to hear her husband moving about.

"Morrie?" she called more than once while searching through the house.

Finally, she went downstairs and almost fell over her husband in the twilight.

"Morrie!" she cried, realising that he was lying face down on the floor behind the counter. She rolled him over, saw his faceless head and started to scream hysterically.


Rachel and Leah Goldstein, passing by the shop on their way home from work, stopped at the sound of screaming, tried the handle of the door, and then stepped into the shop.

"Hello?" asked Rachel.

Her only answer, unrelenting screaming from behind the counter.

Tentatively, Leah opened the flap in the counter and walked in and found Blaineley sitting on the shop floor, cradling her husband's faceless head in her hands, while screaming like a banshee.

"Oy vay!" said Leah.

Stepping back, so she could no longer see the Normans, Leah took out her phone and rang through to the Mitchell Street Police Station. Suzette Cummings on phone duty, put her through to Terri Scott, then rang through to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.


It was just after 9:00, and Terri and Colin were planning to sneak up to bed for some love making, when Terri's phone rang.

Terri spoke on the phone for a few minutes, then disconnected and said, "That was Leah Goldstein ... It's happened again."

As they stood to leave, she added, "This time at Morrie's Cakes & Pastries."

"Oh no," said Sheila as they headed outside. "Why is this Johnny Come Lately bloke focusing on all the best eateries in Glen Hartwell?"

"It's Johnny No Face," said Colin, "and it's easier for him to get into shops than people's homes."

"If he goes after Guido's Fresh Fruit & Veg shop, I'll strangle him with my bare hands," said Sheila as she started the Lexus. "Guido sells the best mandarins and avocados I've ever tasted!"

"If you get that close to him, he might steal your face," pointed out Terri.

"He'd look pretty funny with my face on a man's body."

"No funnier than you look with it," teased Colin.

"Don't forget I am your superior, Mr. Klein."

"I meant, no funnier than you look with it, marm."

"That's better, constable!"

When they arrived at the cake shop, they found Leah and Rachel Goldstein standing over the Normans, not knowing how to help. On the floor, Blaineley still cradled her husband's faceless head, now screaming silently, having lost her voice a short time ago.

Terri and the others had barely entered the cake shop when they heard the scream of sirens before two ambulances pulled up outside. Seconds later, Tilly and Jesus entered the shop, with Derek and Cheryl waiting outside with a stretcher.

"It's happened again," said Sheila as the medics entered the shop.

Walking across to the silently screaming Blaineley Norman, Tilly gave her a strong sedative, then called for Derek and Cheryl to come in and stretcher her out.

Jesus knelt to check Morrie for a pulse, but, of course, with no mouth or nostrils, he had asphyxiated hours ago.

"Dead?" asked Leah Goldstein.

"Dead," confirmed Jesus. Standing, he signalled for two more paramedics to come in to collect Morrie's corpse. "Well, we might as well get out of your way."

As they took Morrie away, Terri went across to ask the Goldstein sisters what they had seen.

"Nothing," said Rachel. "We heard the screaming from outside, before she lost her voice, and went in to see if we could help."

"Like two good Jewish girls," said Leah, although neither of them would see fifty again.

"Well, you might as well leave too," said Colin, "so we can start checking the place for prints."

"But come to the Mitchell Street Station tomorrow, so we can take your fingerprints to rule them out," advised Terri.

A couple of hours later, they had dusted the cake shop for fingerprints, having found hundreds, including a set of ten fingerprints from two hands together on the front of the counter.

"Who wants to bet they belong to poor Morrie?" asked Sheila.

No one was prepared to take the bet.

Having not gone to bed until midnight, Deidre Morton allowed Terri, Colin, and Sheila to sleep in until 8:30 the next morning.

"Mrs. M., my alarm clock must have broken," said Sheila, still putting on her uniform as she raced down the steps.

"No, I thought you all needed a good eight and a half hours' sleep. So I crept into your rooms and switched off your alarm clocks after you went to bed last night."

"We could arrest you for breaking and entering," said Terri, as she and Colin hurried downstairs.

"I used my passkey, so there was no breaking."

"All right, we could arrest you for entering," said Colin.

As the three cops started for the front door, Deidre headed them off, saying, "Ah! Ah! Ah! Nobody leaves this house without a proper hot breakfast inside them."

"But we're already an hour late," protested Terri.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" began Deidre Morton again, and like obedient children, the three cops allowed themselves to be shepherded into the dining room.

That morning, even Sheila, who usually liked to dawdle over breakfast, ate hurriedly, keen to get back to work.

"Gee, you're keen to get to work, Sheils," said Terri as they started out, "but you're heading the wrong way to get to the hospital."

"Who's going to the hospital?" demanded the Goth chick. "I'm heading around to guard Guido's Fresh Fruit & Veg shop. I'm sure it's going to be next."

"Sheils, even if that's true, both of the attacks have been just before closing time as far as we can make out," said Colin.

Turning the Lexus around to head toward the hospital, Sheila said, "Oh yeah. Then we'd better go around there about 5:30 this arvo."

"If it'll make you happy, Sheils, we'll be there by five thirty on the dot," promised Terri as they raced toward the hospital.


By April 11th, there was still nearly a month to go before Mother's Day. However, Winstanley's Caramels, Chocolates, and Confectioneries at 101 Brisbane Street, East Merridale had been doing a roaring trade for the last few days. Fortunately, the Winstanley Family business made its own sweets and confectionery, so there was no danger of running out, as Guido and Sophia DiPucci had almost done.

Cedric Winstanley, a tall, grey-haired man of fifty eight served a short, fat lady with three boxes of Winstanley's Best Caramels, then said to his wife, Eloise, "Ring Derrin at the factory to see he keeps up production."

"Yes, love," said Eloise, a short, chubby brunette, a few years younger than her husband. She reached for the white phone on the wall of the shop, although the factory was just behind the shop and was a two-minute walk at most.

"Half a kilo of Winstanley's Best Jawbreakers," ordered a farmer still dressed in overalls and work boots.

"Coming right up, Lawrence," said Cedric, beginning to measure the multicoloured jawbreakers out. "I know how much your wife loves Winstanley's Best Jawbreakers."

"We both do, Cedric. They're the best jawbreakers in the state."

"Most kind of you," said Cedric, handing over the bag of sweets and taking the money. "We do our best."

"And your best is bloody good!" said Lawrence, taking his change.

"Another satisfied customer," Cedric said, smiling at Eloise, as the door opened to allow two lilac-haired old ladies into the store.

"Misses Mortimer, always a pleasure to see you both."

"We'll have two boxes of your Winstanley's Best Liquorish," said Doris Mortimer, at eighty-two, the older sister.

"Is that each, or between you?" asked Cedric.

"Two boxes each," said Denise, a mere seventy-eight. "I know it's greedy of us, but your liquorice is so delicious."

"And at our ages, why shouldn't we treat ourselves?" asked Doris.

"Why not, indeed," said Cedric, smiling with genuine pleasure at the sale.

After the Mortimer sisters had departed, Eloise said, "Derrin said production is going full steam down there."

"Derrin and his nautical terms," said Cedric with a laugh.

"Well, he did used to be in the Royal Australian Navy."


Over at Blackland Street, true to their word, Terri, Colin, Sheila, and Paul Bell turned up at Guido's Fresh Fruit & Veg shop at the dot of 5:30 PM.

"Ah, Sheila, my favourite customer," enthused Guido, a short, stocky man. "What can I getta for you today?"

"Have you got any of those delicious baby mandarins you sold me last week?"

"Sorry, they're now out of season. But I gotta lovely avocados for a my favourite customer."

"I'll have two of your best."

"Two of a my best avocados, for a my best customer."

Taking her money, Guido handed Sheila the two avocados in a brown paper bag.

"And for the other a lovely lady, and for Mr. Colin?" asked the fruiterer.

"Nothing, Guido," said Terri, "we're just here to protect your shop until closing time."

"Protecta my shop?"

"Yes," said Sheila, "Guido's Fresh Fruit & Veg shop, Neptune's Fish & Chipatorium, and Morrie's Cakes and Pastries are the three best places to buy tucker in Glen Hartwell. So, since the other two were hit yesterday and the day before ...."

"It's a logical they go after me next."

"Exactly."

"We'll stay till closing time, then escort you home, Guido," said Colin.


Winstanley's Caramels, Chocolates, and Confectioneries at Brisbane Street, East Merridale, was getting ready to close for the night when Johnny No Face walked in.

"Hello, which of Winstanley's Caramels, Chocolates, and Confectioneries can I tempt you with?" asked Cedric, stopping to stare in horror at the faceless man.

By way of answer, Johnny No Face pointed at Cedric with his right hand.

"You ... you want me? But I don't understand?"

Johnny No Face reached across the counter and grabbed Cedric by the head to pull him forward until their faces were almost touching.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what ...?" began Cedric Winstanley, stopping as his face began to dissolve away.

On the other side of the counter, Johnny No Face was grinning widely ....

With Cedric Winstanley's stolen face!

Turning the sign on the door to Closed, Johnny No Face turned and walked out into Brisbane Street.

"Evening, Mr. Winstanley, going for a bit of a walk?" asked a passerby as Johnny stepped out of the shop.

Not trusting himself to master Cedric's voice, Johnny simply nodded and smiled.

"Well, good day to you, Mr. Winstanley," said the man before continuing on his way.

Johnny No Face smiled at the man, then walked in the opposite direction.


"Cedric, have you closed up for the day?" asked Eloise, coming down the stairs from the rooms above the shop.

Not seeing her husband lying on the floor, the chubby brunette fell over him, landing face to face on top of him — or rather her face, to where Cedric's face no longer was.

Screaming like a Banshee, Eloise Winstanley hurriedly climbed off her husband and backed away, too terrified to even check him for a pulse.

In the sweet factory behind the shop, they heard Eloise's screaming, and her brother-in-law, Rupert Winstanley, raced into the shop to check on her.

"Eloise, what the Hell is wrong?"

By way of answer, the brunette, without stopping screaming, pointed to the body of her late husband on the floor behind the counter.

After checking Cedric for a pulse, Rupert took out his mobile and rang through to Mitchell Street Police Station in Glen Hartwell. Like the night before, Suzette Cummings put him through to Terri's mobile number, then rang through to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.


It was after 6:00 when Terri's phone rang, telling her that they had staked out the wrong food store.

"He's just struck at Winstanley's Caramels, Chocolates, and Confectionery in East Merridale," said Terri after disconnecting.

"Well, how was I to know he'd go further afield tonight?" demanded Sheila. "Up until now, he's always stuck to Glen Hartwell."

"Well, let's go," said Colin as he and Terri started out.

"You two go," said Sheila, "I'll walk Guido home, just in case he goes for a double-header tonight."

"Sheils, he's not Janus," said Colin. "He can only wear one face at a time."

"Well ... okay," said Sheila, still uncertain.

When they reached Winstanley's in Brisbane Street, they found two ambulances parked outside the shop, with Eloise Winstanley already being taken to one of the ambulances. Tilly injected her with a sleeping draught, then got into the ambulance, which roared away.

"How did you lot beat us here?" demanded Terri.

"It helps we weren't staking out the wrong shop," teased Cheryl Pritchard.

"Hey, Guido's Fresh Fruit & Veg shop was the obvious natural place for him to strike, if he had stuck to Glen Hartwell," insisted Sheila.

"Except he didn't," said Cheryl with a cheeky grin.

"How were we to know that?" demanded the Goth chick.

Grabbing Sheila by the shoulder, Terri dragged her into the sweet shop, saying, "The last thing we need is a punch-up outside where poor Cedric died."

Inside, they found Elvis Green and Jesus Costello kneeling beside the corpse of Cedric Winstanley, as puzzled as with the last two corpses.

"Well, your guess is as good as mine as to how he does it," said Jesus. Standing, he signalled for Cheryl and Derek to come and collect the corpse.

Again, Stanlee Dempsey and half a dozen other local cops dusted the shop for fingerprints. Again, they found hundreds, including two complete sets of hand prints at the front of the sweet shop counter.

"It's a waste of time taking them," said Stanlee, "they'll just turn out to be Cedric's."

Sighing from frustration, Terri said, "Take them anyway, Stanlee."

"So this bloke, whoever he is, steals a new face every day?" asked Sheila Bennett.

"Seems like it," agreed Terri.

"So, he kills three hundred and sixty-five people a year?"

"Three sixty-six in leap years," pointed out Colin.

"Then why haven't we heard of the thousands of faceless corpses he must have caused down the years?"

"Presumably, he's just moved to Victoria, from wherever else he was before that," said Terri.

"So he's left thousands of faceless corpses right around the world, and the authorities around the place have all covered it up."

"Well, there are legends of faceless corpses, and faceless people in some Asian, African, and Latin American countries," said Colin. "But, until now, we've always written them off as foolish superstition."

"And there's the zombie legend in Haiti," put in Stanlee Dempsey.

"Well, if this Johnny Come Lately is killing over three hundred and sixty people every year, we have to stop him!" insisted Sheila.

"Agreed," said Terri, "but it's Johnny No Face."

"Whoever, he's gotta be stopped, before he kills again."

"And do you have a brilliant idea how to do that, mad Goth chick, marm?" asked Colin.

"No! But I have a weird idea that might work."

"At the moment, I'll settle for a weird idea that might work," said Terri.

"Excelente!" said Sheila. "First thing we have to do is get all shops between BeauLarkin and Willamby to close at five o'clock tomorrow, instead of six."

"Get all shops in the area to shut an hour early?" asked a puzzled Terri.

"All except one," corrected Sheila. "But first, we need to go to the hospital to borrow a fresh corpse."

"Borrow a fresh corpse?" asked Terri and Colin together.


"Borrow a fresh corpse?" asked Jesus and Tilly together, half an hour later.

"It's a crucial part of my weird plan to stop Johnny No Name!"

"Johnny No Face," corrected Colin.

"Are you completely crazy?" demanded Jesus Costello.

"Well, they do call me the mad Goth chick, but no, not completely."

"You seriously expect us to let you borrow a corpse from cold storage?"

"Yes, please. And it has to be fresh. If it's started to go green, or is decomposing and stinking, my insane plane can't work."

"Well, we do have that vagrant who died of malnutrition, brought in yesterday," said Tilly Lombstrom.

"Even better," said Sheila. "Whatever happens, we can't get any kickback from his relatives."

"Sheila! This insane plan of yours had better work!" said Jesus.

"It's almost a fifty-fifty chance. Besides, you don't want Johnny No Brain to keep killing three hundred and sixty plus people a year, do you?"

"Well, no," admitted Jesus.

"Look, relax, my insane plans always work. The only time they backfire is on the rare occasions when I come up with a sensible plan."

"I'm not sure whether to be reassured by that, or not!"


It took them until the afternoon, the next day, to arrange for all of the shops from BeauLarkin to Willamby to close at five PM instead of six. All except for Barny Bertram's Newsagency on the corner of Matthew Flinders Road and Robinson's Drive.

"So what do I do if I meet this Johnny No Face?" asked Barny Bertram, looking terrified.

"You won't be meeting him, Barny," said Terri. "At five o'clock, you go upstairs and hide, and Sheila and I, in civvies, will take over serving in your newsagency, until six when you close up."

"Well, be careful to check the prices on everything," said Barny, "I don't want to go broke because you two undercharged everyone."

"Would you rather stay here and lose your face ... and your life?" asked Sheila.

"Well, if you put it like that, I'll take the risk," agreed Barny.

At the stroke of five o'clock, Barny Bertram raced up the stairs to his flat above the newsagency, and Sheila and Terri took over selling.

"Hey, this is quite fun," said Sheila, while undercharging by a dollar on the sale of a large Toblerone.

"You won't think so, if Barny finds you've been undercharging," said Terri. Then to the customer, "Sorry, you still owe us a dollar for that."

Paying the dollar, the teenage boy asked, "So have you two been sacked by the cops, or something?"

"Something like that," agreed Terri.

"That's a pity," said the teen, "you both looked hot in uniform!"

With that, he turned and walked out into the street.

"Take it as a compliment," said Sheila.

"How come Colin never tells me I look hot in uniform?" asked Terri.

"I'm sure he thinks you do, but he's a reserved Englishman, not good at saying that sort of thing."

At a quarter to six, Terri wheeled the vagrant's corpse into the store, placing it near the cash register in a wheelchair. Then Terri and Sheila went behind a green curtain separating the shop from the rear storage room.

At a minute to six, they heard the bell tinkle as someone entered the store. Peeping through a gap in the curtain, they watched as Johnny No Face approached the counter. He leant over the counter, trying to reach the 'salesman', then, giving up, he walked across to open the flap in the counter and walked into the selling area.

Kneeling, Johnny took the vagrant's face into his hands and brought their heads close together. Rapidly, the dead man's face began to disappear and then reappear on Johnny No Face.

Johnny stood up, then clutched at his throat and began silently screaming, before falling lifeless to the shop floor.

Racing out from behind the curtain, Terri examined Johnny No Face, then looked back to Sheila, to say, "He's dead! You brilliant weirdo, your insane plan worked. But how did you know it would kill him?"

"I figured he wasn't just stealing people's faces, he was also stealing their life force. So give him a person with a face, but no life force, and it would kill him."

"Sheils, I could kiss you ... If I weren't straight, and already engaged to Colin."

Taking out her mobile, Terri rang through to where Colin, Stanlee Dempsey, and Paul Bell were waiting a few blocks away. Then to Jesus Costello to arrange for two ambulances to take away Johnny No Face, and the now faceless vagrant.

"Well, that's another weird case cleared up," said Stanlee Dempsey as the two corpses were taken away.

As they were leaving the Newsagency, Terri asked Colin, "So, how come you've never told me I look hot in my police uniform?"

"What?" asked Colin, as everyone else laughed at his expense.

THE END
© Copyright 2025 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia