Chapter Seven

Murder

The Italian Barber pushed open the door with ease, whilst Gyda stood up from the chair and went to the stand behind it. She placed her hand on the wooden stand and glanced at Sweeney through the mirror. He stood by the window, his eyes looking at her though his body faced the man who just came in. Her ears picked up on the scuffling of clothes and her eyes swivelled to Pirelli, who had taken off his hat and placed it on the chest.

"Mr. Todd. Miss," He trailed off, going to greet the woman in the room, but she only scoffed and rolled her eyes, not daring to open her mouth to speak to the disgrace of a being in front of her. She could see in the corner of her eye that Sweeney was trying not to smirk at her attitude. "Signor Pirelli." Mr. Sweeney Todd turned to face the Italian.

"Call me Davey. Davey Collins is the name when it's not professional." The man dropped his French accent immediately as he put his cane down beside the chest and began to remove his cloak. "I'd like me five quid back, if you don't mind." He slipped off the fabric and placed it on the chest as well.

"Why?" Gyda took control of the situation, stepping closer to the fake Italian barber and poked at his chest for the answer. "Because he entered into our little wager under false pretences, my friend," Davey explained, taking off his gloves and looking down at the short lady.

"So that you might remember to be a bit more forthright in the future," He paused, pushing past the woman who glared dangerously at him and his attention on Sweeney. "I'll be taking half your profits from herewith. Share and share alike." He waved his hands about before smirking with a knowing look. "Mr. Benjamin Barker."

Sweeney froze and looked down with a concentrated yet crestfallen look. Now, Gyda had questions of her own. "How do you know Mr. Sweeney Todd?" She hummed, her fingertips tingling with the sensation of the urge to figure out his past and spill the truth. The man ignored her yet went to a still Mr. Todd who looked out the window with a pained look.

"Yes, this'll do nicely." He looked around the barber's shop, looking at the stand that held the non-broken mirror. "You don't remember me, do you?" He quizzed the black-haired man with a single strip of white. "Why should you?" Davey scoffed. "I was just a little nipper you hired for a couple of weeks, sweeping up hair." He picked up one of Mr. Todd's razors and fiddled with it.

"But I remember these. And how could I ever forget you, Mr. Barker?" Benjamin still only looked out the window as the 'Adolfo Pirelli' sat on a box. "I used to sit right here and dream of the day when I could be a proper barber myself. You might say you was inspiration to me." He flicked the razor out and then back in, a daring look crossing his features.

Mr. Sweeney Todd in response only walked away and to a different corner of the room. "So, have we got a deal? Half the pay you earn and maybe the little fighter over there," Davey exclaimed, reaching out to touch Gyda, who in return slapped his fingers away from her body. "Don't touch me," She spat out, frowning.

"Or should I run down the street to me old pal, Beadle Bamford?" Sweeney's features turned cold, clenching his fists at the thought of not only being found out so easily by this fake, but that he even dared to say Gyda was going to go with him. The darkness swirled in the runaway 'criminal' like a snake curling up just before they strike.

His eyes were darkened and the pit of his stomach strangled itself in anger, pulsating for the chance to take it out on something, or someone. "What do you sat to that now," He paused in his sentence, grinning. "Mr. Sweeney Todd?" He brought back up his French accent as he laughed. Sweeney's gaze flickered to the kettle beside him which bristled with the heat of the water that bursts the anger in Sweeney's body to the limit.

Before Gyda had any sort of sense of what was happening, Sweeney swivelled around with the kettle in hand and whacked it across Pirelli's jaw, who spat out blood. Gyda tensed up as the blood pooled onto the floor and gulped nervously. To add to what he did, Sweeney strikes the kettle on the Barber's nose and knocking him unconscious and fell to the floor.

That didn't stop the crazy barber, who kept pummelling the fake Italian in the head with the boiling metal. Gyda watched with wide eyes, trying her best to keep her needs in control and having to ball her fists to her sides and clench her jaw tightly to keep her mouth shut and her body still.

Once Sweeney had stopped, he panted for breath wildly before looking up at Gyda in shock. He had killed someone, well he thought he did. He just knocked him unconscious. He dropped the kettle and kept eye contact with a very uncomfortable looking female. Gyda furrowed her eyebrows as she remained as stiff as a board, refusing to look at the body or the blood surrounding him. Sweeney went to go over to her before he heard plundering footsteps come up the stairs and quickly and with haste, put Pirelli's body in the chest along with his things.

He picked up the kettle and somehow removed all the blood from the floor in the span of seconds without any help from a very cautious Gyda when the door slammed open. "Signor, you've got an appointment." He looked around, only seeing Mr. Todd pouring a cup of tea and a very stubborn looking Gyda Bjornsdottir.

"Signor Pirelli's been called away. Better run after him." Sweeney was straight to the point, not looking up from his cup of tea. "No, sir. I should stay here, or it'll be a lashing." The boy unknowingly walked backwards and sat on the chest that held the unconscious man he was looking for.

Gyda eyed the hand sticking out of the chest, but didn't stray for too long and looked back up to the boy, walking stiffly over to the young man and patted his shoulders. "He's a great one for the lashings. "So, Mrs. Lovett give you a pie, did she?" Todd asked the young fella. "She's a real lady."

"That she is." Gyda didn't know why her dead, unbreathing heart seemed to hate the idea of Sweeney calling Nellie a 'real lady' when she herself wasn't even technically real. She was meant to be dead over two hundred years ago.

Gyda felt movement on her leg and almost jumped from her spot behind Toby if she didn't realise it was Pirelli's finger and it had twitched. "But I know a growing boy, there's still room for more pie, eh?" Sweeney walked over to the two with a sinister look. "Yes, sir."

"Then why don't you wait for your master downstairs? Be another pie in it for you, I'm sure." Sweeney held the boy's shoulder as he guided the young man to the door of his shop. "No. I should stay here." Toby was a stubborn boy that is for sure.

Gyda could tell Sweeney was losing his patience and gave a tight lipped smile in the boy's direction. "Tell you what. Why don't you tell Mrs. Lovett that we both said to give you a nice, big tot of Gin?" She called out, knowing her friend of two years would gladly hand the boy a bottle of Gin if it for her and Sweeney.

"Thank you, Miss!" He said excitedly, leaving the room just as quick as he had come and Sweeney gave Gyda a small, grateful look before focusing on the box beside her and the content that was in it. He grabbed his Razor and tilted his head to the side. "Could you move over just a tad?" He questioned, though it did sound more of a demand than anything.

With a thin, small smile, Gyda did as he had required from her and moved away from the box as the older man strolled forward and lifted up the lid carefully as he glared at the person inside. Pirelli slowly rose from the apparent dead as he groaned, barely being able to hold himself upright. Sweeney unfolded his razor, leaning forward to grab Davey's head and pushed it back, revealing his neck.

And with a flick of his wrist across it, Davey Collins was dead.