by N. M. Brown
“Anything?” He asked as he walked into the dimly lit room. Eight computer screens were up and running and it was only Two and another guy typing away.
“Hay McQueen.” Two answered, spinning on his chair. McQueen had too feel sorry for the kid. The Department had to be low on funds if they had Two working not only as coroners’ photographer but a tech guy as well. McQueen remembered to put that question aside for later. Maybe when he went to see his apartment and get to know the roommates. It could be a good ice breaker. “So, the short and long of it is, we have Mrs. Farrows placing all call to a number, woo.” He cheered spinning his chair in a three-sixty.
“That’s good.” McQueen chuckled. He liked the kid’s energy, though he probably wasn’t that much younger than himself. “Is that the short bit or the long bit?”
“Well, the short is a little long, and the long of it is even longer than that.” Two widened his eyes in dramatic effect. “So, the short, short bit of the already short bit, is I found another woman calling the same number from the same payphone only a few weeks before.” He grinned, “I got a couple of guys running her face through Mrs. Farrow’s friends on social media. In short, we have caught another contract killing who by my guess, killed her husband much like Mrs. Farrows wanted.”
“That’s great.” A blanket of peace settled on McQueen shoulders and he felt a warm rush through his body. Through all this horror and pain, they had at least done some good. Some justice had been found. “And the long?” He prompted.
“The long of it: the number they called only leads to a blocked number behind some fancy firewall system. I’ve been at it for a couple of hours but all I’ve got is the address to a cybercafé; who knew they still existed.” Two joked, but McQueen just looked at him expectantly. “Right, right, moving on. Anyway, I dug deeper and found the Café’s members list…”
“Found?” McQueen asked but it did crack a small smile on his lips.
Two waved away his concerns. “Yes, I ‘found’ it, I know the blurry lines of the law, now listen; I worked through all the names and crossed off the horny teenage not even out of school, little old grannies and one-time sign ups. What was left were the regulars and any shady characters.” Two grabbed a thin folder and handed it over, “That all together made a literal long list of men matching your profile, living in the town and its surrounding areas.”
McQueen choked as he took in the list. It was four pages long but had at least eight different address on each page. Thirty-two men who could potentially be their hit-man. That was if they were stupid enough to leave their real name and address at the cybercafé. McQueen shook his head. “This will take forever. At least we can try to narrow down the list.” He tried to hand it back to Two. “Can you take off anyone older then seventy, anyone younger than seventeen and any one already incarcerated. We should also remove anyone who’d been in police custody. If this is a hit man, he’s probably been off the radar before now…” McQueen trailed off as Two looked at him with a pitiful smile. “It already is, isn’t it?” McQueen asked, lowering his arm in defeat.
“Sorry friend. But what can you expect? Almost two thousand people used the café alone, and there isn’t much proof our killer actually used it.” Two smiled, and gave McQueen a nudge, “Look, I’ll go over the name again myself. I’ll do background checks as much as I can, and I’ll let you know if there is anyone you can cross off. You know, ones who are on holiday and such.”
McQueen smiled. “Ey, that could work. Thanks for this Two.” He was about to walk out when he turned back, “Any luck with finding Lizzy and her two customers leaving Cardinal House?”
Two huffed out a breath, “Well with no direction to go on or a time, it is taking a while. They could have gone anywhere. An address for Lizzy’s place would have helped. But as she seems to have kept that under a different name, I’ll start at bus stops, stuff like that. I’ll call if I get anything.”
McQueen nodded his thanks and left. The Tech team were stationed at the top of the building, in the attic. McQueen felt bad for them but what could he do about budget cuts. Jumping in the elevator he rode down to the main floor hoping Echo had already left. He still felt heat across his skin whenever she was around. She’d still wrapped herself around his brain whenever she was near. Not only had he almost slept with her, but he didn’t escort her off the crime scene when he was meant to. Instead he let her make a witness statement and hang around like teenagers. He knew better than that. She’d invaded his mind like a bad pop song. Shaking his head, he walked around to the main floor, winding his way through the sea of desks to Hale who was thankfully sat alone. He was hunched over his desk, writing furiously.
A computer and a lamp were all that had been left when McQueen was assigned to his desk and now, almost six months later it was still bare. One cop, Officer Ramirez had joked, giving him a potted plant to sit on the corner. He didn’t water it, never found the time, so he was pleasantly surprised to find out it was a fake. Clearly a few cops had tried and fail to keep a real one alive. It was best to keep things easy. Hale had as much clutter as McQueen did. He didn't have a potted plant, but he did have a photograph that was taped to his metal mesh tucked slightly behind his computer screen. McQueen had never seen Hale look at the picture, but he knew it was there. McQueen had investigated once and found it to be a stunning woman with coco skin and a smile bright and full of laughter. Why Hale didn’t have it on display, McQueen did know.
When he mentioned it to an officer, he’d gone deathly pale and looked ready to bolt. He muttered in a half breath, his head rapidly whipping left and right. "Don’t-..." He stumbled, rushing past "don't ever mention her to Hale. If you hold your badge, your life, your very existence in any regard, don't speak about her." McQueen had decided to take the cops advise and didn’t ask any questions.
Sliding into his seat, McQueen placed down the files he’d collected, “I visited Two upstairs and got a list of potential hit-men. He’s going to try and narrow the list for me. Cassi also sent over the compete autopsy report from the first two victims. When the next one comes in we can compare them, see what links and similarities can be found." Hale didn’t say anything. “So… what’s the next step? I think going to the House again could be helpful. If it is the killer’s hunting ground we could spook them into making a mis-,”
"You’re going to the streets with Benny and Ramirez." Hale growled interrupting him.
"I... I'm what?" McQueen blanched.
"Get onto the street and find the hit-man Mrs. Farrows hired." Hale still didn't raise his head, but he spoke through clenched teeth. “See if you can find any hookers who knew Dwight too. The more information the better.”
"The hit-man ... Wouldn’t our time be better spent looking into other avenues while Two came up with a smaller list. And what if this isn’t the hit man? What if it is a serial killer? You’ll need back up-
Two heartbeats had passed but Hale was suddenly inches away from McQueen and his hand had fisted in his shirt. "It is not a serial killer. Do you hear me boy? We will find this hit-man, we will dissect his motive and we will hang him by his balls. My time will be spend checking that sinful House tonight and seeing if he’s there. Your time would be better spent not fucking every open pair of legs that walk past.” McQueen felt his eyes widen and his jaw go slack, while is lips tried to mumble an excuse. But Hale steamrolled over him, voice rising in volume. “Your time would be better spent not fucking one of our prime witnesses in this shit show of a case!!" Every officer kept their head down, like they were deaf to Hale’s words, but they could all hear just fine. McQueen saw Benny out the corner of his eyes trusting his hips forwards, mocking him.
“I didn’t fuck her sir.” He defended himself, trying to keep the situation calm.
“Did you or did you not go to the House before the case was officially closed?”
“I-…”
“And did you or did you not enter the VIP area of the club with one of its owners and then continu
e to that person’s apartment?” Shit, Echo had told him everything. McQueen knew he should be embarrassed but he just felt sick. He wanted Hale’s respect, not to be judge by him for his mistakes. Hale took only a quick breather before prodding a large finger into McQueen’s chest, keeping his voice low this time. “You will go to every address on that list and you will find the hit man. You will detain him and read him his rights. You will bring him here and you will wait for me to question him. So, help me, if you fuck up I will boot you so hard back to Ireland they’ll think leprechauns can fly.”
McQueen felt his stomach drop and his fist clench. “Yes sir.”
McQueen walked over to Benny, face completely neutral. He didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know how to process the humiliation he’d just been victim too, so he chose not to feel. Shoving everything down, he’d deal with it later, process it later. Knuckle down and do his job, that was all he could do.
“Officer Rocher, please find Officer Ramirez and join me in the garage. We’re going hunting.”
XVI
Echo felt the hum of the House race through her body like an electro shock. If last night had been erotic, tonight was unimaginable ecstasy like every breath was pleasure, every move sparked nerve ending and your mind danced among the stars. If the world ceased to exist and no one would care.
Everywhere was packed. They had cars lining outside a mile long and people were still joining. The VIP rooms upstairs were full to capacity and delectable screams could be heard reverberating down the stairs. Echo loved it when they had a family gathering. Mara had made herself at home yesterday and the little spat she’d had with Echo earlier had been forgotten. Echo missed Twilights entrance but had been given a warm welcome when she’d returned from the police station.
Twilight had walked down the stairs from the second floor, drink in hand and smiled at Echo. He was wearing his normal get up, an evening dress that swept down his body just gracing off the polished floor. Tonight, it was green silk in the fifties style. The era of woman’s oppression; when all they cared for was gossip, scandal and who was on top. It was Twilights most successful years. He’d kept the dress simple and elegant. He didn’t need anything else.
‘Simplicity lets the imagination wander, darling’ he would tell her as Echo pruned his eyebrows for him. He had a feminine face, soft around the edges and contoured perfectly to show off his high cheek bones and plump male lips. He was the master of both genders and begrudged by all; feminine enough to make the woman hate him and confident enough to make the men want to be him. It was funny how the humans always did envy the opposite sex, as well as their own gender. Sigmund Freud had been one of Twilight’s greatest creations. Penis envy; what a hoot. But tonight was a night of fun and bitterness, which was Twilights game.
“Echo, love. How are you?”
“Evil, as always.” Echo joked looking Twilight up and down raising an eyebrow. “How delicious you look tonight. I may have to steal that dress for later.”
Twilight laughed, his once gravelled voice high pitched, womanly and made all the heads turn. “And let you steal my feed? Allow you to become the most envied here tonight? Not a chance.” Twilight bopped Echo on the nose with his green and black lace fan, and walking away, brushed a hand over different customers here and there. “Tonight, is my night darling.” He called over his shoulder. “Make your own fun.”
Echo smiled at the memory, checking herself one last time in the mirror. She had spent her time getting ready quickly, a simple black ensemble and then went about pouring drinks in the kitchen to hand out. It was so busy tonight, and everyone was so influenced, Echo just made her tainted cocktail one after the other.
Sam had requested some earlier in the night, as had Mara and Nic so they were tended too. She’d yet to see Gala, but he found it difficult to move in the late evening. Feeding on human gluttony made him swell and by the end of the night he’d be large, round and naked. His clothes didn’t grow with him evidently. He’d be upstairs amongst tables piled high with cake, sweets and wine as well as baked goods and his favourite, macaroons. He’d have fruit bowls, pigs on spits and honey roasted ham, as well as lobsters, muscles and baked salmon. He’d have cultured foods like curry and sushi, as well as exotic tastes no one had heard of. People would gorge themselves on all the delights: fights would ensue, over what was left, who had had more. The selfishness would rise and before too long someone would take a stake knife to the heart. That always ruined the meal for Echo. She liked her stakes blue but not human. It wasn’t common, cannibalism, though that had happened from time to time. Gala would sometimes feel particularly devious and once a man was dead and it was a shame to waste him.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Sydney yelled in Echo’s ear over the noise pulling her from her bubble. “Will you be ok for a moment?”
Echo just rolled her eyes and nodded, passing a tall, handsome man his drink with a smile. It was spiked with enough Devils Eye to cause dry mouth and a bit of restlessness; she always needed them to come back for more after all. Scanning the room, there was no sign of a lull, but Echo was done. Her hands were sticky and not in a good way. People might have been waiting for drinks, but Sydney could do that when she was back. There was a particular blonde at the bar falling off her feet and blinking hard with every jerk of her body like she wasn’t sure it was all attached. Echo recalled giving her enough belladonna to last her the night. Another two guys were swaying on their feet in a hallucinogenic daze. She thought she’d given them wormwood, for a peaceful feeling and to keep their blood pumping hard, but she forgot. Keeping track wasn’t exactly her job.
Looking up the stair to the VIP area, the only Sin Echo hadn’t seen or heard from was Bris. She hadn’t been around for years. None of her siblings mentioned her or said where she was and so Echo never brought her up. Bris was Pride. Echo had always expected Bris to be out going, boisterous and showing off; pride being so closely linked with vanity. But instead, what Echo could remember was that she was quiet, always watching her siblings from wide purple eyes and didn’t make a spectacle of herself. She didn’t speak much but when she did, everyone listened.
“Hay, I’m back.” Sydney smiled, adjusting her top and walking with a bounce in her step.
“Yay.” Echo answered not hiding her sarcasm. She leaned against the bar, watching the customer flaunt and dance with one another. Soon she’d go upstairs and visit each member of her family. It had been an age since they’d all been here, she missed them. Archer and Samantha were fine, but sex and money only lead so far.
Echo wanted to feel the rush again when she trained with Mara, finding the best places to strike someone causing the most pain. Or going shopping with Twilight, stealing what others were wearing if they liked it, ripping it apart if it was hideous. Gala she hadn’t spent much time with, but he would send her only the best box of chocolates from around the world or took her with him to the best wineries in France, or cheese creameries in Greece. She was just contemplating if she should visit Europe again, when a voice, screeching loud from a handheld megaphone cut through the room. She however missed the first part of whatever was being said due to her own screams.
Clutching her hand, curses flew off her lips and her teeth clenched around another scream making them vibrate. Echo held her right hand in her left as she looked at it in horror. Jutting from the middle of it was Echo’s chopping knife, the special blade made from obsidian and carved with runes. Madam Ozar had gifted it to her when she was twelve, telling her it was only ever to be used to cut herbs. She had to hold what she wanted from those herbs in the forefront of her mind. If she cut mistletoe with the intention of only using it to change someone’s blood pressure, it would cut out the diarrhoea effects and nausea. Now it was currently cutting through her hand.
“What the fucking fuck?” Echo screamed, ripping the knife out and wrapping a towel around the wound quickly.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorryi’msosorry!” Sydney bubbled beside her, trying to grip
her injured hand like if she could touch it, it would make it all better. “I was just moving it over and then the Detective made me jump and it slipped I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Slipped!? Are you fucking joking? Get the fuck away from me.” Echo snapped, walking out from behind the bar clutching the bloody rag.
“Ah, there you are Ms. Headly?” a voice said through the crowd. Pushing her way through, Echo had been aiming for the stairs, intending to go to her apartment and attend to her bleeding, throbbing hand. Instead she stood face to face with Detective Hale.
“What the fuck do you want?” She snapped, causing a few giggles from the crowd. Some customers were obviously drunker than others. Or higher. “Is this a raid?”
“Of sorts?” Hale answered cryptically. “What happened to your hand?” He had two officers by the door, no doubt more out front and round the back. Some of the customers were starting to look nervous, hopping from one foot to the other. As far as she knew, none of the Police had gone upstairs yet, but if they did… It wasn’t just sex and business meetings that happened up there. Echo felt the first cold threads of fear cramp in her stomach. She didn’t let it show on her face though.