by N. M. Brown
The singular and fateful time Echo had been invited to a sleepover party they’d played the game Cluedo. Echo had been very disappointed when she discovered they didn’t get to re-enact the crime screen and so the blood she’d brought along was left unused. Within a turn she’d found the game ridiculously boring and unrealistic. However, it did beg the question: how easy was it to solve a murder?
Well,she and the Sins were out, narrowing the suspect pool by a margin. To hang the bodies wouldn’t have been hard, nor to transport them here so that left the gender equality line still intact. Then there were the dogs, and Echo knew Sydney was terrified of the things, and couldn’t carry a hostess tray with more than six drinks. Woman, however, could be as dangerous and as strong as men, Echo knew that, but some women still fell short, so that ruled Sydney out. Jacob was strong enough, and the location was right. He was always lurking in the house and knew the ins-and-outs of the grounds. He made an interesting possibility but there was something about his silver smile that made Echo hesitate. If she were to peg him for a crime, it would be of world changing origins. Not a tiny murder with little to no horror.
Then there was Sandi. Sweet, sweet Sandi always hiding in the shadows waiting for the next sucker to believe he spun tail. Archer never deemed there be an entrance fee, getting more than enough once the customers were inside the House. Sandi belonged to Nic. For whatever reason needed, Sandi worked the door, shaking hands and fainting here and there on Nic’s orders. What he got out of it, Echo didn’t know; no one would tell her, even Jacob who doted on the girl. Either way, it was unlikely she was the killer either.
That left an outsider. Someone they didn’t know. Echo pondered through all the guests that had entered the House over the years and was sad to say there were more than a few who were burned. Of course, all the Sins aimed to make the guests time at the House extraordinary; but for a husband to feel a new lease on life, a wife had to suffer. For a business plan to flourish, one had to be crushed and crumble. There were too many broken, dejected people out there who had suffered at the hands of the House. There was no doubt that the murders were aimed at the House as well. You didn’t pin your neighbours’ dead dog to the front porch with a knife unless it was to make a statement.
So, the killer wanted their attention and sadly, they hadn’t gotten it. As she knew; the Sins did not care for morals, only the souls inside. Four dead some-what moral less people didn’t even blip on their radar. It was the snooping Detectives that were catching all the attention and it wasn’t good attention.
Rolling over to face the wall, Echo tried to nap, at the very least to make the time fly by faster. She wasn’t going to solve this murder in a six by six cell and really, she shouldn’t even be trying. She’d let the professional do it. It might take them a decade, but she was sure they’d get there eventually.
✽ ✽ ✽
Night was falling when Echo stirred, which meant everyone in the station was going home. She awoke a while ago to loud obnoxious banging but had chosen to ignore Officer Rocher. However, he’d now moved onto lude comments and with no one around to watch, it gave the greasy man Benny the freedom of vulgar speech. Spouts of innuendos and sex jokes while he cupped himself, assaulted Echo’s ears. He even went as far to ask her about her ‘price list’.
“I may not be the blonde, dream boat from the ‘tater farm, but my junk is as good as the next. So’s my doe.” He’d laughed, thrusting his hips through the bars. Either the surveillance in the station was shot, or the bastards above didn’t care for police misconduct, Echo thought. “So, what? My cock not good enough?” Benny tormented; or tried to at least. It took stronger shit than what was falling out of Benny’s mouth to get under her skin.
Echo shot him a dismissive wave. “Sorry cupcake. I choke on small objects.” She really didn’t need this display of male inadequacy. She was still trying to plot her escape; having gotten nowhere in the past two hours and she was beyond done. It would be stupid to make a run for it. Running was a peasant’s game. She needed to be freed legitimately with her name intact and everyone bowing to one knee if it could be helped.
Benny fumed at her dismissive response, hissed that she was a dirty whore, before he started shouting orders. “Stand by the door whore. I think, unfortunately we missed some important areas while searching you. I think me, and the boys deserve a strip search… just to make sure, of course.” Echo would have been impressed with his dirty mouth, but he reeked of lust and wrath that made her skin crawl. Everything was so tightly bottledup; she was surprised he didn’t walk around fully aroused and punch every woman he saw. Clearly someone wasn’t getting any release at home.
“You and your boys couldn’t handle a strip show from me you over sized piggily-wiggly. You’d blow your load the first time I smacked your ass like the mothers’ boy you are.” Echo snorted, shifting in her cot trying to find a comfortable position.
With a throat full of flem, Benny slammed an open palm on the bars. “You shut your face whore.” He snarled, clearly not as amused as Echo was. But as requested, Echo stayed quiet. Maybe if she ignored him, he would just leave. “What? Nothing to say?” Echo huffed an exasperated sigh as Benny gloated over her.
Sometimes, she just couldn’t help herself… “Actually, I was in deep thought and didn’t want to be disturbed.” Echo shifted her shoulders, coming to the conclusion there was no comfortable position. “I was contemplating how a large stomach with excessive fat, particularly those of begrudged Police officers, correlate to making their dick very, very tiny.” She said, keeping her eyes closed and stretched her arms over her head. “What do you think to my hypothesis Officer Roach?”
“It’s Officer Rocher.” He growled no doubt clenching his fists in rage. Echo had discovered Benny really didn’t like her. Not because she was a potential murderer; no that was a silly reason. He didn’t like her because she was a woman and she showed him zero respect. “You spout utter bullshit.”
“Whatever you say Roach. You would know… it dribbles down your chin enough.”
“Shut it.” He snapped, before trying to rein in his temper and gain the upper hand. With a breath, he lowered the anger in his voice and tried to take the higher road to sneer down at her from. “Look at you. Trapped in a cage like the bitch you are. Not so mighty, now are we?” Benny mocked. “Don’t have your perfect Detective to protect you anymore.” Echo heard the sharp jangled of keys and the creek of the cell doors hinges. Snapping her eyes open, she was not at all surprised to see Benny walking towards her; still bristling with rage and lust. Did he want to fuck her or punch her? Echo found the idea amusing. “Do you think something’s funny?” Benny growled as she hitched a half smile. He leaned over and pulled her up by the front of her shirt. A button popped off under the strain and more of Echo’s chest was exposed.
“Do I think you’re funny?” All innocent and soft, Echo looked up at Benny, pushing her chest out. Lust would hurt less than wrath, Echo thought as she examined her situation. But then another idea slithered into her mind…wrath … if she could … Echo smiled a wicked grin. It was evening now. Everyone would be going home. It was likely that was why Benny had waited until now to taunt her. No one around to see. No one around to stop him … no one to stop her. “I think your pathetic Officer Roach.” She laughed pushing him off her and watching him stumble back. He’d been a smart man at the very least, locking the cell behind him. She couldn’t escape, but then again, it wasn’t like she wanted to anymore. She had bigger, better plans in mind.
“Bitch.” He snarled.
“A bitch, Roach? Really, that’s the best you can do? Call me bitch and watch me cry? Is that what you want from me Roach?” She spat, emphasizing Roach every time she said it. “You’re an Officer of the law; a respected man of the peace. You can’t arrest me, not for calling you names.” Echo sized him up. “It’s so sweet that it’s getting to you though. Never were popular on the playground were you Roach? Always picked on. Always wanting to be a part of
that crowd. Never did manage it, did you?”
“Shut the fuck up!” He snarled. “I am an Officer of the law and you will show some respect.”
“Respect is earnt Benny.” She pushed harder using his first name. “You haven’t earnt anything. Everything was given to you; you’ve never worked for anything in your life. Your lazy, cheap ass isn’t worth anything. Not even the respect of a two-bit convict, which is just insulting.”
“You fucking whore. Shut your mouth before I make you.” His face was red, and fists where clenched but Echo could see she wasn’t pushing the right button. She needed him to flip, not just spout more pathetic insults. New tactic: he stank of lust so no sex for a while, but he had a wedding band. Interesting. She made a decisive leap and took one or two shots in the dark.
“You, Benny are an insult to the male sex and an insult to the police force, walking around calling yourself a hard man. You’re a joke to your friends too. Don’t you think it’s weird they don’t ask you to join them at the end of the night? That they shut up fast when you walk in but are quickly all smiles? That is why, Roach, you are here with me. That is why you’re on the night shift, not out with the ‘lads’. They ditched you, just like your wife.” Echo snorted as she gestured to him, aiming for the money shot. “How many times Benny? How many times did your wife scream at you last night? Did she curse your name to the depths of hell? Does she tell you how much she hates you?”
Benny’s face had gone deadly still. His skin had gone pale while a sense of calm had dropped over him. He didn’t look like he wasn’t going to tell her to shut up anymore. No, they’d moved far, far, far beyond that now.
“I think she does.” Echo whispered ready for the finale. “I think they all do; your so called co-workers, your so called family, so called friends. So disrespectful. I mean… they could at least give you the decency to say things to your face, but they don’t even give you that. Take me for example; I can crack open your perfect little world all night.”
“You don’t-,” he began but Echo couldn’t let him break her flow now. If he thought too much, if he stopped and processed, he’d be lost.
“You know, I think I’m doing you a favour, really, Benny. I think your wife questions every day why she married you. I think she can’t wait to drop your ass like the loaded dead weight it is. I think she’ll run with those snotty little children of yours and I think they too will be glad to be rid of you. I think the guys around the coffee machine are counting down the days until you retire… early, of course.” Echo stepped up close. For the kicker, she needed to be nice and close. “The truth Benny is you’re a failure. A low life, bum hick, fai-”
The sickening wet crunch still rang in Echo’s ears as her head whipped forward again, her chin slamming into her chest, teeth gnashing together just missing the tip of her tongue. She was sprawled on the floor, blood dripping down her face while she tasted the copper tang of blood as it dribbled down from her nose and into her mouth.
“You will not speak to me with disrespect!” Benny’s voice was cold and harsh.
He’d become someone else. Echo could see it in his eyes, the cold, calculating look of a man figuring out how to cause the most pain. “You will only show me respect!” Benny grabbed at his belt notch and undid it, pulling the leather strap from its loops. Echo waited for him to undo his pants next, but instead he folded the leather strap and slapped it against his palm. “You low lying whore. You know nothing you stupid bitch!”
Benny brought the leather high above his head and he smiled with glee. Still prone on the floor, Echo did feel a stab of fear before she buried it. She’d taken a beating before and she’d given them. Nothing he could deal out would best what she’d felt before. A sickening crack filled the air and just for effect, Echo screamed. She screamed on, and on, and on; playing the part, filling the role, being the victim.
A smart mouse always found a way out. A smart mouse always escaped the trap with one of her own.
ACE OF CUPS
XXIII
Flecks of white paint had fallen to the floor by McQueen's feet. The plastered wall beside him was crumbling and it was all he could bare to look at. To look anywhere else would make his skin crawl and he would throw up what little food he had eaten that day. Everyone was working in silence or speaking in hushed tones, not daring disturb what had been found here. He didn’t think anyone knew what to make of it just yet.
What had once been a small factory storage barn: a basic layout for the renters to with as they pleased. It was a horror house now. Other buildings were rented by budding artists or macho fitness buffs. However, Lizzy had designed her space for much more… adventurous activities. Chains hung from heavy, industrial loops in the ceiling, the dull illogical clinks sounded in his ears as they swung together in the air. About half way down the chains were manacles. Not like cuffs McQueen had currently strapped to his hip, but big chunky ones, wrapped in leather. Bondage, one tech had said under his breath to a co-worker as they’d walked past. However, McQueen didn’t imagine anyone with a kink would even want to use these.
The leather was crusted in blood which so far had been found to be at least three different blood types and McQueen didn’t doubt when it came to it, there would be multiple DNA samples. The chains were on separate winches, which had allowed for them to be lowered or raised as needed. Again, McQueen could only guess they were for Lizzy’s more exploratory clients. The killer however, used it for the victims, no doubt lowering or raising them to be the right height. Clever psychopath.
What lay under the chains, on the other hand, was what made McQueen's stomach tighten and made Ramirez chuck up is breakfast outside. As deadly and malicious as this serial killer was, they didn’t clean.
A hap-hazard fence was largely made from a giant cross that had caused McQueen to blush profusely when he saw the cuffs and … stains that covered it. The cross had been linked to large metal gates and other pieces of furniture as well, making an odd, wonky circle in the centre of the room. It was all held together with zip-ties and cinder blocks surrounding each base joint. It was miraculous it was still standing; a mess of BDSM paraphernalia and tools. There was a hole at the base of one section, no bigger than a doggie door which was covered by a foot stool. It wasn’t had to guess what it had been used for; doggie door indeed.
Blood coated everything. Most, the tech’s told him, was canine blood, along with canine fur caught on the edges of the hole. The closer you got to the centre of the circle however, you found more and more human remains. Everywhere they looked, it was all a mess: pints of blood covered the floor, all spilt around the same time according to the Tech team and some flies apparently. They were still processing a lot, finding every bit of evidence they could, but that was all the tech had been able to say before he’d moved outside for fresh air and McQueen couldn’t blame him.
The air inside that had been stirred by McQueen and Ramirez opening the door had intensified the smell everywhere and had only been made worse under the forensic team’s high-powered lights. The sight wasn’t any better. McQueen’s brain had refused to put the lumps of the floor together at first, but curiosity killed the cat. A toe was visible, as well as slices of intestine and he’d thought he’d seen a kidney somewhere. Some lumps of flesh were brown and coagulated, while some were only slightly surrounded by sticky blood: red blood, crimson, cherry, brown and all the way to black; all in different stages of drying.
The tangy copper taste in the air was bitter and acidic, as well as clung to your skin and clothes. Breasts had been slung to one corner, covered in bite marks too, as if the dogs had used them for a chew toy, flinging them side to side in their mouth. Then the killer had just left them behind; discarded. McQueen didn’t understand that. Why make such a statement of taking them, to just leave them.
Eyes dancing around the room, McQueen tried to think logically, like a detective, but his mind wouldn’t let hum think of anything else yet. Faeces and urine was scattered amongst the mess, a
dding to the stench and leaving a foul under-taste to the room. When the victims had died, the bodies… let go, the muscles relaxing from toe to head like an elastic band. It was horrendous and was testing everyone’s steel stomachs. Looking upward, McQueen tried to focus instead, on the darkened sky lights and the blacked out, second story windows. Every inch of this place had been sealed up and around every door and window were tightly rolled blankets and wadding. Finally, his instincts kicked in: soundproofing. From the outside the sex den would have been as close to silent as the killer could get it.
“Do you see what I see?” Ramirez asked, back from his break outside. Standing next to McQueen he also took in the room, though his eyes were unfocused too like he couldn’t bear to see the details again.
“Botch jobs all around.” McQueen's voice was hollow. “The blacked out windows are already peeling because the wrong paint was chosen, the blankets and foam are things you can find in the cheap shops. They didn’t use the best you can buy stuff that would have really cut out the noise. Quick fixes for the cage and chains, using everything from Lizzy’s supplies. Nothing was permanent. Our killer doesn’t want a long game, they’re not settling in for this.”