I Hear They Burn for Murder

by J L Aarne

  “Well, this Detective Doyle thinks she’s dead and he thinks you killed her,” Ezekiel said.

  “Why in the world would he think that?” Rainer asked.

  “She’s been missing five months. He’s got witnesses who mentioned you. Apparently Eden mentioned you. So, he likes you for it.”

  “Oh, he’s undoubtedly got more than hearsay from two people she spoke to about me.” Rainer did not seem worried about it though. He flicked ash off his cigarette and put it in his mouth. “You remember the coffee shop I like?”

  “How could I forget?” Ezekiel said.

  “I met her there. She was having a bit of a domestic with a man she’d met online and he got little handsy,” Rainer said. “I liked her. She wasn’t a doormat or a coward and you’ve got to respect that in a woman, even in these enlightened times. And I admit, I was curious to see what would happen and bored with my reading material of the moment. Point being, I intervened.”

  “And there’s video of this,” Ezekiel said. “I saw the cameras in that place.”

  “Sure, and about fifteen people saw it happen,” Rainer said. “Some of them even applauded.”

  “Bet you liked that.”

  “I did. It was amusing. Imagine me, the knight in shining armor.” Rainer grinned.

  Ezekiel sat forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “You need to clean this place up. That cop is going to come for you. Probably the only reason he hasn’t already is he’s waiting for the search warrants. When he gets them, this place—your car—they need to be clean. You need to be damn sure there’s no way they’ve got anything solid on you.”

  Rainer raised an eyebrow at him and stamped out his cigarette. “Like what?”

  “Like a fucking body,” Ezekiel said.

  Rainer laughed. “Don’t you worry about that. There’s no body to be had.”

  “I think you’re enjoying this way too much,” Ezekiel said.

  “Oh, come now,” Rainer said sympathetically, “you didn’t think we were done playing, did you? You know the game.”

  “Murder in the Dark,” Ezekiel said. “Yeah.”

  “There’s a room full of people. It’s no fun and no contest if it’s just the killer and the detective all alone in the dark. Though you were more fun one-on-one than I initially expected.”

  “Damn it, Rainer, we’re not playing a game anymore. You could go to prison.”

  Rainer was not at all bothered by the possibility. “Yes, I could. What a horrible thing to happen to all of those innocent lambs already behind bars. There they’d be, locked inside with me. But I’m not going to prison. I have a career of my own to think about after all. Not to mention, all the fun we haven’t had yet, you and I.”

  “You know, I don’t think they’re going to care about that,” Ezekiel said with a sigh of exasperation. “They’re not all dumb either. This isn’t the movies or one of those TV shows you watch all the time.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m certainly not going to break down and confess all of my sins to the noble and dedicated detectives of the LAPD,” Rainer said. “Have a little faith, Ezekiel. Now, would you like coffee, maybe some lunch?”

  “Rainer, this is serious,” Ezekiel insisted.

  Rainer stood and briefly rested his hand on Ezekiel’s head as he passed him and went into the kitchen. “I know, yes, it’s very serious. Dire, one might even say. I’ll get you that coffee.”

  Ezekiel watched him go into the kitchen and pour his coffee and wondered why he even bothered. That someone suspected Rainer of murder, genuinely suspected him, had caused him to drop everything and dash over to his place to warn him, but Rainer wasn’t alarmed or even taking the threat very seriously. Or maybe he was, Ezekiel just couldn’t read him. In his own analytic, calculating, psychopathic way, perhaps Rainer was taking it seriously, but it didn’t show.

  Ezekiel met him by the door and took the offered coffee. “I need to go back to work. I shouldn’t be here if anyone shows up,” he said. He kissed Rainer and when Rainer tried to keep it brief, he held onto him and deepened it. When they stopped, Ezekiel sipped his coffee. “I’ll bring the cup back later.”

  Rainer leaned into him and kissed the taste of coffee from his mouth. “You do that,” he said. “And don’t worry. It’ll give you frown lines and grey hair.”

  Ezekiel hesitated, holding the door open and looked back at him over his shoulder. “If they’ve got anything at all—if there’s a chance—you should think about running.”

  Rainer put his hand on the door and leaned in the doorway. “They don’t, but I promise I’ll do some cleaning when you’re gone to be sure.”

  “All right,” Ezekiel said. “Don’t forget your car.”

  “I’m thinking about getting a new one, actually,” Rainer said. At the look Ezekiel gave him, he smirked. “Obviously not today. I won’t forget. See you later, Ezekiel.”

  Chapter 42

  When Ezekiel was gone, Rainer did as he had said and cleaned the apartment. It wasn’t all that dirty really, what mess there was consisted largely of organized clutter. He wasn’t a dirty person by nature and if he had been, Thomas wouldn’t have stood for it. None of the clutter was related to Eden Raines or any of his other many victims though. He did not bring those people home with him ever. He did not kill in his own home, he tried like hell never to kill anyone he knew personally and he never had sex with people he intended to murder. Any evidence he had was what he brought back there when he was finished.

  Rainer swept the house for anything like that, added it to his kit bag and put the bag out on the fire escape. He vacuumed the carpet and did the dishes while he was at it. When he finished, he took the little Dirt Devil vacuum cleaner down to the parking lot and vacuumed out his car.

  Then he called Elijah.

  “Rainer, so nice to hear from you,” Elijah said. “My, this is interesting. I can’t recall the last time you phoned. Kitten, do you remember the last time Rainer gave us a ring? I want to say never, don’t you think?”

  “Elijah—”

  “Kitten says I’m absolutely right. You’ve never called here before. Which, I have to say, suggests something is awry. That’s really the only time people who never call change their minds and call. When they want something. If I were a less charitable man—”

  “Elijah!”

  “Yes, yes what is it? You don’t have to shout, Rainer.”

  “I need you to do me a favor—”

  “See? What did I just say? Rainer—”

  “The cops are going to come by sometime soon to question me about a missing girl,” Rainer said, talking over him. “I’ve put my kit out on the fire escape. Will you please come by and get it? Before they get here would be good.”

  “Oh, no,” Elijah exclaimed. “Kitten, Rainer’s about to be arrested. Rainer, how could you be so careless? Have I taught you nothing?”

  “I’m not being arrested. They’re going to question me and probably search my place. That’s all.”

  “Well, that’s a precursor to being arrested, obviously.”

  “Elijah, will you please—”

  “Yes, yes, do shut up. I’m on my way, boy. You know what you need is a good lawyer.”

  “I’m not being arrested,” Rainer repeated.

  “I’ll look into it and get back to you.”

  Elijah hung up and Rainer looked at his phone. Then he put it down and went to make a sandwich. Then he might watch a movie, he thought. Or maybe put in a DVD of one of those shows he was always watching. He could practice his honesty, his contrition, his most sympathetic expressions, he could practice being earnest. For laughs, maybe he’d even practice his confession.

  The police did not arrive until nearly seven that evening. Rainer had dressed in street clothes in expectation of their arrival then watched TV with Pogo curled up in his lap while he waited. He hadn’t forgotten them, but he had started to think that Ezekiel had been mistaken when there was a loud, door rattling knock.

&nb
sp; Rainer gently put the cat down and got up to answer the door.

  The man on his doorstep had one hand raised in a fist to pound on the door again and his other hovering a few inches over his sidearm. Rainer looked at his fist then at the hand over his gun and put a look of surprised confusion on his face as he met the detective’s gaze. He was a tall, middle-aged black man with grey in his close-cropped hair. The eyes he settled on Rainer were intelligent, but slightly bloodshot with exhaustion. Behind him stood another detective, a short, barrel-chested man of about forty with a greying blond comb over.

  “Rainer Bryssengur?” the first detective asked.

  “Yes?” Rainer said. The detective still had not lowered his hand from his gun, but he did so as Rainer stared at him. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m Detective Doyle, this is Detective Kurtwood. We have a warrant to search your residence and your vehicle.”

  Rainer blinked. “What for?”

  “You know a woman named Eden Raines, Mr. Bryssengur?” Detective Doyle asked.

  Rainer thought about it. “I met a girl named Eden several months ago,” he said slowly. “We had dinner once. I thought things went well. She was going to call me later in the week, but I never did hear from her again.”

  “Neither did anyone else,” Doyle said. “Your name came up during the course of our investigation.”

  “So?”

  “So, we’re going to need you to come with us and answer some questions,” Detective Kurtwood said.

  “This is absurd,” Rainer said. “I barely even knew the woman.”

  The two detectives exchanged a look. “Please come with us, sir,” Doyle said.

  Rainer scratched over his eyebrow with one finger and looked out at the parking lot. There were other cops waiting below to begin searching his place. He could see a few of them moving around down there. As soon as he left with the detectives, they were going to execute the search warrant.

  He sighed and said, “Are you going to read me my rights or something?”

  “You’re not under arrest at this time. We would just like to ask you some questions,” Doyle said.

  “Fine,” Rainer said. He stepped out of the apartment and went ahead of them down the stairs. “I don’t know what I can tell you, but fine. Don’t let my cat get outside while you’re tossing the place and please don’t break anything.”

  The next-door apartment door swung open and Caleb put his head out to look around. He saw the cops and his eyes got big. “Whoa. Hey, Mr. Bryssengur, what’s going on?”

  Rainer glanced around at him. “Nothing, Caleb. These officers just want to ask me some questions. Go back inside.”

  “But—”

  Detective Kurtwood turned to Caleb. “Who are you?”

  “Uh… Nobody,” Caleb said. He went back inside and closed the door.

  The detectives took Rainer to the police station to a small room with taupe walls, no windows, one door, two uncomfortable folding chairs and one tiny table then they asked him if he wanted anything to drink. When Rainer told them no, they left him there. Rainer stood in the middle of the little room and turned, looking around at everything. There wasn’t much. The table was shoved up against a wall between the two folding chairs. There was a camera mounted high up on the wall in a corner near the ceiling.

  He wanted a cigarette, but if he lit one in that little room, a cop was going to appear and tell him he couldn’t smoke in this building. He decided to hold off until he really wanted to see them again. Instead, he sat down at the tiny table and waited.

  And waited some more.

  And when no one returned for a long time he put his head down on his folded arms on the tabletop and fell asleep.

  He woke up when Detective Doyle slammed a hand down on the table. He opened his eyes, sat up and yawned. Doyle scowled. Rainer was starting to think that was just his face though rather than an indication of actual displeasure.

  “They say it’s only the guilty ones that fall asleep in interrogation,” he said.

  “You know, I heard that on an episode of Murder She Wrote when I was a kid,” Rainer said. “They have never been left alone in a room like this one for over an hour.”

  “Two,” Doyle said. He took the seat across from Rainer. He had a file with him, but he didn’t open it. “Sorry about that.”

  Rainer nodded. “Interrogations are for people who are under arrest, aren’t they?”

  “I didn’t say that, but this is an interrogation room,” Doyle said.

  Rainer gave him a flat look. “Obviously,” he said. “What can I do for you, Detective? I really would rather not spend my entire Saturday night here if it can be helped.”

  “You don’t seem too bothered that a girl you know—a girl you dated—has been missing since October,” Doyle said. “You were the last person to see her. That don’t worry you at all?”

  Rainer knew the face they wanted to see him don for this. He put on Empathy and said, “Of course, I’m bothered, Detective. I liked Eden. She was smart and beautiful and interesting and I think we liked each other, but I only knew her briefly. We had one date. When she did not call me after that, I logically assumed she had her reasons. Now it turns out that something happened to her and that’s awful, but I don’t know how bothered you can really expect me to be.”

  Doyle nodded. He could see how that could be the case, that nod said. “Of course, maybe you ain’t so bothered by it because psychopaths just don’t feel that way about people, no matter how smart, beautiful and interesting they are,” he said.

  Rainer cocked his head a little, suddenly much more interested in Detective Doyle. After a few moments, he said, “Maybe. But even people who are not psychopaths do not form deep emotional bonds with people they have known for less than a day.”

  “So, you don’t deny that you’re a psychopath?” Doyle asked.

  Rainer slumped back in his uncomfortable chair and laced his fingers together in his lap. “Do you know, in Europe if you score a twenty-five on the PCL-R, you’re a diagnosed psychopath, but in the United States, you have to score a thirty?” he said. “Isn’t that scientific?”

  Doyle looked uncomfortable for the first time since Rainer had met him. He was not used to being the one at that little table who was confused.

  “It’s the test psychiatrists and psychologists use to determine whether or not a person is a psychopath,” Rainer explained. “The psychopathy checklist.”

  “What’s your score?” Doyle asked.

  Rainer shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “You want to know why I’m not all broken up about Eden gone missing, probably dead and I told you. Whether I’m a psychopath as you’ve accused me of being or not isn’t really the point. I didn’t know her very well.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about your date with Eden Raines,” Doyle said. “You met her in a café—”

  “Coffee shop. They don’t really serve food other than pastries,” Rainer said. He could see already that this was going to be a long night. He might have to tell this story several more times. “I was reading a book at the next table when she got into an argument with the man she was with…”

  Rainer told him the whole thing from the beginning through dinner at Thomas’s restaurant. After that the story changed a little.

  “I drove her home, but when we got there, she decided she didn’t want to go home after all. I was surprised, she didn’t seem like that kind of girl. You know, the first date kind of girl. But she didn’t want to go into her apartment and I thought maybe she had a roommate or something like that, so we went back to my place.”

  “And you had sex?” Doyle asked.

  “We did,” Rainer said. “I asked her to stay, but she said she couldn’t. She seemed a little embarrassed by what had happened, actually.”

  “So she didn’t stay the night?” Doyle asked. “When did she leave your apartment?”

  “I’m not really sure. Probably after midnight.”

  “And that�
�s the last time you heard from her?”

  “Yes. Like I said before, I expected her to call, but she didn’t. I thought maybe something happened and she changed her mind.”

  “Something like what?”

  “Something like I don’t know. Maybe she had a boyfriend she got back together with. Maybe she gave Curtis another chance. Maybe she moved away. Maybe she decided she really didn’t like me that much after all or maybe she was too embarrassed about having sex with me after a first date to call me. How should I know?”

  “You had her number. Why didn’t you call her?”

  Rainer shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess I figured the ball was in her court.”

  “Tell me about this guy, Curtis,” Doyle said.

  “From what I overheard of their conversation, she met him online. He claimed they had really hit it off online, but she said they had only exchanged a few emails.” Rainer shrugged. “I don’t know which is true.”

  “They say anything else?”

  “She seemed to think he was acting the way he was acting because he resented her being wealthy when he isn’t. I don’t know if that’s so, but he didn’t react well to the accusation. The coffee place has cameras, you can probably look up the footage.”

  “Thank you. We’re on it.” Doyle flipped open the file in front of him and took a minute to read something. “Forensics took some hair samples from your car. It’s interesting.”

  “What is?” Rainer asked.

  “They found a few hairs that match up with Miss Raines’s DNA and something else. Hair belonging to a Randall Lance LaRoche. You know who he is?”

  “Yes,” Rainer said. “He’s the ex-husband of the woman who lives in the apartment next to mine.”

  “He died awhile back, did you know that?”

  “Yes. I saw it on the news. They said he was murdered.”

  “Yeah. Thing is, probably only made it on the news because of how it happened. Ain’t every day a man that big gets beat to death so bad he’s got no head left to ID him by.”

  Rainer adopted an expression of horrified disgust. “That’s so horrible for them,” he said. “The family. I know the boy a little, Caleb. He’s a good kid.”