by David Carter
It was the same as the others: ten body parts belonging to ten different people, all cleanly cut from their respective owners by a sharp and powerful blade.
A local detective from Brighton squatted down next to Ryan. “It’s unbelievable what some people are capable of, isn’t it?” she asked him.
He turned his attention away from the morbid sight in the ground and looked at her. She was pretty, in a tomboyish sort of way, and looked to be in her early forties. “It sickens me to the core,” he finally said. “I’m Detective Cameron Ryan by the way.”
“Sandra Gibson,” she replied, and shook his hand. “So you must be the big shot that’s been sent over from Milton City to lead this investigation, right?”
Ryan read between the lines. “I assume it’s your toes I’m stepping on since the commissioner gave me no option but to work this case?”
Her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink; small dimples appeared in the corners of her mouth as she meekly smiled. “Yes, well, I was in charge until I got a phone call saying I was to assist you instead.”
“Well, then for the greater good, can we put aside the fact that I’m in charge and agree to work more-or-less together? Just do what you would normally do. I think you’ll find that I’m not so bad to work with.”
“All right, it’s a deal.” She smiled back. I could definitely work with that body of yours, she thought.
“So fill me in. What do you know so far?”
“Ten victims. Nine female, all roughly in their late teens or early twenties. Identities unknown. One male: Justin Murphy, otherwise known as Fish: thirty-three years old, unemployed, no immediate family, and a member of the Sinners & Scarecrows Motorcycle Club.”
“What about the murder weapon?”
“We found a bullet in one of the victims. Forensics say it’s from an Uzi sub-machine gun. There have been numerous murders in Brighton consistent with the round pulled from the victim, so we could be talking gang-related murders here. And there was semen recovered from both the vagina and anus of all four female victims examined so far. It’s fair to say that we will likely see this in the other girls, if and when we find them.
“Do you have a working theory of the chain of events leading up to these poor girls getting dumped here?”
She sighed. “Well, here’s my current train of thought: they were possibly gang-raped, before being mercilessly shot and dismembered by a band or bench saw. Then the bodies were mixed up and disposed of way out here in the middle of nowhere. It was just dumb luck they were found.”
Ryan considered her theory. “This is probably a silly question: but is forensics running DNA on the semen recovered?”
She replied with an abrasive look.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s pray for a positive hit.” Ryan paused for a moment, then asked, “So where does the biker fit in all of this?”
“Now that’s a complete mystery,” she replied. I’ve never had any dealings with them before. As far as I know the Sinners & Scarecrows are just a small motorcycle club that pretty-much keep to themselves.”
Ryan went to say something but stopped himself.
Sandra noticed his hesitation “Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked him.
“The reason I was put on the case,” he replied.
“Well, go on then, spit it out.”
Ryan chose to be up-front with her. “I’ve had dealings with the MC before, quite recently in fact. Did you hear about the serial killer case in Glendale? It was the president of the SAS that assisted me in his capture.”
Sandra finally made the connection. “Of course! I saw you both on the news! What was his name again?”
“Blaze.”
“Yes, that’s him!” she said excitedly. “Do you think his club is possibly behind these murders? Including killing one of their own for whatever reason?”
“No, I don’t think so. As far as I know, Blaze has gone straight. And he wouldn’t be this sloppy.”
“How do you mean?”
“Think about it: all these graves so close to each other? Why go to the trouble of mixing all the bodies up to just leave them all within throwing-distance of each other?”
“Good point. So you think whoever did this was just lazy?”
“Perhaps. Because anyone with half a brain would have never left them like this. You would spread them out. And I can tell you something right now: Blaze is anything but stupid.”
They were interrupted by the sound of barking dogs and yelling.
“We’ve found another one!” one of the dog handlers shouted.
“Jesus Christ,” muttered Ryan as he turned around and walked towards grave number six.
Chapter 12
Three hours later, after all ten graves had been uncovered, Ryan left the crime scene. I wish Hampton was here, he thought, as he pulled out of the rest area on the side of the main highway. Steve Hampton was his partner for the past two years in the Milton City Homicide Unit. It was the first time they hadn’t worked a case together during that time, as Hampton had decided to take some much-needed time off work after the serial killer case in Glendale, and had gone on an overseas trip to Europe with his new lady friend, Elizabeth Blaise, Blaze’s mother.
Ryan stopped for a bite to eat when he arrived back in Brighton. He was mulling over how to proceed with the case, bearing in mind what the commissioner wanted from him. Then he suddenly had a bright idea. He got into his car and went in search of the Sinners & Scarecrows’ clubhouse.
Once he found it, he boldly rolled up the driveway and parked next to a row of shiny Harley Davidson motorcycles. He had barely shut off the engine before he was surrounded by four guys aiming pistols at his head from all directions.
Spider motioned him to wind down his window. “State your business or fuck off,” he said.
Ryan held up both his hands. “I’m not here to cause any trouble,” he said calmly. “I’m here to see Blaze.”
“For what purpose?”
“I’m the detective who worked with him back in Glendale.”
“So what? Blaze doesn’t make a habit of making friends with the pigs. Now get the fuck outta here.” He cocked his pistol.
Ryan thought quickly. “Wait! I have some information about your missing biker friend. I know where he is!” he said frantically.
Spider cautiously lowered his weapon for a moment. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“The member of your club that’s gone missing: I believe you call him Fish?”
There was a silence as Spider processed this information. “Get out of the car,” he commanded, his pistol still fixed on his forehead.
Blaze and Danny heard the commotion outside. They walked over to the front door of the clubhouse to find Ryan gingerly walking towards them at gunpoint.
“Put your fucking guns away!” Blaze ordered.
“But he’s a cop!” protested Spider.
“Now!” he raised his voice, then calmly said, “He’s all right, Spider.” He gently put his hand on Spider’s raised pistol and slowly pushed his arm down. He turned to face Ryan, and with a stern voice, said, “And just what the fuck are you doing here, detective?”
He led him inside to the bar and pulled out a stool for him to sit on. All the members stood around him, waiting for an explanation.
“I have some information about your missing friend.”
“Go on.”
“Well, he’s the murder case I’ve been assigned to work on,” he hinted.
It took a moment for his words to register with everyone. “You mean he’s dead?” Blaze asked.
“I’m afraid so.” He explained how his body was found along with nine female victims.
Everyone was silent. They were all fighting back the tears as Ryan described the gory details of Fish’s demise.
Blaze walked behind the bar and opened a bottle of whisky. He poured everyone a glass, including Ryan, in honour of Fish’s memory.
“To
Fish,” he toasted. “May you rest in peace, brother. And may none of us not rest until we find the fuckers responsible.”
“To Fish,” everyone said in unison, and knocked back their drinks.
“So, where’s his body?” Blaze asked Ryan after a long silence.
“It’s currently being analysed at the city morgue. I’d say it’ll be awhile before it can be released.”
Blaze announced to everyone, “Give us the room. I want a word with the detective, alone.”
Everyone meandered outside.
“It’s a bit of a coincidence you were assigned this case, don’t you think?” Blaze glared at him.
“I swear I had nothing to do with that. I go where I’m told,” Ryan replied innocently.
“Even after all the club secrets I shared with you back in Glendale? You can’t tell me that you’ve come all this way just to solve some random biker’s death, can you? I get the distinct impression you’re up to so much more than that. Hell, after all, you know just about everything about me.”
“Blaze, I swear I was working another case until I was flown up here this morning, in a chopper, no less, and assigned this case. Someone else is pulling the strings. I’m merely the puppet. I’m still trying to get a handle on this.”
Blaze eyed him closely for a moment. “All right, man, I believe you,” he said at last and pulled him in close, embracing him. “It’s good to see you.” He grinned. “How’s Sharon? Must have been hard after she, well, you know...”
“Lost the baby?”
“Yeah.”
“Doing as well as can be expected I suppose. She’s a tough cookie, though.”
“No shit. You got yourself a good one there.”
They were interrupted as a woman Ryan didn’t recognise walked in. Blaze said, “Detective Ryan, I’d like you to meet my old lady, Zoe.”
“You’re Zoe?” he said, stunned, then looked at Blaze as he said, “You mean she isn’t—”
“Dead?” Blaze answered for him.
“Yeah.”
“Turns out she’s as stubborn as I am.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zoe.” Ryan reached out to shake her hand.
She swatted it away and instead, hugged him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Blaze told me all about you.” She smiled. “Thank you for bringing my man home to me. I’d be dog food by now if not for you.”
Ryan cringed.
“So, what brings you here?” she asked him.
Blaze quickly jumped in and explained about Fish. She was visibly upset. She had a drink in honour of him, before saying her goodbyes; she was heading to her mother’s place to stay for a couple of days.
Once she was gone, Blaze explained to Ryan how Vino had kidnapped her, and how Archer had given him no choice but to work for him in exchange for her safe return.
Ryan was perplexed. “You’re saying that Archer and Mr Lombardi are in business together?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re working for them?”
Blaze shrugged. “It’s not like a have a choice. Now that he’s working with the Lombardis, I can’t just rock up and shoot him. The blow-back would undoubtedly mean the end of the SAS.”
Ryan exhaled heavily. “Bloody hell. Today’s just full of surprises. Do your best to stay out of trouble, all right?”
“No promises there.”
Ryan changed the subject. “Hey, I desperately need to use the bathroom. Can you show me where it is?”
Blaze led him down the hallway. “In there.” He pointed to the filthy porcelain toilet in the tiny room. “Try not to touch anything if you don’t wanna catch herpes,” he chuckled.
“Thanks,” Ryan said, then held his index finger over his lips, signalling Blaze to stay quiet, then motioned Blaze to come in with him.
Blaze was both mortified and confused.
Ryan made the gesture again, with much more urgency this time, then pointed to his shirt. He slowly undid a couple of buttons, revealing the wire he was wearing.
Blaze was ropable. He stormed inside with Ryan and went to slam him up against the wall.
“Wait!” Ryan whispered. He turned the wire off. Then in a normal voice, said, “I assume I’m allowed some privacy when I go to the bathroom. So, we’ve got five minutes, tops.”
Blaze was fuming. “What the fuck is going on!” he exploded.
“I’m here to warn you and the MC,” he explained. “We’re all in deep shit.”
Blaze calmed a little. “Talk,” he said.
“It’s the police commissioner,” he explained. “He brought me in to solve Fish’s murder so that I can keep an eye on you and report to him, knowing that we have history. So please don’t say anything around me that might incriminate yourself. He’s no doubt listening to every word we’re saying. And I’m taking a hell of a risk by telling you.”
Blaze understood immediately. “The commissioner knows about what you did for me and Danny in Glendale, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does. And he’s holding my career over my head because of it; he made it abundantly clear that I’m to find enough dirt on you to lock you up, or I’ll be going in your place.”
Blaze paced back and forth as he listened. He stopped, and said, “Why would the commissioner be after me? Last time I checked I was a free man…?”
“I don’t know. I would have thought the likes of Seth Archer and Mr Lombardi would be a higher priority.”
“Exactly. I’m a fucking nobody.”
“Well, he knows you’re working for them; maybe he’s starting from the ground-up. Chopping off the arms of the beast so to speak.”
“I guess it’s possible. It would make life harder for the Lombardis if the SAS were out of business. He’d need to find more mules, and reliable ones at that.”
“And you’re much easier targets, too.”
“Not necessarily, I’ll fight for my freedom if I have to.” He paused a moment, then said, “So what are you going to do? Do I have anything to worry about?”
“Of course not; I’d never betray you after what we went through together. What we need is a plan that results in Seth Archer and Mr Lombardi in prison, and you and the rest of the MC in the clear.”
Blaze patted him on the shoulder as he said, “Well, you can relax; I’ve already got one.”
“What? Care to fill me in?”
“Not now. I need more time.” Blaze paused as something disturbing suddenly occurred to him. “How did the commissioner find out about Danny?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Danny is officially classified as deceased, which means somebody talked.”
“Somebody, who?”
“I could only be you, me, Danny,” he paused, “or someone in the MC.”
“No fucking way!” Blaze said furiously. “We’re brothers! We would never rat each other out. Never!” His face went an angry shade of red.
“Look, I’m just throwing it out there. You need to be careful, Blaze.” He looked at the time on his watch. “Our time is up. We’ll discuss this later. For now, just do your best to stay out of trouble. We’ll talk soon.”
They left the bathroom. Blaze escorted Ryan to his car, and said, “Look, I’m busy tonight, but how about we catch up for breakfast tomorrow at the Marble Lane Cafe on the main street of Brighton. Say, eightish?”
“It’s a date,” Ryan said.
Chapter 13
“Good luck, man,” Danny farewelled Blaze as he left him on the pier at Smuggler’s Point, before driving back to Brighton.
Blaze walked towards Tyrone Sanchez’s cabin using only the light of the clouded-over moon to navigate his way. He opened the door and peered inside. Sanchez was leaning back in an old wooden chair, nursing a machine gun in his lap, smoking a cigarette; the glow of the burning tobacco hovered in the darkness.
“You know, smoking that shit will kill you one day,” Blaze said.
“You’re late,” Sanchez sneered. He heaved his enormous body up and lumbered towards the
doorway where Blaze stood. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you’re punk-ass down here again,” he said. “Last I’d heard there was a bounty on your head. I even sent out a mob to track you down. I’d have happily sliced you apart for what Mr Lombardi was offering.”
Blaze followed him outside. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Sanchez chuckled. “Don’t take it personally, kid. I kill my own mother for ninety-grand.”
They approached the parked delivery truck just in time to see two of Mr Lombardi’s captains sealing it shut. Blaze asked them, “Where’s Mr Lombardi? It’s not like him to let a delivery leave without inspection?”
The bigger of the two men answered, “Our papa wasn’t feeling so good. I told him to stay home and rest. He told me to tell you not to screw up the delivery.”
“And you can tell him I said to go fuck himself.”
Mr Lombardi’s son saw red. He stood face to face with Blaze, trying to psyche him out with his size and mass.
“All right, that’s enough cock-fighting for one morning,” Sanchez intervened. He gave the truck keys to Blaze. “Drive straight to Brighton, and don’t detour from your designated route. If you do, I’ll kill you. If you screw anything up, I’ll kill you. And don’t try anything stupid like sneaking a peek at the merchandise in the back. Because if you do—”
“Yeah, I know; you’ll kill me, right?”
“I’ll literally skin you alive. When I agree to do a job, I do it right.”
Blaze went to get in the driver’s side of the cab. “Oh, and one more thing—” said Sanchez.
“Yeah?”
“You’re gonna have company.”
“What do you mean?”
He motioned towards the luxury yacht moored on the adjacent pier, and saw the silhouette of a man limping towards them.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” seethed Blaze.
“Governor’s orders,” said Sanchez. “He wants to be sure he can trust your punk-ass.”
Mr Lombardi’s sons chuckled in amusement.
Blaze pulled his Glock 17 Archer had given him from the belt on his jeans. He said, “Not another fucking step, Vino, or I’ll end this once and for all.”