Scratched Off

by Julie C. Gilbert

  Pulling up her text message log, Andrew read the agent’s message about canceling their date and Mel’s reply about suggesting they could work out a late night coffee instead of dinner. That message had been sent an hour ago and the agent hadn’t answered yet. Mel wore her worried frown. Part of Andrew wanted to kick the agent into sending Mel a reply, but the other part of him admitted the delay was probably his fault. They should have found the South Street Lady’s body by now.

  A few pings told him the information mining programs were starting to bear fruit, so he closed the connections to the security cameras at Mel’s hospital. The initial results were better than he’d hoped. Mr. Anton Polzin had an impressive online presence. He also had a habit of leaving his laptop on and connected to the same network as his work computers. For somebody who relied so heavily upon technology for their bread and butter, Anton was pretty lax about security. The company’s cyber security impressed Andrew, but the program was crippled by incompetent application. It was the home security equivalent of locking everything down tight except the garage windows.

  In a few more minutes, Anton’s computer spilled its secrets. The fool had a file labeled “passwords” with most of his safe words tucked inside. It had been locked, but the password for that was a combination of his anniversary and his wife’s name. His desktop background was a picture of the wedding complete with convenient time and date stamp in the upper right hand corner.

  Mr. Polzin also happened to be fond of parties. His Facebook page had hundreds of pictures of Anton with various attractive women—not always his wife—at different parties. Andrew guessed that if he dug deep enough, he could find some compromising photos or videos to email Mrs. Polzin, but he didn’t bother. A quick check into her showed much the same quality of a photo collection. Apparently, they enjoyed an “open” relationship. Andrew didn’t understand the appeal, but he also didn’t care enough to waste disapproval.

  Wiping the images from his mind, Andrew got down to the business at hand. First, he found Mr. Polzin’s online banking information. Next, he authorized several large scale purchases of bitcoins, traveler’s checks, and gift cards. The transactions should trip the security enough to get them to freeze Mr. Polzin’s accounts until they could sort the matter. It would be a nuisance to fix. He considered sending a threat to shut down the Cops vs. Killers game, but he doubted such a thing would be taken seriously.

  How could he hurt somebody solely through the internet?

  If Andrew destroyed the man’s computers, he’d simply buy new ones. Anton’s credit already stood on shaky ground. There wasn’t much Andrew could do to make it worse. The open relationship ruled out making the wife jealous.

  The answer came to him in a flash of inspiration. At first he’d lacked the funds, but after controlling Lurch’s accounts he’d only lacked the inclination to hire a hitman. Spending his own money for such a thing seemed wrong, but with the codes to Anton Polzin’s personal accounts, Andrew could pay for the kill with the man’s own money.

  Quickly accessing the bank accounts, Andrew canceled each of the transactions he’d set up. The bank’s system might notice the anomaly, but their investigation would take hours to even start. Nobody would care since the problem seemed to have righted itself in a matter of minutes.

  Pulling up yet another computer, Andrew accessed the Dark Web. He never used one of his usual computers for this sort of activity. After this one task, he’d scrap the laptop. He’d built it from spare parts anyway, so it wasn’t much of a loss.

  Anything Goes, Inc. had a sister company called Everything Dies. Their website consisted of a simple forum where one could post jobs, offer services, or bid on existing jobs. Even here, nobody ever spoke plainly. They hinted and teased and danced around the truth. That bothered Andrew, but he swallowed his distaste.

  Andrew found the West Coast job opportunities and skimmed one at random to make sure he was in the right place. A woman had a tipsy, troublesome bear that kept invading her house and hurting her precious flowers. She was headed to Washington State to visit with family for the weekend, and if somebody took care of the bear before she returned, she would reward them greatly. Interested parties should click on the attachment for more details. Translation: the woman’s husband beat her and her daughters when he got drunk, and she wanted somebody to off him before they returned from their vacation.

  Wording the job listing took Andrew twenty minutes, but since the proposed payment was so high, he immediately received a lot of interest. He didn’t recognize the names, but he thought he’d read a Dark Web article on Stinger44. The unknown hitman always stuck with “stinger” but he changed the number as jobs were completed.

  The conversation quickly moved to a private area of the forum where they hashed out the details. Stinger44 promised to complete the job within 48 hours. He even agreed to no money down, which is unheard of, in exchange for some screen shots of what he would be receiving in full later. Andrew took the liberty of opening an untraceable account for Stinger44 in the Cayman Islands using a bogus credit card. They wouldn’t fuss as long as real money entered the account before Monday afternoon. Andrew needed to walk the hitman through the process of claiming his payment three times, but he’d hired the man for his nerves and his gun not his computer skills.

  When they concluded the business, Andrew arranged for an email to be sent automatically from a new account he created for just that purpose. The email would contain the final passwords and a reiteration of the instructions for retrieving the money. It was to be sent only if three national news outlets ran simultaneous articles reporting Anton Polzin’s death. If that happened erroneously, then the man’s accounts would be cleared out anyway. Andrew supposed that in itself would be a kind of justice.

  With that matter accounted for, Andrew turned his talents to dealing with the offending game. Much thought led him to conclude the best course of action would be to seed the program with replicating bugs. Essentially, the game would have so many problems the makers would have to pull it to sort the mess or risk customer backlash.

  If only real world problems went away as easily as virtual ones. Ruining lives from the safe anonymity of his bunker was less satisfying than hands-on murder, but it would occupy him for now. Come spring, he could get back to his personal version of cops vs. killers.

  Chapter 17:

  A Late Second Date

  Melissa Novak’s Private Residence

  Hillsborough, New Jersey

  I should have called.

  The thought looped through Sam Kerman’s head incessantly as he pulled up in front of the single family Colonial style home. Mel had shown him pictures of her place, but he’d never actually been there. Climbing out of his car, Sam ducked into the backseat to grab the supplies he’d brought. With a bag in each hand, he stared at the red door within its white frame. A lamp near the door gave off a bright, welcoming glow. The distance from the curb where Sam had parked to the door wasn’t long, but it felt like miles.

  Walk up to the door and knock. She’ll be glad to see you.

  The pep talk helped, but Sam worried about the late hour. He was taking a huge risk, and the long day plus the hour-and-a-half drive had numbed his brain. According to the GPS the ride should have taken an hour and twelve minutes, but he’d detoured to make some purchases at a grocery store.

  Time’s still ticking.

  The reminder failed to unstick his feet from the pavement.

  The distinctive sounds of a lock disengaging hit his ears a moment before the door cracked open. A dog bolted out and started barking its head off. The white streak charged at Sam who could only lift the bags high to keep them out of the dog’s reach.

  “Sal! Get back here!” called Melissa’s exasperated voice.

  Upon reaching Sam, the dog stopped abruptly and sniffed deeply. Smelling the food, the dog plopped its butt down right in Sam’s path and looked up at him expectantly.

  “Whatcha got there, Sal?” asked another woman�
��s voice.

  The dog got up, whined, danced around Sam, yipped, and sniffed the air from multiple angles.

  Two figures appeared in the doorway. Sam squinted but couldn’t tell which figure belonged to Mel. He suddenly felt ridiculous with his arms raised out to his sides like a giant scarecrow.

  A brilliant flashlight beam struck Sam full in the face.

  “Ouch!” he cried. Instinctively, he brought the grocery bags in front of his face to shield it.

  “Stay back! We have a gun!” yelled the strange woman.

  “Give me that,” said Mel. The flashlight beam stopped blinding Sam, but it stayed trained on him. “Sam? Is that you?”

  Sam slowly lowered the bags and blinked furiously.

  “It’s me,” he admitted. “Sorry about the hour. I should have called, but I wanted to surprise you.”

  Mel laughed.

  “Mission accomplished. Come on in. Don’t worry about Sal, just step over him if he gets in your way.”

  “Sam? As in, ‘The Sam’?” hissed the other woman.

  “Let him in and I’ll introduce you,” said Mel. The words carried the essence of an eye roll.

  “I’m sorry.” Sam uttered the second apology as he crossed the threshold into the house, trying not to trip over Sal. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew you already had company over.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Mel assured him, leading the way into the kitchen. She took the bags from him and laid them on the table before attempting introductions. “Sam, this is my friend and sister-in-law, Josie.”

  “Best friend,” Josie corrected. She thrust a hand out to shake Sam’s hand now that it was free from the groceries. “It’s so nice to meet you. Mel’s not gushed about a guy like this since—well, I don’t think she’s ever gushed about a guy like this.”

  Sam’s face reddened.

  “I do not gush,” Mel protested, though her cheeks flushed as red as Sam’s. She launched into the rest of the introduction. “Josie, this is Special Agent Samuel Kerman with the FBI. He’s—”

  “Gorgeous,” interrupted Josie, thoroughly enjoying herself. She snatched back her hand which had gripped Sam’s longer than necessary and headed for the bags. “Ooo, what’s in here?”

  Mel slipped over to Sam and greeted him with a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “Sorry. This is ‘sleep-deprived Josie.’ She’s a lot like ‘raving lunatic Josie,’” Mel whispered. “She and the kids stay here when my brother pulls extra-long shifts.”

  “He’s a firefighter, right?” Sam asked, hoping he got that fact correct.

  “You want to make s’mores and hot chocolate!” Josie cried. “That is so romantic.” She clutched the bag of large marshmallows to her chest and looked to Mel. “If you let him go, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Mellos!” cried a young voice from behind Sam.

  He whirled in time to see a tiny figure stagger into the room.

  Sal barked a greeting.

  “Eddie! How did you get out?” Josie dropped the marshmallows onto the table and scooped up the blinking child. After planting a kiss on his ear, she added, “You little escape artist.”

  “Mellos!” Eddie shouted. He pointed insistently.

  “We see them, Eddie,” said Mel. She went to soothe the agitated dog, then looked ruefully at Sam. “I’m guessing this wasn’t what you had in mind for tonight, but do you mind?” Her eyes begged Sam for understanding.

  “If Agent Sam’s all right with it, Eddie and I will steal a few mini-marshmallows and be on our way,” said Josie. “I think I hear some bedtime stories calling our names.”

  Suddenly, every eye was upon Sam.

  “Please,” said Eddie, expertly working the toddler charm.

  “I’m okay with that,” Sam assured. He suppressed the urge to extend an invitation for them to join in the s’mores making. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to add, “It’s Mel’s house. It should be her decision.”

  Eddie’s heart-melting gaze slid over to Mel. Sal added a whining plea on Eddie’s behalf.

  “You can make s’mores and hot chocolate if you want,” said Mel. She glanced at the clock. “It’s only eleven. Call it a precursor to breakfast, but Sam and I are going to be in whatever room you’re not.” This last, slow comment was directed at Josie.

  “Roger that,” Josie said, unable to keep from grinning. “Lemme at that chocolate, and me and my little man here will be on our way.”

  “First, put Sal down the basement,” said Mel. “He won’t like it, but I don’t want him getting ahold of marshmallows then barfing them up again.”

  Josie made a face.

  “You make a compelling argument, my friend.” Josie took hold of Sal’s collar. “Come on, boy, it’s the basement for you.”

  Sal looked at Josie with sad eyes until Eddie came over and gave him a big hug.

  “Bye bye,” said Eddie.

  The love seemed to mollify the dog.

  Within ten minutes, the semi-neat kitchen looked like a tornado had blown through.

  Two tornadoes, Sam mused, watching Josie and Eddie gleefully squish miniature marshmallows onto each other’s noses. Eddie had enjoyed his marshmallow toasting duties too much to stop at two s’mores, so Josie reluctantly agreed to eat one. Before they knew it, six large s’mores lined the counter.

  “What will we do with them all?” Mel asked, looking overwhelmed. The effort to brush a strand of dark brown hair off of her forehead only succeeded in placing a smudge of chocolate there.

  Sam squared his shoulders.

  “We’ll just have to suffer and eat two each,” he said bravely. He smiled and tapped his forehead, making eye contact with Mel.

  “I have chocolate on my face, don’t I?” she asked.

  “Sure do,” said Josie. Without warning, she attacked Mel with a warm washcloth until the bit of chocolate was removed.

  Eddie yawned mightily, so Josie scooped him up.

  “Guess we’ll have to take a raincheck on that hot chocolate,” she said. “That mess making done wore me out.”

  “I’ll make you one anyway,” said Mel. “You’ll want it after you get him down to sleep.”

  “You know me so well,” agreed Josie. She rocked her son as she spoke.

  Eddie tried to rally but only managed to reposition his head and bring his sticky thumb up to his mouth.

  Once the major distractions had exited, Sam helped Mel restore order to her kitchen. Together, they wiped counters, salvaged the marshmallows that could be saved, and put the excess graham crackers in plastic containers to keep them fresh. The additional, fully functional s’mores were also bagged, though Sam doubted they’d be any good by tomorrow. By the time cleanup duties ended, the milk was suitably warm to make hot chocolate with the instant packs. Weary, Sam sank onto one of the kitchen chairs and studied the giant s’more resting in front of him. Two large marshmallows had been melted over an entire chocolate bar and sandwiched between toasted graham cracker shells.

  “I’m full just looking at it,” he said.

  “You can do it. I believe in you,” said Mel. Her eyes twinkled at him as she bit into her dessert. The top cracker broke, flipped up, and hit her in the nose, which made them both chuckle. “There is no polite way to eat this.”

  Sam shrugged and took a huge bite of his s’more with much the same results as Mel, except that his just fell apart. They enjoyed the treat in relative silence for a while. The crunch of graham crackers seemed loud in the newfound quiet.

  “Thank you for coming,” said Mel, pulling Sam’s thoughts out of neutral where they’d gone in the quiet moment. “This was a nice surprise.”

  “I wish I could have gotten here earlier. I really wanted to take you out to dinner like we’d planned, but ....” Sam let the sentence trail away. He didn’t want to ruin the moment with talk of murder.

  “I saw it on the news,” Mel finished softly. “I caught part of the press conference between appointments.” She shook her head. “That
poor woman. Who would do such a thing?”

  “We’ll catch him,” Sam promised. He was comfortable enough with Mel to let his concern show up in his features. “I just don’t know how long it will take.”

  “Hey, why so gloomy in here?” asked Josie. “Aren’t you two supposed to be tucked in a quiet corner exchanging sweet nothings by now?”

  “We were discussing the murder case Sam’s investigating,” said Mel.

  The announcement brought Josie up short.

  “Ah ha. Well, quit that,” she ordered, splitting a gaze evenly between the pair. “Ya can’t solve it at midnight tonight anyway, so you might as well enjoy the time you have together.” Spotting the third hot chocolate, Josie swept it up and breezed out of the room.

  “She’s right,” Mel admitted. “Let’s talk about something happier.”

  “You know about my week, so tell me about your week.” Sam sat up straighter to let her know he was listening.

  Mel took a long sip of hot chocolate before answering.

  “Let’s see. I worked, then I painted, then I worked, then I removed the paint and repainted, and that about brings us to now.” She gave him a crooked smile to let him know her week had been fine.

  “I forgot you were still painting. I meant to help with that,” said Sam. “Do you still have more to do? I can come back next Saturday.”

  “With an offer like that, I’ll make sure to save you some painting,” Mel commented.

  “Great.” Sam caught sight of the clock and drank about half his hot chocolate in a few quick gulps. “I should get going. There’s a small chance I might end up in the office tomorrow.”

  Mel hesitated a fraction of a second as she too absorbed the time.

  “You can stay if you want,” she offered. “The couch is suitable for sleeping as long as you clear it of toys first.”

  Sam wanted to accept the offer, but his sister would freak out if he failed to return to the apartment tonight.

  “I’d like that, but unfortunately, my kid sister’s crashing at my apartment these days. If I skip curfew she’ll sic the national guard on my tail.” Sam rose and took his half empty mug over to the sink. He poured the excess down the drain and rinsed out the mug.