A Deadly Sin: An epic dark thriller that will have you wanting to leave the lights on.

by Tracie Podger

  “So, where does one learn about these sins?” Dean asked.

  “A Catholic would be taught them at Bible study, in church as part of a sermon. I guess they could also self-study on line. Modern religion doesn’t reference them so much, because their meanings have changed over time. Take gluttony for example. It’s not necessarily related to overeating, it can relate to excess of any material form.”

  “If I had a group of people, could I attribute one of these sins to them easily?” I asked.

  David shrugged his shoulders. “I guess so, but to be honest you’d need to know the ins and outs of their lifestyle, and who knows if one wouldn’t fit two sins. The other thing to think about is whose version of the sins is your murderer working to. I’m assuming that’s what we’re really talking about here, isn’t it?”

  I leaned back in my chair. I would never normally divulge any aspects of a case to an outsider. Especially one I hadn’t done a great deal of research on, but time was running out. We had a potentially missing girl and five more sins to worry about.

  “He left words at each site, lust and gluttony. I’m making an exception here, David, in sharing this information with you. No one outside my team knows about that and all are under strict instruction, no, a promise, if this gets out, asses will be kicked, viciously.”

  David nodded his head in understanding. “Now, what do you mean, whose version?” I asked.

  “The most famous version of the seven deadly sins is Dante’s. His interpretation is slightly different to the church’s. If you ask any student about them, most will immediately identify with Dante’s.”

  “Dante, as in Dante’s Inferno?” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “But does that refer to the seven sins?”

  “It does, in a roundabout way. If you think of the circles of hell, each represents one of them.”

  “There are nine circles of hell,” Dean said, surprising me. I mentally slapped myself for that, but he didn’t seem the type to know of Dante.

  “There are, but the first is limbo, the entrance I guess you’d call it. I’m not suggesting your sins are a direct relation to Inferno, but Dante published his interpretation. It was just a thought. At the end of the day, no matter whose version, lust is lust, greed is greed. I have no idea how you’d apply those to the poor souls murdered, without knowing every intimate detail of their lives.”

  I sat upright. Who knows every intimate detail of their lives? I thought. Who had enough knowledge of those kids to apply a sin to them that wasn’t outwardly obvious?

  “I’m not sure I’ve been of any real help, but I can drop off some information you might find useful,” David said.

  “That would be good, thank you.”

  David left and Dean and I headed back to the incident room. I wanted an update on the search for Vicky.

  “So, Dante, huh?” I said.

  Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Had to learn it in high school, boring as fuck as I recall.”

  “What class?”

  “Philosophy, I think.”

  His comment brought me up short. “Philosophy?”

  He stared at me; I stared back. “Fuck!”

  “Go find out where we’re at with finding Vicky, I’ll see who led their philosophy club,” I said.

  I rang the high school and was put on hold until the secretary could locate Mr. Turner. A few minutes later he was on the phone.

  “Mr. Turner, can you tell me who led the Philosophy Club?” I asked, once pleasantries were exchanged.

  “It was mainly student led, but James Thomas would advise, set reading assignments, that kind of thing, why?”

  “It’s just something that came up. Thank you, if I need to know more, I’ll be in touch.”

  I went through my notes on the interviews we’d conducted. There was no Mr. Thomas listed. I brought up the schools website and scrolled through the list of teachers. Mr. Thomas was there, of course, and I guessed the reason we hadn’t interviewed him was because our victims hadn’t attended any of his classes. Although they had all been in Philosophy Club, not one of the friends had actually attended that as a class. I wanted to know why.

  I’d made a mess, who would have thought gold paint was not fucking easy to mop up? I sighed. Then I punched the slut in the face for making me late. She was begging me to die. I’d grant her wish, of course I would, I wasn’t a sadist. Well, not entirely. I was angry, and I didn’t like being angry, it was an emotion that caused slipups, fuckups.

  I hadn’t had my fix of Mich, my Michfix; I chuckled at my words. I needed to get rid of this girl, finish her off, and move on to the next.

  The furnace was getting up to temperature, finally. Leaving the spilled paint on the floor I grabbed the gloves and slipped them on. She was whimpering and I looked down at her. I had her bound by her wrists, ankles, and throat to a gurney; I needed something on wheels for what I’d planned for her. She was naked, well, not quite. I’d covered her modesty with the gold paint. I should have used a spray can but the gentle stroke of the horsehair brush over her skin brought it to goosebumps. She was enjoying every second of my ministrations. I’d watched with fascination as her nipples had puckered. I placed the tips of my fingers against one nipple feeling the hardness and the heat. The dirty slut obviously wanted me.

  Using tongs, I picked up the small smelting pot and placed it in the furnace. It would take a while, but Mother’s gold had certainly come in handy. I smiled. Oh, Mich. I missed you this past day. Maybe I’ll visit with you later.

  “We’ve searched all abandoned buildings in the town and on the outskirts, so far, nothing,” Pete said, as he consulted his notes.

  “She has to be somewhere and I don’t believe she’s that far away.”

  I was getting frustrated. Where the fuck was Vicky Bell? Louis and Kay were being rounded up; they were due, with their families at the station shortly and we had officers with Vicky’s parents. I wanted to speak with them before news of Vicky’s disappearance hit the streets. I had no doubt in my mind the group of friends were being targeted and I needed to know why. If we could answer that, we might have something to go on.

  I’d discussed voluntary DNA testing on all males residing in the town. The chief had balked at the logistics, more importantly the cost, but I had Dean consult with someone over at the local hospital to see if we could set up a dedicated unit to deal with it. Although our killer hadn’t left any DNA, I was hopeful he would slip up at some point. It was a useful process of elimination, whoever didn’t show, would be investigated further.

  Coordinating that would be a nightmare, I knew. We’d need a list of all adult men registered as living in the town and there would be a couple of thousand of those. Then we had to persuade the townsfolk to take the test without the usual screams of invading their human rights! I’ve often wanted to write the dictionary meaning of the word ‘voluntary’ on a fucking billboard, but then I doubted most would still understand it.

  “We’ve doubled patrols on the street, haven’t we?” I asked. Dean nodded.

  “All leave has been cancelled, and I suspect the chief will have a fucking heart attack at the overtime this month. And a rotation has been set up, so we have coverage twenty-four hours.”

  I stood in front of the whiteboard. I wanted to see if there was any pattern in when the murders occurred to when the bodies were discovered. It might give us an idea of how much time we had before…I didn’t want to go down that train of thought.

  We were notified that Louis and Kay had arrived, they were being kept in separate interview rooms, but I had no doubt they would have had a chance to talk. I decided to speak to Kay first.

  A petite girl, dark hair pulled high into a ponytail and with her clasped hands in her lap, sat in one of the plastic chairs facing the Formica desk. A woman sat beside her, a man stood, leaning against the wall. All three turned their heads as I walked into the room.

  “Thank you for coming down today,” I said, as I took a seat
opposite.

  The woman introduced herself as Kay’s mother and the man against the wall as her father. I already knew who they were. Kay stayed silent. I couldn’t say it was a scowl on her lips, but she certainly didn’t seem to be friendly. Not that sitting in a police station was anything to smile about, I guessed. I smiled, trying to put her at ease.

  “I know you’ve spoken to one of my colleagues, but I wanted to go over some things, in the hope you can help, Kay. Is that all right with you?” I asked.

  I kept my gaze on her. She shrugged at first, and then spoke. “Sure.”

  “Can you tell me about the last sleepover you had at the house on Perry Street?”

  Her eyes darted to her mother and I wondered if, like Casey, she was supposed to be anywhere other than a derelict house with a group of friends.

  “Erm, when?” she asked, a slight stammer was present in her voice.

  I tried to relax my body, conscious of giving off the wrong vibe. “Would you prefer to speak to me alone? You are old enough to be interviewed without your parents. There is nothing formal here, we just need to ask you some questions to clarify some things that have come to light.”

  I saw her visibly swallow and her neck flushed a little. She shook her head. No matter what my professional training was, no matter that I hadn’t taken the ‘profilers’ course, it was clear this girl was not comfortable and was about to withhold information.

  “We used to camp out there every now and again, nothing to it. All the kids do.”

  “I understand that. But can you elaborate on the last time that you were all there? I know the dates, Kay, Louis has already confirmed those.”

  She blinked, rapidly.

  “We went there, drank a little, told a few stories and that was it,” she said.

  I wanted for the sigh that threatened to leave my lips to be audible enough to display my frustration. Didn’t these kids know this was fucking serious?

  “Kay, two of your friends have been murdered. I’m not sure how seriously you’re taking this. I would have thought you'd be bashing my door down to offer to help.”

  “I think she’s taking it very seriously, Officer,” her mother said. The father stayed silent.

  “It’s detective, and I don’t think any of Casey or Dale’s friends are. Something happened at that sleepover, which is why everyone is being a little tight-lipped about it. I want to know what it was.” I turned my attention back to Kay. “Two kids have been murdered. I need to find the person who did that. You can help, or you can withhold information and live a life of guilt if our murderer strikes again, or is never caught.”

  I was beyond being nice. “Do you think he’ll strike again?” she asked, quietly.

  She’d said he. It was safe to assume most would suspect the murderer was a ‘he.’ It was extremely rare to have a female killer, but there was something about her body language that had me convinced she knew more.

  “Yes, I do. Now, tell me about that sleepover.”

  It was time to put the fear of God into these kids. They may have no valuable information but even the smallest thing could lead the investigation in a different direction.

  “It was Louis’ idea. He’d scored some coke, we bought some beers, and Dale had brought sleeping bags. We were supposed to stay in the house, we’d done that before but I didn’t want to, so I stayed outside for a while. We had already started a fire to keep warm, I sat by it and left them to it and after a while, I moved inside.”

  “Where did you sit, when you went inside,” I asked, leaving the ‘coke’ comment aside for the moment. I was sure her parents would grill her on that.

  “There’s a room that has some chairs, in front of a fire. We sat there.”

  “All of you?”

  She gently shook her head. “Casey and Louis, and Dale, would go off to…you know? Upstairs somewhere.”

  I nodded my head but kept quiet. I wanted her to carry on.

  “We must have fallen asleep I guess, but then Louis, or Dale, started to mess around, trying to scare us.”

  “How?”

  “Dumb stuff, you know? Saying they heard noises, scraping on wood, that kind of thing. Ali and I decided we didn’t want to stay there anymore so we left.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “To Ali’s. Her parents were away, they’re always away so we went back to her house.”

  “That’s Alison Jenkins, right?” Kay nodded her head.

  “Where did Louis score his coke, Kay?” I asked.

  She gently shrugged her shoulders but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It might be important,” I added.

  “You’ll have to ask him. I never took it,” she said, looking at her mother as she spoke.

  “But Casey and Louis did?”

  “Yeah, frequently.”

  “Tell me about Philosophy Club,” I asked. My question seemed to have completely thrown her. She looked up, her eyes wide.

  “Phil…erm, we had to join some clubs. We thought it might be fun, it wasn’t so we left.”

  “How long were you in the club?”

  “A couple of meetings, no more. What has that got to do with…you know?”

  “I don’t know if it is related, but I thought it an odd club for you guys to be involved in.”

  “My daughter isn’t the dumbass you think she is,” her father said, finally pushing himself off the wall and adding to the conversation.

  “I wasn’t suggesting that she was, it just struck me as odd since she doesn't take the class.”

  “It wasn’t for me, so I quit. Nothing more to it, really,” Kay said.

  Her pupils had dilated, her eyes flicked from side to side. She wrung her hands in her lap and fidgeted. She was lying.

  “Is my daughter at risk?” he asked.

  I looked over to her father. “Two of Kay’s friends have been murdered. I don’t believe our killer has finished yet, but I can’t honestly answer that. Right now, I have two dead kids, who were friends, and one missing.” I turned my attention back to Kay. “If you want to help me, then I’d sure appreciate that. You’re not telling me the truth, or if you are, you’re withholding information that might save another life. Right now, I can’t force you to talk to me. I’ll find a way though, Kay. I can promise you that.”

  I stood and, without a goodbye, left the room. It was time to play the bad cop card. What part of your friends have been brutally murdered and you could be next did these kids not fucking understand? I couldn’t use those exact words but surely it didn’t take a fucking genius to piece it together?

  I’d taken a gamble in saying what I did. The two murders could have been random, coincidence, but my gut was telling me otherwise.

  “You’re not going to like this,” Dean said, as I strode down the corridor toward the incidence room.

  “What?”

  “Vicky’s mother is out on the streets, and I mean literally out on the street, trying to find her daughter. Telling all that will listen, we’re not doing anything to find her and the killer has her.”

  “Fucking great!”

  In one way, I was surprised it had taken as long as it had for that piece of information to get out. We had tried to keep her name out of public circulation, just for a few hours, to give us a head start. Without needing to ask, I knew the press would be congregating outside the station. One murder would certainly be front-page news. Two, we’d have a two-page spread but a possible third? It would be a frenzy out there.

  I could hear shouting from the corridor. A voice that had my fucking fists itch with desire to throw a punch. The mayor had decided on an impromptu press conference in the station reception area. I refused to participate, despite hearing my name being called. I shook my head at the words serial killer and what exactly are the police doing?

  “Don’t even fucking ask,” I said, as the chief walked into the room. “Every second spent speaking to those pricks is less time to find Vicky.”

  I watched as he perched on the edge
of a desk. He’d aged, in just the few days since Casey had been found, his eyes had lost a little more of their spark, his temples had greyed further. Like me, he looked fucked. Yet I was operating on way less sleep.

  “Give me something, please, Mich.” A ring of desperation sounded in his voice.

  I sighed. “We have a connection, we think, between the murders. That won’t be disclosed to the press but it gives us some valuable information to work with. Tell them we’ve cancelled all leave, we’ve doubled the police force on the streets, and we’re asking for all male residents to volunteer for DNA testing at St. Bart’s. Maybe our killer will think he’s left us a trace.”

  The chief nodded his head then disappeared. I silently thanked him for not pushing me to make a statement. I then made my way to the second interview room, and to Louis Chapman.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” I said, as I entered.

  “We don’t really appreciate being kept,” Mr. Chapman said.

  “Like I said, sorry to keep you waiting. Now, Louis, Vicky Bell is missing. I don’t have time for bullshit. I have two questions. First, where do you buy your coke, and second, tell me about Philosophy Club.”

  I finished speaking just as I sat in the chair and then stared hard at him.

  “What the fuck do you mean?” Mr. Chapman asked.

  I ignored him and continued to stare at Louis.

  “Is any of that relevant?” he asked.

  “I don’t know yet. But I need to know as much about Casey, Dale, and Vicky as possible.”

  I actually had no idea if I was clutching at straws, if a coke dealer or a philosophy club had any fucking relevance at all. I was getting desperate and trying hard not to show that.

  “Dale got it from some dude at school, and as for the club, I quit that, wasn’t my thing.”

  “Funny, Kay said the exact same thing. Name of dude, and why join the club if you’re not even studying that subject.”

  “If you want the truth, I thought it might be interesting. I was wrong,” he said.

  “Mmm, Kay told me you were the one who supplied the coke.”