Nails In A Coffin (Demi Reynolds Book 1)

by Luis Samways

  No sleep for us. Or fun, for that matter.

  “Hey, Frank. You still with Santiago?” the voice on the other end said. That voice belonged to my boss, Chief Shaw. He had a habit of asking rhetorical questions. Mostly it didn’t matter what I said, because he’d assume I’d already replied, even if I didn’t. “Good, I need you two to come in.” I hadn’t answered him. “Mayor ordered a briefing on the drug case you two were working on. Seems urgent — I wouldn’t keep the man waiting,” he said.

  I stood there for a minute and waited for a pause in the conversation. Shaw would usually ramble, and, as usual, I would wait to answer all questions asked with a yes. But this time I was curious, so I actually asked one.

  “It’s 2 a.m., boss. Surely the mayor has better things to do than brief us about a drugs case?” I said.

  “Non-negotiable, Frank. If the mayor wants to have a tea party at two o’clock in the morning, then we shall oblige. Got it? Now get a hustle on, and tell Santiago to change his clothes. I saw what he was wearing today, and a Bob Marley T-shirt may be okay for home time and all, but I don’t want the mayor thinking my boys smoke spliffs on their downtime.”

  The cell went dead, and I put it back in my pocket.

  “Work?” San said, looking a little glum.

  “Yeah.”

  Both of us walked out of the betting shop and got into our Ford Capri. I drove, and San sulked.

  “Fuck, man, I really hate all this late-night b.s.,” he said.

  I took an easy left and put my foot down a little on the accelerator.

  “What’s the rush?” San asked.

  “The mayor wants a meeting. Don’t want to be late,” I said.

  “A meeting? Doesn’t he have a life…or a damn bed?” Santiago moaned as we took the straight leading to the precinct.

  “No, it appears he doesn’t. By the way, Shaw wants you out of that shirt. He said he’s fed up with your marijuana smoking, and if you don’t shape up, he’s sending you to rehab.”

  “I don’t smoke weed…. Whatever, Frank. If he doesn’t like my damn shirt, that’s just too bad! I’ll wear it all the time! Day and night, never going to take it off now,” he said.

  I changed gear and looked at Santiago sitting next to me.

  “It’s okay, buddy. I like your shirt.”

  Santiago shook his head and gave me the finger. “Just get us to this meeting.”

  Three

  Mandy and Roger were kissing passionately when there was a knock at the door.

  Two heavy thuds.

  Bang. Bang.

  They were hard and strangely menacing. Something about the knocks conveyed a certain sense of urgency.

  “Don’t answer it, baby. We’re busy,” Mandy said, undoing Roger’s fly.

  Roger pulled away from his gorgeous wife and did his zipper back up. He gave her an apologetic smile and caressed her face. “Could be important,” he said.

  Mandy shook her head. She didn’t like being interrupted. Especially when she wanted quality time with her husband. It seemed as if the whole world wanted to ruin her perfect evening. She was determined to put an end to it as quickly as possible.

  “I’ll answer the damn door. You get undressed. Whoever it is, I’ll send them away. It’s 2 a.m., for Christ’s sake!”

  Mandy pulled her bra strap up and brushed her hair back with her hands. Her dress was still halfway on her body. All she needed to do was wiggle it back in place. She did so and went toward the door. Roger jumped on the bed and started to undo his shirt one button at a time.

  “Hurry up!” he said excitedly.

  Mandy broke into a smile as she reached the door. She peeked through the spyhole and saw a man with his back to the door standing in the hallway. He was wearing a suit. She gathered it was one of their security personnel. They must’ve tracked them to the hotel. It irritated her that they had been followed.

  “Looks like one of Bob’s men found us,” she said, undoing the latch and opening the door.

  She stood there with a smile on her face. It soon disappeared when she noticed what the man in the suit was holding in his left hand. It was a knife. It glinted slightly in the dim lights coming from the crooked fixtures on the hallway walls.

  She was about to scream, but the man turned around, putting his hand across her mouth, and stuck the knife in her throat. The blade went into the left side of her neck. Her carotid artery exploded on the impact of the knife going in. Blood sprayed onto the open hotel door. Some reached as high as the doorframe. Droplets of blood dotted her face. She collapsed in a heap on the welcome mat under the doorframe.

  Roger was still undoing his shirt buttons when he heard a thud. His eyes widened a little in curiosity. He sat up slowly and attempted to see if he could spot his wife. A large wall that belonged to the en suite bathroom was blocking his vision. It stretched a little too far to the left for him to be able to see the doorway. He was just about to get up and walk over to the door when he heard footsteps coming toward him.

  “I hope you told Bob’s man to fuck off. We have our own lives. He should know that. He’s always on vacation himself.”

  The footsteps stopped suddenly.

  “Mandy? Are you okay?”

  The room went silent.

  “Mandy?”

  Then the sound of footsteps returned. This time they were faster. Like someone was running. It took only two seconds for Roger to realize something was wrong. But by then it was too late. The man in the suit ran into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. Roger’s mouth was agape. His heart was thumping in his chest. He saw the bloodied knife the man had in his hand. He didn’t recognize the person’s face. Before he could do anything, the man took two massive strides toward him. Roger was struck with fear. He couldn’t move. It only took one second of hesitation. And then another for him to be mortally wounded.

  The man struck Roger in the chest with the knife. It punctured his left lung, making the air hiss out of his chest. He struck Roger again, this time in the neck. A spray of blood exploded onto the headboard. Roger was choking on his own blood. The third strike caught him in the face. It sliced his tongue in half. The fourth was to the right eye. That was the fatal strike. What was even worse about the fourth strike wasn’t the fact that when the killer took the knife out of his eye, the eyeball dislodged from its socket. It was the fact that Roger saw it coming. Every millisecond of it was engrained in his brain before he died. Every inch of the knife going in was felt. The tip of the knife hitting his brain was the only reason he didn’t feel it coming out of his skull.

  The man with the knife smiled. He had dark and rotted teeth. It was a strange combination: bad teeth – good suit. But he pulled it off, unless he smiled. Luckily for him, he wasn’t much of a smiler.

  He wiped the blood off the knife in the bathroom sink. It took all of eight seconds to kill Roger. A little longer for his wife, but not by much. The man was happy with his timing. It was his best yet. Something to be proud of, in fact. He brushed a little bit of loose hair off his fringe and shot himself a grin. He concealed the knife in his inside pocket and breathed a sigh of relief. He was back to looking dapper again. No blood on his black suit. No blood on his hands. A clean kill, indeed.

  He walked out of the room and made his way out of the hotel. He was long gone before anybody noticed the two bodies lying in a pool of their own blood.

  Four

  The meeting with the mayor was a little shorter than I had thought it would be. For some strange reason, Shaw had forgotten to mention that the mayor wasn’t interested in meeting us for a briefing on a drug case; he was interested in meeting us for something else entirely. Something that Shaw knew I wouldn’t want any part of. A promotion. A damn pay raise.

  “I don’t need the hassle, sir,” I said to the mayor after Shaw informed us of the real reason behind this meeting.

  We had walked into the Chief’s office a little after half two in the morning. The smell of stale smoke and ground coffee
made me feel nauseous. The sight of my boss’s fake smile nearly made me vomit. I knew we had been duped as soon as I saw his crooked face giving me the “I tricked you Frank” face he was so famous for donning once he’d got one up on me. It’s not like we were in competition with each other, but I swear, he had a personal agenda when it came to making me angry.

  “You will take this promotion. If you don’t, I’ll fire you. No pension. No benefits. No cases. You’ll be a washed-up shell of your former self before you know it. I’ll give it two weeks before you slit your own wrists,” Shaw said to me, sitting across the table.

  Santiago was close to tears. He was holding in some laughter. I could practically hear his belly rumbling under the buildup of joy bursting through him. I knew my partner fairly well, and knowing him as well as I did, I was certain of the fact that he was enjoying every second of this. He knew how much I hated the politics of the job, and now I was being offered a place at the table, so to speak. They wanted to make me a damn lieutenant. The right-hand man to the chief of police. Shaw’s own glorified lackey. After all these years, he wanted me to pay for everything I had ever done wrong. Every snide comment. Every case I fumbled. Every witness I harassed. Every killer I killed — in self-defense, may I add.

  “I won’t take this promotion. You can fire me all you like — I’ll just get a job with the feds. Doesn’t bother me. I’d even take a damn highway patrol spot before I ever take a position next to that asshole.”

  Santiago’s held-in laughter didn’t subside this time. He burst out into hysterics, wiping the tears from his eyes.

  “Oh, man, I love my job!” he cackled.

  Shaw didn’t look as happy. His round Irish face was flushed with anger. A red hue had broken across his forehead, and beads of sweat were sliding down his nose. The mayor sat beside him. He looked visibly disturbed, as if he hadn’t ever heard such language escape the police before. He was one of those smarmy do-gooders who would much rather eat cake and drink tea than talk about the problems on our streets. I didn’t like the man. I was holding my tongue, though. I could only afford to piss off one of those men in that room. The other was a guy you didn’t mess with. The mayor might have been an asshole, but he was the damn mayor. And whatever he said, went.

  “Mr, McKenzie, I would suggest that you take this new position. It would do you good. You’d make more money. You’d be more of an asset to us if you were fighting the war on crime from your desk, instead of — ”

  I interrupted him.

  “Instead of from the front line?” I asked.

  Shaw chimed in. “Frank, you need to take this job. I can’t cover for you anymore. The next perp you assault will land both you and me in prison. I can’t fight off the D.A. anymore. He wants you out. I, on the other hand, need you here. You’re my best detective.”

  Santiago grimaced. “Thanks, boss. I understand that I’m no Frank McKenzie, but I think I am at least a tenth better than he is at public relations.”

  Shaw looked at Santiago and shook his head. “For God’s sake, Santiago, I’m trying to convince your damn partner to take a job that will keep him out of trouble, and all you’re interested in is proving who’s the better cop.”

  “I am,” I interrupted.

  “Enough!” the mayor shouted. He stood up and combed his hair back with his fingers. “I trust you’ll have this figured out before I get back. I’m going for a leak. I expect this matter to be closed before I wash my hands. Got it?”

  We all nodded. He left the room. I stood up and went for my coat.

  “Where are you going?” Shaw asked.

  “Home. I can’t be bothered to hash this out right now. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

  I was just about to go for the door when Shaw burst out of his seat.

  “Don’t you dare walk through that door, Frank! Can’t you see that I’m trying to help you?”

  I turned back around and saw Shaw leaning over his desk, as if he was ready to pounce from afar. Santiago, on the other hand, was now donning a new expression on his face. He didn’t look like he was holding in any more laughter.

  “I told you, I’m not going to do it, Shaw!” I hissed, grabbing at the door handle.

  “Then compromise!” Shaw bellowed before I managed to turn the knob.

  I turned back around once again and walked up to his desk. I thumped my fist on the hard mahogany and licked my lips. I was seething with anger. I couldn’t for the life of me work out why Shaw was jerking me around like this. He seemed to generally want me as his right-hand man. I didn’t know if it was a respect thing or if it was a saving-his-ass thing. Either way, I didn’t want any part of it. But I was willing to do it on my terms. Obviously, there was a catch. If there was one thing that I’d learned doing this job, it was that there’s always a catch.

  “Okay, fine,” I said, clearing my throat. Shaw’s face went a strange color, as if a rush of relief went coursing through his pores. “I’ll consider it,” I said.

  “There is nothing to consider,” Shaw demanded.

  “Okay. Hear me out. I will prove to you that I can do my job without stepping on people’s toes. If I can prove that to you and the mayor, then I can keep my current position. I’ll change if need be.”

  Shaw looked surprised as he gave me the once-over. I followed his eyes as they scanned me for any weaknesses in my defenses.

  “That’s not good enough. This isn’t a game, Frank. The odds are stacked against you. This is a one-time offer. If you don’t accept, then you’ll be let go.”

  “Look, I know that the only reason you’re forcing me to take the lieutenant job is because you want the mayor off your back.”

  Shaw’s face went red once again. “No, that’s not the reason!” he exploded, nearly ripping my head clean off my shoulders with his forceful breathing. “I want you to take this job because you are nothing but a liability in the field. Every case you get, I get reports of sexism, racism, police brutality, and intimidating the witness! Not to mention that you, on occasion, have been known to take anti-psychotics on the job! Plus, the last case you worked on, three men died, and the killer was detained with his penis missing. He says you did that to him, and I believe him!”

  I nodded. What he was saying was true, except the allegations of me being a racist. I didn’t hate any particular race, just humanity as a whole.

  “Okay, I hear you, Shaw. But listen. If I manage to go one full case without making anybody angry, sad, or suicidal, then I don’t take the job. That’s my offer.”

  Shaw looked at me and then at San. “No fucking way. What do you think this is?”

  “I think that this is a negotiation, and if you don’t meet my requirements, then you’ll lose me. I have friends in high places, Shaw. I don’t need to stay in Boston. Plenty of places could do with me.”

  “Yeah, sounds about right,” Shaw said, wiping at his sweaty brow. “I can imagine that there’s a huge line of people wanting your services. The FBI must be creaming in their pants at the thought of you destroying a perp’s face beyond recognition.”

  “You heard what my offer is. I won’t do anything to ruffle anybody’s feathers. If I do, you can give me the job and cut my pay in half for a year.”

  Shaw smiled.

  “Confident that you won’t fail?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t offer you this deal if I wasn’t.”

  Santiago patted me on the shoulder. “Looks like all’s well, ends well!” he said.

  I turned around and walked toward the door. I reached for the handle and opened the heavy wooden door.

  “Fine. If you fuck up, Frank, your ass is mine.”

  I smiled and then said, “If I succeed, though, I want double the pay and ten more vacation days.”

  I walked out of the office with a permanent smile on my face.

  “You won’t succeed, Frank!” I heard Shaw say as I escaped through the precinct doors into the darkness of the night.

  Five

  Six hours later />
  “Jack, stop annoying your sister!” Serena Brody snapped as she took an easy left onto the school campus.

  It was a large school. It catered to more than two thousand high school students. Her son and daughter were both freshmen, and understandably, they were overly excited about most things, including annoying each other on a regular basis.

  “She started it!” her difficult teenage son said as he fiddled around with his earphones. The sounds of crashing bass lines and high-hat drum solos reverberated in the thin atmosphere of the small family car.

  “I don’t want to hear it, Jack,” Serena said, audibly hushing her son.

  The car came to a stop. Both teens escaped the grips of their mother without saying goodbye. Serena sounded the car horn as a way of saying goodbye. Modern parenting was a drag, but she felt a little more relaxed knowing her children were strong-willed individuals. There weren’t any sleepless nights worrying about the safety of Jack and Nicole. They could look after themselves just fine.

  She shifted gears and accelerated out of the campus. The early morning sun was glistening against the dashboard, bouncing light into her eyes. She squinted, flapping down the sun guard as she turned right onto the road leading back to her house. She lived near the school, no more than a mile down the road. The neighborhood in question was a nice one. It resembled a gated community, but it lacked the gates. Plants and flowers in pots sat on either side of the road, giving a nice dash of colour to the gray and black of the asphalt.

  Serena felt a surge of relief rush through her as she reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. When nobody was around, she liked to dabble in the joy of a smoke or two. She knew people would judge her if they knew she was sucking down on cancer sticks, but she felt as if she needed them. Being a single mom played havoc with her emotions, so a little smoking here and there wasn’t a big deal in her mind.

  She lit up the cigarette and rolled down the windows. The sun hit her face, and the wind whipped her hair as she picked up speed. She caught herself feeling odd. She felt as if something wasn’t right. It was akin to one of those gut feelings she got when she knew something bad was going to happen. It wasn’t a strong feeling, just a slight pang of fear that was creeping its way up her esophagus and out of her mouth. She gasped for air.