Colton Banyon Mysteries 1-3: Colton Banyon Mysteries (Colton Banyon Mystery Book 20)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “‘So what do you make of the matchbook cover?’

  “‘It has a skull and crossbones on it. That is all — no message, phone number, or anything. I’m going to take it to the lab to see if there is a hidden message or some prints on it.’

  “‘Paul, maybe you should stay around this evening.’”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  The night was uneventful just as Williams predicted. The real action started a week later, at the bank. I had just transferred ten thousand dollars to my account in Riverhead from the Swiss account. My mood was improving. Suddenly, I realized there was someone at my teller window. I looked up, and into a pair of the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The woman was indeed handsome, and rugged-looking, like a farmer’s wife would be. Her hair was blond.

  “‘Could you change a twenty for me? I need some singles and fives, please.’ Her voice was light, with only a slight British accent.

  “‘Do you have an account here?’ I asked her automatically.

  “‘I just want some change. Be a good guy, please.’

  “‘Do you have identification?’ I asked. ‘We don’t want any counterfeit twenties.’

  “She opened her purse and produced a social security card with the name of Sally Hand on it. The address was located in Oyster Bay, about fifty miles west of Riverhead.

  “‘You are a ways from home.’

  “‘I need change for the train,’ she said, ‘to go home.’

  “I made change and handed her the money without a word. She turned and left. I palmed the twenty, changed it for one of my own, and wrapped it in my handkerchief. I wanted to give it to Paul Williams.

  “At lunchtime I decided to walk up the street to the diner. As I entered, there was Sally Hand, sitting in a booth crying. As I walked by, I tipped my hat and kept going. Five minutes later, she slid into my booth.

  “‘I’m so distraught; I need your help.’ She was crying real tears.

  “‘What’s wrong?’

  “‘I missed my train. The next one’s much later tonight, and there’s no one to pick me up.’

  “‘That’s nothing to cry about,’ I said. ‘You will just get home a little late.’

  “‘You don’t understand — my husband has left me here, in Riverhead, and he’s not coming back.’

  “‘I’m sure that it isn’t that bad.’

  “‘Yes, it is. He’s gone and never coming back. He has a new girlfriend and wants to lose me. I don’t know what to do.’

  “‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I just can’t help you.’

  “‘Oh, please, could I just stay at your place until I think things through?’

  “I was finally getting the picture. She wanted to try to seduce me and pump me for information before cutting my throat. But Ms. Hand didn’t know I was onto her. Maybe I could get a message to Williams and have him capture or kill her, just as she did poor Andrew.

  “‘You can stay at my house until I get home from work.’ I gave her my address as if she didn’t already know it.

  “‘Oh, you are so kind, I need a little time to freshen up, and will be there when you get home. Thank you. You know my name, but what’s yours?’

  “‘My name is Walter Pierce,’ I said. ‘My roommate, Andrew Adams, may be home though. Just tell him that you are a friend of mine.’ I watched her eyes for a sign, but could detect none. She was good, but I was going to make sure she never killed again.

  “‘I like the name Walter,’ she said seductively.

  “When work ended, I decided to leave my newly transferred money in the bank. I also called Williams, but he was out. I knew I would have to handle this myself. I made a plan.

  “I pulled into the driveway, and parked my car. As I came near the front door, I decided to look in the window. There she was on the couch with only her slip on. Her hair had been combed, and she looked every bit the seductress.

  “My plan was simple. As I opened the door, she bounced off the couch and came across the room toward me. As she got close, I balled my fist and cracked her across the mouth. She went down like a leaf.

  “I felt better now. My hand should have hurt, but I didn’t feel it. She didn’t look so tough now. Sally Hand, the killer, knocked out by a sucker punch.

  “She lay at my feet in a heap. The slip had ridden up, revealing a nearly translucent thigh with a mole. For the first time, I realized that Sally was beautiful. She looked to be under thirty years old and didn’t appear to be very muscular.

  “I picked her up — she wasn’t very heavy — and took her to the bed. I went into Adams’s room and got several belts, returning to tie each arm and leg to a corner post on the bed. There she was, looking like a sleeping teenager, lying on her back with just a slip covering her body. I needed to question her. The spy school had taught me many techniques, most of them violent. If I needed to use the proven techniques, they were available to me. But first I wanted to collect information.

  “I left the room and went looking for her purse. I found it behind the hamper in the bathroom. It was well hidden. I emptied the contents on the floor and sifted through the usual woman paraphernalia. Her wallet contained fifteen dollars. The purse seemed heavier than it should, so I shook it. There was something in the lining. I opened the purse and noticed that there was a flapped-over secret compartment.

  “The compartment was hidden, but the heaviness of three knives could not be concealed. They were professional killers’ knives, all very sharp and well-balanced. I guessed she could throw these knives as well as stab with them. I now knew I had found my killer. The lovely Sally Hand was nothing but another misguided Nazi. I now felt I was justified in doing away with her. The only considerations were where to stash her body, and would I get my questions answered. I took the knives with me.

  “Back in my bedroom, she was still unconscious on the bed. I knew about spies. There is always a backup plan. I needed to search her. It sounded silly since she was nearly nude, but I knew the rules — search first. I started with her feet; something could be taped there. Her feet were small and quite pretty. I ran my hands up her legs and felt the smoothness of her thighs. She had a mole the size of a dime on her right leg; it didn’t detract from her silky leg. The slip moved up, and I suddenly realized that Sally was indeed a redhead by birth. The fire red hair was sparse and neatly trimmed. She had narrow hips, which accentuated her hip bones. I felt a stirring that I had not recognized in a long time.

  “The belly was flat and smooth; her belly button hid nothing. I pushed up the slip. Medium-sized perky breasts were revealed, with nipples large and brown. I looked for a tattoo on her flank, but there was none there. While most Nazis had a number and SS markings on their left flank, I didn’t think there would be many women with the markings. I turned her on her side to inspect her back. To my surprise, there were whip-mark scars crisscrossing her upper back. I continued up the arms, and found them to be small and delicate. There was a surprise there, too.

  “Tattooed on the underside of her forearm were several numbers. Makeup had been used to try to cover them up. I’d seen these same numbers in the same place on people’s arms in Poland in 1939 in a concentration camp. Had she been in a camp? Was this all a ruse to fool me?

  “I checked her hair last, and, sure enough, I found a razor blade taped to the nape of her neck. It had tape on one end for a grip, and could be a deadly weapon in the hands of an expert. Sally, no doubt, was an expert.

  “When I was done with my inspection, I used the slip to test the razor. It was sharp all right, and the entire slip had been sliced open from top to bottom. It peeled back like petals of a flower. I don’t remember doing it, but I was starting to feel a primal lust that could only come from being in close proximity to a naked beautiful woman. I was looking at her; taking in the seductive pose of her body, and thinking that Adams was probably having sex when he was kidnapped. I wondered what it would feel like to have sex again. I was starting to lose control. When humans are in a hopeless situati
on, they often turn to sex. I was on the edge. My member was throbbing in my pants.

  “‘Well, are you going to fuck me or beat off, you sorry excuse for a man?’ Sally Hand asked in a husky voice which told me she had been awake for more than a few seconds.

  “‘I have a few questions for you.’

  “‘Your kind all think a woman is just someone to be used and abused. Come on, get it over with. Or are you a pansy?’

  “‘I told you I have a few questions for you.’ I was twirling the knives, and making it look like I knew how to use them. It got her attention.

  “‘Yeah, I know your questions. Which hole would you like it in first? Come on, asshole, I can take it. There is no need for knives. I’ve been raped before, many times.’

  “Her language was both disturbing and erotic. I wasn’t sure which of my emotions was winning the battle. Was this a ploy?

  “‘Bet you never even touched a girl before.’ She was playing me now, but I didn’t care. I reached out and slapped her breast. It felt good.

  “‘That’s it, that’s it, do it again, I know you want to. I need it.’

  “I was watching her as her green eyes filled with something. I was sure it was lust. Her nipples had turned hard, and her hips were grinding in a circular motion. She likes this, I thought, or was she trying to get me to untie her so she could attack me? I rolled her on her side and slapped her small ass. She yelped and begged for more.

  “‘Pull my hair,’ she said. ‘Pull it like a rag doll.’

  “I was standing close to the bed, and ran my hand down her body; it was on fire and wet between her legs. My God, if this is an act, she is very good.

  “I was feeling very sexually charged. Would it be wrong to have sex with a tied-down woman? I’m going to kill her anyway. Maybe a little release for both of us would be good. I was starting to think crazy. Vivid pictures were crowding my brain.

  “‘Twist my nipples; use both hands … do it hard.’ Sally was talking dirty, and it was turning us both on. Was this wrong? I couldn’t think past obeying her commands.

  “Her hips were rotating. Her strong legs were clenching and unclenching, trying to draw up but held in place by the belts.

  “‘Walter, do something — don’t just stand there. Can’t you see I’m ready? Take me, Walter.’

  “The anticipation was a big part of the game for her; but Sally wanted it now. I, however, wasn’t ready to give her what she wanted.

  “‘What‘s wrong with you — can’t you see that I’m more than ready? Give it to me, you bastard, I can’t wait any longer, you son of a bitch.’

  “‘First question: Why did you kill Andrew?’

  “‘Fuck me first.’

  “‘Answer my question.’

  “She was resigned now, but I could tell she didn’t want to go there. ‘Andrew killed my family and husband. He deserved to die. It happened back in 1938. He raped me viciously, and then he passed me around from Nazi to Nazi, just because I was a redhead. I wound up in a concentration camp when they were done with me. I got beat up a lot. You’ve seen the whip marks. I wanted this mission to find Andrew and kill him.’

  “Holy shit, I thought. I might have been at the same camp. But she was still a killer.

  “‘What do you know about a matchbook cover with a skull and crossbones on it?’ I asked my second question.

  “‘That has the code for the local phone number of the head of the Nazi movement on Long Island on it. I was supposed to deliver it to you or Andrew, and if you refused to complete your mission, I’m supposed to kill you. When I saw Henrich — that’s his real name — on the docks a couple of days ago, I gave him the matchbook.’

  “‘I’ve known Andrew for over two years. He was not a violent person.’

  “‘Get serious, he’s left a trail. There have been three rape killings on eastern Long Island over the last two years. All of the woman were sodomized after they were dead — a Henrich specialty. Go to the library; check it out.’

  “‘Don’t worry, I will check it out. What is the name of the local Nazi leader? What’s the code on the matchbook cover?’

  “‘I don’t know that; they don’t trust me either. I was told to give you the cover and you would figure it out. All I know is it leads to the phone number.’

  “‘How is it that you became a killer for the Nazis?’

  “‘I was a knife thrower at the Warsaw circus; I’m good with knives. When I was in the camp, the Nazis thought I was always very cooperative with their little games. I can swallow knives. I had a special arrangement with a major at the camp, and cooked up the killer image. I took care of a few people for them in Poland, and suddenly they sent me here on this mission. I speak English, as you can see. I was educated in England. I wanted this mission to avenge my family. The Nazis knew, they knew, that I would find Henrich.’

  “‘What were you doing on the docks?’

  “‘When they sent me here, they told me the fishing docks were a backup communications drop. I recognized Henrich. I also needed money. How do you think I got the twenty? It was an easy matter to find out where he lived.’

  “‘And then you cut him while in the bedroom?’

  “‘I didn’t cut him there. The blood was already on the bed. When I questioned him, he told me that it was from another woman. I suspect you will be reading about her any day.’

  “‘I found Andrew’s body in some woods. You cut his throat. How did you get there?’

  “‘So, that was your tire that I cut — I thought that it was the police. You’re right, I did kill him. I told him I wanted the box. He said he would get it for me if I didn’t kill him. Silly boy. There was no box in the hole he dug.’

  “‘You said your mission was to pass me the cover or to kill me and take the box — take it where?’

  “‘There’s a man waiting every day at noon on the steps of the 42nd Street Library in Manhattan. He wears a red hat. I’m to deliver a note from the local Nazi leader which says you have delivered the box. Or I’m to give him the box; you would be dead, of course.’

  “‘And what do you get?’

  “‘I get my freedom — I can just walk away.’

  “‘But I haven’t broken the code yet. What are you supposed to do while I’m figuring it out?’

  “‘That’s the fun part. I’m supposed to seduce you, so how about it? At least undo my legs.’”

  ***

  Pierce continued his story after he took a short break to go to the bathroom. “The next morning, I called in sick. I wasn’t really sick; in fact, I was feeling very satisfied, but I had work to do. I drove to the Speonk train station and caught the 8:00 a.m. train to New York City. I got to the library at ten o’clock and spent the next hour and a half reading the local papers. Sally was right — the big news was about a young female high-school student who was missing. There were also stories over the last two years about other women who had gone missing and turned up dead. How could I have been so wrong about Adams? We all were very cautious around each other. But his activities were far worse than I could possibly comprehend. We had been through a lot since we had landed in America; it just didn’t seem he was capable of such viciousness. Still, he was a Nazi.

  “At twenty minutes to noon, I went outside, and parked on the steps, lighting a cigar. I had a good view. I watched as a scruffy young man in a red hat leaned against the wall directly below me. I didn’t look at him; I was looking for others. There were two. They clearly were not from America. Hair too long, clothes too shabby, and bad shoes. They were European, probably from Germany. So Sally was right about this, too. I began to feel sorry about chaining her to a pole in my basement, but I left water and food and even a bucket to pee in. It was better than the camps she had been in. I was changing my attitude about her. She was very attractive to me, and her mouth was stimulating. She was also great at sex. She was smart and could carry on a conversation. Not many women I had met could do that.

  “I decided to call Pa
ul Williams in his New York office and fill him in. I also wanted the matchbox cover. I was dialing his number when it hit me. I had deduced that the skull and crossbones on the matchbox meant poison, but couldn’t crack the code beyond that. It suddenly popped into my head. It was the phone number of the head of the local Nazi party. He, therefore, was ‘the one.’ The rotary dial on the phone had letters on it. If I dialed ‘p-o-i-s-o-n-1,’ I would reach the Nazi.

  “A woman answered the phone. I asked for Paul Williams. ‘He’s no longer here,’ she said. ‘How did you get this number?’

  “‘Paul gave it to me to call in case of an emergency. Give me his new number?’

  “‘I’m afraid that is impossible. Let me transfer you to Mr. Helms.’

  “Soon I heard, ‘Helms here, what can I do for you? What did you say your name was?’

  “I hung up. I was on my own. I decided to go home.

  “Sally was still in the basement, and was actually happy to see me. She had made the best of her position, and didn’t seem the least bit nervous in seeing me. ‘Well, dear, how was your day?’ She was actually being cheerful. ‘I’ve just been hanging around waiting for you.’

  “‘I figured out the code, checked on the murders, and found out that there are three men waiting for you at the library.’ I didn’t tell her about Williams. ‘Sally, we have to talk.’

  “‘Why don’t you unchain me and talk while we are having sex?’

  “I did unchain her and told her to go take a bath. I would talk to her after she was cleaned up. I just kept underestimating this woman.

  “Several hours later I finally came up for air. Sally’s body had a language that made men unable to speak; everything about her screamed lust. Her body was something to be used and abused. She loved every second of it. The problem was that when she was turned on, which seemed to be all the time, you could not carry on any type of a conversation. She smothered you with sex. Her thrusts were like a knife, tearing all normal needs from your body. She was an aphrodisiac. As a result, it was very late when we finally could talk. She didn’t want to, but I held back and got out of bed.