Depraved Difference (A Detective Shakespeare Mystery, Book #1)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Walking back toward the apartment he phoned in the bike’s description and the direction it was heading, but he knew nothing would come of it; he was long gone. He phoned Shakespeare to let him know what had happened, then met Vinny in the apartment as he catalogued the papers tacked to the wall.

  “Detective! Looks like you've ID'd your killer!”

  “I'd rather have him in a holding cell, but at least we've got a name and face to go with the handiwork. Anything on the location of the old lady amongst all this stuff?”

  Vinny shook his head. “No, haven't really had a chance to go through this stuff in detail. I'm just cataloguing it so we can process it all at the lab.”

  “Okay, have your team keep an eye out for any names or addresses. I need to ID that old woman. And make sure you get a copy of the photo of her sent to me because it looks like he's got a better one than I do, maybe we can air it, get some help from the public.”

  “Will do, detective. By the way, why’d you want me to compare the subway vic’s DNA to the SUV driver? Another hunch?”

  “No, just want to confirm something. Assuming the SUV driver was Jeremiah Lansing, they were apparently half brother and sister.”

  “You're kidding me!”

  “Wish I were. Looks like this all started a year ago. I want you to compare the SUV DNA to some samples from this apartment. It should remove all doubt that Lansing is the killer. I'll bring you up to speed later, right now I've got to check in on a stubborn witness.”

  “Our cute little reporter?” Vinny smiled slyly.

  “Yes.”

  “I wouldn't mind checkin' in on her if you know what I mean,” laughed Vinny. “She could read the news to me any day, if you know what I mean. I'd like her to speak into my microph—”

  “I think I've heard enough,” said Eldridge, cutting him off. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

  “Hey, did I say something wrong?” asked Vinny, feigning hurt feelings. “You got something going on with this girl?”

  “Good night, Vinny!”

  “Wouldn't blame ya, she's a hottie!”

  Eldridge smiled as he headed down the stairs.

  As Shakespeare headed off to Brooklyn to get his favorite sandwich, he drove by his old boyhood church. Much to his surprise he found himself going around the block and parking outside. You're here, might as well make it worthwhile. As he climbed from the car he saw Father O'Neil waving to him from the church steps.

  “Justin! So good to see you!”

  Shakespeare waved half-heartedly. “Hiya, Father, don't get your hopes up, I'm just here on official business.”

  “One can always hope, Justin.” O'Neil entered the church, forcing a reluctant Shakespeare to follow him if he wanted to continue the conversation. As they headed to the rectory O'Neil pointed to the confessionals and looked back at Shakespeare. “You sure?”

  “Nice try, Father, but neither of us have that kind of time.”

  O'Neil laughed and held the door to his office open for the detective. “Now what brings New York's Finest here this evening?”

  'Bout the nicest thing anyone's called me lately. “We searched Jeremiah Lansing's apartment today and have confirmed he's the man we're looking for. We think his sister was beaten to death on the subway about a year ago. That's what started this whole thing off.”

  “My God, that poor boy!” O'Neil sat down in a nearby chair and said a quick, silent prayer. “Were you able to catch Jeremiah without hurting him?”

  “No, my partner spotted him just a little while ago outside of the apartment but he managed to get away on a motorcycle.”

  “Is Detective Eldridge okay?”

  “Oh yeah, that kid can take care of himself. But now that we've confirmed Jeremiah is the killer, I need you to be careful, Father.”

  “Why should I have anything to worry about?”

  “He knows he can't go home now, so he'll be looking for other safe havens. He feels safe here so he may come back.”

  “And I'll welcome him with open arms. If he comes here, I'm sure I can convince him to turn himself in.”

  “He might not even be looking for you,” replied Shakespeare. “Listen Father, he's been coming here and helping out for years. That means he knows the place. He could hole up somewhere here and not even tell you. You or one of your staff could just stumble upon him and he's dangerous.”

  “I can't believe he would hurt me.”

  “Would you have believed yesterday that he could kill ten people?”

  “I put my fate in God's hands, Justin. It is my duty to help Jeremiah, and I will.”

  Shakespeare rose from his seat. “Just call me, Father, if he comes here, don't try and be a hero.”

  O'Neil laughed. “Not a hero, son, just a man of the cloth.”

  “Yeah, well just be careful, Father, that cloth isn’t bulletproof and I'd hate to see anything happen to you.”

  O'Neil draped his arm across Shakespeare's shoulder and led him back toward the church entrance. “I'm an old man, Justin. If God decides I can serve him better by his side, then he will take me. If not, then I will be fine. Either way, it is out of our hands.”

  Shakespeare didn't put much stock in religion, but he did respect Father O'Neil and had many fond memories of him from his younger days, before his job had jaded him to the point where he had lost his faith. Decades of seeing the worst in people had made him question how any God could let people the likes of what he dealt with on a daily basis be born. Over time, he just stopped believing. He figured as long as he kept his head down and out of trouble, Saint Peter would let him past those pearly gates even if he had a deathbed conversion back to the side of the believers. “Just watch your back, Father.”

  “I will, I will, don't you worry about me. Now off with you, I've got to close up.” Shakespeare headed to his car and looked back to see O'Neil shut the heavy church doors.

  That bastard better not touch him.

  His stomach grumbled and his mouth watered as he pictured a toasted Philly melt sandwich, smothered in sautéed onions with a side of au jus gravy. He pressed a little harder on the accelerator.

  Eldridge sat in the viewing booth he had been shown to when he arrived at the television studios, watching the live newscast taping. He had to admit to himself it was kind of exhilarating to be behind the scenes, seeing how it was all done. And despite himself he couldn’t take his eyes off Aynslee. She was quite attractive, and seeing her in her element, very good at her job. Delivering an update on the murders, he was pleased to see she didn't reveal any of their conversation, simply rehashed already known details. The broadcast closed with the typical casual banter between the various on-air personalities, followed by Aynslee saying goodnight to her audience.

  “And we're clear!” he heard someone yell. He watched as Aynslee stretched in her chair then got up and tossed good-natured jabs back and forth with her co-workers. She spotted him in the booth and waved, a huge smile on her face. He was surprised at how good it made him feel. You got something going on with this girl? He could hear Vinny's voice in his head. Can't get involved with a witness. He smiled back.

  Aynslee rushed into the booth and before Eldridge could stop her, she had given him a quick hug. Catching a waft of the scent from her hair, he found himself almost reaching around to return the hug but he recovered in time and instead coughed. She let go and stepped back. “So, what did you think?”

  Eldridge looked about him at the rapidly emptying control room. “Very impressive.”

  “Sooo, how was I?” she asked, fishing for a compliment in none too subtle a manner.

  Eldridge had to smile. “You were fine, Miss Kai, very professional.”

  She playfully slapped his arm. “Oh, do stop, you'll embarrass me. Now, how can I help you?”

  “I'm here to escort you home.”

  “But, Detective, we haven't even been on a date yet!” she said as she took his arm and led him toward her office. “First, we should have dinner, then
we can see where the evening leads.”

  “Aaah,” was all Eldridge managed. Aynslee let go of his arm and laughed.

  “You need to work on your sense of humor a little bit, Detective, if you're going to take me home, even if it is to just be my bodyguard. Remember, Kevin did fall for Whitney in the end.”

  “Huh?”

  “The Bodyguard, Kevin Costner, Whitney Houston?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Eldridge. He had no clue what she was talking about.

  “It's a love story with guns,” explained Aynslee as she gathered her things. “You'd love it.”

  “I'm sure I would,” replied Eldridge as they headed to the elevators where Aynslee was accosted by several of her coworkers trying to convince her to join them for drinks, but a quick look at Eldridge's expression put the kibosh on that idea. As they approached the entrance, Eldridge waved over the two uniforms still parked out front. Leaving Aynslee with them, he looked around, inspected his car, and, satisfied, motioned for the officers to bring her out. In less than a minute, the two-car motorcade was underway, the squad car trailing behind them, making sure they weren't followed.

  “Do you really think I'm in danger?”

  “Absolutely, however you haven't received what we assume is the final video, so I believe we have time before he acts.”

  “And the old lady, any idea who she is?”

  “Not yet, but we're going through all of the stuff that was found in his apartment. Hopefully we'll find a name or address.”

  Aynslee tossed her head back against the seat in frustration. “Ooh, I hate this!”

  Eldridge looked in his rearview mirror then over at her. “Don't worry, you're in good hands.”

  Looking back at him she smiled. “I know.” Eldridge looked back at the road ahead and said nothing. “Detective, can I ask you something? And you have to answer truthfully, I am a marked woman after all.” Eldridge nodded, knowing where this was going. “You're not gay, are you?”

  Ok, wasn’t expecting that. “Ah, no.”

  “Do you find me attractive?”

  Eldridge paused before answering, then, without making eye contact, he said, “Yes.”

  The smile on Aynslee’s face made it clear to him that was the answer she was hoping to hear. “Okay then, it must be my personality. There's something about me you don't like.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I've been practically throwing myself at you these past few days and you've been, like, completely ignoring me.”

  Eldridge didn't say anything.

  “Like now.”

  He was on duty. Doing his job. He wasn’t required to respond, but he felt he had to. “I can't get involved with a witness, especially one under my protection.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, but when this is all over, promise me one thing?”

  “What?”

  “Coffee. At least one coffee together, just you and me, no talk about this case, and let's just see if there's something there. If there isn't, we drink our coffees quickly, if there is, we order refills. And if we're lucky, we both order refills.”

  Despite himself Eldridge was finding it hard to keep the wall up. He found something about her voice intoxicating, as if he could listen to her talk all night and never get tired of hearing it. Perhaps that's why she's a news anchor? He hadn't realized it, but he had already said, “Fine.” This appeared to satisfy her and she drew quiet for a minute, humming a tune he didn't recognize.

  “Here's my apartment just up on the right.” Eldridge parked behind a squad car already waiting and exited the vehicle, carefully scanning his surroundings.

  “Can I have your keys, Miss Kai,” he asked, leaning in the passenger side window.

  She handed them over. “Nine-C.”

  The trailing squad car pulled in directly behind and its occupants joined him as the two officers already waiting trotted from the building’s lobby and approached the group. Eldridge eyed the traffic, watching for any cars parking unexpectedly. “Status?” he asked, still watching the traffic.

  One of the officers from the lobby replied. “We've done a thorough search, all exits seem secure, the security systems are working and the security company has been told to send any alarms to us immediately.”

  “Good work. I'll want one of you in the car, and one at the entrance inside,” said Eldridge, pointing to the two officers already on scene. “I want you two in eye contact at all times.” He handed them a photo of Jeremiah. “This is our suspect. He's proven very resourceful and has been known to wear disguises. He is armed and has already killed over ten people.” He handed the keys to an officer from the trailing car. “Nine-C, check it out, make sure it's clear. If everything is okay, one of you come back down and we'll proceed.” They nodded and ran inside. A few minutes later one returned and waved from the lobby the all clear. Eldridge opened the door and helped Aynslee out, ushering her into the building and directly into an elevator the officer had blocked open with his nightstick. Silence ruled as they ascended to the ninth floor, everyone tense. The doors opened and Eldridge cautiously poked his head out, looking both ways. The other officer, halfway down the hallway, holding open the door to Aynslee’s apartment, waved. Eldridge, one hand on Aynslee’s back, the other holding her elbow, marched her toward the apartment then inside. Eldridge heard Aynslee breathe a sigh of relief as the apartment door closed behind them.

  “My God, that was intense. I don't think I realized how scared I was.” She kicked off her shoes and sat down on her couch as Eldridge searched the apartment, including closets and under furniture, satisfying himself it was empty. He returned to the living room to find Aynslee waiting.

  “I'll be leaving one officer outside your door. If you need anything, they're just outside.” Aynslee nodded and walked with him to the door as he spoke to his two officers. “I want one of you at the door, the other a rover. Check out the hallways, stairwells, everything. Alternate between the four of you as necessary, I'll have you relieved at the end of your shift. Make sure you don't leave this door for anything, even a piss break.” The men nodded and left to take their posts. He turned to Aynslee. “Again, if you need anything, please call one of the officers. They will accompany you to your office in the morning when you're ready. I will see you tomorrow.”

  She gripped his arm as he was about to head out the door. Leaning in, she gave him a soft peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Hayden.”

  Not trusting himself to make eye contact, he paused then stepped out into the hallway. “Good night, Miss Kai. Lock the door behind me.” She nodded and did a small wave to him as she closed the door.

  Chelsie was ravenous when the food and water arrived. She sat back on her mattress and eyed the sandwich. Picking it apart, she surveyed the ingredients, a generous helping of smoked meat, Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mustard, set between two halves of what looked like a homemade sourdough roll. She had to admit the sandwich looked delicious. But which ingredient is drugged? It had to be the mustard. It was the easiest. She scraped as much off as she could with her finger and rinsed it in the water hole. Tearing the sandwich in two, she disposed of the second half. Just in case it isn't the mustard. Starving, she practically inhaled the sandwich, afterward leaning her back against the wall. Within minutes her eyes drooped. It's not the mustard.

  She awoke, lying in the now familiar bed, but this time with something pressing her into the soft mattress. It took only moments for her to realize what was happening. Her captor’s hot, sweaty flesh was pressed against her naked body, his breath heavy in her ear as he thrust at her, his hands gripping her buttocks as he tried to penetrate her with a non-existent erection. She smiled inwardly, both satisfied and relieved at this turn of events. His feeble attempts continued for several more minutes, his groans of pleasure, sounding more and more forced, eventually turning into growls of frustration.

  Then he stopped and lay perfectly still on top of her, the only movement that of his heaving chest as he c
aught his breath. After a few moments, she felt him shake, the sounds of sobs filled her ear, a hot splash of a tear on her shoulder, as he broke down and cried. “This still isn't right,” he whispered in her ear. Is he talking to me? He sniffed and pushed himself up, removing the now uncomfortable weight. The bed rocked as he climbed off and she heard the sounds of clothes being put on nearby. “This still isn't right!” he said, this time louder. “She not right, she's not the same.” What is he talking about? I'm not the same as what? The girl in the picture? “No, she won't do.”

  Now fear set in. If she wouldn't do, did that mean he no longer had any use for her? He continued to mutter as he left the room. You have to get out of here. Now! She heard the creak of the stairs, and as quietly as she could, she crawled from the bed and tip-toed to the window. Opening the drapes, her heart sank as she found it boarded over. She tiptoed to the doorway, fearful with each step the old floors would give her away. Gingerly, she crept down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing, trying to prevent the stairs from creaking. As she neared the bottom she saw the doorway and freedom. She stole a glance down the hall and saw a bright light shining from the kitchen doorway, cutting into the darkness. She heard him moving around, continuing to mutter, as he did something in the kitchen, a kitchen thankfully out of her line of sight, and therefore, she out of his. She stepped to the door, flipped the deadbolt and removed the chain. Turning the knob, she felt the door start to open in her hand. Her heart raced. A final glance back to make sure she was still alone and she slowly pulled the door open.