MURDERED: Can YOU Solve the Mystery? (Click Your Poison Book 2)

by James Schannep

  “The other passengers?” he says. “No, but Susan and I go back. Well, actually, it’s Renfield who got me this job.”

  “Renfield?”

  He nods, then pauses to check his instruments. “He’s the genius behind ethanol who works over at the VW plant. I used to fly corporate jets, but that lifestyle will kill you after a while. This is a much better gig—independent contracting—I get to be the boss rather than the sky-chauffeur.”

  “And Dr. Brandon?”

  “Right, sorry. About a decade ago she and Renfield were pretty hot and heavy, engaged, I think, but she couldn’t tear herself away from the field and he was already married to the lab, so work came first. Those two back there are involved in the future of ethanol, right? Dr. Brandon probably sees her past self in them.”

  You nod in silence. So that’s why she’s helping, to give them the chance at happiness she herself gave up.

  “You guys are off to the Energy Summit, right? I’ll call Renfield. I think he still has connections with the chairman.”

  “That’s very generous,” you say.

  “I know he’d want to help…. We should be landing shortly, so can you head back and buckle up for me?”

  When you make it back to your seat, Viktor turns to you and says, “This is it, Tourist. The grand finale. Thanks to André, the police are looking for him rather than myself, and they think Jane here is dead, so we should be able to sneak in undetected.”

  “What about me?” you ask.

  “You’re still anonymous. After tonight, win or lose, the world will know who you are.”

  “Unless…” Jane says.

  You look from Viktor to Jane and back again.

  “Unless you’re ready to retire,” Viktor says. “You’ve done so much for us. This—tonight—is our fight. You don’t need to risk your life any further.”

  “Look for us on the news,” Jane says. “There should be live coverage. I’m going to upload the evidence onto the Energy Summit computer system and project it on the main screen during the opening ceremonies. Then Viktor will arrive on stage, proclaim his innocence, and condemn these two evil Kings while everyone is there to see it.”

  • “Okay… Good luck. I’ll want to meet for champagne after you’re successful.”

  • “Seriously? So close to the finish line? No way you’re leaving me here!”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Hospitality

  Viktor falls to the ground—you got him! The taxicab peels out in response to the gunshot, the driver not wanting to be your next target. You cautiously approach the suspect, who writhes on the cobbled street, his blood mixing with the dank wetness of the road.

  He bleeds freely from the shoulder and groans in pain.

  “Well done!” a panting voice says from behind.

  Turning, you see Detective Irma Dos Santos jogging to catch up.

  “You’re fast,” she pants.

  “I—I didn’t have a choice,” you say. “He was getting away.”

  Irma removes a switchblade knife and drops it in Viktor’s palm so it looks like he’s holding it.

  “There, now you really didn’t have a choice.”

  Viktor groans, tossing the knife away. “You… have no idea what’s….”

  Irma kicks the man, tells him to shut up in Portuguese, then wraps an arm around your shoulder and takes you away from him.

  “You did okay, Americano, you know that? Come on, I’ll call in back-up; let’s go check on your friends.”

  * * *

  Some time later, you’re sitting in a hospital room at the bedsides of the two agents, both of whom are unconscious. Danly recovers from “decompression sickness” after Viktor’s bomb nearly turned his insides out. Bertram nurses a gunshot wound from his encounter with the infamous assassin when he tried to pursue the scientist, but the agent came out on top and the Devil Ray is now dead.

  Detective Dos Santos enters the room, quietly closing the door so as not to wake the resting men. “How are they?” she asks.

  “The RSO came by earlier. The Doctors say they should be fine, they just need some time.”

  “Good. How are you?”

  “Fine. Did you just come from Viktor’s room?” you ask.

  She sighs. “He was a bad man, you know that, right?”

  You don’t respond so she continues, “He murdered the woman who loved him and was about to do the same to your Ambassador before you caught him.”

  “I know,” you say.

  She puts a hand on your shoulder. “He’s dead. He died of his injuries on the way to the hospital.”

  “Good,” Danly croaks, going into a coughing fit.

  “I knew it was the fiance,” Bertram says with a grin. “I knew it was the Devil Ray too.”

  “But how?” you say, no longer whispering. “I only hit him in the shoulder!”

  “It must have struck an artery, because he lost a lot of blood. Then the transfer didn’t take at the hospital. It’s rare, but it does happen,” Irma explains.

  Something in your gut twists. You just killed a man? You only meant to stop him….

  “Forget about that scumbag, Hotshot. You did what had to be done,” Bertram says.

  You look at Danly. The agent nods his approval and smiles.

  “Good work, Rookie,” he says, his voice husky, like a chain smoker.

  There’s a moment of contented silence as the room basks in a feeling of victory. Everyone smiles, except for you. Something still feels “missing.” You excuse yourself, and go off to search your conscious and ponder the deeper meaning of things. The events of these last three days will, without a doubt, forever change you.

  • Click to Continue.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Hostel Environment

  The government SUV pulls up outside Che Lagarto Ipanema, the five-story hostel you’re staying at with friends. The road is busy, even at this late hour, but the vehicle’s diplomatic plates supersede any parking regulation. You are still, however, subject to honks from angry taxi drivers piling up behind you.

  “Don’t go far, okay?” Agent Bertram says, handing you a card of his own. “Call if you have any trouble, even if you think you’re just being paranoid.”

  You nod.

  “Goodnight,” Agent Danly says, opening the door for you.

  Trumpets, bongos, and revelry greet you along with the warm, summer air as you step outside the car. Sure, it’s February, but this is the southern hemisphere, so the seasons are reversed from what you’re used to.

  The first floor bar is packed with drunken 20-somethings (mostly tourists) and a live band. When you step inside, the bartender nods to you in greeting.

  The entire bar façade is bathed in red light, originating from the back shelf, giving the bottles stored there an ethereal glow of murderous intent. Still, a stiff drink could be nice after the night you’ve been through. But then again, so could sleep, although you’re not likely to get much privacy in the shared dorm room waiting for you on the third floor.

  You look back over your shoulder; the SUV is gone. So, what’ll it be?

  • I think I’ll take comfort in friendship, time to head upstairs.

  • I could use some time, and some libations, to process what happened tonight.

  • I’m going for a walk.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Hot Pursuit

  You rush after Viktor, the agent’s handgun held tightly in your grip. The man runs like a wild animal fleeing from a predator and you chase him down like your life depends on it.

  The man knows you’re hot on his heels and does his best to place obstacles in your path. He knocks down bystanders, flings trashcans, even runs through a shop and out the back exit in an effort to keep you off his trail.

  He leads you into the heart of Carnaval, straight to the Sambadrome, where gigantic parade flotillas, with hundreds of dancers on each one, are cruising. He leaps over the barriers and flees directly into the heart of the performance.
You don’t think twice—you follow him right in.

  The music is deafening here, loud enough so that the vibrations could help pass a kidney stone, and with the bright colors and feverish dancing, this is sensory overload.

  Viktor nearly smashes into a pregnant woman, her enormous belly on display for the world as she dances in a thong bikini and a few feathers, but he swerves out of the way at the last second, letting you gain slightly.

  Security for the event rushes in to capture the two of you, and Viktor slips out the other end of the parade grounds. You just barely make it out yourself, but the security guards aren’t ready to give up and now you’ve got your own parade sprinting across the pavement away from the show.

  You turn back, flashing the handgun at the security guards. They stop and meekly tuck their pepper spray back into their belts before turning back to the event. These rent-a-cops aren’t willing to get shot simply for parade security.

  Once again, it’s just you and Viktor. He’s about to make it to a taxicab—if he gets in, you’ll lose him for sure.

  • You’ve got a clear shot—try to wing him.

  • Watch him go, just like in the beginning.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  House of Lies

  You follow the agents, running to keep up, and cast a glance back over your shoulder to Viktor. He stands still, smiling, and gives a nod in recognition. Bertram disappears into the chapel, then Danly, then you.

  “Everybody out, now!” Agent Bertram commands.

  “Vá. Deixar. Agora,” Danly adds in Portuguese.

  The inside is rather small, about the size of a master bedroom in an average suburban home, with two rows of seating on either side and an aisle down the center leading up to an altar covered in flowers. The ceiling is raised like a Roman dome, painted with a bright blue sky and wispy cirrus clouds swirling about in an inverted, cosmic whirlpool.

  Once the five terrified tourists end their prayers and leave, the two agents sweep the room.

  “Look for anything unusual, Rookie, but don’t touch anything,” Agent Bertram says.

  “Like another note?” you ask.

  “Or a bomb,” Danly answers.

  You check the altar… just flowers. The agents look under the seats, around the edges, in every crack and crevice. You look at the crucifix at the front of the room and the other fixtures. Still nothing. It doesn’t take long to search the modest chapel, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

  “What the shit?” Bertram says, going over the sweep a second and a third time.

  In a shared realization, the two agents rise from their hunched search, snap to attention, and run back outside the chapel. Again, you follow. They search frantically for Viktor, but he’s nowhere to be found.

  Then a whistle pierces the high altitude air and the three of you lock in on the source. There he is, leaning out of the red train car, just as it takes off for the return trip down the mountain. Viktor moves his hand away from his mouth and into a wave. “Then again, maybe I didn’t leave something!” he shouts, “Good luck on the case!”

  The train disappears behind the bend of the mountain trail.

  “Goddammit, one of us should’ve stayed back here,” Danly says.

  “No shit, Sherlock. I expected you to back me up while I checked it out,” Bertram growls.

  “Back you up? You think you’re lead on this investigation? That’s rich.”

  “Blow me, Stuart.”

  “Ummm, guys?” you say, interrupting.

  The whole mountain crowd stares at the scene they’re making.

  “All right,” Danly says, composing himself. “Let’s forget that crackpot; we’ve got work to do.”

  “That work includes looking into this guy. He’s obviously a sociopath. His fiancée hasn’t even been buried yet and the guy’s all smiles.”

  “We follow the evidence, and if it leads to him, so be it.”

  “No way. We need to put this nut behind bars before he hurts someone else.”

  “Bertram, seriously, do I need to ask the RSO to officially assign one of us as lead?”

  “You might.”

  “This might just be a naïve rookie talking,” you say, “but couldn’t you guys split up and cover more ground?”

  They both look at you, blinking. Then they say in unison, “Yes.”

  “Okay,” Bertram says, “Let’s split up. I’ll follow the fiancé, you work with the local police.”

  “Fine with me. Just make sure you file your reports so we can cross-reference one another’s findings.”

  “You want some cab fare to get back to the garage?” Agent Bertram asks. “The car’s checked out in my name, so…”

  “I’ll be fine,” Danly says.

  They linger for a moment, staring at one another, before Bertram offers to shake hands. “Good luck, and I mean that,” he says.

  “Don’t shoot anybody,” Danly counters, managing a slight smirk. “The paperwork involved is worse than death.”

  • “And I’ll come with you, Agent Danly. I’ve always wanted to go behind the scenes of an investigation.”

  • “The fiancé might not be the guy I saw last night, but maybe he can lead us to him. Let’s do it, Agent Bertram!”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Imploded

  “I’ll notify security,” Bertram says. “You find the Ambassador.”

  “Right,” Danly replies, taking off down the hall.

  You follow, sticking close, and something ahead catches your attention. Even though you were expecting him, you’re shocked that he’s actually here. You rub your eyes, but there he is, in the flesh—the man with the shimmering, gunmetal-blue eyes. He doesn’t see you just yet, as he’s trying to blend in and look inconspicuous. You’ve got him now!

  Except at this exact moment, the Ambassador steps out of one of the adjoining rooms, standing between you and the target. When he spots Ambassador Mays, though, hatred fills his eyes. He slips his backpack off one shoulder and reaches into it—

  “Viktor!” you shout.

  The man looks towards you, confused, but it’s all the distraction you need. Agent Danly surges into action. Ambassador Mays’ security detail doesn’t register the threat yet, though they sense something is off and surround the important man.

  Viktor removes a small metal grapefruit-sized object from his backpack. He twists the device, clicking it into place, then throws it underhand straight at the Ambassador.

  “Bomb!” Danly shouts, rushing to protect his boss.

  Viktor turns and sprints around the next corner while the men try to shield the diplomat. The device flashes and rearranges itself like an automated Rubik’s Cube before it finally detonates. But rather than exploding, it implodes. The bomb sucks the air from the hallway like a black hole, and the change in pressure cracks and nearly brings down the ceiling.

  Oxygen is ripped from your lungs and you fall to the floor like you’ve just been gut-punched. Everything goes black with the swift certainty of death.

  You’re lying there, coming to terms with dying, when miraculously your breath comes back and your vision returns. Sweet, sweet air fills you up and you weakly push yourself up off the hallway floor. It’s difficult to focus, but you will yourself to move toward Danly and the Ambassador.

  The devastation is immense; it’s likely many of the people in the hall are dead. You’re lucky you were so far away from the bomb—you’re all lucky that the hallway was open; otherwise there’d be no air to breathe after the initial blast.

  You stumble over to where Agent Danly lies prone on his stomach and roll him onto his back. Danly’s eyes are red and lifeless from burst blood vessels. He isn’t moving. Suddenly, he spasms and coughs blood. His eyes dart toward you in recognition.

  “Go,” he croaks.

  • Stay to makes sure Danly doesn’t die.

  • Pursue Viktor.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Instant Karma

  You shoot the snake; t
he shotgun pellets leave little but mangled flesh. Then you look to Maria as if to say, yep, that just happened. The only good snake is a dead snake, amiright?

  Her mouth hangs wide open, but upon seeing the smug look on your face, she raises a revolver to your head and pulls back the hammer.

  Bertram bats her hand so that only a deafening explosion booms beside your ear and you’re otherwise unharmed. You can’t be sure if she intended to shoot you or if Bertram’s blow caused her to pull the trigger, but before you can consider retaliation, he shoves the two of you apart.

  Ringing like a telephone left off the hook, your hearing slowly returns.

  “….I mean, seriously, you two. It’s a goddamned snake. Christ, you’re like toddlers with firearms,” Bertram scolds.

  Maria turns to you with narrowed eyes. “Asshole.”

  You shake off the concussive blast and head out toward the road.

  A few minutes later, you exit the sugarcane field. Waiting for you are two carloads of grileiros, set up in tactical positions, using their jeeps for cover, weapons at the ready. They must’ve heard the gunshots.

  “Fuck me,” Bertram says.

  Those are the last words you’ll ever hear.

  THE END

  In Synch

  Entering the consulate, you’re greeted with familiar faces. The two Office Management Specialists look up from their desks hopefully. Everyone wonders if maybe you’ve brought some good news. If you’ve found her killer, they can move on….

  Agent Danly shakes his head, communicating to the crowd that no news is, in this case, bad news. With a collective sigh, everyone’s shoulders slump and they all go back to work.

  Danly’s first pit stop is the coffee station, where he refills the same paper cup he brought with him. The bald RSO, the agents’ Regional Security Officer supervisor, steps out of his office and makes a high-pitched whistle through pursed lips.