The Usher

by Will Pettijohn

  “Well, I guess, let’s go and have another look around,” Rick said as he began to walk away from his partner.

  “Man, Rick, I really don’t want to go back in there.”

  “Come on … Stop being a pussy! We’ve done this before, T, and we’ve seen this entire house before already as well.”

  “Man, I hate doing this shit!” T-Bone said. He sighed and then opened his car door.

  Rick waited for T-Bone and they made their way to the door of the house. As they opened the door, the stench was still a harsh slap in the face. It smelled just as bad as it had seven days ago with the stench of five dead bodies that had sat there for twelve hours. The smell of rotting corpses was unmistakable to someone who had smelled it even just once. Rick leaned backward as if to try to outrun the smell. T-Bone walked back to the car and opened the trunk. Rick watched him as he removed something.

  “Whatcha got, Bubba?”

  “I need some damn Vicks on my nose, man.”

  “Oh, ha ha. Bring me some too, Bubba. I don’t see how people do this every day.”

  “Me neither. Linda is a one-of-a-kind girl. She does this day in and day out, ya know.”

  “Yeah, it makes you wonder what she talks about at dinner when she’s on a date, ha ha.”

  “Hee hee … She probably thinks about dead bodies when she’s making love too.”

  “Aw, man, what the hell’s wrong with you, Bubba?” Rick said. “Now I’m gonna be thinking about her having sex. And the worst part is, imagining her thinking about dead bodies when she’s doing it, every time I see her.”

  “Well, I’m just sayin’, she lives with this shit every day. She thinks about dead people twenty-four/seven, and the worst part about her is, she enjoys her job. I think that makes her a little fucking weird!”

  “I know. Huh—it’s like she smiles when she gets the call in the middle of the night. Like she just sits around waiting for someone to die so she can tell us how they died and what time,” Rick added. He shoved his fingers into the bottle of Vicks and placed a healthy portion under his nostrils. “Okay, man, I’m mad at you now,” he said as he approached the door.

  “Why are you mad at me, Rick?”

  “Because you put that shit in my head and now I’m picturing Linda naked, T.”

  “Well, I think she’s hot,” T-Bone said, smiling.

  “I think she’s a coroner. That makes her creepy, not hot.”

  “Yeah, but I bet she’s a freak!”

  “That’s my point, T. She could be the finest bitch in the world … but it’s all fucked because of what she does for a living.”

  “I don’t mean a freak like creepy. I mean, I bet she’s a freak in bed. That bitch probably gets her dates to lie real still and then when she’s acting like she’s examining the body—”

  “Stop it!” Rick interrupted. “I don’t even want to think about what she’s like in bed. Now let’s go and see what we can find out in here.”

  “Okay … okay, I’m coming. But I bet that Linda is crazy in bed. Hee hee!” T-Bone replied as the two walked into the house. “And I still think she’s fine,” he added.

  “All right, T, I understand! I get it!”

  The house looked exactly as it had on that day, minus the bodies, and now the blood was brown instead of a crimson red color. The feeling of death was still heavy like a fog, though.

  As much as the two of them wanted to, they couldn’t forget what had happened here. As Rick made his way through the door and into the bedroom, he began having flashbacks. It was as if short, hard bursts of electricity were shocking his brain with the photos. He could still see the Bennigan woman lying on the bed, her wrists bound and her face removed. Her body lying spread-eagle and bleeding. The scenes continued to flood his mind as he stared at the bed. He examined the entire room again, but found nothing new.

  He exited the room and made his way to the next room, where the teenage boy had been killed and placed so strangely. He looked around as he stood in the doorway and then squatted down onto his ankles. Again the flashbacks flooded his mind. He studied the room, remembering the horror that had taken place here. He searched this room as well, with the same result. He paused at the door, knelt down, and continued looking where the boy’s body had been placed. He turned on his heels and looked into the hallway, tapping his cheek and thinking. The next room was the one he had most wanted to forget. He sighed and then raised himself to a standing position.

  He began walking through the hallway a few steps and then paused before he entered the room. Here in this place a crime had been committed that even Rick, a seasoned investigator, couldn’t fathom. He remembered the baby’s body lying there in the crib … cold and lonely. He stepped in and looked around the room again. This was something he didn’t want to do. He began to hear Young’s voice explaining how he had killed the tiny baby.

  A tear came to his eye, and the unmistakable lump grew in his throat as he turned and left the room. His heart was heavy with sadness for the loved ones left in this world. They would remember this horrific thing that had been done to their family on that seemingly normal fall day. Every year on that day, the family would remember and cry for their loss.

  As he continued down the hallway, he cleared his eyes with his shirt sleeve. He entered the room where Mr. Bennigan had been murdered and looked around in there for a bit. His main focus wasn’t on the evident blood that still stained the carpet and walls with the crimson and brown colors. It was the things that weren’t so obvious—things they might have missed. The forensic pathologists were the best in the business and were very thorough. But he had to search and see if there was anything, even the smallest piece of evidence, that may have been missed in the earlier search. At that moment his sadness turned to anger and frustration yet again.

  It was the same as he had felt the last time he was in this house. But this time Special Agent Young wasn’t pointing a gun in his face and explaining how he was going to kill him. Rick walked back into the hallway and then into the room where the young lady had been killed.

  He placed his hands on his hips and studied the room again and again. It just doesn’t make any sense to me; why in the hell would Young kill everyone so violently and then kill the girl in this manner? he thought. It just didn’t add up. Most killers plan a murder to a T, but these murders were random and chaotic at best. Rick knew that Young was a very smart individual and was trained by arguably the best investigative agency in the world. He knew Young must have thought about the evidence that would be left behind and that the investigators would have to look very hard to find anything.

  Young had worn a Tyvek suit, which took care of any body fluids that may have escaped. He wore a mask, which caught any saliva or hair from falling and leaving evidence of his presence. He was careful to not allow anything to be pointed at him. Young knew that with no clear evidence, the detectives and forensic teams would search until they found the hair he had planted. Young had to have all of this planned out in advance because he had taken the hair from the evidence locker three weeks before the murders were committed. So why would he kill all the victims like this? Why kill them so randomly? It just didn’t add up in this seasoned investigator’s mind.

  Young had told Rick that the girl had surprised him. But even if he was surprised, he was not engulfed with enough rage to kill her with a technique similar to the others. Now that he was standing there again, without the body and without Young threatening his life, it seemed to be even more of a mystery.

  “Hey!” T-Bone said as he entered the room.

  “Holy shit, man!” Rick yelled as he jumped back a step.

  “Sorry, Bubba, I didn’t mean to scare ya.”

  “It’s okay … I was just thinking about the girl again.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “Well … it still d
oesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “What’s that, Rick? What doesn’t make any sense?”

  “Well, when I asked Young about the girl, he simply told me that he was surprised by her. He dragged her into her own room and killed her by stabbing her in the throat.”

  “Yeah. Why does that not make any sense?”

  “How did he know it was her room? He said he wanted to be creative with her death, just as creative as he was with the others. That doesn’t make any sense either. If he wanted to kill her in the same manner as the others, why didn’t he?”

  “I’m not following ya, Bubba. Are you asking me or telling me?”

  “I’m just trying to make sense of it all, that’s all, man.”

  “Okay, I’m listening,” T-Bone said as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

  “It’s as if he was afraid he was going to be caught up in it. But you don’t take your time and kill four people as brutally as one can imagine and then stab someone in the throat and leave. It would make more sense if he had just killed her in the bedroom where Mrs. Bennigan’s body was found, where he said she was standing when he found her screaming. Also … why would you plan a multiple murder and then let someone walk into the house while you’re still inside and surprise you?”

  “Oh, I see what you’re saying; he must have lied about that. Why take the time to drag her in here if you were going to kill her anyway? A person killing four people and then being surprised wouldn’t have waited to kill her.”

  “That’s right. It just puts a little tickle in my stomach,” Rick finished as he walked toward the door of the room.

  “I guess we have some more investigating to do, right?” T-Bone asked.

  “Well … I think we need to find out all we can about her and see if we can figure out what really happened.”

  “Yeah, I hate this part. Trying to get information from a man that’s already in jail won’t be easy. And we can’t talk to the victim, because she’s already dead.”

  “Well, T-Bone, if it were easy, everyone would be a detective. I think we need to go and talk to Young. If we can figure out why he did it, then maybe we’ll understand everything. I am still not convinced that this guy Marcell wasn’t guilty the last time Young tried to convict him. Hell, for that matter, I’m not convinced that anyone he has gotten convicted was guilty. If he was able to do this and think it was okay, there’s no telling what the hell this guy has done.” The two detectives left the house and made their way back to the precinct.

  Chapter 19

  As Colt and Tony waited at the garage, the tension grew thicker and thicker. After no more than twenty minutes, Tony looked out the window and then motioned for Colt to join him as he watched.

  The two men looked into the street and caught a glimpse of two very large men dragging two guys out of the van with guns pointed at them. The first man wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with the name of a local car wash. The other man was wearing a light blue rain jacket and a pair of slacks. He wore tennis shoes with his slacks and looked very out of place.

  Tony looked at Colt and said, “You wait in there behind the glass and listen. I’ll get all the information that you’ll need.”

  “Okay. Just make sure I am not going to regret this, Tony,” Colt said as he made his way through another door and into the room with the two-way mirror.

  Before long the door opened and Tony walked into the middle of the mechanic’s bay. A dark blue sedan entered and the door was soon shut again. Tony watched as the rear passenger door opened and a very large Italian man climbed out. He pulled out the man who wore the Windbreaker.

  Tony motioned for them to place the man by the wall, and the other one was dragged out and soon followed. As Tony watched the two men, he studied their demeanor and their eyes as they took in their surroundings, the building and the men who were now their kidnappers.

  “Don’t try to figure out what’s going on here, gentlemen,” Tony grumbled. “You were brought here to give me some information. This could go a couple of ways. One, you can tell me what I want to hear and we’ll all be home for dinner. Two, you can try to keep this information from me and I’ll be home for dinner … but you won’t.”

  Tony placed a hard wooden chair in the middle of the dirty concrete floor and stepped back. One of the big men shoved the man in the T-shirt over to the chair and pressed down on his shoulders. The man in the T-shirt sat in the chair but didn’t say a word. He looked around to see if Colt was there, but he was nowhere to be found.

  Colt watched through the mirrored glass as the man was tied with bailing wire to the chair. His arms were secured to the arms of the chair and his legs to the front two legs of the chair. Tony threw the large bodyguard a dirty rag and the Italian man placed it in the victim’s mouth. The man mumbled something, and Tony shook his head. “What’s that?” he asked.

  Tony motioned for the man to remove the gag; the muscle man removed the rag so the man could speak. “I was asking how I could answer your questions if I have a gag in my mouth,” the man said. Tony walked over to the front of the man and knelt down in front of him. Looking deep into his eyes, he spoke softly. “Because you won’t need to answer any questions. Your friend will watch what I do to you and then I won’t have to ask him twice.”

  The man’s mouth was forced open and the gag was shoved in. He cried out, “But!” The muscle man didn’t give him a chance to speak. As Tony watched the man begin to choke, he took out a pair of surgical gloves and placed them on his hands. He then took out a small bag from a locker by the wall. The old doctor’s bag was made of hard leather and opened from the top. As he walked the bag over to a workbench close by, the gagged man watched in anticipation and continued to shout into the rag. The other man who had been pulled out of the van watched as the bag was delivered, and read on the side of the bag “Dallas County Veterinarian Clinic.” Tony took out a large syringe with a massive needle on the end.

  He then removed a sealed bottle of clear liquid and drew the syringe full. He slowly walked the few steps over to the victim and held it up. The man continued to mumble through the gag … but Tony didn’t care what he had to say. He pressed the plunger, and the fluids shot out the end in a stream toward the ceiling. The muffle was doing its job as the man began to scream into it from fear.

  Tony looked at his large assistant, and the man grabbed the bound man’s head to secure him. Tony found the prime spot and plunged the needle deep into the tissue of his neck. He waited and did not press the plunger and inject his victim yet. Tony looked at the second man, who was now watching his partner, and said, “I want to know why you’re spying on me.”

  The man shook his head and answered, “We’re not watching you, sir. We were following another man.”

  “Why would you be parked across the street from this garage then?”

  “Because the man we’re watching pulled this car in here, and we never saw him leave. We were waiting for him to leave.”

  “What do you want with the man driving this car?” Tony asked, pointing at the BMW.

  “We were told to follow him and report back to the man who asked us to follow him.”

  “Who told you to follow him?” Tony asked as he looked at the man in the chair.

  As the man in the chair began to mumble loudly, the man standing answered, “I don’t know his name. It was set up through a friend.”

  Tony pressed on the syringe and injected a small amount of the liquid into the man’s neck. The man jerked from the pain, and tears began falling from his eyes and down onto the dirty rag stuffed in his mouth. The veins in his head began to pulse as the liquid entered his body. “I’m going to ask you again,” Tony spoke softly as he looked up from his victim.

  “I’m telling you the truth!”

  Tony looked back at the man in the chair and said, “I guess he doe
sn’t know what you’re going through, friend.” He looked at his captive and then back to the man standing. “This is a horse tranquilizer. It will allow him to be awake and watch as I cut pieces of his body away. But if I inject too much, he’ll just go to sleep. That wouldn’t be any fun, now, would it?”

  “Mister, I do not know who the man is who wanted us to follow the guy. He was contacted by a guy he knows, and that guy talked to him. I swear to you … if I knew, I’d tell you!” The man began to quiver from fear.

  Tony squeezed the syringe softly, and a little more of the fluids were placed into the man’s veins. Soon afterward, the seated man’s head relaxed and he allowed his body to slump down into the chair. His eyes searched for Tony as he began to lose control of his muscles. Tony gently slapped the man’s face and then looked up at the man he was questioning. “He’s ready now. Are you sure you don’t have anything you’d like to tell me before we get started?”

  “I’ve told you what I know, mister. I don’t know anything … I really don’t.”

  Tony slowly pulled the long needle out and walked it over to the workbench. He sat it on top of the bag and then walked over to the man who was standing … “Once I begin this, there will not be any going back. If you have anything to tell me, tell me now.”

  “The only thing I know is that a guy he’s done a couple of things for asked him to tail this guy. I don’t know why he wanted him tailed. My cousin asked if I’d be interested in coming along,” he said as he pointed at the man in the chair.

  “So this is your primo?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’d let your primo get hurt because you don’t want to tell me what I need to know?”

  “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, mister.”

  “I’m asking you to save your primo’s life here. Are you telling me that you don’t know who this guy is that you’re working for?”