A Master's in Murder

by Katie Moon

  18

  Colors danced and spun around in her vision. She gasped desperately for air. A piercing ache was throbbing on her forehead, and she could feel the tenderness on her skull where he had gripped her hair. Groaning softly, Brielle lifted her head despite the banging in her skull that erupted with every movement. He was gone. Gingerly, she rolled onto her back, grunting in pain.

  “You leave this alone, or you’ll follow Eric. This is your only warning.” Brielle panted as the words reverberated in her brain. His hot breath burned on the back of her neck, and Brielle shuddered. He had been following her. Was this the same man who had left that voicemail for Eric? His voice had been muffled on the call, so she wasn’t sure. He had been careful to keep her eyes averted so she could not identify him. Had she sent him after her when she left the apartment? Did they have a suspicion about what she was about to find?

  After several minutes, the pounding in her brain diminished to a soft ache, giving her a chance to move unsteadily to her feet. Lights popped in front of her eyes, and she clutched the brick wall for support. Sluggishly, she pulled her hand away from the wall, rubbing her fingers slowly together. A dark red streak marked the wall where her hand had landed. Unconsciously, Brielle lifted her hand to stroke her forehead. She winced as a harsh sting shot through her forehead, and pulled her hand down to see bright red blotches dotting her fingertips. Swaying forward, Brielle set out at a swift, unsteady march. She needed to get there. They were trying to stop her, but she had to get there, to catch her.

  After what felt like an eternity, Brielle staggered up to the heavy, mahogany door of her apartment. Heaving the door open, she stumbled into the room as five sets of eyes turned to stare at her.

  “Brielle!” shouted Randall, jumping to his feet and running over, looking as though he had been punched in the gut. Exclamations resounded throughout the room as each person shot to their feet, gasping wildly. Only Jared remained in his chair, looking so appalled that he seemed frozen. Officer Corey pushed through the loud chaos, reaching for Brielle’s arm, attempting to steady her. Mutely, Brielle pushed Randall and Officer Corey away, eyes fixed on Mrs. Artimer. Fuming, she marched over until she loomed over Mrs. Artimer, glaring down at her.

  “I know,” Brielle hissed, her voice shaking. “I know what you did. You—you—” Brielle gulped down a breath of air as she felt a trickle of blood drip down the bridge of her nose. “I know.” Stunned, heated outbursts echoed around the room, but Brielle ignored them.

  Mrs. Artimer glared up at her, apparently stunned to momentary silence. Anger flitted across her face, but Brielle could see that Mrs. Artimer’s lip was shaking. “Honestly,” she mumbled, “don’t know what you mean—she’s crazy—”

  “I know what you did! Don’t lie!” Brielle shrieked, spitting every livid word into Mrs. Artimer’s face. “I know about Bruce!”

  Mrs. Artimer looked as if she was about to have a heart attack. Her face had turned ghostly white, and a vein was throbbing erratically on her temple. Jaw quivering, her fear-filled eyes glued on Brielle’s face, unable to speak. Brielle felt a gentle hand cupping her elbow and did not fight as Officer Corey guided her and Mrs. Artimer into Brielle’s bedroom and closed the door behind them.

  “Alright, now, Brielle,” Officer Corey said in a hushed tone. “What has gotten into you? What is going on?”

  Brielle glared at Mrs. Artimer, who looked away quickly, cowering under her gaze. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?” Brielle seethed. Mrs. Artimer opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Brielle swung around to face Officer Corey. “She did it. She killed Eric. She killed her own son,” she said angrily.

  “No!” Mrs. Artimer burst desperately, but she quailed under Brielle’s furious glare.

  Brielle turned back to Officer Corey and continued. “I looked at Eric’s phone and found that it had been erased, so I took it to a friend to recover the data. That was who I just went to see. He said he had been able to recover them. And what we found was a picture of her—” Brielle pointed an accusing finger at Mrs. Artimer—“wrapped up with Eric’s uncle, Bruce. She was having an affair with him, and Eric found out. Not only that, there was a voicemail threatening Eric, telling him if he didn’t keep his mouth shut, they’d shut it for him.” Brielle swung around to face Mrs. Artimer again. “What kind of mother would have her own son killed?”

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen!” Mrs. Artimer blurted. She slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified at what she had just said. Brielle and Officer Corey froze, staring at her. Slowly, she lowered her hand from her mouth, and Brielle could see tears welling in her eyes. She lowered her head and began to sob. “None of it was every supposed to happen. John and I had gotten stale. Not fighting, really, just not noticing each other anymore. So when Bruce and John would get together, I’d… see him. Really notice him. And he saw me. He made me feel… special. He was something… new.”

  She lifted her head to face Brielle, mascara beginning to run down her cheeks. “And before I really knew what was happening, we were… well, involved. It had only been happening for a few months.

  “And then I got the call from Eric,” she sighed dully, staring out the window. “A friend of his from back home had seen us one night when we were out. He had been around our family enough to know that wasn’t Eric’s dad with me.” She sniffed, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Eric shouted up a storm. Told me how selfish I was to do that to the family, to his father….” She trailed off for a moment before turning to look Brielle squarely in the eyes. “And he was right. I had been wrong. And that was the last time Eric and I ever spoke.”

  Even with all her anger, Brielle could not help but feel a twinge of pity for the broken, crumpling woman in front of her. “What about the phone call?” she asked.

  Mrs. Artimer inhaled deeply. “I didn’t know what to do. So I called Bruce, I told him what had happened. I told him that Eric was going to tell people if we didn’t,” she said, sniffing again. ” It would’ve ruined both of our lives. And Bruce can be quite… strong-willed. He told me he would handle it. He’d make sure that Eric didn’t tell anyone.” Her face crumpled as she was once again racked with sobs. “I swear I didn’t know he would go that far. I thought he would just talk to him, maybe come off as a tough guy. I didn’t think he would kill my son,” she wailed, crying into her hands. Brielle and Officer Corey looked at each other, frowning sadly at the sight of the shaking woman.

  Officer Corey jumped, stuffing his hand into his pocket and withdrawing a buzzing cell phone. Holding up a finger to Brielle, he put the phone up to his ear and slid out the door before closing it again. Brielle stared down at Mrs. Artimer’s trembling figure, torn between angry disgust and sympathetic pity. Slowly, she sank down and sat next to her on the bed. “And did you send that man to attack me earlier? To send me a message?” she asked quietly.

  Mrs. Artimer lifted her head to gaze at Brielle. “I promise, I had nothing to do with that,” she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I was shocked to see you come in looking like that. I promise you.”

  Brielle shot a sidelong glance at her. The proud, elitist woman who had looked down on Brielle was gone. All that was left was a scared mother, crippled and so very alone.

  There was a soft knock, and Officer Corey stepped quickly back in. “That was the lab. We have the DNA back on Kevin Trent. His real name is Theo Walters, and he’s been a suspect on multiple deaths that no one could ever prove. We’ve got an APB out on him,” he explained. Officer Corey glanced back at Mrs. Artimer. “I also called in for officers to go pick up Mr. Bruce Artimer. Ma’am, I’ll need you to accompany me back to the station,” he said softly to Mrs. Artimer.

  Brielle watched as Mrs. Artimer stood up slowly and let her hands be handcuffed behind her before being led out the door. She couldn’t believe it really had been his mother. Nevertheless, Brielle felt a small wave of relief wash over her. It’s almost done. Don’t worry, Eri
c. It’s almost done.

  19

  Theo’s eyes scanned the crowded area. A mother walked by with a toddler bouncing on her hip, rolling a large, navy suitcase behind her. In the distance, Theo could see people rushing along, stopping only to glance up at the departure screens to check if they had already missed their flight. A man in a trim, navy suit sporting three golden stripes on each sleeve sauntered by, sipping casually from a Starbucks cup.

  Theo looked down at the card in his hand. An image of his own face smirked up at him, with the name “JENKINS, MARC” emblazoned next to the picture. Theo looked around grimly. A driver’s license belonging to “Kevin Trent” now rested in the bottom of a public trash bin at the entrance to the airport.

  Theo pulled his hat further down, masking his eyes from onlookers. As soon as he was on the plane, he was home free. Setting off at a brisk walk, Theo gazed up at a line of TV screens displaying the evening news.

  He stopped in his tracks. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” he said softly, swearing loudly so a passing woman glared at him, affronted. Across every screen flashed a large picture of his own face, partnered with a name: “THEODORE WALTERS”. Gaping in disbelief, Theo read the words moving across the bottom of the screen “Wanted for the murder of Eric Artimer; Wanted for questioning concerning the death of Jamie Walters—”

  His heart was pounding so ferociously that Theo could feel the beat reverberating through his entire body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman who had glared at him turning back to stare at him for longer than he liked. Spinning quickly, Theo flipped around and hurried back to the entrance of the airport, where he broke into a slight jog.

  How did they find out my real name? he thought desperately. He looked around nervously as he ran across the street, back towards the parking garage. Everything was falling apart. He could make it out of the city, potentially, but now that they knew who he was, he would be on the run forever. Suddenly, it dawned on him. The blood. Theo slapped his forehead. He had left behind DNA for them to run. At the time, he had been so confident that they wouldn’t look any further, so he hadn’t thought twice about it. Now, he was kicking himself. He had thought everything through so carefully, so thoroughly. And one slip had shattered his entire life.

  Now sprinting down the parking lanes, Theo looked wildly around, searching for his car. Finally, he spotted the dirty white sedan. Dashing between cars, he threw his bag forcefully in the back seat and jumped in behind the wheel. The car screeched as he swerved quickly out of the parking lot, dodging a Honda Accord and earning a rude hand gesture from the driver.

  As he turned on to the highway due south, Theo bit his lip. Where would be go now? He had no chance of getting off on this one. Even with every precaution he had taken, his own hubris had ended up destroying him. He had been overconfident, and he would pay for it. They had him on camera killing the Artimer kid. The words from the airport screen flashed across his mind: “Wanted for questioning concerning the death of Jamie Walters”.

  Theo exhaled sharply. He never thought he would hear that name again. After all this time, they had finally connected the dots. At the time, all those years ago, his mother’s death had been dismissed as suicide. No policeman would think to accuse the twelve-year-old boy mourning his mom’s death of such a gruesome murder. No policeman would have considered that the boy’s mother had in fact been strangled as she laid, wasted away, in a drunken sleep before being hung up on that noose. No policeman would dare to think that the mother, the one person every child should be able to trust unconditionally, slunk into his bedroom every night for years and committed such heinous actions that Theo still woke from nightmares in a cold sweat. No policeman would contemplate the possibility that killing his mother had awoken feelings of freedom and ecstasy in him that he had never experienced before. No, no moral, decent policeman would have imagined that—even though it was true.

  As he drove, Theo felt a heavy weight sinking in his stomach. This was the end. Eric Artimer’s death could be completely pinned on him. No one would stop to wonder why he had killed this boy he had never met. It doesn’t matter that someone else hired him. He was condemned.

  Dust and dirt exploded around his car as he slammed on the breaks and skidded onto the road shoulder. He heard a loud horn bellow angrily as a large pickup truck swerved around him and flew by. What if it does matter? he thought in amazement. That could be his ticket out of here. He had something the police desperately needed: information. If he led the police to the client, the one who had really been behind it, maybe they would grant him leniency. Maybe even immunity, he thought excitedly, his eyes animated. Quickly, he flipped on his hazard lights and leaned back, staring down at his steering wheel. If he went back, they might just arrest him and ignore his connection to his client. But you have an ace in the hole, a sly voice in the back of his mind whispered. Theo smirked. His client thought that he was the only one who had been smart enough to gather information on Theo. But Theo knew better than to go into a transaction blind, especially with the kind of people you met on the dark web. He had carefully researched his client and had dug up a significant nugget in the process.

  Theo had made up his mind. Squealing filled the air as Theo pushed down enthusiastically on the gas pedal, shooting off like a bullet and turning on the first exit he reached. Keeping one hand firmly on the wheel, Theo dug through his deep pocket and pulled out his phone.

  20

  The plastic, unnatural smile on his face was gone. He looked skittish, like a frightened rat stuck in a trap. Brielle watched avidly through the mirrored window, eyes fixed on Bruce’s nervous expression. His hands tapped anxiously on the metal table, his eyes darting around the interrogation room.

  “We’ve learned that you were having an affair with your brother’s wife, Rebecca Artimer. Is that true?” Officer Corey asked, settling into the chair opposite Bruce and flipping through his notes.

  Bruce stared down at the table, looking similar to a toddler getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Yes, that’s correct. I—I know that wasn’t right, but it’s not a crime, is it?” he stuttered, trying to crack a smile that looked more like a frightened grimace.

  Officer Corey glanced up at him. “And is it true that Eric Artimer, Rebecca Artimer’s son, learned of the affair?” he continued, ignoring Bruce’s question.

  Bruce raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Y-yes, Rebecca did tell me that he found out,” he stammered.

  “Did she tell you that he was going to uncover your affair?”

  Bruce gulped. “Yes, yes she did mention that,” he whispered.

  “What did you do when you discovered that Eric was going to make your affair public?” Officer Corey questioned, folding his hands on his open notes.

  Bruce looked stricken. Wildly, he looked around the room. “D-d-do? I didn’t do anything,” he said, attempting a nervous laugh.

  Officer Corey leaned back, glaring at Bruce. “Mr. Artimer, there was a call put in to Eric Artimer, threatening him and telling him to keep quiet. Do you have any knowledge about that call?” he demanded crisply.

  Bruce gawked at him, looking terrified. “No,” he mumbled unconvincingly.

  Officer Corey raised his eyebrows skeptically. “We also examined the phone that we seized from you. There was an outgoing call to your nephew from the same time as the voicemail,” he said, leaning towards Bruce. “Are you sure you don’t want to revise your story?”

  In the glaring light, Brielle could see beads of sweat beginning to slide down Bruce’s forehead. “Okay, yes. I may have left a voicemail for Eric telling him to back off. I just wanted to scare him a little. But that’s all,” Bruce insisted, holding his hands up.

  Officer Corey squinted at him. “Is that all? Or did you arrange with a Mr. Kevin Trent, also known as Theo Walters, to have your nephew, Eric Artimer, killed?” he accused bluntly.

  “No!” Bruce argued, looking alarmed. “I swear I didn’t!” When Officer Corey continued
to glare at him, he ran his fingers through his greying hair. “Look, I just wanted to scare the kid because it would’ve ruined my career, my marriage, my entire life if he had tattled. But that’s way over the line,” he insisted, staring intently at Officer Corey. “There’s no way I’d ever go that far. He’s my brother’s son. He’s family,” Bruce finished weakly. “And as far as this Trent or Walters guy,” he added fervently, “I’ve never even heard of him. I swear.”

  As Brielle gaped intently at Bruce, she could not stifle the sense that he was telling the truth. With wide eyes and a ghostly pallor, his face shone with panic, but it did not appear to be the fear of a guilty man caught. It looked more like an innocent man who had bitten off more than he could chew. Brielle exhaled slowly. Bruce had always come off as strong-willed and even a little pushy, but never violent.

  Officer Corey leaned against the back of his chair, scrutinizing him. “At around 10:30 this morning, a man assaulted Miss Brielle Daymon. Did you have any involvement in that attack?” he asked, peering at Bruce.

  Looking astonished, Bruce shook his head swiftly. “I swear I didn’t. Is Brielle okay?” he inquired quickly.

  Officer Corey didn’t answer. After a long moment, he muttered, “Alright, Bruce. Wait here.” Turning, he swung open the door and disappeared. Brielle turned as she heard the door of the viewing room creak open and watched Officer Corey stride in.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Brielle cut him off. “I don’t think he did it,” she said hastily.

  Officer Corey stopped, his eyebrows rising. “I actually don’t either,” he muttered, glancing at Bruce through the glass. “We can’t find any ties between him and Walters, but he’s our best lead.” He frowned slightly. “In all honesty, I don’t really think he’s smart enough. But if it’s not him, we’re back to nowhere. Could Mrs. Artimer have taken advantage of the circumstances and killed her son herself?” he asked quietly, more to himself than to Brielle.