by Al Lamanda
At eleven, Peck and his men closed the fairgrounds. By the time money was cashed out and the grounds were secured it was after one. Peck dragged himself to his car and drove home, arriving at one thirty. He was in bed and asleep by one forty five.
Linda Boyce soaked in a hot tub full of scented water and oils. She puffed on a cigarette and sipped from a glass of wine while she waited for Ed to arrive. He said he would be there sometime after one AM. She hated all the sneaking around, but Ed was a married man. Besides his wife to contend with, there was his reputation as mayor to worry about.
Therefore, she took the leftover crumbs and made do.
Linda stood up in the tub and reached for a white, terrycloth towel on the rack. She dried herself and smelled her skin. Ed liked her to smell nice. It put him in a good mood and made him generous. Since he paid the rent on her home, she needed him to be very, very generous.
There was a gentle tapping at the front door and she let Ed in just after one AM. He was in the mood and in a hurry, so they went to the bedroom and got right to it. He didn’t even bother removing the damn gum from his mouth. That was okay with her. The quicker he got it out of his system, the quicker she could get some sleep.
He zeroed in on her at the fairgrounds and made the decision on the spot to follow her home. She had dark hair and eyes, a perfect ass and was exactly his type, which was female.
With the amount of people on the streets, it was easy to track her to her house on the fringe of town without attracting attention. Her house was set back off a dark, side road where there were plenty of trees and shadows for concealment.
He waited. He was a patient man and was used to waiting. All good things come to those who wait; his mother would tell him when he was a boy. Little did mother know how right she was?
Lights went out and a lone candle flickered in the bedroom. The window was open to take advantage of the cooling, summer breeze. The damn hot spell had finally broken. Tonight was the first night he felt like venturing out.
Spotting her at the fairgrounds was a good omen. He felt it inside his head. He was going to get lucky.
As he waited, he checked the name on the mailbox mounted on a post by the end of the driveway. Linda Boyce. It was a nice name with a nice ring to it and he liked it.
He peeked in the bedroom window. She was taking a bath. He looked around and spotted a woodpile wedged between two trees. He selected a nice, two-foot long log that had some weight behind it.
As he made his way around to the front door of the home, a car suddenly pulled into the driveway. A large man of about sixty exited the car and walked toward the front door. He caught a glimpse of the man’s face in the floodlight over the front door. He recognized the man from around town. It was the mayor, Ed Kranston.
Fueled by a sudden, all consuming rage, he pulled the ski mask from a back pocket and slipped it over his head.
Ed insisted on running the air conditioner even though it had cooled considerably. He hated to sweat during lovemaking, he insisted. She closed all the windows and ran the big one in the living room and the smaller one in the bedroom. What the hell, he was paying for it.
They slipped under the sheets. Even with the pill he took, Ed was slow to arousal, but after a while, he got there. He insisted on being on top and what the hell, he was paying for that, too. As Ed neared the edge, Linda closed her eyes. It was bad enough she would have to listen to him squeal, she did not need to see his eyes bulge like a frog.
The hum of the air conditioners masked all other noise. Linda heard the sound a moment too late and when she opened her eyes, a man in a ski mask was standing over them, holding a fire log.
Everything happened so fast, there was no time to react. The man in the ski mask struck Ed on the back of the head with so much force, Ed’s skull split in two. Blood, skull and bits of brain matter hit her in the face and stuck to her skin.
Linda screamed and her first reaction was to jump, but Ed’s bulk and dead weight pinned her down and she was helpless.
Linda saw the heavy log swinging in a high arc and that was the last thing on Earth she would ever see.
Peck was asleep maybe a half hour when his cell phone, the private number used just for emergencies, rang on the bedside nightstand.
Instantly awake, Peck reached for the phone.
Reese spoke to him on the other end. “Dave, wake up. We got a bad one. A double murder.”
Peck, Reese and several of his uniformed officers entered the residence of Linda Boyce and were shocked at the sight of the very grizzly, double homicide.
Ed Kranston, Mayor of Dunston Falls lay in a pool of his own blood on the bed. His skull was split open at the top and exposed bits of brain matter were everywhere.
A woman lay on her stomach next to Kranston. Her face had been beaten to a bloody pulp. Her features were unrecognizable. Her blood, like Kranston’s was everywhere, even the ceiling.
“Jesus Christ,” Reese said.
Two of Peck’s men went outside to vomit.
Peck said, “Do we know who the woman is?”
“A Linda Boyce, according to our computer and the mail on the kitchen table,” Reese said. “That’s all we know for now. I’m running a records check on her in the car.”
Peck slipped on a pair of latex gloves. “Is Doctor McCoy on the way?”
“I called him right after I called you,” Reese said.
Peck walked around the far side of the bed and picked up the heavy fire log. Dried blood and bits of skull clung to the wood.
“She has a woodpile out back?” Peck said.
“I don’t know. Why?” Reese said.
“I’d like to know if he planned this out and brought this with him,” Peck said and gently shook the log. “Or if something set him off and he decided to kill them on the spot.”
Reese turned to one of the men. “Check it out.”
The man nodded and left the bedroom.
“Who called it in?” Peck said.
“A neighbor,” Reese said. “She said she heard a scream.”
“I’ll bet she did,” Peck said. “Get someone over to the neighbor and take a statement. And where the hell is McCoy?”
“Should I call him again?” Reese asked.
“No. Get on the phone to the state police. Tell them we need a forensics team right away.”
“You want to bring the state boys in on this?” Reese said. “You know they’ll take over.”
Peck turned to look at Reese. “We’re pretty modern for a small town, but do you see a forensics lab anywhere around here?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry,” Peck said. “We won’t be left out in the cold, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking a murdered town mayor is news. Even in a small town like ours.”
“Ed Kranston and a woman are dead. Think about that.”
The officer sent to investigate the woodpile returned. “She has one out back. Logs just like that one. And Doctor McCoy is here.”
McCoy, carrying a medical bag, entered the bedroom. He took one look around and said, “My good God, what the hell happened in here?”
“Somebody,” Peck said, “was really, really pissed off about something.”
In front of the Boyce home, Peck lit a cigarette and looked at Reese. “I’m going to the office to wait for the state boys. Nobody except Doctor McCoy goes in or out, right.”
Reese nodded and Peck walked to his cruiser and drove away. Reese stood on the front steps with the floodlight shinning on him. Suddenly, the floodlight turned off and McCoy quietly exited the house. They stood in darkness and looked at each other. Reese sighed loudly to himself. McCoy cocked his head to look at Reese and in an instant; McCoy went from zero to sixty.
“Goddammit all,” McCoy said in a sudden burst of fury. “Goddamn it all to hell.”
Reese looked at McCoy and said nothing, knowing when to keep his mouth shut.
“Did you know about Ed and this woma
n?”
Reese shook his head. “After what happened the last time she was pulled from the program. She shouldn’t even be here.”
“Ed must have reinstated her for some reason on his own.”
“I think I know what that reason is,” Reese said.
“Christ, what the hell do we tell Washington?”
“We?” Reese said. “You’re the boss, Tom.”
“Ah, fuck me,” McCoy said. “I spent five years reinventing that broken down drunken Kranston. Programming him to believe he is a respectable, government scientist in charge of a billion dollar project. What the hell am I going to tell them, that my prize subject just had his brains mashed in while he was fucking a class B subject?”
Reese mulled it over in his mind before answering. “Tell them it’s the perfect opportunity for Peck to act like a cop and catch the bad guy. He’s the focal point of the whole thing after Kranston, anyway.”
McCoy looked at Reese and slowly smiled. “Yeah. That’s very good. That’s exactly what I’m going to tell those assholes.”
McCoy pulled a cell phone from a pocket, walked off the steps, and stood in the driveway to place a call.
Reese watched McCoy talk on the phone from the steps. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a package of cigarettes wrapped in plain, white paper. He pulled one and lit it with a wood match.
McCoy finished his call and returned to the steps. He looked at the cigarette in Reese’s hand. “Where did you get that? You know those are illegal.”
“They’re bootleg. I know this guy on the Canadian border,” Reese said. “Besides, Peck smokes them all the time.”
“That’s how he gets his medication,” McCoy said. “In small doses every time he lights up. Just like Kranston and his damned gum. You know that.”
Reese let the cigarette fall to the steps where he crushed it under his shoe.
“Pick it up,” McCoy said.
Reese picked up the butt and slipped it into a pocket. “So what did Washington say?”
“They said let him play cop,” McCoy said. “They said to make it as stressful as possible. If Peck performs well, the project goes green light.”
“This is so fucked up,” Reese said. “We’re supposed to let him run around with the state police and play detective?”
“That’s exactly what we’re supposed to do,” McCoy said. ‘Get ahold of what’s her name playing Deb and tell her I want Peck seduced. Some sexual tension should add a bit more stress to the mix. Tell her to lay it on good. Then find out who is in the think tank nobody will miss. See if a few more victims to worry about will bring out the best in Mr. Peck.”
“Or fuck him up,” Reese said.
“Either way, we have to know. If a few murders and a blond cause deterioration, it will never work on some crazy dictator looking to rule the world.”
“How do we know he’ll kill again?” Reese asked. “This could be a one time, isolated incident for him.”
“I’m a doctor,” McCoy said. “He trusts me. And even if he doesn’t, he’ll kill again because I want him to.”
“Whatever happened to the good old days where we just shot the bad guys?” Reese said.
“Let’s get some coffee,” McCoy said. “You can tell me about those good old days when you were a young man in Iraq.”
McCoy and Reese stepped off the front steps and walked toward McCoy’s car.
“Hey,” Reese said. “Who do we have available to play the state police?”
Peck entered the Dunston Falls Roman Catholic Church shortly before eight AM where he found Father Regan preparing the altar for the ten AM, Sunday mass.
The priest was dressed in black pants with a matching shirt. Peck stood at the altar railing. “Father, I need to see you for a minute.”
Regan nodded and set aside the candleholders he was polishing. He left the altar and met Peck in the front pew.
“I have the feeling this is about Ed Kranston and the woman,” Regan said.
“You’ve heard?” Peck said.
“Doctor McCoy asked me to administer last rites. It came as quite a shock to me, a situation like that in our small town.”
“In today’s world, father, no town, no matter how small or remote is safe from predators,” Peck said. “It’s just the way things are.”
“Sadly, I have to agree with you. I suppose that is why people turn to the church more now than ever.” Regan paused to look at Peck. There was sadness in his eyes “.Ed Kranston was a good man, a friend of mine and Linda Boyce was an active member of the church .Both of them will be missed.”
Peck looked at Regan and nodded. “You’ll be mentioning it at the service?”
“Yes, but I will be delicate,” Regan reassured Peck. “Even good, God fearing people have their faults. Only God should judge them at the end.”
Peck looked at the altar for several seconds. It was large and adorned with gold, trimmed with expensive, decorative lace. “Thank you, father,” Peck said.
Regan grinned at Peck. “For I have sinned,” the priest joked.
Peck turned to the priest and smiled, the small joke not being lost on his cop’s sense of humor. “Don’t we all,” Peck said.
Regan nodded and his tiny smile faded. “I will pray for you, sheriff. For the strength and wisdom to catch this man before he can take another innocent life.”
Peck stood up and gently placed a hand on Regan’s shoulder. “Make it a good one, father.”
Peck stood on the front steps of the Linda Boyce residence while he waited for the state police to arrive. He was dog-tired and sipped coffee from a deli container, his fifth cup of the day. From inside the house, his second in command, Lieutenant Reese limped out to join him.
“Everything is ready for the state boys,” Reese said. “They should be here any minute.”
Peck nodded and lit a cigarette.
Reese said, “Hey, can you spare one of those, Dave?”
Peck handed Reese his pack as a state patrol car arrived and entered the driveway. The man who exited the car looked vaguely familiar to Peck. He wondered where, if ever, their paths had crossed.
“I’m detective Muse of homicide,” he said as he approached Peck.
Peck stared at the man as he puffed on his cigarette.
“I’m Sheriff David Peck,” Peck said, extending his right hand to Muse.
“Show me what you got,” Muse said.
EPILOGUE
Alone in his church, Father Regan sat for several long minutes and enjoyed the quiet solitude the sanctuary afforded him.
Suddenly, he sighed loudly to himself. Another headache was brewing, starting with a spot between his eyes. Probably from all the smoking, he had been doing lately. Why did he ever start such a filthy habit? Gently, he massaged the spot with his left hand.
The pain began to subside and he stood up to return to the altar to continue polishing candleholders. He noticed a splinter in his right thumb that must have come from that damn log. He picked at it, but the splinter was in too deep.
The things people make me do, Regan told himself as he left the altar to dig out the splinter and prepare to say the ten AM mass.
THE END.