Murder Mystery McKenzie (Frank McKenzie complete collection so far)

by Luis Samways

  He pushed the two large wooden doors open that had snowy glass in the centre, reading “Boston Southside PD”. He placed his hands to his sides and casually walked in. the place smelt of fresh coffee and cigarette smoke. He could see a sea of police personnel going about their business behind a see-through wall. In front of the glass wall was a large reception desk that housed two depressed looking workers. They were male and female, left and right. They didn’t even acknowledge Ray when he walked up to the desk. No eye contact was made, just grunts.

  “May I help you?” the lady on the right side of the desk asked as she typed on the computer she was fixated on. The man next to her didn’t even look at Ray, he just continued to play on his PC. It sounded like he was playing Solitaire. Ray wasn’t sure, but it sounded like a card game.

  Professional, he thought to himself.

  “Hi my name is Ray Watkins and I have just witnessed a murder,” he said under his breath. He looked down at his tattered shoes and winced at the stinging feet that lay encased in them.

  “I’m sorry sir?” the man playing solitaire asked in shock as he looked up and finally acknowledged him.

  “Did I stutter? I just witnessed a fucking murder!” Ray screamed, finally letting his true emotions run free.

  It felt like a second reaction to him. He could feel the anger escaping and his outburst was evident. He started to cry. Then he started to laugh. He couldn’t control the emotions he was feeling. The two bored looking officers behind the desk looked terrified. He could tell that this sort of thing didn’t happen to them all too often. It was as if the word murder frightened them.

  “A murder?” the woman asked.

  “Yeah, a fucking murder,” he screamed.

  “Sir, please calm down. I’m going to get a detective down here, somebody who can talk to you. Please sit over there, you might be a bit more comfortable sitting down,” the woman said, pointing to a row of chairs attached to the wall adjacent to him.

  “I don’t want to fucking sit down. I want a damn drink. I want to be safe…Can you guarantee my safety?” Ray asked.

  “Sir, you’re in a police precinct, no one is going to harm you. Please sit down and I’ll have somebody come for you in a few minutes.”

  Ray obeyed the command and went over to the rickety row of chairs clasped onto the drywall. When he sat down he could feel his weight pull the seat down. The metal frame felt cold against his back. He sat back and tried to relax. He looked on in a haze as he saw the lady officer run off towards the glass wall. He could see her punch some digits into a keypad and go through a heavy looking security door. He watched her rush through the assortment of men and women working behind the wall. Some of them were answering phone calls; others were reprimanding the filth and scum of the street. He saw her go up to a decent looking man. He had kind eyes and a youthful look. He could see her mouth the words “murder” and “witness”. He started to feel excited. He knew he was about to play witness to a murder. There was something about being a witness to such a heinous crime as murder that got Ray a little excited. Was it all the movies he had watched? Was it the slight chance of receiving some money for his efforts? He needed money, but he doubted the fact of him getting any. Sure it was a noble thing, snitching on bonafied killers and all. But he was certain that the only thing he’d be getting out of being a witness was a court appearance as a witness in the box. That was all he had to look forward to. Maybe they’d hook him up with some temporary accommodation…Maybe they’d let him freeze after hearing what he has to say. Either way, he knew what he needed to do. Talking was all that was on his mind. He didn’t want anything for his troubles; all he wanted was those guys off the street. He sure as hell didn’t want to stumble across them again in some alley he slept in. He didn’t want them coming for him. Maybe the only way of avoiding retribution from them was to put them in prison…maybe they were badass enough to demand a new identity from the state. The potential outcome was all over the place. Ray just wanted to talk. He just wanted them to be found.

  ***

  Ray had been sitting in the interrogation room for an hour. The man seated across from him was a stern looking fellow. They hadn’t gone with the friendly looking cop, he was the one that escorted Ray into the room, but soon after the gentleman sitting across from him was interrogating him. For some reason, the cop that was questioning Ray was going about it as if he was the killer. He was asking questions only a killer would know like, “why did he do it?”, something in Ray’s mind was telling him that they were trying to trip him up, discredit him somehow, as if they didn’t believe him because he was a homeless man, or maybe because he stank of booze. Either way he knew it was going to be an uphill battle from then on. He knew the prick staring at him from across the room wanted to disbelieve Ray about as badly as a kid wants to believe Santa is real.

  “So tell me again…Mr Watkins, why is it that these killers you say murdered a man in the trunk of their car, didn’t dump the body in the alleyway. Why is that?” the cop asked.

  Ray paused for thought.

  “How am I supposed to know? Do I look like a mind reader?”

  The cop smiled as he went in for a sip of coffee. He hadn’t even offered any to Ray, maybe they didn’t want him “sobering up”.

  “Don’t you think a body in the back of a nice Audi that costs more than I make in year would be a concern to them? Or do they have money to burn? Don’t you think a body in the trunk, oozing with blood from….let me see…according to you….two axe swings and a gun shot from close range…now that would cause a lot of spatter and if I was the owner of that car, I don’t think I’d drive to a damn alleyway just to murder some guy and then drive off. Now if I was okay with killing the man in the boot then I’d just kill him at mine where homeless men wouldn’t be the prime witness to my rage. Now what do you think Ray?”

  “As I said sir, I’m not a mind reader, so I don’t know why they did what they did. It doesn’t matter anyway because I know what I saw, and what I saw was a murder. Are you going to do anything about it, or am I just wasting my time?”

  The detective got up from his seat and twiddled his thumbs for a while. He started to pace up and down, looking visibly torn between Ray’s statement and the perception he had of him. “These two men looked “mob-like” you said?” The detective asked.

  “Yeah, you know the type, fancy suits and all,” Ray confirmed.

  “Fancy suits…fancy cars…this is turning out to be one fancy murder,” he said, swigging the last bit of his coffee as he looked intently at Ray.

  “I wouldn’t call it fancy, sir. Unnecessary, maybe.”

  The officer looked dumbfounded at Ray’s intelligence. From the look in his eyes, he was expecting a no good redneck homeless man in the interview chair, not a well-spoken, articulated gentleman of the streets. It was obvious to Ray that his intelligence was annoying the hell out of the officer.

  “Look Mr Watkins. I don’t know what your deal is but if you don’t stop being patronizing in my interrogation room, then I am afraid I will have to terminate the conversation and send you back to the gutters. Now get to telling me what I want to know.”

  Ray shook his head. His one gold tooth shone through a forced smile he found himself wearing. The smile was originating from the sheer asshole-ness of the officer interviewing him. In all his life, Ray had never been so offended by “the good guys”. In his previous experience, uniformed officers on the streets were caring. Sure you got some bad apples, but most of them would stop by and check up on him from time to time. Ray hadn’t expected any different in the precinct, after all that’s why he went to the police straight away. If he knew that a brick wall of bullshit was going to be put up in front of him, he would have probably skipped town and hidden out until the heat died down.

  “Mr Watkins, could you please answer my questions?” Asked the detective, interrupting his trail of thought.

  “I’ve told you everything I know sir. I cannot change what happened.
I wish I could, but what I saw was what happened. Now I am sorry if I don’t fit “Model Witness” model number one. I can’t change what I am or where I live. Those are circumstances that far outreach my ability to implement anything of worth. If I could, I would. Don’t you think I’d prefer to have a job? Don’t you think I’d prefer to have a wife, some kids and a home? Don’t you think I have cried myself to sleep many a time because of my bad luck? I can’t change being broke. I can’t change being “that homeless guy”, just like I can’t change seeing what I saw. Now if you forgive me for my outburst, it would be nice. If not, merry Christmas, and I hope you catch the bad guys. I have already told you everything I know, and even offered showing you the scene of the crime. I take it you’ll be able to find it just fine. I’m going now, maybe catch a turkey dinner at the shelter,” Ray said as he got up to a visibly stunned detective.

  The detective shook his head in defeat. “We appreciate your time sir and I apologise if I came across as harsh. Its Christmas day now,” the detective said, looking at his watch. “Maybe you should get to a shelter. I’ll ring up a guy I know, sort you out with a few days R&R. Think of it as an apology. The case will be investigated and you will most likely be asked to attend a court date. You are okay with that right?”

  Ray nodded.

  “Good. You want me to give you a ride to the shelter?”

  “I’ll be fine sir. Just don’t forget about me. I don’t want to be sitting around, waiting for death to find me.”

  The detective looked confused.

  “You’ll be fine. You have nothing to be worried about. The shelter is a safe place. So is the courtroom.”

  Ray nodded his head and started to tap his right pinkie on the cold metal table. He felt uneasy and frightened. He wasn’t sure if the feeling would ever surpass; maybe when it was all over. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so scared.

  “I know. I’ll be fine,” he said, reassuring himself some as he got up and shook the officer’s hand.

  Ray felt a tad uneasy on his feet when he rose. It was as if the ground beneath him was teetering to the left and then to the right like he was on a boat making its way through some high winds and aggressive tides. He took a few deep breaths in and found his balance. He smiled at the detective and was let out of the interview room. Upon leaving the dark and dingy room, he was met with a ghost like atmosphere in the precinct. It was as if the only people present in the building were him and the detective as they walked towards the exit. Everyone must have gone home for Christmas, everyone but him and the detective. After a short walk they reached the reception area. The walls were whitewashed and smelt of clean sterile bleach. He looked at the exit and felt his heart race a little. Safety was about to be lost and the outside was about to become his life once again. No more bleach cleaned walls, just grainy brick and dirty sidewalks was all he could look forward to. He wondered what the shelter would be like. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up, after all he had been to shelters before, and they were not exactly the Ritz when it came to luxury.

  “Stay safe,” the detective said as he waved Ray off.

  The detective didn’t stick around. He was gone through the door they had just came through. All that remained was Ray and the exit. Ray clenched his fist tight and pushed the precinct exit open. He was met with a sunny sky and some cold wind. He smiled at the bright blue sky and felt happy. It was rare for Christmas to be marked with such a blue sky, even if the cold that accompanied it was below zero.

  He took a few steps forward and walked down the slope. He didn’t take his eyes off the sky, he was mesmerised by it. Something had caught his eye for a split second and he finally took his glare off the beauty above him and levelled his vision in front of him. Propped up on the kerb was a car, its engine was running and the window was winding down. At first he didn’t recognise the car and then he did. The car was an Audi and the passenger had his hand out of the window. He was holding a pistol, and before Ray could run back in, two shots had connected to his chest and head. Ray’s vision went black and the car sped off.

  Minutes followed and the detective that had interviewed him had rushed out to Ray’s aid. There was nothing he could do. By the time the paramedics arrived, Boston had lost another person at Christmas. Some were murdered, others were forgotten. All of them were innocent. And all of them would be investigated by Boston’s finest.

  ***

  Thirty Five Minutes later….

  Frank McKenzie woke up to the sound of his cell phone blaring off. He shot up and grabbed his cell. He flipped it open and answered it. By the time he had said hello, he had already managed to light a cigarette up. That was the byproduct of years of practice.

  “You got Frank…”

  “Frank, you need to come in. It’s been one hell of a night. I have three cases that are wide open and none of the others can make it. It’s between you and Santiago I’m afraid. Heads or tails,” the voice said.

  “Heads,” Frank replied.

  “Looks like you lose. Get your butt in before nine and you might be able to get home in time for New Year’s Eve.”

  Frank started to laugh as he dragged on his cigarette.

  “It’s Christmas day for fuck sake. I’ll be dammed if I don’t get home in the next few hours,” he replied.

  “Well, I think you’ll find that hard. There’s been a double murder-suicide down the Southside mall, a drug’s bust that makes Scarface look like small fry and a drive by shooting on a police witness outside the precinct. It’s going to be a busy couple of hours for you Detective McKenzie.”

  Frank stubbed his cigarette out on the ashtray beside his bed. It was half finished but he had to put some clothes on. By the time he had his jeans and shirt on, he was half way out of the door.

  “Tell me again why I do this job? Not even on Christmas do the murders cease. Why don’t these assholes take a holiday or something?”

  Frank could hear some faint sniggering on the other end of the line.

  “Okay, I get it. Don’t whine it’s my job, blah blah blah.”

  “Yes Frank, it’s our job to bring these bastards to justice. Just think what the families will be going through on this day. It’s tough all round.”

  “Yeah, you’re telling me. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  Frank hung up the cell and opened his apartment door. He knew today was going to be a long day. He knew that not even Christmas could stop the wheels turning on everything that was wrong with society. Not even Jolly Saint Nick could stop the carnage. Only one man could clean it up and that one man was making his was down to the police station.

  “Merry Christmas Frank,” he said to himself as he left his apartment that cold Christmas morning.

  Sample

  The following is a sampler from Frank’s new mystery, Stranger At The Door.

  (The sample hasn’t been edited yet so it may contain some spelling errors, but I thought you’d be interested in the first five chapters anyhow!)

  Enjoy

  One

  The man got out of the car and waved his wife off with a playful smile. “It’s better if nobody knows we went out tonight,” he said.

  His wife, Mandy sat behind the wheel of their brand-new Cadillac and shone back a full row of pearly white teeth. She was feeling playful as well. After all of their intimacy problems that they had been having for the past six months, a little mischief and wonder was very much needed for the both of them.

  “Now Mr Governor, don’t let me ruin a perfect evening,” she said.

  The man stood out in the cold, looking down at his wife from the passenger’s window. He bent down and gave her a wink. He then wagged his long finger at her, half sticking it into the rolled down window. “Now Mandy, I told you not to call me that. Nothing is finalized yet. I don’t know if you’re aware, but there tends to be a vote before anybody is given the position of Governor.”

  “Don’t wag your finger at me mister!” his wife returned, switching the engine off to their
classy car and stepping out of it, high-heels first into a wet puddle. She looked over the roof of the car and gave her husband a look. It was a plain and simple one. It screamed AH, MY NEW SHOES!

  “Look what you’ve gone and done, Mr Governor!” she said, making her way around the car and over to her finely dressed husband. He was looking around at their surroundings. It was a rough neighbourhood and the motel they were outside of had hourly rates, but that was all part of their new found exciting sex life. It contained a lot of seedy hotels and disused dives. It was all part of their therapist’s idea of “getting it to work again,” whatever that meant.

  “Look what you’ve gone and done,” his wife said, reaching him and putting her hand gently on his thigh. “You got me all wet,” she said, bursting out into a belly laugh that sounded like a squawking bird in the late night Boston air.

  “I’ll get you some new shoes,” he said. “Don’t worry about them honey, I don’t mind getting wet and dirty once in a while,” she said, moving her hand from his thigh down to his crotch. She grabbed it and squeezed. It wasn’t the time or the place, but the soon-to-be Governor was definitely ready to express his gratitude to his wife. She looked great in her little black dress. She wore extendable silk gloves that ran halfway up her arms. She had a single necklace on that looked delicate around her neck. Her fiery red hair waved in the wind.

  “The necklace,” he said, reaching for it. He held it firmly in his grip. “I gave that to you when we were younger,” he uttered under his breath.

  His wife stepped back a few feet and had a look of dismay on her face.

  “Roger, I just grabbed your damn crotch and all you can think of is my necklace. I’m afraid I’m going to have to reiterate how badly I want you inside me, so get moving or this date is over!” she said, half serious, half smiling.