Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel)

by Graystone, D. A.

  *

  William Hill hated improvising. Improvisation was for ill-prepared amateurs who had to rely on luck because of their poor planning. Hill prided himself on his careful plans.

  However, time was against him. The call from Angelino’s cutout came only minutes before. The message had been clear. They had identified the Southside Slasher and an arrest was imminent. If Hill was going to eliminate the threat, he had to move quickly.

  Unfortunately, unlike Drabick, this mark was not under Angelino’s control whatsoever. He was a totally unknown citizen. They had no track on him, didn’t know his location, couldn’t say when he was going to return home and were unsure when he was going to be arrested. The good money was on the morning but Hill couldn’t count on having that kind of time. He had to act now with the small bit of information he had.

  He had the mark’s name and address, as well as an undetectable way into the apartment building so he wouldn’t be seen by the watching police. Now, he just had to get at the psycho in the kill zone, assuming the very definite possibility that he might be in his apartment by the time Hill arrived.

  Hill watched the street from the doorway he had been standing in as the brown truck drove slowly along the street and stopped, double parking.

  His ride had arrived.

  The brown uniformed UPS driver bounded out of his truck and went into the store. As he went in, he snatched the UPS envelope from the front window – his indication that there was a pickup. Hill had walked the downtown streets for half an hour, looking for just such a sign. Hill lucked out that the driver was male and an approximate size match.

  The driver came out of the store and Hill matched him step for step. As usual, the driver went immediately into the back of the truck. Hill followed him in and clubbed him with his sap before he even knew he was there. As the driver fell forward, Hill grabbed his cap and put it on his own head. Sufficiently disguised for now, he slid behind the steering wheel and pulled down the street to a parking lot at a convenience store.

  Shutting both doors and locking them, he went into the back and unbuttoned the unconscious driver’s uniform shirt. Working quickly and efficiently, he was as adept with his latex gloves on as any heart surgeon. If he’d had more time, he would have bought a uniform at a costume store over the Internet. Instead, he had to wear this guy's sweaty stinking clothes. Once the guy was stripped down to his little red bikini briefs – some people really should wear boxers – he started to come around. His eye flickered open briefly and looked at Hill before sliding back into unconsciousness.

  Hill made a small sound of regret and propped the driver up against a large box and pulled out his silenced .45 – a match to the one he had given to Thorman. Hill preferred using a .22 since there was better penetration control and less chance of collateral damage that might draw undo attention. However, the hollow points should solve that problem and Hill wasn’t sure what he might face. He might need the stopping power that the .45 offered.

  However, contrary to what the movies showed, even quality silencers quickly wear out and loose their effectiveness. Putting the gun away, he considered other options. He reached over and grabbed the roll of packing tape. Taking a strip, he put it across the driver’s mouth and then flipped him on his stomach. He taped his hands behind his back and then taped his ankles together. Finally, sure that the man wasn’t going anywhere, Hill pulled out a knife. Lifting the driver’s head by his hair, he slit his throat, making sure to stay clear of the arterial spray.

  While the man bled out in the back, Hill returned to the driver’s seat and started the truck again. At the exit of the plaza, he waited for an opening in traffic, cursing the drivers.

  God, he hated this city. He couldn’t get out soon enough and he would only come back once. And that trip would be strictly pleasure…to put a bullet into Angelino’s thick Italian skull.

  *

  Safety.

  Preston needed the safety of his apartment. Being so close to the arrest and the camera had frightened him. On the bus, he was sure people were staring.

  He was sweating as he trotted across the park behind his apartment building and stumbled over the curb at his parking lot. He felt his heart pounding against his ribs, threatening to burst. The sweat soaked through his shirt and molded it to his back and chest.

  He tasted blood in his mouth as his lungs ached for air.

  He collapsed just inside the back door of his apartment building.

  He coughed and coughed until he thought he would vomit. He knew he would be coughing for the rest of the night.

  He was too close to his goal to get caught. He just needed the safety of his apartment to continue his plan. On the long bus ride, fighting his fear, he had planned his next move. His mission was going too slowly. He was too exposed as he sought out his old classmates. And killing them was too limited. They had already done their damage. Killing them was cleansing, liberating but did nothing to help the world. He had to broaden his scope. Diversify. He had to cleanse the world before they perfected their bullying techniques, while they were still in school.

  Now, he knew he was going to be recognized for his feats.

  Tina would marry him and they would raise a son.

  All he had to do was start work on his explosives before the big football tournament in two weeks. A truck full of explosives parked under the stands.

  Glorious.

  With his confidence returning, he dragged himself up the stairwell to his apartment on the second floor.

  *

  “Lou, our bird has come home to roost.”

  “Save that for the radio, Ed,” Mann said.

  “Sorry. Anyway, they got a light on and movement. Somebody pulled the drapes.”

  “Anybody see him?”

  “They caught sight of a man that matches the suspect’s description entering the back just before the lights went on.”

  “Okay. Now that we have him, I want to keep it tight. Have another team standing by in case they need help.”

  “One more thing.”

  Mann felt his stomach flip. He didn’t like the tone on Buma’s voice.

  “The guys watching the back said that the perp arrived out of breath. They said he had been running across the park behind the apartment like the devil himself was on his ass.”

  *

  “I can hardly hear you,” Mann said into the phone. He reached across his desk to shut the door.

  “I’m in the car,” said Dani. “Damn headset is low on juice. I’ve been on the phone a lot tonight.”

  “I thought you’d still be at the bar.”

  “Damn SEC jumped the gun on me. They arrested my damn snitch. My story is dead.”

  “They hit your guy?”

  “Ya, with the Feebs. Blew the doors off the place arresting the guy early. Wait till next time. If they think I’ll sit on another story for them they are so mistaken. Screw it, I got something better.”

  “I got something for you too but not on the phone.”

  “Mine shouldn’t be either but I don’t have time. You know Drabick?”

  “I do but how do you?”

  “Screw that, no time. This comes straight from Dominos.”

  Dominos was truly beginning to deliver if he had that kind of information. “What about him?”

  “He says Drabick wasn’t an accident. It was a hit.”

  Greer waved and started to leave. Mann snapped his fingers and waved him back. “What do you mean?”

  “The same guy that hit that accountant…”

  “Thorman?”

  “Ya, him. Dominos says the guy that whacked Thorman, hit Drabick. Someone is afraid of getting ID’d. Angelino is very worried and so is the hitter.”

  Mann could hear the tone of Dani’s voice. She was holding back, stalling. “What else?”

  “Your latest suspect?”

  “You DO NOT know about him!”

  “He’s next.”

  “How good is this information?”<
br />
  “You tell me. I think your Great Aunt figures into it.”

  Mann paused for a moment, trying to remember his Aunt’s name. Blanche. And the suspect lived on Blanchette Street.

  For the briefest moment, he considered pulling the team off of the apartment complex. Let the psycho get his ass blown to hell. The thought passed as quickly as it came. “Don’t go near the place,” Mann said, as he slammed down the phone.

  Mann was already explaining Dani’s call to Greer as he ran from his office. After a quick look around the warehouse, staffed tonight by rookies while almost every other detective was running down anything they had on Peterson, he decided that he had nobody there that he would trust to back him up. Jogging to the front desk, he was glad to see Ed Buma still there. In as few a words as possible, he described the situation to the sergeant.

  “Warn the guys at the apartment. Nobody is to move but everybody is to watch their backs.”

  “Sure Lou. What about backup?”

  Greer was checking the load in his gun. “He’s covered.”

  Mann looked at Greer. “What about the hand?”

  “Time I got back on the street. Yes, Mother, my hand is fine.”

  Smiling, they sprinted for Mann’s car. Mann slid behind the wheel. Greer popped the glove compartment and pulled out the red dome. The siren screaming, they screeched away from the curb, the back end swerving dangerously. A block away, the radio crackled.

  “Task Force Central to Lieutenant Mann.”

  “Go Central,” Greer said into the mike.

  “Both teams responding. All quiet.”

  “Central, instruct teams to remain outside on doors. No further action and no one, absolutely no one, is to enter the premises. That includes team members unless a clear emergency exists. Dispatch SWAT and ambulances to the scene. Got that?”

  “Roger. They’re rolling. Central out.”

  Chapter 81

  Hill walked up to the second floor from the basement of the apartment building, taking the steps two at a time. A short walk down the hallway, he stopped in front of apartment 202. He heard the television. It sounded like the nightly news. Listening, he could hear the announcer talking about the Southside Slasher and the lack of progress in the investigation. Hill smiled despite that fact that he would have preferred an empty apartment.

  Hill shifted the box and signature tablet to his left hand. Making sure the open end of the box was hidden, he knocked on the door with his right.

  The television almost instantly muted.

  Hill waited another three seconds and knocked again.

  He could hear the jingle of a belt buckle and the sound of a zipper before footsteps came toward the door. As he had hoped, he saw the light change through the peephole. He shifted the box slightly, his right hand ready to disappear into the box.

  “Yes?” came the voice from inside the apartment.

  “UPS. I have a delivery for Preston Peterson. I just need a signature.”

  “I didn’t order anything,” Preston said, sounding unsure and suspicious. “Who is it from?”

  Hill glanced down at the tablet. “Brickhouse Corporation,” he said. “If you don’t want it, I still need a signature refusing it.”

  “I don’t want it. I didn’t order anything.”

  Hill glanced at the deadbolt lock and reached into the box. “Hey buddy, give me a break. I’m just trying to do my job. If you don’t sign that you don’t want it, they’ll just make me bring it back tomorrow.”

  There was a pause and then Hill heard the dead bolt turn. As soon as the door knob turned and the door edge past the jamb, Hill hit it with his left shoulder as he let the box fall away from the gun. He felt Peterson move backwards and he pushed harder as the door suddenly had no weight.

  Peterson was turned and running down the short hallway. Hill put two quick shots into the fleeing man’s back. The force of the shots shoved the big man forward. He ran fast first into the side of a wall unit and bounced back. His legs crumpled beneath him and he landed on his back, his head toward Hill. Hill shut the door behind him, took four steps and stood looking down at tubby man bleeding on the floor.

  Peterson’s mouth was moving, trying to speak, like some fat fish gasping for air. Hill didn’t try to make out the words, he just took in the round, pathetic face, thick glasses, and chubby physique. He looked even less likely to be the Slasher than Drabick. Without another thought, Hill put two more shots into Peterson’s head. Time was short and he wanted to make sure he had the Slasher this time. God knows, he couldn’t rely on the police to get it right.

  He started to search the apartment.

  *

  Mann jammed the accelerator down and nearly bottomed out in a pot hole. Approaching the apartments, Mann slowed and swerved around a double parked UPS truck. Greer called out numbers as they drove past three identical three storey walkups.

  Mann pulled beside one of the surveillance vehicles. Greer rolled down his window and Mann leaned across. “Other than the suspect, who has entered the building in the last half hour?”

  The mark sheet was consulted. “Only the suspect and one woman.”

  “No other men?”

  “No, sir. Just the woman carrying something in a large green garbage bag. Just before we got the call to stop anyone entering. Nobody exited.”

  Mann looked down the street and saw Dani’s Jeep. “A redhead, brown vest?”

  “Ya. Great ass. You know her?”

  Mann ignored the question. “Keep the other team on the exit. Greer and I are going in. Nobody else goes in. Detain anyone leaving. Consider everyone armed and dangerous. SWAT is on the way. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mann looked at Greer and took a deep breath. “Ready?”

  “No. But, let’s go.”

  *

  Dani set her camera down in a small recess in the hallway on the second floor. Now that she was here, she wasn’t exactly sure what her next move might be. Between fighting traffic and her call to Mann, she had spent all her time trying to get here. All she could think was that the story was too good to pass up. She stood, trying to decide how she was going to handle this.

  While she was still deciding what to do with her camera, a UPS driver came out of an apartment just up the hallway.

  In a flash, she took in the UPS cap, brown shirt and brown shorts. In the next blink, she noticed the black outline highlighted against the brown of the shorts. Held tight against his thigh, the UPS driver had a gun.

  The man stared at her. And then she saw that same look she had seen so many times. That searching puzzled expression that suddenly changed as someone recognized her. Dani saw the recognition come into his eyes just as the gun started to rise.

  At that instant, Dani could hear someone running up the steps. She knew it was Mann and she started to turn to the stairwell door.

  The UPS man was suddenly in motion. He ran toward her and fired a single shot. A large hole appeared in the wall beside her and she froze. She felt herself grabbed and dragged away from the stairwell and down the hall. She tried to fight and she felt the gun jammed into her stomach hard enough to knock some of the air out of her.

  “I’d prefer a hostage but I will just kill you if you slow me down.”

  *

  Mann and Greer both had their guns drawn as they ran up the central stairwell. Just before the reached the top, the wall near the door to the second floor exploded. Both men slammed themselves against the wall and pointed their guns up. Mann took a fast look and saw nobody on the second floor landing. Slowly, they moved up the stairwell and eased open the door to the hallway. Mann ducked his head out the door and pulled it back immediately. For a split second, he let his brain register what he had seen in the hallway.

  Nodding to Greer, they slipped through and took cover in an alcove by the stairs. Mann could see Dani’s camera at his feet, still in the garbage bag. With an effort, he pushed aside the knowledge that Dani never left her camera and
concentrated on the hallway.

  Mann pointed down the hall at the spill of light coming from an open door. Greer counted doorways and held up two fingers. Mann nodded. Two-oh-two. Peterson’s apartment.

  With his head, Mann motioned for them to continue.

  At the open door, Mann ducked by and came up on the other side. He motioned Greer down low and they kicked the door open full and moved in.

  Mann looked at the mess on the floor. The ruined face and blood pooled under the man’s back. Obviously no threat, he ignored him for now, quickly searching the small apartment. Confident it was empty except for the body, they went back into the hallway where Mann stationed Greer at the entrance. “Nobody goes in. I want to be sure we have him, this time.”

  “Were those what I think they were in the jars?” Greer asked.

  Mann ignored his question and looked at the door. “He wasn’t waiting inside; Peterson was shot running from the door.”

  “Ya, so?”

  “That is a fresh kill. That means Peterson beat him here. So, how did he get past our guys?”

  Mann suddenly took off for the far stairwell, shouting to Greer. “Stay here, nobody gets in until I get back.”

  Mann grew up in Kesle and had learned many of its legends and history from his father, a city worker who loved Kesle trivia. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mann remembered that the five apartment buildings were built by the same landlord years before when rents were collected weekly in person. All these apartments had basements that connected so the landlord wouldn’t be on the street in bad weather or with the large sums of cash.

  Mann headed down the stairs in a dead run.

  At the basement, he slowed and began to move more quietly. The door came open easily and Mann moved into the lit hallway. Hurrying as fast as silence would allow, he almost ran into Dani and a UPS driver when he rounded the corner at the end of the hall.