The Park Murders (Kindle Books Mystery and Suspense Crime Thrillers Series Book 1)

by Tad S. Torm

  But since she had suddenly slowed down and was continuing toward him at a walking pace, he had to change his plan.

  He will take her in his arms and using his superior force will carry her toward the river, then lift and throw her over the rails.

  The girl will certainly fight but this became a simple matter of weights. Roger weighed two hundred twenty pounds, the girl barely a hundred and ten.

  And what if she started to yell?

  And what if even at this impossible hour when everybody should be deep asleep in their bed, they were not still alone in the park?

  What if the sound will bring another crazy fool, or maybe two, curious folks with nothing better to do than to wake up at six o'clock in the morning to make Roger's life miserable.

  It was better to use a tool. However, what tool was the best? Would a knife work, or maybe should he choose the pistol? How about the traditional generic blunt instrument?

  He needed to make up his mind and he did not have much time. The client had insisted the job should look like an accident. A sizable premium was attached towards that satisfactory outcome. And Roger, while not greedy, was a reasonable man. He certainly did not undertake this extenuating exercise for the pleasure of it.

  He hated hurting people. In fact, it was this very fact, his genuine care and concern for people that made him excel at his job.

  Let's think quickly now. Let's think on our feet!

  Roger had little time. He couldn't use the gun. It was almost impossible to create a believable accident scene once he used it. The gun was a bad choice. The gun was out. Of course, unfortunately, this took the knife out of the equation as well.

  A blunt instrument though might be exactly what this job required because it was consistent with the scenario of the accidental fall.

  But where could he find a rock or a heavy piece of wood for that matter?

  Where else but in a forest? Still, in the end, the forest had proved to be the right choice.

  He looked around and it didn't take him too long to find a fist-sized rock lying on the ground at barely twenty inches from his right foot. He bent down and scooped it up.

  He wasn't in a bathroom, but Roger had suddenly started to appreciate his new environment.

  This sounded like fun; he should do it again. Soon.

  The encounter will start with a big headache for the running girl, and why not? Why not indeed?

  He regretted it sincerely, but let's be serious. This wasn't entirely his fault. Everything would have gone smoothly, without a hitch, had she not misbehaved and had she followed the rules of his game.

  But no. She was cautious, the bitch! Maybe she thought she was special.

  This didn't sit well with Roger's egalitarian principles.

  Hadn't she given him a big headache already? Forcing him to think. Thinking was hard. Especially if you happened to be on your feet.

  It was just karma.

  The girl had come closer. Barely at a few feet, running steadily, but slowly. She surely must have removed any suspicion from her mind. Roger took another step, closer to the tracks.

  Now they stood side by side. He could hear her belabored breath and the slushy sounds her tennis shoes made on the wet pavement.

  He jumped from behind the shrubbery and reached the lane. He raised his right hand, just as she passed him by at a few inches. He flexed his shoulder, ready to hit her on the back of the head with the rock he was squeezing tight in his hand, with incredible force, speed, and precision.

  ”The cosmic accident will take place at the expected time.”

  But then, all of a sudden, a sweet and unexpected weakness took control over him.

  Very slowly, like an artful gymnast tumbling during his floor exercise, he toppled on one side, crumpling on the pavement.

  He heard the thumping noise of the rock he'd held in his hand as it fell nearby in the brush, not far from his fevered temple.

  What's happening to me? He asked himself. I knew it. I knew it all the time. I should have gone to the doctor. It's been bothering me for quite a while. But I delayed and delayed. And now ... I bet mother will be worried sick. I wonder what she's doing right now. I was her favorite child, you know? Mom. How you doing, mom? I'll be back home Sunday. I'll be sure to come to see you.

  “Hey, Miss Caro, aren't you going to give me a hand? I hope you don't think I'm strong enough to haul on my own the oversized gentleman, do you? He weighs, at least, half a ton. How am I supposed to blast him over the darned balustrade?”

  The words came in faintly and he did not pay any attention to them.

  When you are in the company of angels, mortal words suddenly become so unimportant.

  Chapter 13: Marie

  “So what do we do now?” Mark said.

  Caro and Mark had barricaded themselves in Caro's room on Carlita Court.

  Caro had opened the file case and was carefully reading.

  “Nothing,” she said after a while. “What can we do? We do nothing.”

  She examined Marie's photographs. Some had been taken recently, presumably by Roger. Others, at an earlier time and in a different city. They all showed Marie with different clothes on, with long hair and eyeglasses. An even older picture was showing her as a sweet little kid, holding hands with two boys just a little bit older than she is.

  The three of them seemed to belong together. Caro could see the resemblance. There was an air of family. Closed relatives perhaps, maybe siblings.

  “Now that's some mansion!” Caro exclaimed suddenly. “The van der Brook must be loaded. I wonder who collected all these pictures.”

  “There is a methodology, I suppose,” Mark said. “A procedure, if you want to call it so. When you kill somebody in a professional way. I'm not talking here about some idiot who breaks your neck in a bar, or takes a knife and is waiting for you in a dark corner or some such place. I'm thinking of a professional killer. Ok? He needs to learn all the details. He cannot afford to make any mistake. He prepares.”

  “Surely. I grant you that. My question was a little more nuanced. Pay attention now! Who would bother with pictures showing Marie as a little kid? These must be very old photographs, indeed. Taken from a family album. Who would have access to the kinds of pictures that show Marie in grammar school, with brothers, cousins, close friends and surrounded by her family?”

  “It has to be a member of the family, or an old family friend, or maybe a servant.”

  “Of course, it's a member of the family. But who?”

  “Somebody who may profit from her death?”

  “Bingo. I understand that Marie had several brothers and sisters. And most of them disappeared in various accidents. There are only two sisters left, Marie and Stephanie.

  She continued to flip through the pages.

  “The map is wrong.”

  “How?”

  “The neighborhood map is wrong; you cannot reach Carlita Court following the itinerary shown on the map.”

  “I already told you that. Don't you remember?”

  “Yes, I remember now. This is how you got hold of the story. What else did you find?”

  Mark took out first the wad of banknotes.

  “An assassin who is not only a professional but is also very well paid indeed.”

  “And this, I believe, is only the first installment: fifty thousand dollars.”

  “New bills?”

  “No. I don't think we'll have any problem with those. It's all in old twenty dollar bills.”

  Then Mark took the pistol and the dagger out of his coat pocket.

  “Now we've got the whole array except for the suicide pill,” Caro remarked.

  “As soon as they find out that the first assassin missed they'll send another. You're still in danger,” Mark observed.

  “We have nothing to do with Marie. Why would we be in danger?”

  “They'll try to find out what happened.”

  “It's possible, but by that time, we can be a thousand miles
from here.”

  “Yes, but your address ties you now to Marie.”

  “So what do we do?” Caro shrugged.

  “Finish what they intended to do in the first place, what else?” Mark said. “We've got to complete Roger's assignment.”

  “I already hate to say it,” Caro said. “But I think we need to give Marie a chance.”

  “Do you trust her that much?”

  “It’s true that she’s obnoxious, but that is simply a matter of her upbringing. It was not up to her to decide what she would become. Her parents saw to it. But she’s a survivor. I’ll give her that. And she deserves to find out the truth.”

  “And are you sure that she didn’t …?” Mark started on his idea but didn’t finish.

  “Didn’t what?”

  “I’m not going to tell you. Not yet, anyway, only that I have an idea. And don’t think she’s as pure as snow in this little affair. I’d rather have her tell it to you herself. And then we’ll find out how honest she is.”

  “Tell us what?”

  “No matter now. Do you realize that she can do us a world of hurt once she finds out the truth?”

  “She’s not going to find all the truth. She’s going to find out only the parts that concern her.”

  “If that is possible. She’s a smart girl after all.”

  “Well, you know what? We owe her to let her know. Afterward, she can decide. We’ll give her a chance,” Caro said. “Agreed?”

  “Agreed, and what if she does not play along.”

  “We’ll help her as much as she can be helped; the rest is up to her.”

  Mark pulled out a key.

  “What is that?”

  “I found it in Roger's pocket. It's the key to his PO Box. He used the mailbox to communicate with his employers.”

  “Is there any chance to identify the Post Office and the PO Box number?”

  “It's our local Post Office and the number is imprinted on the key. I happen to hold an almost identical key, from the same Post Office.”

  “When do you want to talk to Marie?”

  “There is no better time than right now.”

  Caro picked up the phone and dialed Marie’s number. “Marie, hey listen Marie! We need to talk to you.”

  Obscene expletives could be heard coming from the other end of the line.”

  “Marie, this is serious.”

  A second line of expletives followed the first.

  “She’s dead drunk,” Caro said before picking up the receiver again.

  “Marie, this is important. It’s a matter of life and death,” she continued.

  A little principle of incertitude at the other end of the line, then a question is uttered.

  “Whose life?” she asks.

  “Your life, dummy.”

  Caro’s calm and serious tone must have finally swayed Marie because she hanged up, and then showed up at the door after only a few more minutes.

  “Do you want a cup of coffee?” Caro asked.

  “Sure, why not. What did you want to show me?”

  Caro went into the kitchen and plugged in the Espresso machine.

  “Marie, there was a man looking at our windows a couple days ago,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you invite him in?”

  “He was a very interesting individual. Mark believed he was a detective.”

  “You guys,” her voice sounded a little shaky. Marie was slurring her words. “Everybody’s either a detective or the trash man with you, or the postman.”

  She was interrupted by the loud hiss of the Espresso Machine.

  “You need a strong cup of coffee,” Caro said. “You are totally blotto.”

  She took off to the kitchen and returned after a few minutes with three large cups and saucers on a round platter.

  “This is all you wanted to tell me?”

  “Get your coffee first Marie and be sure you don’t spill it on the carpet.”

  The other blond girl quieted all of a sudden.

  “You remembered something, Marie?” Mark asked.

  “Remember?”

  “Strange men following you. Accidents about to happen. Cars overturning. Boats sinking. Things of that nature.”

  Marie blinked. “No, not really.”

  But she looked uncomfortable.

  “OK, listen,” Caro said. “Mark followed him. He found out that the man is a contract killer.”

  “How?”

  “That doesn’t concern you. The man was carrying a folder. A folder containing interesting information. Interesting information about you.” Caro took the file from the Samsung attaché case and passed it on to Marie.

  Marie grabbed it automatically and then started to rifle through the pages.

  “Can I get another cup,” she asked as if she had suddenly woken up.

  “Sure, why don’t you take mine?” Caro said. “I don’t want to miss my beauty sleep.”

  “I don’t care to go to sleep tonight. Can I take this to my room?” Marie asked.

  “No, better read it in here. You can take all the time you need.”

  There was silence in the room and nobody seemed happy.

  Caro and Mark watched Marie as she was going through the pages of her life.

  “The man followed Caro to the park this morning,” Mark said.

  “Followed Caro?”

  “Our theory is that he thought she was you.”

  “Mistook Caro for me? That’s impossible! The man must have been blind.”

  “Not necessarily. Marie, do you ever look at yourself in the mirror?” Mark said.

  “Sure, why.”

  “Will you do me a favor? Look first at yourself in the mirror and then look at Caro.”

  Marie went back to her family album, pretending not to hear him.

  “It worked once Marie, but now that we know I assure you that it’s not going to work again,” Mark said.

  Marie shot up like a puppet on strings, all signs of her inebriation suddenly gone.

  “It’s not our problem Marie. All Caro needs to do is to move away from here,” Mark continued. “She will leave and you will be left alone. A lonely target. You cannot use her as a patsy again.”

  Caro puckered her lips and concentrated, first on Mark and then on Marie.

  “I was the patsy, you say?”

  “Yes Caro, what do you think? Look at her hair, then look at the color of your hair and the style of your hair, look at her clothes and then look at yours. From a distance, the two of you look absolutely identical. And look at the pictures, for God’s sake. Don’t you think people would make that mistake?”

  “So what you are saying is that when the assassin mistook me for Marie that was not coincidental.”

  “Coincidental? Marie worked hard to look like you. Why did you think that is?”

  “Marie already knew?”

  “Bingo.”

  “But what does she gain? Once I’m out of the way they’ll come again gunning for her.”

  “Time, for instance. She gains time until she can prepare her defenses.”

  “Wow, this is wicked,” Caro exclaimed. “Maybe we should have stuck with your plan.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think I could have done it. But look at her. This was not done on the spur of the moment. Marie must have her plans.”

  There was a pause and then the silence was broken by Marie’s hysterical crying.

  “No, I don’t,” Marie whined. “No, I don’t. I don’t know what to do.”

  “So Mark is right?”

  Marie couldn’t say a word, but shook her head silently up and down.

  Then she found her voice, “They tried once already. Why do you think I took on a crazy roommate and the two idiots downstairs? I thought I would gain protection by being surrounded by people. This house is mine.”

  “Not any longer,” Mark said. “In case you want us to protect you, that is.”

  “But can you really protect me? You’re just two idiots, good f
or nothing.”

  “Let’s go,” Caro said on an impulse. “I don’t see any point in helping her. You were right. I made a mistake.”

  “So guys, what are you proposing?”

  “Nothing Marie, I gave you fair warning. I thought you needed to know. But it so happened that you already did. I’ll just vacate the premises, I guess. I’ll be bunking with Mark for a while until I find another place.”

  She invited her out with a wave of the hand.

  “Bye-bye Marie, you can close the door on the way out.”

  Marie started despondently toward the door with the folder in her hand.

  Mark intercepted her. “We’re keeping the folder,” he said.

  Marie handed Mark the folder, then shambled meekly toward the door.

  She opened the door, went into the corridor and shut the door down not with a bang, but with a whimper.

  “So this went well,” Mark said.

  “I was wrong,” Caro said. “What can I say?”

  “This leaves us without a plan,” Mark said.

  “Nah, I think we’re alright.”

  We may be, but I tell you, you’re taking a huge risk. It’s never a good idea to cross those guys.”

  There were knocks on the door and then the blond bangs showed in the doorway framing Marie’s smirking head.

  “Back already?” Caro said.

  “I guess you are the only game in town,” Marie said, “And what a team!”

  “No, don’t say anything,” Mark stopped Caro. “She might not have any other qualities, but at least, she is honest.”

  “Ok, it’s a deal,” Caro said.

  “How are you going to help me?”

  “We’ll sit and wait for now. We’ll sit and wait until somebody comes. Mark will act as your bodyguard; he will follow you everywhere. The last thing you’ll see when you fall asleep will be his ugly face, but then this is also the first thing you’ll see when you wake up in the morning.”

  “Marie stared at Mark’s face with a sullen look.

  “He’ll follow you everywhere,” Caro said.

  “Everywhere, even in the bathroom?”

  “He’ll go ahead and check every room you visit for any signs of trouble.”

  This was the craziest thing Marie had done in her life. The idea of getting professional bodyguards was appealing, but after the discussion with the two idiots, she was afraid to even get out of the house.