15 Signs Of Murder (Fifteen thrillers)

by Luis Samways

  Shaw swallowed hard.

  “So what are you waiting for? Make the move on the cyber café!”

  Shaw pushed me off him. “I don’t want to cause a media circus. We can’t afford that right now.”

  I looked at him and then at San. “Can you believe what this guy is saying?” I said, gesturing at my partner. “He doesn’t want to cause a scene!” I added, turning back around to face Shaw. I pulled my arm back and cracked my boss in the jaw. He crumbled into his office chair, the thing swinging to the left as he sat there, dazed, holding his face.

  “I don’t care what you want! This is a murder investigation. You owe it to the damn victims and their families. Never in my wildest dreams would I take you for a puppet, Shaw!”

  Santiago held me back. I could hear some commotion behind the office door. Somebody was calling for help. They must have heard my outburst.

  “Lay off, Frank. You’re going to get yourself fired,” Santiago said from behind me. I could feel his heavy breathing hit my neck.

  “Fuck my job! This isn’t about that. It’s about the fact that this asshole right here is worried about causing a media circus. I guess he doesn’t want his new best friend, the mayor, to suffer in the polls.”

  Santiago looked at me and stepped closer toward the desk. Shaw was still holding his face. Some blood was trickling down his nose. He was stunned and dazed, but still coherent.

  “Is he telling the truth?” San asked.

  Shaw gave us a look. It was a look of defeat. He didn’t need to say anything. Santiago became irate. He swatted his hand across Shaw’s desk, swiping papers and other effects onto the floor with a clang.

  “I can’t believe this! You’ve gone all political on us. Your friend says jump, you say how high? The mayor says take Frank off the field, you say yes. He says don’t cause a scene and inform the press about a killer on the streets who’s taken seven fucking lives, and you say yes. We have a chance to catch this guy, but you want to flush him out. You want to risk people’s lives just so you can keep your pedigree pup happy!” Santiago said.

  Suddenly, the door was flung open, and three uniformed officers came flooding in. They were training their guns on me, naturally, even though Santiago was the one about to lay into our boss.

  “What’s going on here?” the uniformed cop asked, noticing Shaw’s bloody nose. “Boss, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said in his raspy voice.

  “We’re leaving. But don’t worry, Shaw, we won’t cause a fucking scene. We’re off to search a potential hiding spot for our perp. But you stay here and rest up. You look like you need it, you cunt.”

  The expression on the three uniformed officers’ faces was priceless. I guess they’d never heard anybody call the boss a cunt. If only they knew what he was capable of. If only they knew what price he was willing to pay.

  We were talking about people’s lives here. And in my opinion, the top brass of the P.D. had all gone to shit. All they cared about was budget cuts and a career in politics after their stint as a higher-up for the department ended.

  As far as I was concerned, all of them could go to hell.

  San and I walked out of the Chief’s office. I could hear the concerned voices asking him if everything was okay. But I knew it wasn’t. Not after this. Nothing would be the same again.

  Twenty-Six

  RANDOM RICK stared at the lifeless body of his human sacrifice. She lay there, motionless, seeping blood from the open wound in her neck. He sat beside the body, pondering the intentions of the woman he’d just murdered. Why was it that she decided to bestow the gift of her life within his hands? He wondered if she had any other motives for doing such a thing. What was it that she could possibly gain from this?

  Was it really to do with her name being immortalized as one of his victims? He didn’t think so. It just didn’t make sense to him. He didn’t see himself as anything special. But apparently she did. It made him happy that somebody other than himself was impressed with his work. The fact that she’d offered herself up as a present for him to defile and murder was icing on the cake. He was now feeling a lot better about himself.

  “Maybe I am special?” he whispered, his lips sticking together under the dryness that his nerves were inflicting on his skin.

  “Maybe I’m a god….” he added, more of a statement than a question.

  He got to his feet and breathed in a deep lungful of air. His chest inflated, and his heart stuttered as he attempted to calm himself down. After a few minutes of deep breathing, he knew that the time had come for him to go. He couldn’t waste any more time on the premises. Something deep within his soul was telling him to get out of the cyber café as quickly as possible. It was like a strong burning within him. Warning him. Telling him that his time was nearly up, and his freedom was on a knife’s edge…literally.

  He grabbed his bloodied weapon from the floor. He stared at his skewed reflection in the blade. The blood coating the nine-inch blade made his face look bright red. He decided that he wanted to taste his kill. So he swiped his index finger across the blade, mopping up a finger coating of blood, and popped his digit in his mouth, immediately sucking down on the juices.

  He pulled a face. It was an acquired taste. At first he didn’t appreciate it all that much. But then it hit him like a bolt of lightning. It made his stomach ripple and his legs tingle.

  That feeling of power. That feeling of destruction.

  He knew that it was far from over. He had a lot left in him. All he needed to do was find a place to operate from, now that the cyber café was out of the question. The police would be there soon. It was just a matter of time. Too many powers out of his hands were at work. The screw-up at the house where the girl he chose to kill got free. The girl he’d just murdered. Both of those things were playing against him. If he wasn’t careful, they could drag him down. But he had a plan. He was getting out of there. He didn’t have time to react. He could hear what he thought to be police sirens in the distance. But they were in his head. Truth was, he had five minutes to spare before any cop would walk through those doors. But in the excitement of things, RANDOM RICK made his way out of the building and ran for his car. He drove off at well over a hundred miles an hour. His wheels spun on the asphalt beneath them, etching a forty-yard skid mark on the road.

  In his haste, he’d forgotten to cover up his tracks. The black box VPN patcher was still attached to the main line of the cyber café. He had left fingerprints at the scene. The dead girl would have his DNA on her person, and the computer terminal he was working on still had him logged in.

  He’d pay dearly for those mistakes.

  Not before Boston paid what they owed first, though.

  Twenty-Seven

  “You know you’re done for, now?” Santiago said as I took a left.

  My hands were feeling strained. I was gripping the steering wheel with a tremendous amount of force. It was as if I was afraid that the thing would fall off or something. Truth is, I was imagining the wheel to be Shaw’s neck, and I was popping his head like a zit.

  “I don’t care about my job anymore. I’m in this for the victims. Not the paycheck. I’m sure I can get another job some other place,” I said as I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out some pills. “Undo that for me, yeah?” I asked as I chucked the dispenser to Santiago. He did as he was told but protested with his facial expression, which was obviously one of disgust at the fact that his partner was a no-good drug addict.

  “Thanks, pal,” I said, tossing three pills in my mouth and swallowing them dry.

  “I’m sure you’ll be just fine on the job front. I mean, who doesn’t want a drug-dependent disgraced cop as a Walmart security guard?”

  I laughed at his comment and took a hard right. “At least you’re not moping around anymore. What was up with you anyway?”

  San looked at me and then immediately reached for his smokes on the dash. He lit up a cigarette and sucked on it hard. He then blew the sm
oke out of the half-ajar window, immediately turning back to face me. He had a look on his face that I wasn’t accustomed to. It was one of many emotions. I knew that whatever he was about to say, it wouldn’t rest easy with me.

  “They found a lump,” he said out of the blue.

  I nearly swerved as I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “What? Say that again.”

  He shrugged and took another drag. “They found a lump on my left testicle. They don’t know if it’s cancer. I should get the results back in a few days.”

  I slowed down a little. My foot felt light on the accelerator. “You waited all this time to tell me something as important as that?” I said, reaching for the smokes myself. I slid one into my mouth and San lit it up for me, as my two hands were still on the wheel.

  “I didn’t think you’d care all that much.”

  “What do you mean? Of course I’d care. Who do you take me for?” I asked, astonished that my best friend would hold back such an important health-related thing as a lump.

  “Well, you know now. So we’re even.”

  I could see our destination on the corner. The Avenue cyber café. I knew that this sort of conversation wasn’t ideal for work. But I felt betrayed that Santiago would hide such a thing.

  “I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me!” I huffed as we pulled up to the curb.

  “As I said, you know now!”

  I keyed the ignition off and listened as the engine ticked. We didn’t speak for a whole minute. I guess this was how guys deal with cancer. It was a whole new experience for me, one that I wasn’t prepared to deal with. But I wanted to be strong for my friend. Doing the job we do made us hard. It also made us devoid of positive emotions. So I guess what happened next was the closest thing to love I’d shown since my wife was murdered all those years ago.

  “What you doing, man?” San said as I gripped him in a strong man hug. It caught him off guard. The gear shift was jabbing me under the ribs as I leaned over the seat to comfort my “might be dying” friend.

  “I love you, Santiago. You’re the best partner a cop could ask for.”

  A tear nearly dropped down my cheek. I pulled away and saw the expression on his face. He looked close to vomiting.

  Charming.

  “Thanks…I guess.”

  I was furious. “That’s all I get? A fucking ‘thanks….I guess’!” I said.

  He started to laugh. I shook my head and got out of the car. The wind rode up my back. I could feel the anger surging through me as he got out, too. I stared at him over the car roof. His reflection shone in the finish.

  “Look, Frank,” he said, making his way around the car and over to me. I pulled away, but he grabbed my shoulder. “I love you, too, man,” he said, hugging me back.

  “If it’s cancer, then it’s cancer. If it’s not, then it’s not. But one thing hasn’t changed. This case is still active. The killer is still out there. Let’s get him before he strikes again!”

  It was a nice pep talk, but nothing could prepare us for what was still to come. And that wasn’t including the others who lost their lives from then on. I’m just talking about the crime scene we were about to walk into.

  Twenty-Eight

  “Holy cannoli!” Santiago said as he looked through the tinted windows of the building. He turned to me, reaching for his service pistol.

  “It’s on like Donkey Kong!” he said, brushing past me, holding his gun up like they do in those Hollywood movies. I grabbed his right shoulder as he was about to go in.

  “You see a body or something?” I asked, reaching for my pistol.

  “A lot of blood on the walls. But I’m betting there’s a body or two. Hopefully two. We are seriously lacking in murder victims. A few more wouldn’t go amiss, you know.”

  I pulled a face. His sarcasm was always strong when we were fishing for clues on a case from hell.

  “Give me ten more bodies! I mean, it’s not like it’s been hard or anything,” San said as he opened the double doors to the cyber café. I covered him from behind. We took both sides at the same time, bursting through the entrance like a couple of keen burglars.

  “I know, right? This case has been a breeze! I’m actually disappointed in the whole thing. I mean, just think about it. If it wasn’t for the nut cancer you might have, then this whole expedition would make a great movie, don’t you think?” I asked as we both held our firearms out, pointed in front of us.

  To be fair, the place was empty, so we were allowed to have a little fun amongst ourselves. We hadn’t seen the body yet. Hence, why we were having a laugh. That all changed, of course.

  “Even with the nut cancer, I think it would compel audiences. Hollywood don’t know what it’s missing!” San said as we made our way into the cyber café. At first glance, it looked empty. But there was a smell to the room. A smell I recognized.

  “The knock-knock killer….” I heard San say as we walked side by side with both our guns in our grips.

  “That’s a lame title,” I replied.

  The place was empty. No sound. No movement. Nothing.

  “All clear,” San said, putting his gun away.

  “Watch your step!” I said, just as San was about to step into a pool of blood. He missed it by a few inches. It was then that I spotted a hand sticking out from under a desk. I bent down and, to my horror, saw a dead female, her throat split wide open, staring me straight in the face.

  “FUCK ME!” I yelled.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  I ushered San to bend down. He did so hesitantly. And then his face said it all. He went bright white, and then a flush of red. He reached for his radio and called it in.

  “This is two-niner, we have a dead female down at the Avenue, on Avenue ST. Requesting forensics, and some backup. The place is a mess. Body hidden from view, though.”

  I looked at San as he put his radio away. I had a smile on my face.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, looking a little pale.

  “Body is tucked away. Judging by that blood spatter on the wall over there next to that computer terminal, and the drag marks, I’m betting she was murdered over there and then moved.”

  San shook his head. “So what? What’s your point, Frank?”

  I patted him on the shoulder and said, “Could mean that our killer has broken his M.O. All the other bodies were killed and left for public display. They weren’t moved. But this one, this one is special to him. We need to find out why. It could open this case.”

  He looked at me and then nodded his head. I could see that he was less than optimistic.

  “Or this isn’t our guy, and it’s completely unrelated and we’re wasting our time,” San said, trying not to take the wind out of my sails.

  But I knew he was wrong. I knew this was our guy. It smelled of his work. But this one was different. It was a crime of passion. He respected the girl. The way the body was hidden meant that she could tell us something in her death. All I needed to do was find out what secrets she held.

  I had my fingers crossed that I was right about this. If I wasn’t, then I’d be more than ready to take a knife to my own wrists. Or the killer’s. Either way, I was ready to draw some blood. Mine, or his…..or hers.

  Twenty-Nine

  RANDOM RICK looked at the dial on his car dash. The clock read “7:45 p.m.” The second day of his murder spree was winding down. He needed to find a new place to hide out. That was why he found himself parked at the curb, just outside a halfway house. He was looking on from within the safety of his car. The air conditioning was on. Even though the sun was setting, it was still nice and humid on the streets of Boston on that summer evening.

  He spotted six people coming out of the building. They had backpacks and suitcases. They looked like travelers. Mostly students. RANDOM RICK wasn’t a fan of students. His time in college was plagued by them. They used to watch him and whisper about him as he walked past. They were mean. The youth of today lacked an understanding regardi
ng other people’s differences. So a man like RICK, with his appearance and the way he liked to dress, would find the naïveté of the youngsters at college too much to bear.

  But he had to tough it out. So he did. He graduated with honors. Everybody looked like him that day. Suit and tie. Properly dressed. The difference was that they didn’t speak the way he did. No matter what you dress somebody in, you can’t change what they look like. That was his gripe. Everybody made fun of him for dressing well and acting accordingly. Now, however, nobody was laughing. The easy thing would have been for RICK to take his anger out on his old college associates. The ones who kicked and punched him. The ones who shoved him into the lake a few summers back. But he thought better of it. In his eyes, there was no point in going after the people who’d hurt him. He could hurt them more once they knew who the spree killer in Boston was. Once they knew who he really was, they would live in fear of him getting out and making them pay.

  That was the ultimate victory for him. A life of fear for his doubters. For his bullies. For his tormentors. That’s what they deserved. That’s what they were going to get.

  RANDOM RICK would have to tough it out once more. He would have to live amongst more students. Share his living quarters with people he didn’t know. People he would never indulge in normal circumstances.

  People who most likely deserved to be killed.

  But he wouldn’t risk such a thing. He’d be a good boy while in the halfway house. They would never think to look for such a man in a place like that. And what made it even more perfect was the fact that the news hadn’t published a single story about the spree yet. The police were obviously trying to keep it quiet. And the website he was maintaining wasn’t getting any visitors from the U.S. Mostly from Europe, which was strange. Nobody was putting two and two together. He was still a long way off from being a fugitive. He figured that by the time they finally got close to catching him, he would have taken half the city of Boston with him to hell.