by N. M. Brown
“Alright. What should I wear?” Many times, Archer or Sam or even Mara had asked for Echo’s assistance on odd jobs here and there. Each one was a special assignment that needed outside manipulation. More than once she needed to dress up as a distraction, or act as the victim or best, the reluctant virgin. Echo always enjoyed that one.
“Nothing fancy.” Archer spoke, glancing at his watch. “Something that will draw the eye, make them watch, but enough to blend in as well.” Seeing her nod, he walked back out, no doubt to get a handle on the situation. Echo began walking to the bathroom tucked behind unsteady walls. Random planks off the street and even a fancy looking door parted Echo’s bathroom from the rest of her abode. She liked it. It was quirky and though it wasn’t very big, ithad all the normal necessities. She snarled internally when she heard the pitter patter of feet following her.
“Who was that?” Sarah asked. She still had the throw from the couch trailing behind her like a pathetic two-year old.
“No one.” Echo bit out, stepping into the bathroom. Turning on the spot, she pulled the door closed as far as she could, leaving only enough space for the width of her body. Sarah stumbled backwards, only just managing to stop herself, from bumping into the door. “Yes?” Echo asked, already knowing what was coming next.
“I thought-… well I thought, you know, we could, freshen up together?” Sarah smiled flirtatiously.
Echo smiled, gritting her teeth. “I’m in a rush. Ten minutes. You heard him. I really need to be quick about it. Go sit. You can go after.” Echo closed the door in her face and huffed out a sigh.
After a quick scrub paying special attention to cleaning her teeth, the sight of Sarah’s snotty upper lip still in her mind, Echo stepped from the bathroom wrapped in a towel and headed to her wardrobe to get dressed. Clothes spilled from the tiny cupboard she had, and most clothes were piled on the chair next to it. A lot of it was black, or at least dark shades, with a hint of bright red, or luxurious green thrown in. The piles were always growing, and she never paid a penny for any of it.
Sarah was still sat on the couch but when Echo rummaged through her clothes, she quickly darted to the bathroom herself. Echo thanked whatever hell beast that was looking over her. Some people could be too clingy. Rummaging through the closet, she threw on some comfy black leather pants and a low-cut top. She could sneak out while Sarah washed up. Yet as Echo pulled on her boots, the bathroom door slid open again and Sarah walked out fully dressed back in her sweat pants and hoodie. She even waited by the door, shoes on and a positive smile on her face. Echo smiled a little as she walked over, a fresh coat of red lipstick on her lips. Had it been any other day, Echo would have played this out for a while and had some fun with this new infatuation. But Archer didn’t call every day and today was just going to have to be swift and painful. Like a beheading.
Closing the door behind her the two of them walked all the way down the house without saying a word. It wasn’t until they reach the front door and Echo could see Archerwaiting, did Sarah speak up. “I wanted to thank you.” She smiled, gripping Echo’s hand in hers. “I know you weren’t expecting me and I didn’t even think you’d let me in but-,” she blushed, “you helped me, in more ways than one.”
Echo pulled hard, slipping her hand from Sarah’s grip, causing her smile to fade and for her to tuck her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie. “That’s great.” Echo said, moving towards the door again.
“I’d like to do it again sometime?” Sarah asked, reaching out to empty air.
Echo stopped. Looking up she could see Archer watching her with a small smile from the bottom of the front steps. Echo grinned back. Turning she switched one smile for another: wicked to pitiful.
“Sarah… look,” Echo began, her skin tingling as Sarah’s smile dipped a bit more. “This was-… fun, but really, I got what I wanted so let’s just leave this as it is: an awkward goodbye and nothing more.”
“What-… what do you mean?” Sarah’s voice was small a childlike. “What do you mean got what you wanted?”
“You boyfriend silly.”
Sarah looked confused and laughed. “What do you mean? You don’t have Dean. You slept with me, you want me…” But at Echo's cruel smile she trailed off.
Echo took a step forward and Sarah took one back. Good girl, Echo thought, she was finally catching on. “I slept with you, yes, but only because you belonged to him. You were his and I wanted you. It was like kids in a sandbox, honey. He had a toy I wanted,” Echo indicated to Sarah, “so I took it from him.” She curled her lip and laughed. “You know, he didn’t lie before. He did buy you. He paid me to stay away from you. It was a sweet bonus. One thousand pounds; that’s how much he thinks you’re worth darling.”
Sarah paled and tears rolled down her face. Her lips bubbled like she was trying to speak but Echo just kept going.
“He bought you from me, after only a wink and a touch; that’s how threatened he was. And then,” Echo took a breath, a laugh stealing all her air, “and then even after all that, you still came to me. Still you came knocking at my door like a kicked puppy begging for scraps.” Looking Sarah up and down, her ratty clothes draped across her body, Echo sneered, “And now I’ve had his toy. Had it, played with it and now completely done with it. Truthfully, it’s just like every other toy I’ve had in the sandbox. Nothing special, nothing unique. Makes a girl wonder why Dean would hold on so tightly to something so unavoidably useless.”
By now Sarah was shaking her head, tears freefalling down her cheeks and her broken hand clenched against her heart like it was breaking. She was whispering under her breath, words like ‘no’ and ‘not true’, but Echo didn’t have time to correct her. Slowly slipping down the front steps, she gave Sarah one last pitiful smile. “Don’t feel too bad darling. Just think, you‘ll never have another night like this one.” And with a wink, Echo left the house, leaving the door open behind her so Sarah, sobbing on the floor, could watch her leave.
WANDS OF SIX
XIII
McQueen breathed in deeply when he saw Detective Hale raging a storm behind the blue and white tape. The man was on a murder spree and no one was safe. "Your late McQueen!" Hale snarled, teeth flashing in the police cars lights. He was late. By ten minutes, but the local taxi man and probably the only one in the town, tried to take him for a joy ride. At the time, a sharp bark and a slap of his police badge on the glass-divide got the man crossing hist's and dotting his i's. But that didn't help when he pulled into a traffic jam.
"Sorry boss." He said meekly. Small and timid. That was how he'd get through this morning... until meek and timid just reminded him of the way he’d run from Echo too. Today wasn’t going to be his day.
"McQueen!!" Hale barked again, indicating to the large oak tree that scraped the sky. In the morning light, if would have looked like an idyllic scene: for a wallpaper or a wedding photo. That would have been the case if it wasn’t for the three naked, dead bodies swinging in the breeze, the tree branch creaking under their weight.“Get your head out of your ass and get to questioning the officers first on scene!"
“Yes boss.” McQueen didn’t query it.
✽ ✽ ✽
He quietly and quickly worked through the other officers, then the tech team, finding out what they knew and Jacob Smith, who was as helpful as the first time they’d spoken. Almost an hour later he walked up to the tree to give Hale his findings and thus got his first view of the murder victims. He had hoped it would have all been removed by now. But alas, it wasn’t.
One body had been taken down, but that didn't spoil the effect. There had been once been three, but now there were only two. Both women had their arms strung high above their head, this time, by their hands. Side by side, from a distance, they could easily be about to perform an acrobatic act. Up close, you could see that wasn’t the case, the first issues being they were as naked as the day they were born.
The first victim, hanging the furthest along the branch, had dark brown ha
ir and caramel skin and features that suggested she was of Indian decent. Head tipped back, her hair was limp, while her mouth hung open in a silent scream. Dried blood was crusty and cracked around her chin and black make-up was smeared under her eyes. McQueen could see track marks dotting her inner elbow; evident of some substance abuse that looked to span years. Her face was gaunt and every one of her ribs was showing. She wasn’t starved but she was too thin, much like the supermodels he’d see on TV. Dead women walking, his Nana had called them. Unfortunately, these victims wouldn’t be walking anywhere alive or dead. The Detective in him did notice however, her breasts were missing, leaving two bloody circles on her chest. That was new. The killer hadn’t used a knife on the first two victims. This woman had faired a lot worse than the other so McQueen studied her more. Below her knees were completely gone, some of her thigh flesh was missing too. Her stomach had been ripped out and her intestines draped dramatically in the air in long loops. Her wrists had long dribbles of blood trailing down her arms where the woman had pulled so hard, she’d pulled her skin apart.
McQueen’s mind tried to glaze over the horror, but he still couldn’t un-see the bloody thighs and skeletal bones that hung below.
“Focus on the evidence.” He said to himself as he looked over the bodies again. Moving on from the Indian lady, the other woman had what would have once been beautiful red coiled hair, but now it hung in front of her face, dirty and sheared, lacking colour and life. Her soft white skin looked ghastly next to the brittle red blood, it could have rival Dwight’s. Sticky blood coated her stomach and arms; however, her legs were in better condition than any of the previous victims. Twisted up, her ankles had been tied to the tops of her thighs which had caused them to turn mottled black and blue. There were some bite marks, but for the most part her legs were whole. Not that it would do her any good now, McQueen thought.
“Speechless.” A voice spoke from behind him. Turning he found Two, camera clutched in his sweaty palms while is eyes looked over the victims. “The profanity in all this really does leave you speechless, doesn’t it?”
“You can say that again.” McQueen agreed, keeping his eyes down cast as the Indian woman began to sway, more entrails falling out as the coroners’ team began to take her down. They’d used a cherry picker this time. The bodies weren’t high, only seven or eight feet off the ground, but better footing meant a smoother way of getting them down. This crime scene was out in the open, but the foliage above was dense enough that any rain overnight hopefully missed the bodies. Some evidence would be great.
McQueen’s stomached rolled at the thought of more victims having to go through this kind of pain before they caught the killer. It struck him hard of all they would miss in life. McQueen didn’t want that. He’d had enough regrets in his life, he needed to move on with life. Take each day as it comes.
“Hay, Two?” McQueen called, not raising his voice too loud. “I’d like to take a look around your place, the spare room you have, if that’s ok? See if it’s to my taste?”
Two furrowed his brow slightly before widening his eyes. “Oh Yer,” A small smile and chuckle fell on his face before his eyes drew back to the last victim and his happiness died out. “Yes, that would be great, McQueen. I’ll give you the address later”
Nodding in thanks, McQueen walked around the bodies giving them and wide birth. Maybe it was because the red head was more whole or maybe it was because you couldn’t see her face, but McQueen found the last hanging body more disturbing than when it hung with the others.
Spotting Hale, McQueen hurried over note pad in hand."So," McQueen spoke catching Hale and Doctor Cassi’s attention, "The nine- nine- nine call came in at three this morning. The caller left no name, no address and from the recording, no one can tell if it's a man or woman. The number is blocked so we don’t know where it came from either. The ‘good Samaritan’ talked slow, stupidly slow. The dispatcher thought he may be a druggy on a high, but they were coherent and answered questions." McQueen quickly moved on feeling Hales impatience grow. Doctor Cassi just looked concerned. "The bouncer, Jacob Smith, said he didn't let anyone in after twelve-thirty, so there was no foot traffic after that. The anonymous tipster didn’t call from inside the club, or so he insists but they don’t keep tabs on the inside phones. Plus, he insists everyone uses mobile phones now. Either way, I sent some men to scout the perimeter of the House to see if they can find anything. I reminded them also what would be on the line if they were to step into the House.” They really couldn’t afford to fire any more Officers.
“That’s good. Fibres caught on a bush or foot prints out of a window by the House could prove one of their guests is the killer.” Hale mused. McQueen hoped for the same.
“We also know that the first officers on scene arrived at four-eighteen which is a slow response time, so anything could have happened in-between.”
“And let me guess.” Hale grumbled, his hand on his hips, “Jacob Smith insists that there were no eye witnesses?”
“Yes. Yes, he does.” McQueen gulped. He could testify that every single person in that House was very, very occupied at the time that any major event occurred. He wouldn’t be surprised if the world ended and no one noticed. “That was Mr. Smith’s reply.” Hale let out a heavy breath of frustration but said nothing, allowing McQueen to continue. “There are no camera’s so no video and there are no documentation listing cars that come in and out of the ground either.”
“I want to know who comes to this damn House.” Hale spoke to himself, fist clenching at his side. “I want to know every single person who has ever stepped foot across that threshold.” Looking up to the House, McQueen could see the idyllic, historic brick against bright blue skies and lush green trees. It could have been on the set of a big, blockbuster movie with historic figures dancing around. Not twelve hours ago, he’d been one of those people in that House.
Forensics had been taking pictures all morning, their bright white flashes shining on the dewy floor. McQueen had heard whispers of blood splatters in the dirt and more evidence further back in the trees. He could only hope this brought a swift conclusion. “I’ll try the House again, see if I can speak to Mr. Hellion.” McQueen offered, and started to move backwards to the House but spun on his heels when a cheery voice called across the empty grounds.
“No need young fellow.” An older man over six feet tall in a tailored, pressed cream suit had sauntered right past the white and blue tape and had continued straight towards Hale and McQueen. His beard was neatly trimmed in a squared shape, and a perfectly trimmed moustache. He walked with a gold cane, ornate in design which matched his outfit perfectly. He didn’t walk with a limp however, which made McQueen instantly think the man was a prick.
Steam could have been seen rising from Hales ears as veins started to pop across his brow. Whichever officer had allowed a civilian across tape lines was going to get a beating. “You can’t be here!” Hale snapped, marching over to the man who had paused to admire the young woman hanging. McQueen had to say ‘admire’ because that was look upon his face; the look of a man studying a painting in an art gallery. When Hale finally reached the man, he stuck out his hand, ignoring Hale foaming at the mouth.
“Archer Hellion, owner of Cardinal House. So sorry I wasn’t around for your last visit. Family matters interfered, still ongoing unfortunately. However, that is no excuse for the Police. I am here to help.” McQueen began to like this guy less and less.
“Get back behind the tape!” Hale snapped.
“But my dear officer,” Archer spoke calmly. “I thought I’d save you some trouble. When I heard that such an unfortunate event had occurred, and, on my land, I needed to see what I could do.”
Hale was about to yell again, when a second voice piped up, slinking from behind Archer and his shadow, “Besides Detective, you were so unprepared last time we spoke, I thought we’d save you the trouble of printing off pictures. We can see the scene for ourselves and try and identify the victims.�
�� McQueen let out an audible gasp.
Echo had swept her hair up in a messy bun and had decided to dress in all black leather. Leather trousers, a low-cut top showing her pale skin and knee-high leather black boots. She looked like sex on legs. Every cop in the vicinity looked her way, distracting them.
“Exactly.” Not once did the smirk on Archer’s lips waver. He was charming and sophisticated. He smiled like he was at a dinner party, not a crime scene and to make it worse, he wasn’t stupid, so he knew being this close to the crime scene was illegal but did it anyway. McQueen couldn’t help but sneer at him as the sickly, oozing feeling of deceit trickled across his skin. It made his want to check his pockets to see if his wallet was still there. “So, as we came to be of any assistance-,” Archer began but Hale cut him sharply off.
“Behind. The. Tape.” Hale hissed through gritted teeth and after a pause that could only be seen as a show of dominance, Archer bowed a fraction before walking backwards beyond the tape line. “So, you own this place!” Hale asked, not even opening his note pad to jot down his question. Archer had poked the wrong bear. “Well isn’t this a coincidence?” Hales voice dropped and octave or two, and a sneer captured him lips. “Well Mr. Hellion, if you would please be so kind to explain why there has been two murders on your property?”
