Ames To Thrill: Three Full-Length Gripping Mystery Thrillers

by Dan Ames

  “You'd have to be pretty stupid to kill a guy in your living room. Especially after another one of your patients was hung from an I-beam a few days ago.”

  “Again, your point would be?”

  “We're workin' on it, Doc. But so far, we don't have shit. Not a fingerprint, an eyewitness, a strand of hair, nothing. From the physical evidence, it appears that you were the only person present at the crime scenes, other than the victims. Anyone from your past that would like to hurt you?”

  Vincent considers something, but seems to keep it to himself. He shrugs.

  “Everyone has enemies. But you know I didn't do this.”

  “I think that's a somewhat safe assumption, but, just to play devil's advocate, if you had enough balls, you could do these murders and make it look like you'd never be stupid enough to do them in this way, right?”

  “If you think that, then you've got your head up your ass.”

  “Hey, you're the doctor, I'm just trying to do my job. Speaking of which, let me pop my head out of my butt while you two get out of here. I got work to do.”

  30

  Bonnie is in the kitchen, making breakfast. She pours some pancake batter on a griddle and it starts bubbling quickly. On the stove is a frying pan with sausage links browning.

  Annabel is lying on her stomach, watching a Winnie The Pooh video.

  The skit she is watching is the one where Rabbit, Piglet and Pooh try to lure Tigger out into the woods so he'll get lost.

  “Quick, let's hide in this log, and be quiet!” Pooh says.

  “It sure is a dark place for a small animal like me.” Piglet says.

  “Sshhhh!” Rabbit urges.

  “A smackerel of honey right now would make me feel a whole lot better,” Pooh says.

  “Ssshhh!” Rabbit says again.

  “Annabel, your pancakes are ready!” Bonnie calls out.

  “Okay, Mom!” Annabel responds.

  Suddenly, there's a barely audible noise, as if someone bumped something in one of the back bedrooms.

  “Wwww-wwhwat was that?” Piglet says.

  Annabel looks toward the back bedrooms, but dismisses the noise.

  “Helloooo!” Tigger says.

  Annabel turns off the television, and bounds into the kitchen.

  31

  Ponko is seated at he desk, and two clean-cut, younger detectives both wearing conservative slacks and sportcoats, are in the chairs across from her.

  She focuses her attention on the young man sitting in the chair on the left. Bill Shleiss is in his early thirties, with an athletic build and crewcut.

  “Bill, I want you to find out everything about Dr. Vincent Keyes' past. Where he was born, where he grew up, to whom he lost his virginity and was it her first, too. Get the idea?”

  Shleiss nods that he understands.

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  Ponko turns to the other young detective. Jay Lenzen, a curly headed man with a stockier build than Shleiss.

  “Jay, your job is going to be tougher. I want you to find out everyone Dr. Keyes associates with on a regular basis. Social acquaintances, lovers, and most of all, his patients. If someone is after the doctor, the odds are it's one of his fucked-up patients,” Ponko says.

  “But...” Lenzen says.

  “I know, doctor/patient confidentiality. Do whatever you have to do without breaking the law. Or break whatever laws you have to but make sure you don't get caught,” Ponko tells him.

  The two men get up to leave.

  “And I don't know which one of you is wearing all that cologne but please stop. If I want the place fumigated, I'll call Orkin.”

  They leave.

  32

  32.

  As Vincent pulls into his driveway, a man emerges from a car parked on the street. It is Douglas Eves, the reporter.

  “Dr. Keyes, can I ask you a few more questions?”

  “I don't think so, Doug. I've had a long night. I thought you said you'd call if you had more questions.”

  “Well, the things I'm hearing, I thought it might be better to do this in person.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, you know, some reporters listen to cop scanners. I might've heard your name come up.”

  “Really? Where are all the other news media? You're the only one?”

  “Let's just say I've got a special interest in you.”

  Vincent freezes, looks a bit more closely at Douglas Eves.

  “What paper are you with again?”

  “I thought you said you didn't want to talk.”

  “Let's talk about you.”

  Eves gets back in his car.

  “I'll find out. I already know a ton about you.”

  He roars off and Vincent watches him.

  33

  33.

  Now, after breakfast, Bonnie has joined Annabel in watching the Pooh video.

  “I don't think Rabbit's grand idea worked,” Annabel says.

  “Sometimes Rabbit isn't such a nice bunny,” Bonnie says.

  On the television, Tigger tackles Rabbit.

  Annabel laughs at the action on the television.

  Suddenly, a shadow appears across the television.

  34

  Rodney pulls up into Bonnie's driveway in his four-door sedan. He hops out and goes to the front door, shakes his keys from his pocket, and starts to open the door.

  Bonnie, her mouth duct taped and Annabel, with her mouth duct taped, too, watch wide-eyed as the door swings open and Rodney stands there.

  His eyes take in the scene in the living room.

  “What...” Rodney says.

  Before he can finish the sentence, two slugs take him directly in the chest and he drops to his knees, then falls forward onto his face.

  Blood flowers, coloring the back of his shirt red.

  Annabel lunges to Bonnie, burying her head in her lap. Both are crying.

  35

  Jay Lenzen punches some numbers into his cell phone.

  “Ponko.”

  “Got something,” Lenzen tells her.

  “Shoot.”

  “Rachel Levin.”

  After a pause, Ponko says, “Why is that name familiar?”

  “She's Keyes’ current hottie.”

  “Oh, yeah, that's right. The one he's been screwing around on with Vicki Lee.”

  “Turns out she's got quite a history herself.”

  “I'm listening.”

  “Arrested for murder fourteen years ago.”

  “No shit.”

  “Found guilty of intentional manslaughter.”

  “Who'd she pop?”

  “Pop.”

  “What?”

  “Her father. There were rumors of abuse. Her mother and herself. Possible sexual abuse.

  “How'd she do it?”

  “She hung him.”

  “She hung him?”

  “Tried to make it look like suicide. But the truth came out,” Lenzen says.

  “What'd she get?”

  “Twenty to life. Served two years in juvie. She was only fourteen. Paroled afterward. No trouble since then.”

  “Sounds like a girl with some issues. That how she and Keyes hooked up?”

  “I'm checking that. Just thought you'd want to know about Miss Levin.”

  “Let me know what else you find.”

  Ponko hangs up.

  36

  Vincent is sitting in a plush black leather armchair, drinking a bottle of beer. Before him is a top-of-the-line home theater. The television is on, a Special Report is being broadcast.

  “There are no witnesses or suspects at this time, according to police sources. Again, Demetrius Carr, star center for the Los Angeles Lakers, was murdered in the early morning hours today. It is the second brutal murder of a famous athlete in the last week. Vicki Lee, figure skater and Olympic hopeful, was also murdered recently. Authorities have not commented on whether or not the murders are related.”

  Vinc
ent shuts off the television set.

  Suddenly, the phone rings.

  Vincent answers it.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Vincent,” a voice whispers.

  “I'm hanging up, you sick fuck,” Vincent says.

  “You know what they said about Demetrius, he always had great hands,” the voice says, then bursts out laughing.

  “Fuck you,” Vincent says.

  “You did better this time, I'm proud of you. A little more controlled. You still panicked, but not quite as badly. I think we're making some real progress here.”

  “Go to hell. I'm going to find out who you are and then nail you to the wall.”

  He hangs up on him just as the doorbell rings, and Vincent jumps, startled.

  He crosses the room and opens the door.

  It's Rachel.

  “I just heard,” she says.

  Vincent holds his arms out to her and she steps inside, they embrace.

  37

  Vincent has turned his office upside down. Files are thrown everywhere around his office, stacked high on his desk. His computer is on, as well as a laptop on the far side of his desk. Filing cabinets along one side of the office are opened at random, with more files stacked on top of the open drawers.

  Vincent is completely disheveled, his hair is going in all different directions and he has not yet changed his clothes. Rachel, too, is knee-deep in paperwork. Files, old photographs, even old bills.

  Vincent throws a file back onto his desk.

  “Who are you? Who the fuck are you?”

  “Vincent, calm down. We'll figure out who's doing this.”

  He picks up another file and starts pacing.

  “But we've been over this and over this. The only thing Demetrius and Vicki have in common is me. Why was I called to try to save Vicki? Why was Demetrius placed in my living room with his fucking hands chopped off? Who is doing this to me?”

  “That's what we're trying to figure out, Vincent.”

  He continues pacing. He is standing with his back to the door, staring at the wall, deep in thought.

  Suddenly, a hand touches his shoulder.

  He jumps and whips the gun out from his waistband. The muzzle is inches from Rachel's face.

  “Jesus, fuck!”

  Vincent's hand is shaking as he lowers the gun.

  “What are you doing, Vincent? Where did you get the gun?”

  “I'm sorry. I'm going out of my mind. I bought it when I moved to L.A. That's what you're supposed to do. Move to L.A. Buy a gun. That's what I was taught out East.”

  He places it back in his waistband, somewhat embarrassed.

  “Just be careful with that. The only way this could get worse is if you really do kill someone.”

  Vincent's shoulders sag.

  “Let's start at the beginning and see if we can figure this out logically.”

  Vincent contemplates for a second.

  “The thing with the car wasn't an accident.”

  “We don't know that for sure.”

  “Come one, Rach. It had to be.”

  Rachel sits down cross-legged facing Vincent.

  “He's in here somewhere. This paper represents my life. From college through my entire career. Letters. Appearances. Correspondence. Recommendations. Notes from lectures. Everyone in my past is here, in this room, on these papers.”

  “Everyone from your professional life. What if it's someone who has nothing to do with psychology?”

  “Most of my personal acquaintances have something to do with psychology, too.”

  “Here's what I think. I've been through all of these files and from what I can see, there's only one person who has been a constant throughout your entire life. Only one person who knows you as well as this madman apparently does.”

  “No.”

  “Dr. Melahmed. Your own psychologist, Vincent. Think about it. This crazy guy said he wants to help you be the best that you can be, right? And didn't you say Melahmed said he was envious of you?”

  “Yeah, he said it, but you're taking it out of context.”

  “That's the only name that jumps out from all of this.”

  “No.”

  “What do the cops know?”

  “They don't know Jack Shit, except how to point fingers at me.”

  “At you? Why you? It's obvious you're being set-up.”

  There's an awkward silence as Vincent stares at the wall above Vicki's head.

  He walks forward and faces Rachel, having come to his decision.

  “Vicki and I...”

  “What?”

  “Vicki and I were seeing each other.”

  “I know, she was your patient.”

  “She was more than that Rachel.”

  Realization floods across Rachel's face.

  “You were fucking her, too?”

  “I'm sorry, Rachel.”

  “For how long?”

  “Don't do this.”

  “How long?”

  “A little under a year. But not steady, it...it just sort of turned into something more.”

  This pushes Rachel over the edge and tears openly fall from her eyes. Vincent tries to go to her to console her, but she pushes him away.

  She walks to the door then turns back.

  “You're a real piece of shit, you know that don't you?”

  Vincent doesn't answer.

  “Asshole,” Rachel spits out at him.

  She walks out the door. But before the door can close all the way, Miles Lucas enters. He is a young man, with dark hair and dressed in a jogging suit. He has the kind of duffel bag that carries lots of tennis rackets. He steps as aside as Rachel barrels out the door.

  “Miles, this isn’t a good time,” Vincent says.

  “Hi, Dr. Keyes.”

  He takes in Vincent's appearance.

  “Is something wrong, Doc?”

  “Yeah, I'm afraid I can't do our session today. Didn't Nancy call? I told her to call everyone and cancel.”

  “Oh, I was at the courts, gearing up for the tournament. Who was that I passed?”

  “She's...”

  He is momentarily at a loss for words.

  “I'll make another appointment. It's just that the tournament's in two weeks and I decided to play doubles as well as singles, so I wanted to talk to you about it. Fix some stuff up here.”

  He taps the side of his head.

  “Just call Nancy, and we'll set something up soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No problem, Doc.”

  Miles leaves, and Vincent stands back in his office. His eyes stray to the wall where there's a picture of himself and Dr. Melahmed. Vincent stares at it for a beat.

  38

  Vincent punches numbers into his cell phone.

  “Hi Kay. It's Vincent. Good, how are you? Is Josh in today?”

  He listens.

  “Working at home today, okay. Thanks, Kay.”

  Vincent drives to Melahmed’s house, pulls up the drive and parks. He opens his glove compartment and pulls out the gun. He checks the magazine, and tucks it inside his sportcoat.

  He gets out and approaches the door. He's about to press the doorbell when he hears screaming.

  It sounds like a young girl.

  Vincent springs into action. He tries the door, but it's locked, so he takes out his gun, and punches a hole in the glass above the doorknob. He reaches in and unlocks it, then rushes inside.

  The screaming has stopped and he listens briefly. Another scream erupts and Vincent heads for a spiral staircase directly ahead.

  He races down the stairway and across a hallway to a door. The screaming is coming from inside. The door is locked, so Vincent throws his shoulder into the door. It gives and Vincent bursts into the room where Dr. Melahmed, stark naked, is making love to a young woman from behind. The woman is tied in an elaborate harness. When she sees Vincent she starts laughing.

  Vincent looks around th
e room. There is S & M bondage gear everywhere.

  Dr. Melahmed steps out from behind the young woman and makes no attempt to cover himself.

  “What are you doing with a gun, Vincent?”

  “I'm...what am I doing with a gun? What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Why, we're copulating.”

  “What is all this?”

  “Come on Vincent, I know you studied anatomy.”

  The girl laughs out loud at this. Vincent looks closely at her.

  “How old are you?”

  “Oh, good God, Vincent. What are you doing here?”

  “Someone's trying to set me up, Josh. I was wondering if it might be you.”

  Dr. Melahmed reaches for his robe and puts it on.

  “Set you up how?”

  “The murders. Vicki Lee. Demetrius Carr. My patients.”

  “I saw on the news...I have nothing to do with that, Vincent. Come on. You're upset. Maybe even delusional.”

  “I don't think this is a delusion.”

  Vincent gestures toward the young girl in the S&M gear.

  “This? It's pretend, my friend. Play-acting, role-playing, you know how it all works. Becky here isn't hurt.”

  “Hi,” Becky says.

  “She's just a very naughty girl.”

  Becky giggles.

  39

  Rachel is reclined in a luxurious bubble bath. Her eyes are closed. Soft classical music is playing in the background.

  The phone rings and her answering machine picks up.

  “Hi, I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message at the beep and I'll try to get back to you.”

  Rachel listens from the tub.

  “Hi, Rachel, this is Detective Lori Ponko. I'm the lead investigator in the murders of Vicki Lee and Demetrius Carr, you've probably heard about them on the news. We think they have something to do with Dr. Vincent Keyes, and would like to ask you some questions. Fairly routine. As soon as you get this message, please give me a call so you can come into the station and talk to us. Or, we can come out and see you.”