Next Move, You're Dead - Book 1 of the Next Move, You're Dead Trilogy
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“Well sir, you need to go and make preparations for your wife’s funeral. I’ll let you know the autopsy results, but I wouldn’t anticipate a different outcome. There was no sign of foul play, so it appears she just took the sleeping pills and fell asleep. You know the strangest thing is there was no fear on her face; in fact, she looked at peace. I’m sorry you’re going through this, but that’s all I need from you now. I will be in touch if anything changes,” Sam looked at the distraught man sitting across from him and prayed he would survive this ordeal.
Jim slowly stood with his shoulders drooping; an empty shell of a man. He hesitated for a moment, turned, and then walked out of the door without saying another word. Now a mere shadow of the man he was the day before when his life was full and his future bright.
***
John suddenly felt nauseous, Was this what the caller was referring to last night?
“What brings you here today, John? Please, have a seat.” Sam motioned toward the chair where the heart-broken husband had sat just moments before.
John sat in the offered chair, unsure of where to begin. “I know you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but may I see a picture of the suicide victim taken at the scene? There’s a chance I may know something about this case.”
“Sure, here you go.” Sam opened the folder on his desk and handed John one of the pictures from inside.
“This is how her husband found her. She sure was beautiful, and the scene seemed staged like something out of an old movie,” Sam closed the folder, pushed it aside, and then looked back to John. “Why are you interested, you’re not on this case?”
John took the photo and carefully examined it, ignoring the question. There she was in the silk gown and the unusual looking necklace, just as she was in the email. John’s hands began to shake, and his body went deathly cold.
“Hey, you don’t look too good. What’s going on, did you know her?” Sam reached for the photo, as it dropped from John’s hands, landing on the desktop.
“No, I never... Hey, what would you say if I told you I saw this very picture last night?” He knew trying to explain how he had seen it before would be next to impossible.
“Well, I would say it would be impossible since I took this picture myself just this morning. There’s no way you saw it last night, John. What is going on here? Are you trying to tell me you’re some a physic now?” Sam laughed as he put the picture back in the folder. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but this woman killed herself because she found out her husband was cheating, and there is nothing more to it. John, I know it’s sad, but it does happen. Hell, you know we see things like this all the time. Maybe you need to go home and clear your head. You don’t look good; in fact, you look as though you went on quite a bender last night. Lay off the sauce, John, it makes you see things.”
John stood, and left Sam’s office without saying another word. It frustrated him how no one would listen to him, but he was not surprised. Hell, he had a difficult time believing all of this himself.
First, they found Charles Everett with a dead prostitute in the trunk of his car, along with all the evidence to convict him of multiple murders. Everyone seemed thrilled with how the case came together since there was no question as to his guilt. With the trial scheduled to begin in a few weeks, all bets were on a solid conviction.
The second incident of the two men at the internet company, and now this latest one all seemed a little too coincidental. Each appeared to have no apparent connection, except for one thing; the strange caller.
“He told me to get busy, or I’d be left behind, so what now?” John knew the only way to figure everything out was to start at the beginning.
***
John decided his first step would be to visit Charles at the jail. Maybe questioning him again would shed some light on things. John grabbed his car keys and walked out to his car for another talk with Mr. Charles Everett.
Chapter 14
Little Secrets
“No one treats me in this manner. I’m a man of power and influence in this town!” To be sitting in jail, facing multiple murder charges for crimes he knew he did not commit was unthinkable for Charles. “What’s wrong with all of you? I didn’t kill anyone!”
With each passing hour, Charles saw his dreams of the future slipping away. His wife had filed for a divorce, and his associates at city hall refused to have anything to do with him. Hell, even his lawyer did not believe him.
That son-of-a-bitch charges me $500 an hour and has the balls to tell me to take an insanity plea! Charles groaned. There is no way I will plead guilty to anything. I’m innocent!
His lawyer informed him how it did not help him that some pictures had surfaced of him on his last business trip to Mexico. The pictures were of him in some questionable poses with underage prostitutes.
“Fine, I enjoy playing with little toys, but that doesn’t make me a serial killer!” Charles protested.
Charles was careful to ensure his playtime was done far away from home. With an image to protect, he knew he must not let his activities become common knowledge.
“Damn, I guess it was stupid for me to keep them in my home safe, but I’ve always enjoyed having them around for a quick peek. Hell, with all the pressure I face daily, it’s nice to have them around for a little release from time to time,” Charles snickered at seeing the shocked look on his lawyer’s face.
For years, Charles laughed at how easy it was to fool people. It did not matter what lies he told, the voters believed each one of them, as long as he said them with enthusiasm and conviction.
Hell, I almost believed all the crap about cleansing the city. It was simply good politics, and besides, the voters loved it, he chuckled silently.
If none of this had happened, he would have been a shoe-in for mayor in the upcoming election. However, now it was all gone.
I may have done many cruel and even illegal things on my climb to the top, but I never killed anyone! Someone set me up, but whom and why?
Charles knew one thing for sure; things were not looking good for him. In fact, he was convinced they would find him guilty of numerous heinous crimes, all of which he did not do.
***
On the drive to the jail, John mulled over what he would say. Even though the case appeared closed with the arrest, John still was not so sure.
Was there really someone staging crimes for the sake of a game? Even more importantly, what did the caller want from him? Was it possible his role was to catch the real murderer as part of The Game?
Over the years, John had heard of serial killers planting clues to their identity; only he left none. Everything appeared to point a guilty finger at the intended target, making the case a detective’s dream. No questions asked; everything tied up in a nice, neat package. John never doubted the evidence; however, this time, he worried it would be a grave mistake.
***
The interrogation room was small and cold. A metal table covered in worn; chipped paint sat in the center of the room with two uncomfortable chairs placed on opposite sides.
Charles glared at John from across the table, curious as to why the additional questions regarding his case. “Okay Detective, you asked to see me. It’s your time, what the hell do you want with me now?”
John was not sure how to begin. After the arrest, he had asked around if there was a chance, someone framed Everett, and he, in fact, was innocent. Of course, no one wanted to entertain the idea of Everett’s innocence.
Charles, as well as the multiple murder cases, was a thorn in the side of the city officials for far too long. Therefore, they gleefully ignored any questions of his possible innocence. The fact the killer turned out to be the pain-in-the-ass, Charles Everett made it even better. Apparently, he had ruffled a few feathers throughout the years, and his being arrested for the murders brought great joy to several on the city council, and, of course, the mayor.
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John looked at Charles, cleared his throat, and began, “Well, I’m not sure how to start. You’ve said from the beginning you have no idea how the young woman and the jeweled box got into the trunk of your car. I know all evidence points to you, but…”
“But what, Detective, are you saying you believe me now?” Charles leaned forward and placed his hands on the table in front of him. “Well, unless you’ve come up with some new evidence; any belief in my innocence is worthless. If you’d been doing your job in the first place, I never would have been framed, and the real killer would be sitting here instead of me!”
The emotions surging through Charles took him to an unfamiliar place: into a realm of pure hopelessness.
“I have lost everything, Detective. I’ve lost my name, my marriage, and my future. Somehow, my wife found my little collection of pictures I kept in my safe.” A new expression appeared on his face, one of both embarrassment and anger.
“Someone called and told her where to find them. I’d like to know who the bastard is; I had no idea anyone knew about them other than myself. Apparently, she filed for divorce as soon as she saw them. I guess she has a problem with being married to a convicted serial killer, and a pervert,” Charles scoffed.
“So, unless you have found some evidence of my innocence, you’re wasting my time.” He looked at John waiting for a response, but when none came, he stood and motioned for the guard. “I think we’re finished here.”
The guard opened the door and waited, “You finished here?”
“Yes, I think we have covered everything. Goodbye, Detective,” Charles disappeared through the door, never looking back.
John knew he should have told Charles of the mysterious caller, but he also knew it would not make a difference. He did not blame Charles for being upset. With all his doubts, John was upset as well.
Charles did bring up something interesting, though. I wonder who found his pictures then told his wife about them. Maybe I should look more into this.
John sat for a moment, going through everything Charles had said. “Those pictures must be a clue.” John stood, and walked out to his car.
Pulling out of the parking lot, John knew one thing for sure; he needed to learn the story of those pictures and the soon to be ex-Mrs. Charles Everett was the one with the answers.
***
A half-hour later, John found himself driving up the long driveway to the Everett estate. He had always marveled at the beauty of this section of Philadelphia with its perfectly manicured yards and neatly maintained houses. Convinced each was, at least, a hundred years old, he knew many prominent people must have lived there throughout the years.
As John pulled up to the Everett house, he noticed its beauty with the sculptured columns and large wraparound porch. He knew by its appearance it belonged to a family of wealth and power.
John heard of how Charles married a wealthy, older woman, and then used her family name and fortune to advance his political ambitions.
Wondering if it were wise to come, John pulled down the long driveway toward the house. John knew he would never rest until he knew the truth of the pictures, and who told Mrs. Everett where she could find them.
Oh well, the worst thing, which can happen, is she won’t talk to me, he laughed to himself.
John parked his car and walked to the front door. “Please forgive me for this, Mrs. Everett,” he groaned as he rang the doorbell and waited.
After a few moments, an older, sharply, dressed man opened the door.
“Hello, my name is Detective John Cooper. May I speak with Mrs. Everett,” John said, doing his best to remain calm.
“Please follow me, Detective.” The butler stood aside without saying another word then motioned letting John know to follow him.
The Butler then led John to a room on the right of the entry hall and pointed to a chair sitting across from a large window.
“Please wait here, and I will tell Mrs. Everett she has a visitor.”
John nodded and then walked to the chair as the butler closed the door behind him.
The room was small, yet comfortable with two high-backed antique chairs sitting in front of the large window. John took a moment to admire the intricate carvings on the wooden legs, and armrests before sitting on the one closest to the door. “It’s a shame you can’t find furniture of this quality any longer.”
As John waited for Mrs. Everett, he looked around the room. He noticed the elegant decorations with the focus of the room on a large, family portrait hanging above the fireplace. Then the grandfather clock standing in the corner caught his attention when it chimed the hour.
John had been waiting for several minutes when an elegant, older woman entered the room. He stood, and waited until she sat in the chair across from him.
Clara Everett was a delicate woman, and from all appearances, she seemed a woman of social standing. John glanced up then saw the butler walk back into the room and stand by the door.
Clara turned to John, “Detective Cooper, please excuse the wait. As I’m sure you must know, I’ve been busy lately. Please sit, and make yourself comfortable. Before we begin, may I offer you a beverage?”
“No, thank you, I am fine,” John smiled. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
“Very well; if you are sure,” she motioned, excusing the butler to leave. “Thank you, Gerald.”
“Very well, Mrs. Everett, as you wish.” The butler bowed his head slightly then turned and left the room.
Once Gerald had left the room, Clara turned to John, her eyes meeting his with a questioning look. “How may I help you today, Detective?”
John swallowed, and then began, “Mrs. Everett, I went to speak to your husband today. He told me you received a telephone call about some pictures he had in his office safe. Would you mind telling me who called you?”
Clara held her emotions well. Taught a lady should never show emotion in front of strangers, she struggled as a small tear in the corner of her eye gave her feelings away.
“I have no idea who it was. They called and told me there was proof of my husband’s innocence in his safe, and I was desperate to help clear his name. Charles has never been a loving husband, but I did believe in his character. He had always been a man of integrity and honesty, or so I thought.”
Clara lowered her eyes in shame. She had trusted him with everything - her money, her good name, her very life. Now, forced to endure a lengthy trial, and have her personal life on display for all to see, Clara felt as though everything, she believed in, was a lie.
When the caller told her there was proof of Charles’ innocence locked in his safe, her heart had raced with relief. However, she never expected to find what she did, and it broke her heart when she saw the pictures. Charles was a sickening animal, and Clara decided to have nothing more to do with him.
John saw the pain in her eyes, but he had to know the truth, so he pushed onward. “Mrs. Everett, I am sorry about all of this. I know it must be very painful, but I need to know who called you about the pictures.”
Clara lifted her eyes again to meet his and somehow summoned the inner strength to speak. “Yes, I know, and I’m truly sorry.”
“When I opened the safe and saw the pictures, I knew he was guilty,” she lifted her chin, attempting to hold back the tears, but they now flowed freely down her cheeks.
“My family has been friends with the mayor for many years, so I called him about what I should do. I was thankful when he hurried over to get them.” She paused a moment, gathering her strength, “I hope I never see them again. They were horrible and utterly repulsive!”
So, that’s how they got leaked. It makes total sense now. The mayor was probably thrilled to get rid of the competition. He had taken a lot of heat in the media because of the killings, so the outcome was perfect for ridding himself of a political challenger as well. Politics can be so dirty; John thought to himself.
“I have never heard his voice before. He was soft spoken, though, with no particular accent. He did give me his name. What was it he said? Oh yes, I remember now, he said his name was John.”
Clara gave John a questioning look, “How odd, isn’t that your name?”
His name was John? Her words hit him between the eyes with such force; he felt as if his head would split in half.
The caller must be the same man calling me! Somehow, he found out about the pictures and called Mrs. Everett using my name, but why? How would using my name help him in his game? Unless there’s a message, I am supposed to interpret.
The emotions now bubbling up inside of John were nearly uncontrollable. He tried to hide his surprise, but Clara noticed it on his face.
“Detective Cooper, are you all right? You look flushed. Are you sure you don’t need something cold to drink?” She frowned, and then reached for the buzzer on the table next to her chair.
“No, thank you, Ma’am, I am fine. I appreciate your time, but I need to go. I hope things get better for you. You appear to be a very lovely woman, and you don’t deserve any of this. I need to get going, so I’ll show myself out.”
John stood and walked toward the door; trying not to show the emotions surging through his body, “Thank you again for everything. I appreciate all the help you have been.”
He rushed outside to his car with his mind spinning wildly. I can’t believe the caller told Mrs. Everett his name was John; my name! Why would he do that? Was it a hint? Was it a secret message to let me know this was another part of the game or was it a way of letting me know I need to step up and get busy?
The questions swam around in his mind, as he got into his car. When he reached for the ignition, his cell phone began to ring. “Detective Cooper.”
“Well done, John, I’m glad to see you are finally playing the game. I’m pleased you figured out the next move,” the voice was calm and reassuring.