In the Shadow of Angels

by Donnie J Burgess

  The scene he walked into shocked him. Brent had Digby completely naked on the floor. He had removed the belt from Digby’s pants and looped it around his neck, pulled well past the notches so it was tight enough to choke him if he wasn’t already dead. Once he had the time to process what he was seeing, Devin knew exactly what Brent’s plan was.

  Brent was currently working on bending a metal hanger from the closet. He threaded it through one notch in the belt and back out of another. He was holding both ends of the hanger and lifting up on it, pulling the belt tighter around Digby’s neck. He lifted it with both hands to see if it would be strong enough to lift him from the floor. Satisfied that it would, he put the rig back down.

  “Help me get him over to the closet,” Brent said.

  Without hesitation, Devin grabbed an arm and helped him drag the body to the closet. They lifted him up and Brent started wrapping the coat hanger around the rod in the closet. He wrapped both ends around the pole twice and then twisted the ends around themselves like a bread tie.

  Digby’s body was facing out of the closet. The belt and hanger rig was long enough that his legs were still on the floor from the knee down, while the belt around his neck precariously supported the rest of his body. The positioning was just about perfect. If he were kneeling, the belt wouldn’t have been tight enough to choke him. He would have had to lean forward to cut off the oxygen supply. If he had actually fallen face forward though, it would have been tight enough to strangle him. If he lost consciousness in this position, as was the picture Brent was trying to paint, he wouldn’t have been able to breathe. Hopefully, it would look like and accidental death from autoerotic asphyxiation.

  Satisfied with the positioning of the body, Brent stepped back to look at the scene. It looked even better than he expected.

  Devin was torn on how to feel about the whole business. On the one hand, it was really a good plan. When there were questions surrounding a death from autoerotic asphyxiation, even if it was someone in the public eye, there never seemed to be nearly as much detail put into the investigation as if they were found strangled to death by other means. On the other hand, it was a bit unsettling just how quickly Brent put the plan together.

  “I don’t even want to know what made you think of this, Brent,” Devin said.

  “Yeah, you probably don’t.”

  “So what now?” Devin questioned.

  “Let me have the camera and those memory cards. I’m going to put one of them on the TV.”

  “I need those, Brent! They’re all I’ve got against him.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m only going to use one. I’ll bring you back the others. I’ve just got to make sure it’s not the one with Jezebel”

  “Are you sure we should be using one of Dr. Stephens?”

  “If we’ve got this set up right, it doesn’t matter. If someone shoots themself while watching Hannibal, they don’t question Anthony Hopkins.”

  He made a valid point. They would just be sure they didn’t tell Stephens that he was the star of the death by masturbation show. In fact, they probably wouldn’t tell him about the setup at all. The less he knew, the less chance he could talk. Devin put the memory cards, camera and cable down on the dresser.

  “All right, I guess I’ll go see if I can find her keys.” Devin left Brent alone in the room.

  One of the things they hadn’t spoken of was the potential location of the keys to Jezebel’s Fiero. Devin hadn’t considered it an issue because there was no way she had any keys in that tiny little dress and she wasn’t carrying a purse. Since stealing thirty-year-old Fieros isn’t exactly big business, he assumed she either left them in the ignition or did the old leave-them-on-the-tire trick. Either way, now was the time to find them.

  He met Beth at Dr. Stephens’ BMW. “We’re almost ready. Are you going to be okay to drive her car?”

  “I guess I’ll have to be. Whatever it takes to put this behind us.”

  Devin leaned in and gently kissed her cheek. “It’s almost over.”

  Devin walked to Jezebel’s Fiero and opened the driver’s door. Leaning inside, he could see the keys dangling from the ignition. He sat down in the driver’s seat and pushed in the clutch. He almost expected it not to start. It would have been fitting with the luck he was having tonight. It took some trying, but it did ultimately start. He had to quickly turn down the stereo, which was playing some horrible dance club mix - and way too loud, but the car was running. It was revving and cutting out randomly, which was a bit concerning, but at least it started. He shut it off but left the keys in the ignition. It was ready when they were.

  *****

  Alone in the room, Brent hooked the camera up to the TV. Surprisingly, it did have an HDMI input. In a place like this, there was a high demand for video capability on the television. He put the first memory card in and opened up the first image. He stared at the image in disbelief. He flipped through a few more images thinking his mind may be playing tricks on him, but they weren’t.

  A mix of anger and confusion began running through his mind. He did the best he could to suppress it. This was something that he would need to deal with later. Right now, they needed get out of here and execute the plan with Jezebel. He took the memory card out of the camera, slipped it back into the pouch and placed it in his left front pocket. He pulled the second card out of the pouch and put it into the camera. This one wouldn’t do either. It was Stephens and Jezebel.

  Brent wondered briefly if he shouldn’t just leave this one in though. It would serve the guy right. If there were any question about Jezebel, or Digby for that matter, all signs would point to Dr. Stephens. This was a decision that wasn’t his to make though. He took this one back out of the camera as well and slid it back into its pouch. He left this one on the desk so he wouldn’t get it mixed up with the one already in his pocket.

  The third card was the one he was looking for. He wasn’t sure who the woman was and he felt a bit guilty that he was potentially putting her in an awkward position if she was married, but of the three, it was his only choice. He flipped through the photos quickly, searching for jerking material for the kind of pervert who was into bondage. When he found an image where Stephens had his left hand wrapped around the back of the neck of the girl in the images, he stopped. Good enough.

  It was time to get the hell out of here. They would get the car back and stage the accident with Jezebel and then he would have to decide what to do about the other photos. Brent picked up the memory card with the pictures of Jezebel on it and left the room, then stopped suddenly. He went back inside and used the bottom of his shirt to wipe down the camera and any other surfaces he may have touched. He also slid the memory card back out of the camera and wiped it clean before replacing it and queuing up the picture again.

  Once he was relatively certain he had gotten rid of any potential evidence, he left the room. He closed the door behind him, but didn’t lock it.

  He met Devin and Beth back at Dr. Stephens’ BMW. He still had the card with the pictures of Jezebel in his hand and handed it to Devin. “This is the one you need.” He said, as he handed it to Devin.

  “What about the other…”

  Brent cut him off. “This is the one with Jezebel, the other ones aren’t important. Now let’s get that Fiero back to your house.”

  “All right. Who’s driving the BMW back?” He asked.

  “May as well be me. I’ve already got the seat adjusted.”

  Devin nodded. He walked to the passenger door of the BMW and opened it. Beth looked up at him as he did. “I think we’re ready to go, Beth,” he said, “it’s almost over now.”

  Beth stood up and put her arms around him. “I’m scared, Devin,” She whispered.

  “I know. Don’t worry, we’ll be right behind you. Once we get home, I can drive it the rest of the way.”

  Devin walked Beth to the door of the Fiero and opened it for her. She sat down and swung her legs inside. She fumbled under the seat for the le
ver to move the seat back to give her legs a bit more space, but it was either already all the way back or it was stuck. Either way, it wouldn’t move. She would be able to drive it anyway. It just felt a bit awkward compared to her Mini. She pushed in the clutch and turned the key. Once more, the car struggled against the cold night air as it turned over. After a few seconds of winding, it reluctantly coughed to life.

  Beth was feeling a bit apprehensive about the whole plan as she listened to the Fiero idling. It was not the smooth and steady hum she was used to. Instead, it was revving in waves that would take it from nearly dying to way too fast. After about thirty seconds, the idling leveled off and started to sound almost normal. She felt a bit better about it, but still wasn’t completely sold.

  “What if it dies before we get home?” She asked.

  “Just pull over and we’ll leave it. We’ll figure something else out.”

  Devin turned to Brent. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah, let’s do it,” He replied.

  Devin turned back to Beth, leaned in and kissed her. “Just go nice and slow,” He said. “We’ll be right behind you. We’ll be home in no time.”

  Beth forced a smile. “I’ll see you there.”

  Devin swung the door of the Fiero closed. It didn’t quite close all the way, so he tried again. When it still didn’t close the second try, he gave it a much firmer swing the third time. Beth turned on the headlights, backed out of the parking spot and pulled the old car to the edge of the driveway, facing highway 62. She stopped the car there and waited for Devin and Brent to fall in behind her. She could see Devin walking back to the BMW in the rearview mirror.

  Devin didn’t get back into the BMW immediately. A thought had been troubling him since they started this whole business with Digby. What about the other pictures in the van? He took care to clear out incriminating images of Dr. Stephens and himself, but what about all the others? Even if the police bought the accidental suicide by autoerotic asphyxiation scene they labored to build, their next step would be to search the van. There they would find photos of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of people that would certainly find their way to the press. Those pictures would destroy so many lives… Or make someone very wealthy… That dark thought came from a recessed shadow in the back of his mind and he quickly shook his head to get rid of it.

  Whether he was being compelled by an altruistic desire to help others or a purely selfish desire for personal gain, Devin wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he wasn’t going to leave the rest of the pictures there in the van. He had also left the keys in the van, which, as he thought about it now, was a bit suspicious. Since he still had his gloves on, it only took a few seconds to get the three files out of the lockbox and into the passenger side of the BMW. Brent was staring in disbelief as he did so. Once he had the pictures secure, he ran back to the room where they left Digby’s body, put the keys into the pocket of his pants and then ran back out to the BMW.

  Chapter 16

  Beth was getting uneasy as she sat waiting for the BMW to follow behind her. It took what seemed like an eternity. Adding to her apprehension, she saw Devin get back into Digby’s van and then go back to the hotel room. Had he forgotten something that would incriminate them? Her mind began to wander as she wondered what else they might have forgotten. They were going to be caught for sure. Some hastily thrown together plan after drinking all night was bound to have flaws, right? Some seemingly insignificant detail overlooked could be their downfall, but it didn’t even need to be anything overlooked, did it? In this day and age, one single hair can be all it takes…

  And why did she agree to drive this damn car in the first place? Her leg was growing tired from holding in the clutch, being so far out of practice, the heater wasn’t working, and it was idling so rough that she wondered how it didn’t die. The headlights were so yellowed with age that the light they cast in front of it only seemed to go a few feet - a far cry from the halogens in her Mini. She would be lucky if she didn’t crash the car on the way to the scene to stage the crash. How ironic would that be? Just then, the lights of the BMW caught her eyes in the rearview mirror, thankfully snapping her from her pessimistic spiral. That respite, it turned out, would be very brief.

  The BMW now behind her, Beth made the turn out onto highway 62. She was caught completely by off guard by just how poorly the old Fiero drove. Thankfully, the transmission and clutch worked pretty well, but nothing else did. Even before she completed the turn, she could feel both a wobble and vibration in the steering wheel. She had driven cars with a bit of vibration in the wheel before, but the wobble was something completely new. About once every second, it would tug just a bit to the right and then back. If the situation was different, she might not even have even noticed it. However, driving someone else’s car, in total silence, in the dead of night, while her body was in the trunk of your husband’s car back at home, really had a way of magnifying the effect.

  She pushed in the clutch and shifted into second gear. The wobble in the steering wheel abated for a moment as she pushed in the clutch, only to return with renewed vigor once she released it. The wobble was no longer a nearly imperceptible twitch. It felt like someone was grabbing the passenger wheel and yanking it to the side once every second. The wobbling continued to worsen as she accelerated. By the time she had the car up to forty, her arms weren’t strong enough to counter it anymore, instead jerking right along with the wheel. It was no wonder Jezebel was able to best her in the scuffle earlier. It must take an incredible amount of arm strength to drive this thing on a daily basis.

  Beth would have loved to drive it home at this speed. The thought of trying to hold it on the road at highway speeds was terrifying. Yet she knew she couldn’t. Nothing is going to attract the attention of the police more than driving way too slow. Especially so at around the same time as people are leaving the local bars for the night. She shifted into third and then fourth when it felt right. She accelerated up to fifty-five and not a bit more. She could feel the wobble all the way up through her shoulders at this speed. Now she could also hear the wind whistling in around the doors and windshield, which served as a constant reminder that she was going fast enough to do some real damage if she lost control.

  Five minutes. That was the only thought that was running through her mind - aside from the occasional flash of a fiery crash brought on by her crippling fear of losing control. If she could just hold it on the road for five minutes, she would be back to a thirty-five mile per hour zone.

  The next five minutes took around two hours to pass. At least that is how it seemed to Beth, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly that her forearms and biceps were starting to burn. As soon as she saw the thirty-five sign, she pushed in the clutch and let the car start to decelerate. Even this would draw some attention. The speed limit changed a good mile outside of town but no one slowed down before they got to the first stoplight. Beth didn’t care. As the car got down under forty, she relaxed her grip just a bit. The wobble was still intense, but she just didn’t have it left in her arms to continue with her death grip.

  When she reached Turner Road, the stoplight was green. She slowed to fifteen before making the turn. Once she was on Turner Road, she relaxed a bit more. The speed limit was thirty-five the rest of the way to their driveway. At least if she crashed at this speed she would probably walk away from it. Her fear of death, while probably unrealistic, now gone, something else started to terrify her: the driveway.

  The driveway was a very narrow dirt road. While she wouldn’t be going particularly fast on it and would be unlikely to actually lose control, what if whatever was making it wobble decided to pick their driveway to finally break for good? The way their luck had been going tonight, it almost seemed like a certainty. Then they would have the car of a dead woman stuck on their property. That was a risk she was not ready to take.

  The plan was to meet at home and then take Jezebel and the car to the end of Turner Road. It was only a few more mil
es to drive it to the end of the road than it was to make it back to their house. As much as she hated it, she needed to drive it out there now. The more she thought about it, the better the idea seemed. If Devin made her drive it home, he would probably make her drive it there anyway. If she just did it now, she would save two trips down the driveway. She thought about calling Devin to tell him her plan, but she didn’t dare let go of the wheel long enough to grab her phone. He would figure it out when she didn’t make the turn.

  When she reached the turn to the house, she continued right past it.

  *****

  “Why are you taking the pictures, Devin?” Brent asked as Devin dropped them into the passenger seat of the BMW.

  To Brent’s disappointment, but certainly not to his surprise, Devin didn’t respond. Instead, he ran back to the room where they just left Digby. When he returned a moment later, he said, “I left his keys in the ignition. That would have looked pretty odd, wouldn’t it?”

  Brent waited as Devin got into the passenger seat and arranged the files holding the photos between his feet on the floorboard. Once he appeared situated, Brent asked him if he was ready. When Devin returned a nod, Brent pulled up behind Beth to start the trip home.

  Following so closely behind the Fiero, they could both see the vibration that Beth was feeling. The car behaved as if the front, passenger side wheel was bent. That portion of the car could be seen lifting and lowering just a bit with each revolution of the wheel. From the comfort of the pursuing BMW, of course, they didn’t know how badly it was getting to Beth. Although she never went above fifty miles per hour, giving them the sense that it must not have been particularly pleasant.