Depraved Difference (A Detective Shakespeare Mystery, Book #1)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  But first, he had to kill Aynslee Kai.

  Eldridge ran up to Aynslee who was just stepping back into her office.

  “Hayden, what's going on? Why all the excitement?”

  “We found the old lady,” said Eldridge as he looked around, eyeing everyone with suspicion, especially the pimply geek looking through the plastic window of a nearby divider.

  “But I never got a video,” said Aynslee as she leaned over her desk and checked her email to confirm.

  “And you won't. He didn't kill her.”

  “What?”

  “He attacked her but it appears he had a moment of doubt and left her alive.”

  “But that means—”

  “There won't be another video. You are in immediate danger.”

  Aynslee raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. “What do I do?”

  “First we have to get you out of here. This place is too public, too exposed.”

  “The police station?”

  “No, we already know he can hack any of our systems. We'll go back to your apartment. It's a secure location, easily protected with limited access.” Aynslee nodded and threw her jacket on. Eldridge shook his head. “No, give me that,” he said. “And your sunglasses.” Aynslee handed them over, puzzled. Eldridge leaned out the office door. “She here yet?”

  “She's coming up now,” said the officer standing outside. A few minutes later a woman walked into the office. She smiled at Eldridge and extended her hand.

  “Officer Kordas, reporting as ordered, sir.”

  Eldridge looked her up and down. She was about the same height and build as Aynslee with blonde hair tied up in a bun. “Let your hair down, please.” Kordas removed the clips holding her hair and shook out her long, blonde tresses. Eldridge looked at Aynslee who walked over and faced the officer.

  “She's supposed to be me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Aynslee took the coat and glasses from Eldridge and handed them to Kordas. “Here, put these on.” Kordas donned the jacket and sunglasses. Eldridge and Aynslee stood back and looked at her, then at each other, smiling. “Perfect!”

  “Almost,” said Eldridge. “Give her your purse.” Aynslee handed it over. “Now, she's perfect,” agreed Eldridge. “Okay, let's go.” The three were joined by two officers already in the hall. Eldridge trailed behind Aynslee, looking all around him for anyone acting suspicious. The problem was everyone was standing, gawking at them.

  Perfection. Absolute perfection. Her hair was gorgeous, the way it swayed back and forth as she walked, the golden blonde she now wore the exact shade he remembered. The posture was perfect, her shoulders thrust back, made her breasts appear even bigger than they already were. Her long, perfect neckline gave no indication of any excess weight. She will have a perfect body, I just know it! She's just like her! His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of the life they would spend together. He felt a stirring in his loins he hadn't had in years. She will definitely do! He admired the sway of her hips, his eyes drifting to her perfectly shaped buttocks. He imagined grabbing on to her as they made love, screaming each other’s names in ecstasy, as they climaxed together, forever sealing their bond. I have to possess her. I just need to get her alone! He smiled to himself as his plan unfolded in his mind.

  It won’t be long now.

  Eldridge, Aynslee, Kordas and the other two officers climbed on an elevator one officer had run ahead and held. They descended toward the parking garage, and after a few stops where the officers blocked anyone else from getting on, they reached their destination. The two officers led the way, making sure it was clear. Eldridge held the back door of his car open for Aynslee and Kordas. “Okay, Miss Kai, I want you to lie down on the floor as best you can. You will need to keep out of sight until I tell you, it's going to be awhile, though.”

  “Anything, let's just get the hell out of here, something doesn't feel right.”

  Eldridge knew how she felt. Something definitely didn't feel right. Looking around the busy garage he couldn’t help but think any one of the vehicles might hold their killer. Getting in the driver's seat, he started the car and headed toward the exit.

  There you are! Jeremiah watched as the detective's car pulled from the parking garage. The squad car at the entrance led the way, its lights flashing and siren wailing, a second squad car, also in the garage, pulled in behind the procession. And so did he. It didn't take long for him to lose them in traffic but he wasn’t worried. He eyed his laptop, a map displayed on it showed a red blip. He had already low-jacked the detective's car days ago at Greedo's house. She's not getting away from me, Detective!

  Eldridge pulled the car in front of Aynslee’s apartment building and shut off the engine. He turned back to face Kordas, careful to not look down at Aynslee. “Get the keys out of her purse.” Kordas complied and Eldridge exited the car after the four officers in the accompanying vehicles had taken their positions outside the entrance. He tossed the keys to one. “You two secure the apartment.” The two officers ran into the building as Eldridge warily eyed each passing vehicle.

  “All clear,” came the call over the radio. He opened the rear door and helped Kordas from the vehicle, unable to avoid looking at Aynslee who lay grimacing on the floor, in obvious discomfort. She gave a weak smile. He didn’t acknowledge her, instead slammed the door shut and swiftly escorted Kordas toward the building entrance. His eyes continually scanned their surroundings as his hand, placed firmly on the small of her back, urged her toward the elevator. Once in the safety of the apartment, Eldridge breathed a little easier and turned to Kordas and the other two officers. “Okay, I want you two in the hall, keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. This guy has no fear so don't get cocky.” He turned to Kordas. “And you might as well get comfortable. Make sure you don't answer the phone.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Frank from the lab should be here any minute to wire up some surveillance gear so we can get some eyes and ears on the place. This is all last minute, we were expecting more time.”

  “It's all good,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Hopefully he'll take the bait and we can get him.”

  Eldridge placed his hand on her shoulder and looked directly in her eyes. “Don't take this lightly. He's killed over ten people already. He will find a way to get to you and you need to be ready.”

  He watched her pale slightly and gulp. Her feeble, “Yes, sir,” confirmation the message had made it through.

  Eldridge left the apartment, made sure both officers were in position, then waited for the elevator. When the doors opened he ran almost headlong into Frank. “Oh, hey, Detective. Sorry it took me so long to get here, I needed to get approval and then get everything together and—”

  Eldridge raised his hand. “Fine. Just wire the place, I don't want anything happening to another uniform.”

  “Will do, I'll be in and out in a few minutes, everything's wireless and we're not really trying to hide anything so it should be quick.”

  Eldridge looked at Frank. “Something bothering you, you seem kinda jumpy tonight?”

  Frank blushed. “Well, it's my first time out of the lab since, well, you know, since I was shot, so I'm kinda shittin' my pants right now.”

  Eldridge laughed and slapped him on his back. “Get your work done, then get out of here, you'll be okay. Where are you guys going to be set up?”

  “We've got a delivery truck across the street.”

  Eldridge nodded. “Okay, scram, get it done,” he said, motioning Frank toward the door as he climbed aboard the elevator and pulled out his cell phone. Now for the final part of the plan.

  Jeremiah watched from outside, his car tucked in amongst a long row of parked cars. He had seen a police tech arrive a few minutes ago and the van that dropped him off park only three spots ahead. As he listened to the police dispatch frequency in the background, something caught his attention. He turned up the volume and listened.

  “—required immediately at the
station, repeat, Detective Eldridge is required immediately at the station. Over.” He watched as the officer at the door acknowledged the call on his radio then triggered it again to call his partner upstairs. A couple of minutes later he watched Eldridge exit the building, talk to the officer briefly, then climb in his car and pull away.

  Big mistake, Detective. Jeremiah's fingers flew over the keyboard as he put his plan into motion.

  When Shakespeare knocked on the door he wasn’t sure what to expect. What he got wasn’t it, but did seem to fit with the yard’s unkempt look in an otherwise pristine middle-class neighborhood. A short, morbidly obese woman with a surly expression, stained shirt and spandex pants answered the door. “Whatdaya want?” she yelled. “Ya better not be one of them Jehovah's Witnesses!”

  Pulling out his badge, Shakespeare held it up with the warrant. “Detective Shakespeare, Homicide. I have a warrant to search the premises.” He stepped across the threshold, handed her the warrant and motioned the other officers with him to proceed.

  “What the hell is this?” she asked as she looked at the piece of paper he had handed her.

  “I'm looking for someone who identifies himself as Elf Lord Six-Six-Six on the Internet.” Shakespeare looked around at the mess inside. Disgusting.

  “The Internet? I don't have no time for that crap!” She tossed the warrant back at Shakespeare. “You've got the wrong house, fatso!”

  Shakespeare bit his tongue. I'm fat? Look in a mirror, lady. If you can find one big enough. “Does anyone else live here?”

  “Yeah, my good for nothin' son lives in the basement. Maybe he's this Shelf Lord or whatever the hell you called him.” She turned her head and raised both hands to her mouth. “Winston! Get your lazy ass up here, now!”

  Shakespeare cringed at the shrill voice. Poor Winston! He heard an, “Awww, Mom!” come from down a set of stairs to his right. He motioned to two officers and they rushed down.

  “Move away from the computer!” he heard one yell as he followed them down at a much slower pace.

  “Hey, what's goin' on here?” he heard someone cry as he reached the bottom. He turned the corner and couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Stacks of pizza boxes, Diet Pepsi cans, crumpled candy bar wrappers and chip bags were strewn everywhere, and tucked in amongst the garbage, a very impressive computer setup with eight flat panels and at least half a dozen computers within sight, and God knows how many hidden behind the mess. He smiled as he saw the fat, bearded geek with long hair, barely tucked back in a ponytail, the hair-tie about to fall out. Talk about stereotypes.

  “Are you Elf Lord?”

  “Who wants to know?” said the kid with false bravado, the desk he gripped with one hand the only thing keeping him standing.

  “I'm Detective Shakespeare, Homicide.”

  “H-Homicide?” The look of fear on Winston's face let Shakespeare know interrogation wasn’t going to be a problem. “Hey, I didn't do anything!”

  “Someone at this location, and I'm guessing it wasn’t your mother, hacked into the Rikers Island computer system and freed a prisoner earlier this week.”

  Winston’s sun starved complexion turned greyer, his eyes darted to the floor. “That wasn’t me.”

  “Really.” Shakespeare moved closer to the boy and glared at him. “Talk now and we may go easy on you,” he growled.

  And growling was all it took to open the floodgates. “Okay, it was me but I didn't do it for me I did it for Lonewolf. He contacted me over the net on one of the boards, it was just a bet, it was just a bet, no one was supposed to get hurt, he said he was just going to get himself arrested for fun and then I would get him released.” Winston had spilled his guts so hastily he was out of breath by the time he finished.

  “And what did you get out of this?”

  “Nothing, there was no money, I swear, it was just a bet.”

  “Just a bet. So you're telling me that two people died just so you could have bragging rights?”

  “Two people died?” This sent Winston to the floor. Shakespeare leaned over and slapped him on the face a few times. Winston came to and looked around confused before remembering where he was. “Oh shit, I had nothing to do with it, no one was supposed to get hurt!”

  “Have you ever met this, what did you call him, Lone Wolf?”

  “Lonewolf-Two-Zero-Four-Eight. No, I never met him, only online in a chat-room.” Winston’s adrenaline fueled rapid-fire response reminded Shakespeare of a meth addict.

  “So you don't know who he is, never met him before?”

  “No,” said Winston. Shakespeare turned and looked at all the equipment. “But I can find him.”

  “What?” Shakespeare spun around. “What do you mean you can find him?”

  “Well, if he's jacked in I mean. Let me show you.” He darted toward one of several keyboards. An officer snared him by the collar, halting the large bulk from reaching the keys.

  Shakespeare waved him off. “Okay, Elf Lord, let's see if you can find our killer.”

  Winston paled further and typed feverishly, desperate to save his neck. In under three minutes he stood in triumph, pointing at a screen. “There!” Shakespeare looked. It showed a map with a red circle covering about a block.

  “What's this?”

  “That's where he's jacked in, dude.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know, dude. This is him. He's tapped some yokel's unsecured Wi-Fi and is using it for access.” Shakespeare's puzzled expression elicited a smirk. “You cops aren't too bright, are you?”

  “Downtown!” said Shakespeare, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. He pulled out his phone and called Eldridge but it went to voicemail. He looked again at the screen, the red circle covering the same block where Aynslee Kai's apartment was. As he pulled himself up the stairs he called dispatch.

  Trace rubbed her eyes, yawned, then looked back at the screen. An overly cautious ADA, concerned about privacy laws, had delayed her from gaining access to the security footage from the subway. She had eventually prevailed, but had still lost over a day, a day she prayed wouldn’t cost this poor girl her life. The great thing about technology was that digital footage was much easier to go through, so she was making quick progress. She was already watching footage of Chelsie walking onto the subway platform and waving goodbye to the walking wall that was Denis.

  “Ok, switch to the subway.”

  Mario, the lackey assigned to her by the Transit Authority, hit a few keys on the keyboard, and the view switched to the subway car. “Just give me a moment to synch up the time codes.”

  Trace didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but didn’t let on. “Ok.”

  A few seconds later the view leapt ahead, and she saw Chelsie stepping through the doors and onto the car, sitting in an empty seat near the front. She appeared to be listening to music, her head leaning against the window. At the next stop people shuffled on and off, but she remained, joined by a man reading a newspaper.

  “That’s odd,” muttered Trace.

  “What?”

  Trace pointed at the screen. “There’s a couple of completely empty seats. Why’d he sit with her?”

  “Umm, hot chick?” suggested Mario.

  Trace glanced at him then back at the footage.

  Possible.

  A few more stops went by when they watched as Chelsie rose, and exited the subway. Trace looked at the stop. “That’s one stop before her normal stop!” Trace leaned back in her chair. “Why would she get off one stop early?”

  Mario shrugged his shoulders. “Running an errand? Meeting someone?”

  Trace snapped her fingers. “Show me the platform footage.”

  Mario tapped a few keys and within moments they were watching her exit the subway, rushing toward the stairs, looking over her shoulder frequently.

  “Looks like she thinks she’s being followed.”

  Thanks, but I’ll be the detective here.

  “Perhaps.” But he
was right. She was definitely looking behind her. But for what?

  “Let’s roll it back to the train, see if she spoke to anyone.”

  “I didn’t see anything,” said Mario as he tapped away at the keyboard.

  “Can you zoom in on her while she’s seated?” A few more taps and the footage, now very grainy, showed her sitting against the window, soon joined by the man. As she got up, Trace pointed. “Slow that down!”

  Mario complied. “Why? What do you see?”

  “Watch.”

  Chelsie slowly rose. The man swung his legs into the aisle, and Chelsie squeezed by. The man’s upper body distinctly lifted off the back of his seat, and leaned toward her. As she cleared the seat, he leaned back into a proper position, but Chelsie’s head had rapidly turned toward the man, then back again, and her pace quickened. Had he said something, or touched her somehow?

  “Let’s follow him.”

  Mario let the tape play forward, and at the next stop they watched as he rose from the seat, and walked directly under the camera as he disembarked, giving them a clear shot of his face.

  “What the hell is he doing there?”

  “Who?”

  Trace ignored him. It can’t be! “Zoom in on his face and enhance it as best you can.”

  Mario did as told, and the face became even clearer. There was no doubt who it was.

  And it scared the hell out of her.

  She flipped open her phone and made a call her wildest nightmares couldn’t conjure. “Dispatch, I need the current location of Vincent Fantino, Crime Scene Unit.”

  Police Officer Kordas, Janet to her friends, eyed the apartment, disappointed. Not what I expected. One bedroom, a cramped kitchen, but a decent sized living area. Either this reporter wasn’t that successful, or liked to live frugally. Recent success? There was evidence of a lot of new purchases including a large Panasonic plasma, sitting on its stand but not yet hooked up. She wasn’t much into TV, especially the news, which may explain why she had never heard of this reporter they were protecting, but this night was going to be awfully boring without a television to distract her. She wandered into the bedroom and began to poke through the drawers before the cameras arrived. At least you’re in here, and not out in the hall. With only two years on the force, she knew she was chosen for this assignment for one reason. Blonde with big tits. Oh well, maybe the girls will get me noticed for the right reason if I help catch this guy. She opened a dresser drawer. Ooh, these are nice! She reached in to feel what appeared to be the reporter’s lingerie store when there was a knock at the door.