Malice

by C. M. Sutter

  Fred nodded. “Will do.”

  Chapter 6

  He pushed the cat away with the side of his leg. “Quit bothering me. I’m busy.” Ed’s index finger maneuvered the roller wheel on the computer’s mouse as he viewed the listings of homes for sale. Four new ones had been added that day. “Here we go. This one is only a few miles away. I’ll be back in time to watch a murder mystery on TV.” Ed entered the address into the proper slot on the PeopleSeeker website that he had paid an overpriced monthly subscription fee to use. The homeowner’s name, age, and phone number popped up.

  A husband and wife, huh?

  Ed gave that some thought. He’d never taken on two people at once, but since they were older, he was sure he could manage them both. He’d take the Taser.

  Looks like this is your unlucky day, Bob and Gloria King. Says you’re sixty-six and sixty-three years old. Downsizing, are ya? Now you don’t have to worry about it. This should be a cakewalk.

  The sheet listing the name of every Realtor who worked for that agency lay to his right. It sat on the makeshift desk he had assembled from plywood and two used end tables from Goodwill. He tapped the names as he mulled over his choices.

  I feel like being Chad Nolan tonight. Nice name if I do say so myself.

  Ed dialed the number and waited as the phone rang at the King residence.

  “Hello.”

  “Mrs. King?”

  “Yes, this is she.”

  “Good evening, ma’am. This is Real Estate Agent Chad Nolan. I’m the agent in charge of double-checking everything on the real estate papers before it’s considered a legal document. During my review of the home listing paperwork, I found an area where your and your husband’s signatures were missing. It’s imperative that we get your names on the contract so I can make the listing legal. If not, I’ll have to pull it from the MLS until that’s done. To avoid inconveniencing you folks, I can stop by in, say, fifteen minutes and get those signatures from you. It won’t take but a minute of your time, and then we’ll be all set.”

  “Of course, it isn’t a problem at all. We’re just sitting here in front of the TV, anyway. I’ll turn on the porch light for you.”

  “Wonderful. Then I’ll see you soon.” Ed hung up, gathered the tools he’d need to render the husband and wife senseless, and placed them on the bench seat of his truck. Before climbing in, he pushed aside the stacked tires in the one-car garage and opened the small utility closet. A grin lit his face when he felt the shape of the sheathed knife on the back shelf. With that and several homemade garrotes in his hand, he climbed into the truck and turned the key. “Shit. I can’t show up in a T-shirt and jeans.” He killed the ignition then went back into the house and down the hall.

  Five minutes later, and with a final look in the mirror, he nodded at his reflection and confirmed his attire was fine. Ed grabbed a pair of gloves and a stack of printer paper to use as a prop, climbed into the truck, and left. The deed would be complete in no time, and he’d be back at the cottage to relax in front of the television with a cold beer.

  He turned down the street where the elderly couple lived. The sun had long set, and the families in that older neighborhood had likely drawn their curtains hours earlier. Ed turned in to the driveway, thankful that the only visible light was at the porch and most assuredly intended for him. The street in front of the house and driveway remained in the shadows. Ed double-checked the Taser’s location—right sport coat pocket. The garrotes and gloves filled the left pocket. The knife sheath, attached to his belt, was hidden from view. With a final smoothing of his coat and several neck cracks from side to side, he was ready for whoever answered the door.

  Sidelights, that’s nice. That heads-up will tell me who to expect.

  Ed rang the doorbell and waited. The sound of heavy shoes approaching told him Mr. King would be greeting him. There was no need to glance through the glass. One last feel in his right pocket gave him a sense of confidence. The Taser would be ready when he was. He’d take Mr. King by surprise once he welcomed Ed through the door and closed it at their backs. Ed would make nice for a minute then zap the old man when his back was turned. The missus wouldn’t pose a problem as long as she was taken off guard and away from a phone.

  “Come on into the kitchen, Mr. Nolan.” Bob King led the way, giving Ed ample opportunity to hit him in the back, but Ed needed to see where the wife was first.

  He nodded and smiled a thank-you. “This won’t take long, but I do need both of your signatures.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Nolan.” Bob called out to his wife in the family room, where she had been working diligently on a crossword puzzle. “Gloria, come in here. You have to sign these documents too.”

  “Hold on, I have to fill in this word before I forget it.”

  Bob shook his head and grinned. “She’s hooked on crossword puzzles.”

  It took but a second for Ed to size up the woman when she rounded the corner. She was like a lamb heading to the slaughter. Her hands were empty, Bob was facing her, and neither had a clue. It was time to act. Gloria’s smile turned to a look of confusion when she heard the electric buzz. Bob jerked forward, his knees buckled, and he hit the floor. A contorted, pained expression covered his face, and a deep grunt sounded from his chest.

  “Oh my God, honey, what happened?” Gloria sprang to Bob’s side then caught a glimpse of the Taser in Ed’s hand. “What—”

  “You’re next, Gloria.”

  The kitchen chair fell to the floor as the fearful, screaming woman backed into it. Ed needed to silence her and quick, before a neighbor heard her cries for help. He pounced on her. She was zapped in the chest, and the impact of the Taser knocked her against the wall. Ed worked fast to keep them subdued before either regained consciousness. With the gloves stretched over his fingers, he grabbed a handful of napkins off the kitchen counter and jammed them into each of their mouths. He used the garrotes, knotted tightly around their necks, to keep their oxygen levels to a minimum. The couple would be able to take only shallow breaths. He would save the knife for last—it was his killing tool of choice. With the couple secure on the tiled floor, Ed turned the handle, leaned over the sink, and guzzled icy water from the kitchen faucet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now, where were we?”

  Ed knelt over Bob, who was coming around. He watched as Bob’s eyelids flickered, then opened, and panic took over his face. He began to flail.

  “I wouldn’t recommend that. It’s hard enough for you to breathe the way it is, isn’t it? You’ll die within a minute or so if you don’t relax.”

  A moan caused Bob to carefully turn his head to the right. Gloria lay several feet away in the same predicament.

  Ed chuckled. “Aren’t you two a sight? Check it out, Bob. Gloria is waking up. This should be good.”

  The woman’s eyes bulged with fear. Tears rolled off her cheeks and pooled in her ears. She frantically pulled at the garrote.

  “Okay, enough is enough. Geez, you’re bloodying your own neck.” Ed tipped his wrist to check the time. “I don’t want to miss my favorite TV show, so let’s get started.” He pulled out the twelve-inch bowie knife from the sheath and looked it over with admiration. He taunted the couple while he thumbed the razor-sharp blade. Without a second of hesitation, Ed plunged the knife into Bob’s gut then turned and twisted the handle. Bob lurched forward then fell back. Several hard slams into Bob’s chest buried the blade all the way to the staghorn handle. One final twist of the knife confirmed the man was dead.

  Ed turned to Gloria, who was trying to stand. “Going somewhere?” He pulled back his arm and, with a quick forward thrust, caught her in the throat with the blade. Several more deep stabs almost took her head off. She slumped against the wall, and her head fell to her chest. Gloria slid to the floor and landed in a sitting position. Blood covered the tan tiles and followed the grout lines like water in canals. Ed studied the scene closely. Both husband and wife wore garrotes tightly secured around their ne
cks, although Gloria’s was well hidden within the devastation at her throat. Blood spots dotted the whites of their eyes, and their faces already showed a hint of blue. Their open mouths revealed the napkins jammed deep inside. Ed slowly scanned the area. He had walked only into the foyer and kitchen, but he needed to make sure nothing was left behind.

  Yep, looks good. I’m out of here.

  He pocketed everything he had brought inside, turned the outer doorknob with his sleeve, and made a clean, quiet exit.

  Chapter 7

  “Is this going to take long?” William Stewart was agitated as he plopped down on the large leather chair in that vacant office.

  Brad pointed his finger and wiggled it at the other side of the desk where two guest chairs were located. “Let’s start out on the right foot, shall we? You’re on that side of the desk, and I get the leather chair. I’m conducting the interview, got it?”

  William sneered. “Why are we here, anyway?” He rounded the desk and took a seat on one of the two uncomfortable looking chairs.

  “You have somewhere better to be, Mr. Stewart, or are you just nervous around law enforcement?” Brad turned to Chad Nolan. “And how about you? Are you going to make it, or will you have a meltdown too?”

  Chad rubbed his brow. “I’m good, just wondering why we were called in, that’s all.”

  “You are the listing agent for the home at 439 Prentice Street, correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And you, Mr. Stewart, own the agency?”

  “Of course I do, but it’s a corporation, not an agency, and you already know that or I wouldn’t be here.”

  Brad chuckled. “Humph, you’re a smart guy. Were either of you aware that the homeowner of that residence was murdered and found in the house earlier today by another Realtor?”

  With his head lowered and his fist against his mouth, Mr. Stewart mumbled something under his breath.

  “What was that? Care to share?” Brad leaned forward against the desk.

  “I saw something on the local news and recognized the address, that’s all. I’ve never met the woman, but yes, it is unfortunate. That still doesn’t explain why I’m here.”

  “Or me,” Chad piped in.

  “You’re here to tell me more about Sarah Cummings. I’m going to turn on this recorder and tape our conversation. I want to know everything from the moment she called your office and set up the appointment to have Scenic View Realty list her house.”

  William cocked his head toward Chad. “I may own the company, but you’re the listing agent. It looks like you have the floor.”

  Brad pulled out his notepad and a pen then clicked on the recorder. “It’s seven o’clock on the evening of October fourth. Go ahead, Mr. Nolan, and tell me everything you remember from the initial phone call with Sarah Cummings.”

  Chad let out a long sigh, pressed his palms against his temples, and began. “She called about four weeks ago, so every detail of our conversation isn’t fresh in my mind.”

  Brad nodded.

  “She said she was looking to sell her home before it got too cold outside. She mentioned knowing that the market slows down in winter, especially during the holidays. She wanted a quick sale and was very motivated.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I made an appointment to view the home and explain our procedure. I—”

  William interrupted. “Why do I have to be here? I don’t know anything about Chad’s interaction with that woman.”

  Brad leaned forward and clicked off the recorder. “Because you own the company. Have you pissed off somebody recently?”

  William snickered. “Doubt it. Everyone loves me. I don’t have a single enemy.”

  Brad took in a slow breath. The man was wearing on his nerves. “Stay still and keep quiet. You’ll get your turn to talk when this interview is over.” Brad pressed Record again and gave Chad a nod.

  “Like I said, I set up an appointment for the next day to walk through her home. She seemed anxious to get started.”

  “As if she feared something or someone?”

  “Nah, I didn’t get that impression. Just that she wanted to move on. I understood more the next day.”

  “Go on.”

  “The house was in great shape, three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a bookcase-walled library, and—”

  Brad clicked off the recorder again. “Mr. Nolan, I’m not trying to buy the house. I want to hear about the interaction you had with Sarah Cummings. Just tell me everything you remember about that.” With his finger about to press the record button again, Brad was interrupted by William’s ringing phone. “Seriously?”

  “Give me one minute. I’m an important businessman, you know. People seem to need me at all hours.” With his phone cupped in his hand, he answered it. “What’s up, honey?”

  Brad rolled his eyes and groaned.

  “What? Are you shitting me? Yes, I know which house you mean. It was just listed this morning. Okay, I’m on my way.”

  “What’s going on, Mr. Stewart?” Brad pushed back his chair. The side of the conversation he’d just heard indicated that something bad had taken place.

  Captain Hardy burst through the door. He pointed at William, who had just stood up. “Neither of you are going anywhere just yet. Brad, I need a word with you in the hallway.”

  Brad rounded the desk, walked out, and closed the door behind him. “What’s going on, boss?”

  “Another murder. Patrol is taping off the neighborhood as we speak. More units, the ME, and Forensics are on their way.”

  Brad tipped his head toward the closed door. “Let me guess. The house is for sale, and the listing agency is Scenic View Realty.”

  “You nailed it, and we’ve got to roll. I have the Cummings family interview covered with Jones for now, and Dixon can keep an eye on those two.”

  “Just a heads-up, boss. Mr. Stewart already got a call about the murder. I’m guessing it was from his wife.”

  Hardy groaned. “I don’t need him muddying the waters. I’ll have Dixon pull their phones.”

  Two cruisers with lights engaged entered the neighborhood ten minutes later. In the lead, Hardy’s vehicle snugged up against the curb near the yellow crime scene tape. The other cruiser fell in behind his. What appeared to be a normally quiet, modest neighborhood of middle-class homes was now lit up with red and blue flashing lights atop the patrol cars that blocked the street. The ME and forensic vans sat side by side in the homeowner’s driveway.

  Hardy exited his vehicle and approached a patrol officer standing in front of the crime scene tape. He nodded a hello. “What have we got in there, Mike?” Hardy jerked his chin toward the well-lit house.

  Andrews and Tyler climbed out of the second cruiser and crossed the street to join the captain.

  “I’ve been told it’s a pretty horrific scene, Captain, although I haven’t been inside the residence myself. They’re trying to preserve evidence, you know, and keep the foot traffic to a minimum.”

  “Absolutely. Older husband and wife?”

  “That’s the word from the house. Both have multiple stab wounds and garrotes around their necks.”

  “Garrotes? What the hell is going on this week? What’s the crime rate in this neighborhood?”

  “Not much of any as far as I know, and I’ve never been called out here. The neighborhood consists of older folks and middle-class bungalows. I don’t understand it, boss.”

  “Well, neither do I, but I intend to and damn quick.” Hardy gave the officer a pat on the shoulder. “Keep your eyes peeled, Mike.”

  “I will, sir.”

  Hardy, Andrews, and Tyler entered the home to find the crime scene spread out in the kitchen, only ten feet beyond the foyer. Finding a clean spot on the tan-colored tile floor would take effort.

  Constant clicking came from the camera held by Tony Myers, one of the forensic technicians. Stan Fleet, the forensic department head, gave Hardy a nod. “Quite a scene, Captain. My i
nitial take is that the perp was allowed into the home. There aren’t signs of forced entry at any doorway. The foyer is undisturbed, meaning the attack didn’t happen until the couple and the killer were in the kitchen. It seems like all was well until the blitz attack took place where the bodies lay.”

  “Nobody is going to allow someone to put a garrote around their neck without a fight. They had to have been subdued.”

  “Good point, Captain, and they were.” Joe Torres looked over his left shoulder at Hardy standing behind him. “I found evidence of Taser burns on both victims. The husband had burns on his back, and the wife had burns on her chest. That’s telling me the husband went down first, hence, a blitz attack from the back to knock him out momentarily.”

  Hardy added. “Right, and the wife got it in the front as she entered the kitchen. That’s why her body is closer to the family room.”

  “Exactly, sir.”

  “TOD, Joe?” Brad asked.

  “Thirty minutes ago, give or take a few.”

  Hardy let out a long whistle. “Their bodies aren’t even cold yet. The bastard could be hiding in the brush, watching this scene unfold in front of him.”

  “Boss, do you want me to get a few units out searching on foot?” Andrews asked.

  “No, but they should be banging on every door on this block.” Hardy waved him on. “Get them started.”

  “Yes, sir.” Andrews headed for the front door.

  Hardy approached one of the first officers at the scene. “Who called it in?”

  “A woman who lives three doors down. According to her statement, she was driving home from dinner with friends and noticed that the front door was ajar. She said normally she wouldn’t have seen anything at all, but tonight the porch light was on. She stopped, got out, and went up to the house to see if everything was all right.” He pointed toward the couple. “That’s how she found them.”

  Hardy rubbed his chin. “So normally the porch light isn’t on. That means they were definitely expecting someone. Our job is to find out who. Come on, guys. Let’s go back to the station and work through this. Somehow, some way, there’s a connection between these folks and Sarah Cummings.” Hardy’s cell rang as they were about to leave. He dug in his pants pocket and pulled it out. “Lyles, did you learn anything at the library?”