by J. Fritschi
Mike sat back on his bench, leaning against the leather back rest with his right hand slowly spinning his drink he gazed at it. He began speaking deliberately. “You already know that all three victims were young, blonde, female bartenders who were abducted, beaten and raped and then stabbed in the heart with a sterling silver knife shaped like a cross,” he recalled in a hollow, spooky voice as he starred at her with wide eyes. “All three bodies were found disemboweled on altars in random churches.”
“Did he leave any clues or evidence?” Kate asked with a disturbed furrow of her brows.
“That’s the thing that is so strange,” Mike told her mystified. “He left no evidence. There are no finger prints, no hair, not even a single damn fiber. It’s like he was never there,” Mike said as he gazed distantly at his glass. He raised the glass to his mouth with narrow eyes and took a sip of his drink and swallowed hard.
“Nothing?” Kate responded astonished. “No seminal fluids or anything?”
Mike shook his head deliberately. “There are signs of forced penetration, but no trace of bodily fluids or lubricant from a rubber.”
“That’s not even humanly possible, is it?”
Mike’s face perked up and he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a sheet of white paper that was folded in quarters. He was hesitant about showing her the photo, but hoped maybe she knew something about it.
“The only thing he has left behind are the sterling silver knife shaped like a cross and this symbol that he smears on the walls with the victims blood,” he told her intently as he unfolded the photocopy of the symbol smeared on a church wall and placed it on the table before her. Kate picked up the piece of paper and examined the digital photo of the number six smeared in blood. “We think it’s some sort of satanic symbol that we have yet to identify.”
“I’ve never seen this symbol before,” Kate admitted regretfully. “Do you have any theories about what it means?”
“We don’t know,” Mike replied discouraged and then raised his glass and finished his drink. “I think the Sterling Killer is leaving it behind as a piece of a puzzle that he is challenging us to solve. I think if we can figure out what it signifies, we will know why he is committing these murders.”
“Did you show it to Father John?”
“He told me about it before we even mentioned it to him,” Mike replied with disbelief. “The only reason I agreed to meet with him was because he knew about the symbol and we deliberately didn’t release it to the press to eliminate false confessions.”
“He doesn’t have any idea what it means either?”
Mike shook his head with a grimace. “According to the father, it is the last thing he sees in his dreams before he wakes up. There is no way he could know all of this stuff unless he is the Sterling Killer,” Mike said trying to convince himself.
“I have a hard time picturing Father John when we talk about the Sterling Killer. I picture a doctor with his black medical kit full of sharp surgical knives and scrubs; not a monk,” she said as she reached down for her black handbag, pulled out her smart phone and began scrolling through her contacts. “It’s like Jack the Ripper all over again.”
Mike chuckled. “I wonder if Jack the Ripper was a monk who had a split personality.”
“I have a former professor from the Harvard Divinity School who specializes in the history of religion,” Kate explained as she concentrated on her phone’s screen. “If anyone would know what this symbol means, it would be him.”
“I’ll take any help I can get,” Mike replied distracted as he glanced around the room looking for their waitress so he could order another drink. “We can’t find anything about it. I think the Sterling Killer may have created it.”
“Even if he did make it up, Professor Schafer might know what it means.”
“It’s worth me following up with him.”
“I’m texting you his contact information,” she told him as she deliberately pushed the buttons on her phone’s key pad. “It should be in your text messages.”
Mike felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. “I just got it. Thank you,” he said with a gracious tip of his knit-cap covered head.
Mike stared down the waitress as she took an order at another table until she looked in his direction and he casually signaled her. The waitress returned with a smile and asked if they were ready to order.
“We’ve been talking so much that we haven’t even looked at the menu,” Kate told her apologetically.
“Would you bring us another round please?” Mike asked her courteously.
“Certainly,” she replied as she checked their ticket to make sure she knew what they were having. “Sapphire martini, dirty, rocks and a Coors light?” She reiterated for confirmation.
“That would be great,” Mike replied.
“I guess we better look at the menu,” Kate said as if it was the last thing she wanted to do.
Mike opened his menu and pretended to be reading it. He already knew what he was having. He always had the bone-in rib-eye with creamed spinach when he was at Boulevards. The night was going better than he anticipated after what he viewed as a debacle at Kate’s house. Talking about the murders, a subject he clearly knew and was comfortable with, as well as the gin martini, was helping him to relax.
Kate was perplexed with Mike. He was confident yet insecure. It was the strangest thing. She knew there had to be a reason for it and she needed to find out what it was. What caused him to be such a contradiction?
The waitress came back with the cocktails elegantly loaded on a serving tray and carefully placed the drinks in front of them and then took their order. They raised their glasses and toasted each other simply.
“I will be interested to hear what Professor Schafer says about the symbol,” Kate said optimistically. “It would be such a fascinating case study if Father John has a split personality that he created to deal with the guilt of his mother dying.”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but when Father John asked you if you’ve ever had something happen to you that you couldn’t explain, you looked like you had seen a ghost.”
Kate sat back with a look of disbelief. “That was the weirdest thing! It was like he read my mind.”
Mike shook his head with a confused scowl. “What was he talking about?”
Her eyes were wide open. “I grew up in San Diego and we were having dinner at the La Jolla Beach and Tennis Club on Easter when I was in the fourth grade. I was with a group of kids that were playing truth or dare out by the swimming pool when a boy I had a crush on dared me to jump in the pool. When I wouldn’t do it, he started making fun of me, calling me a chicken and making clucking sounds as he flapped his elbows like chicken wings.”
“You didn’t fall for the ole chicken taunt did you?”
“I grew up with two older brothers and I didn’t like taking crap from anyone,” she explained defensively. “I was the best swimmer for my age group and I didn’t like being called out in front of everyone, so when all of the kids were going inside, I grabbed the boy by the arm and told him I would jump in if he did it too.”
“That’s pretty bold of you. I think I would have liked you as a kid.”
Kate gave Mike an embarrassed smirk. “He didn’t want to go in either, but when I mocked him like a chicken, he wouldn’t back down. He was on the swim team too and thought he was better than me.”
“Who jumped in first?”
“We took our shoes and clothes off and jumped into the shallow end of the pool in our underwear together.”
“You were a naughty little girl,” Mike said pleased.
“Stop it. This is serious,” Kate said with a wry smile. “There was a pool cover over the pool except for the shallow end and he bet me that he could swim under it farther than I could,” she continued with a crinkled look of distress on her face. “We both swam under about half of the length of the pool and then swam back together.”
“You crazy kids.”
�
��You’re not the only one who has done things they regret,” she admonished him.
“Alright,” Mike said holding his hands up defensively. “My bad.”
Kate glared at Mike with a look of mistrust in her gleaming eyes as she took a sip of her beer. “It was so exhilarating,” she reminisced fondly. “When he challenged me to go three quarters of the way under the cover, I wasn’t about to back down.”
Mike smiled as he shook his head, knowing full well where the story was going and as a matter of fact, he was starting to get turned on by her bravado. She was obviously more daring than one would think upon first impression.
“Once we made it back from swimming three quarters of the length, there was only one more challenge to be issued.”
“The entire length and back,” Mike said impressed, as if on cue. “Who issued the challenge?”
“Who do you think?” Kate said with a seductive raise of her eyebrow. “I bet him I could swim all the way to the other end of the pool and back before he could.”
“What did he say?”
“He laughed nervously and then reluctantly took the challenge.”
“Unbelievable,” Mike replied as he took a sip of his martini. “Are you always this competitive?”
“I don’t like to lose,” she admitted with a firm glare.
“So what happened?”
“We both ducked under the cover and started swimming the frog stroke as fast as we could. The further we swam, the darker the water became until it was like a black hole. I kept waiting for my hand to touch wall, but it seemed to take forever and I knew I couldn’t turn around and make it back without taking a kick turn. When I finally felt the wall with my fingertips, my lungs and heart felt like they were going to explode.”
Mike sipped on his martini as he watched Kate in earnest. Her eyes were focused as if she was reliving the whole terrible reality.
“After my kick turn, I started to panic and get disoriented. I could see the shadow of blue light at the shallow end, but I couldn’t tell how far it was. I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I ascended to the surface, but the cover smothered me and as I gasped for air, I inhaled water,” she told Mike with a distant gaze. “I clawed at the cover, but it stuck to the water like an invisible shield. I struggled knowing that it was useless until my lungs were immersed with water and all my oxygen was depleted. I felt like I was floating as I began sinking helplessly to the bottom.” Kate paused and took a deep breath. “At first I was scared, but as the oxygen to my brain became depleted, I was overcome with a peaceful, euphoric sensation before I blacked out.”
“Jesus Christ,” Mike said disturbed. “Did he save you?”
“Hold on. Listen to this,” she urged him. “I woke up in my underwear on the concrete by the side of the pool like someone had plucked me out of the water and laid me there,” she told him mystified. “I raised my head and looked around and saw Jimmy lying in his underwear on the other side of the pool.”
“I don’t understand,” Mike said perplexed. “If he was on the other side of the pool, who saved you?”
“Neither one of us knows,” Kate said with wide eyed bewilderment. “The weirdest thing is that Jimmy and I each experienced the feeling of being levitated out of the water by some invisible force that set us down on the side of the pool. I remember saying thank you in my head and Jimmy said he had the exact same experience.”
Mike looked at Kate with a puzzled frown. “Someone must have come along and saved you both.”
“I don’t know,” Kate shook her head. “There was nobody there. At the time we both thought it was a miracle or divine intervention, like the hand of God came down and saved us.”
“And you think that is what Father John was referring to today when he asked you if you’ve ever had something happen that you couldn’t explain?”
Kate shrugged her shoulders embarrassed.
“How the hell would he know about that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he did some research on me and found an article.”
“I didn’t tell him who you are before he met with you.”
“Are you sure?”
Mike pondered it for a second before his eyes lit up. “Don’t you see what he did? He made a vague comment that could be interpreted any number of ways that made you second guess if he knew about what happened to give him credibility. The next thing we know, he will be claiming that he was the one who saved you. This is typical psychic bullshit.”
Kate looked at Mike crossly. “You are the one who thinks he has a split personality.”
“You’re right,” Mike said as he sat back in the booth with his hands up apologetically. “I’m not sure what to think any more. I know he can’t be having dreams where he really saves people and I know he’s not having dreams where he kills people. The only logical explanation is that he is making this whole thing up. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that he has a split personality.”
“I can’t say that I blame you. There is a part of me that is hoping it’s true too. It just seems too convenient.”
“Is that why you say you don’t believe in God when there is a part of you that does?”
“The rational, scientific side of my mind doesn’t believe in God, but there is a part of me that believes that the force that lifted us from the pool was a supernatural force. Do you believe in God?”
“I’m not a religious person, but I believe that God is within all of us. Not literally, but figuratively. I believe that God is a metaphor for your consciousness. I don’t think there is a supernatural being watching over us, but I believe that each one of us has our own spirituality and we use it to guide us.”
“Do you pray?”
“I do, but not in the classic sense of the word. I don’t think there is a God out there listening to me, but I will talk to the God inside of me who is always listening and knows what I stand for and who I am.”
“And what do you stand for?” Kate asked seductively intrigued.
“I stand for right over wrong and good over evil. I believe that some people are good and some are evil.”
“Do you believe in heaven and hell?” she asked as she leaned forward with both elbows on the table and her hands clasped under her chin.
“I believe that when you die, if you have led a life that you feel was good and you have joy in your heart, you are in heaven for that moment when you pass. I don’t believe in a place in the clouds with St. Peter at the gates,” he explained as he looked her in the eyes resolutely. “St. Peter is another metaphor for your consciousness. If you have peace of mind that you lived a good life and left the world a better place, then your St. Peter will let you in.”
“Who decides if someone is good or evil?”
“Good and evil are relative terms. What may be good for one person may be evil for another. It’s all in the person’s perception.”
Kate pondered as she sipped her beer. “So if one person’s perception is that it is good to kill then we should accept that it is not evil to kill?”
“Not necessarily,” Mike acknowledged as he held his drink in his hand and gestured at her with his index finger. “It depends on the circumstances. Do you think it would be justified to kill someone in self defense?”
“Of course,” Kate replied intrigued.
“So you would agree that in some cases it is acceptable to kill someone?” Mike asked for confirmation. “What are the parameters for when it is alright to kill someone and when it is not?”
Kate took a moment to think, not wanting to fall into a trap. “I guess it depends on the circumstances?”
“And who gets to decide under what circumstances it is alright to kill someone.”
“The people do as a society as a whole.”
“Exactly,” Mike exclaimed raising his index finger in victory. “Which goes back to my argument that good and evil are relative terms that are determined by the perception of the people classifying them. In some c
ountries it’s acceptable to kill someone for adultery or for being a homosexual.”
“Well, obviously, that is not right,” Kate replied flabbergasted.
“That is your perception that has been formed by the way you were raised and the society you live in,” Mike pointed out. “People from other societies look at our society and our values and think that we are the sinners. Right and wrong, good and evil are not always absolutes. They are a perception which is a function of your circumstances. I’m not saying they are right, I’m just explaining why other people think their perception is right.”
“Do you belief there are inherently evil people?” Kate asked amused.
“I think it’s a combination of nature and nurture. It’s just like you were saying with the serial killers,” Mike pointed out succinctly. “There is a combination of factors, some of which are learned and some of which you are born with.”
“You’ve obviously given this some thought,” Kate said impressed by his theory. “So you don’t believe in an afterlife.”
“I believe that the only afterlife is in the people and lives you have affected and leave behind. You live on through them. Whether it is your kids or family and friends, you continue to live on through their memories,” he told her with a twinge of remorse in his voice.
Kate could sense a dark pain in Mike’s tone. She knew there was something that he was keeping bottled up inside him and she hoped that since she had opened up to him, that maybe he would open up to her. She wanted to help him, but he had to take the first step. He had to want to help himself and she could see the reluctance as he stared resolutely at his cocktail.
“We all deal with tragedies in our life,” Kate continued with an understanding tone. “It’s how we deal with those tragedies that determines what type of person we are.”
Mike wanted to open up to her, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready or if he could trust her. Did she tell him her story to get him to confide in her so that she could psychoanalyze him or did she share something that was very personal to her because she felt a connection with him and wanted Mike to know about her life? There was a big difference in his mind. He didn’t want to be her next case study, but he didn’t want to ruin any chance there was of having a meaningful relationship with her. Maybe this was what she needed from the man in her life; complete and open trust with no secrets. All Mike wanted was a loving relationship with a woman special enough that she made him want to be a better man. If he told her about his dad, what would she think? Would she judge him or would she sympathize with him?
