The young secretary stifles a yawn and decides to call it a night. She isn’t going to get anything for her boss’ interest and she might catch a cold if she keeps standing out here. Giving the city one final glance, she heads for the stairwell to her apartment and retires for the night.
Chapter 6
The lost road, once a path of dirt bleached pale by the sun and devoid of any plant life, is now being swallowed back into the forest it once was a part of. Rain has saturated the parched dirt and softened it enough to allow seeds to burrow deep. The seeds sprout and have taken root, filling the road with lush tall grasses and weeds. To the naked eye, there is no road at all, nor there had ever been in so long. To one that has traveled these roads for so long, the hidden road is not so hidden from sight to be undetectable.
The robed figure follows the main trail to find the lost road, his foot hitting an old and rotted sign with the words upon it too faded to be readable. He crouches low to see fresh footprints off to the side, the smell of crushed grass strong in the air. It has not been long since someone had passed through here, along with whatever had killed him. He finds another set of footprints after setting foot upon the lost road, opposite of the first set of tracks. Larger than the first, surrounded by droplets of red upon closer inspection. He brushes the tips of his fingers upon the droplets and lifts his hand to see streaks of red. Blood. The messenger’s murderer had passed through here not long ago.
The robed figure stands and follows the tracks, walking as if there is no danger to fear. Whoever had passed through here is long gone, so there is no need to act with caution just yet. If one were to ask the robed figure why he would seek out a murderer instead of minding his own business, they would not get an answer. He has something to do that must be done, and this small investigation is just a part of it.
The grass crunches loudly under the robed figure’s feet, the only sound in the unusually quiet forest. It isn't strange not to hear the chirping of birds or see any deer or squirrels nearby. The smell of blood saturates the air faintly, becoming stronger with each passing step. It is a sign of danger to animals, so they are staying away. He pushes away dangling vines and soon finds himself in a clearing. Only, it isn’t really a clearing.
Before the robed figure are the remains of the forbidden village. Houses are in different stages of decay and crop fields have been lost to weeds and tall grass, not even a single scavenger daring to try and eat from there. One house had been burned down, its skeletal remains charred black and gray. Whatever livestock that is still alive are roaming around freely, their bodies ravaged with disease and hunger. The rest lie about in different stages of decay, flies and maggots eating away freely. The smell of blood and decay is strong enough to make even the most tolerable of men to vomit and run in fright. To anyone seeing what lies before the robed figure, the village had been destroyed by a group of blood-thirsty bandits... or a demon from hell.
A loud scream suddenly echoes throughout the village, causing the chickens to flap their wings and flee in fright. The robed figure turns his head to see a small castle nearby, the screams coming from it. A sane person would’ve turn and fled, save himself from whatever’s in the castle and from the wrath of the king for disobeying his decree.
The robed figure heads to the castle anyway. After all, the Laws of Man or the decree of its king does not apply to him.
* * * *
Jenne could sense someone coming to see her long before he had ever touched the door knob to the entrance door of the building. It’s trouble. She knows who he is and what he wants from her. The person is trying to be quiet, but the private detective knows the sound of his car engine all too well when he parked outside, the soft footsteps with spaces far enough to tell that he is a tall person. She knew that Ellisaüch’s warning would come back to haunt her, and the spread of photographs on her desk will not be helping her in the least bit. She opens a drawer and slides the photographs inside, sliding the drawer shut as the footsteps from outside the office stop right at her door.
“Don’t even bother knocking,” Jenne calls, “I know it’s you, Raiden, and the answer is still no. With that said, go away and have a nice day.”
“I’m afraid I’m not here about that today,” the person chuckles lightly as he opens the door to reveal the platinum blonde-haired police detective, “You haven’t lost your touch.”
“And you haven’t lost your ability to be very annoying,” the private detective states, clearly showing that she isn’t in a good mood, “Whatever it is that you want to talk about, I don’t wanna hear it.”
“I’m afraid I cannot oblige your request, milady. The chief wants me to tell you that the department apologizes for how Abraham interfered with your business when he didn’t have either a warrant or justifiable cause. He ha no right to interfere with your business.”
“Is that so? I don’t see any presents or monetaries for my pains and sufferings, so I guess your chief isn’t all that sincere about it. In any case, shouldn’t Abraham be the one apologizing to me? He was the one that verbally assaulted me.”
“The chief fears that he would do more harm than good to you. After all, both of you get along as much as a snake and a mongoose.”
“And we get along any better than that?”
“Touché. There is also another matter I need to discuss with you while I’m here.”
“And that is?”
“John. You’ve made a lot of enemies over the years, enemies that have been searching for any weakness to exploit on you. If you continue with your-“
“I don’t need this speech again,” Jenne interrupts, feeling a headache coming on, “No one in their right mind, enemy or not, would dare try and touch what is mine. Even those not in their right state of minds would rather face the mental institution than face my wrath. You’ve seen that I am more than capable of taking care of him, and I am sick of you repeating the same things over and over again every time you have an excuse to come see me. If that is all, leave.”
Raiden wisely keeps quiet, knowing that he has hit a nerve again and, if he wants to stay on Jenne’s good side, he will have to turn to a different view of the conversation, preferably to change the subject and fast. A fight between the two of them would be a very bad idea right now.
“You have been doing really well since you left the police force,” the young police detective muses as he looks over the bookshelf, “The citizens are beyond impressed with your skills, even to the point of telling the 911 operatives that they want you to handle their issues instead of the police.”
“I bet.”
“Equal to that is your performance in your other... career. The enemies you’ve made will not be as frightened of you as the others you’ve captured. They will come after you through John and anyone that seeks a relationship with him. Alone, you can’t protect them all, but with allies, you-“
“You really need to work on changing the subject,” Jenne cuts him off, “You keep going back to the same thing, and my nerves can’t handle anymore grating from it. Before you have to call for back up and have me arrested for assault on a police officer, I suggest that you listen to me and leave. You might end up in ICU for a couple weeks if you decide to ignore my wishes again.”
Raiden refrains from swallowing in nervous fright. The former police officer never makes threats, and always lives up to what she says she will do. And she is right: no matter how many times he tries to change the subject, he always ends up back to the previous subject. Time to take his leave, lest he really wants to lose weeks of investigation time and the means of paying his bills and rent.
“Jenne,” the young police detective said as he opens the door, pausing long enough to sigh, “Just be careful.”
With that, he closes the door and leaves. Jenne sighs and opens the drawer with the pictures inside. Raiden can be so persistent, annoying to no end and repeating himself so much that he sounds like a tape recorder. that kind of persistence is one of the reasons why he is suc
h a good cop, but it’s also what leads him into trouble half the time... and why he is still single.
“What the,” she lifts one of the pictures up, noticing something very odd in it. Before she can take a closer look, her desk phone begins to ring.
She will study the photo later.
* * * *
John finishes putting away the latest batch of paperwork for the Student Council, glad that it is the last of it from the Extracurricular Fair. It was a wonderful turnout this year, better than last year, but the paperwork he is charged of going through and filing away is larger than the stacks he had dealt with in the last few years he’s been secretary of the Student Council. He is only glad that he can speed-read, or else it would’ve taken him several hours to complete. It isn’t fun to be the last person to leave the school at night, especially when you have no ride home. He is certain that Jenne or Ellisaüch would give him a ride if he had to stay late, but he didn’t want to impose upon them.
After locking the filing cabinet, John leaves the Principal’s Office and heads for the exit, feeling a craving for something to cure his massive headache. He has also been worried about Jenne. He can tell that his sister’s been working on something. And it is something big. Whenever she is working on a big case, Jenne tends to neglect eating decent meals and goes on a snacking binge. He is certain that if it wasn’t for him and his constant nagging about her eating habits, the private detective would’ve been overweight by now.
“Hey John,” said young man looks up from his musings to see Richard walking up to him, “Finished with your meeting today? You’re getting out late.”
“I’m finally done with the paperwork,” John exasperates happily, “I never want to do that much paperwork again.”
“There’s still next year.”
“Don’t remind me. I have a blazing headache as it is from all that reading.
“Come to think of it, how come you’re here this late? I thought your club meeting is Wednesday?”
“It is. Mr. Phil wanted to see me after class about last week’s quiz.”
“You’re still struggling with History?”
“The man speaks a different language! I couldn’t understand half of the questions on it. I feel like I need a class just to learn his language.”
“Yeah, Mr. Phil likes to get all technical on his quizzes and it took me a few weeks to decode it.”
“Hopefully, I can decode it before the midterm.”
“You want some help?”
“Since you’re offering, that would be-“
“Hey guys!”
They turn to see Daisy running up behind them just as they are about to leave the building, panting heavily.
“What’s up Daisy,” John asks, looking concerned and ignoring the feeling of how outside the building looks so wonderful right now.
“I just heard on the cafeteria’s radio,” the young woman pants, “The Single Family Serial Killer has finally messed up!”
“What?”
“Come with me!”
She drags both young men towards the cafeteria, where several staff members and students are gathering by a small radio being situated on a table. Dials are turned, and a voice filters in from the speakers.
“... the Utgama Family had been attacked last night by what investigators are claiming to be the Single Family Serial Killer. Thirty-two year-old Marius Utgama had confronted a trespasser into his home and was heavily wounded before his daughter snuck out of her room ad called 911. The injuries Mr. Utgama received had matched the same type of injuries from the other victims. Mr. Utgama is being hospitalized at this time and police are waiting for doctors to allow him to give them his statement. His young daughter is in the custody of relatives that arrived to care for her and Mrs. Ann Utgama, who is being hospitalized for advanced stage of breast cancer. In other news...”
“Utgama...” John utters, deep in thought, before his eyes widen in realization, “Oh shit!”
“What,” Richard asks, concerned by the look upon John’s face.
“That’s the family Jenne helped on her last case.”
* * * *
“That is all I know,” Jenne concludes, the phone held tight in her grip, “I have the records of the case I worked on for the Utgama Family if you need them.”
“We appreciate any help we can get,” the police officer on the other line replies, “If we have need of it, we will let you know. Have a good afternoon.”
“You too,” the private detective hangs up the phone and looks at the file on her desk. Someone had the audacity to attack one of her clients. Raiden will more or less be calling soon with an ‘I Told You So’ speech, one she is not in the mood for. She has to find out who it is that would do this, mainly the identity of this ‘Single Family Serial Killer’.
She knows that none of her enemies could be the culprit. They would’ve gain nothing, and none of the other victims had any connection to her. As much as she did not want to get involve with the case, leaving it be is no longer an option and relying on the police to take care of it would be pointless.
“Ellisaüch,” Jenne calls out.
“Yes,” said woman replies, suddenly appearing before Jenne’s desk and seeing the folder, “I see. The police’s incompetence has now begun affecting our business in a bad way, despite the good business we’ve had in the last three months.”
“It is only good fortune that they are still alive,” the private detective replies, “The Utgamas will be safe under the media’s care for now. The killer is left with either to stay hidden, flee town, or be stupid enough to try again.”
“Knowing you, I smell a hunt about to start. Still... do you honestly believe you can do better than the police?”
“Even the smallest of details have the greatest of significance,” Jenne lifts up a picture for her secretary to see.
“The dead pets,” Ellisaüch blinks in confusion.
“A pet would’ve alerted the family of any intruders invading the house. Hell, even a dog would’ve been barking long before the perp even stepped one foot on the porch, let alone into the house. Dogs, cats, and even birds would’ve reacted if someone or something were to intrude upon their master’s territory and they are not familiar with them. So the question is: exactly what killed them? We find out, we find the perp.”
“I still don’t get it. But then again, I never did get your logic or reasoning, which I find worse than Sherlock Holmes’.
“Other than that, even if you did manage to catch the perp, the police will arrest you for interfering with their investigation. They won’t turn a blind eye even if the people see you as a hero.”
“I do not intend to be a hero. I only intend to prove a point about what happens to those that harm what I have claimed under my protection. That is all.”
Ellisaüch sighs, shaking her head. Her friend has always been a prideful and hard-headed one. Once she has made up her mind set on something, there’s no means for changing it.
“As for John,” she decides to point out, “He’s finally made a new friend and would most likely not like the idea of being trapped indoors while you go off on a manhunt.”
“I don’t plan on it,” Jenne replies simply, “In fact, I don’t want him knowing that I’m doing this. If he finds out, he’ll either want to join in and end up scaring his new friend off or lecture me to death on doing something illegal and crazy.”
“He only wants to protect his big sister,” Ellisaüch teases.
“Or be a pain in my ass,” Jenne snorts.
* * * *
Jenne leaves early the next morning, leaving Ellisaüch to come up with an excuse to a curious John as he heads to school. The young Cordovo didn’t buy the idea that his older sibling had a case that early, as she usually begins her cases late in the morning, but decides to ask her himself later. If there’s one thing that he knows that works best to get Jenne to do what he wants, it’s his way of nagging his sister nearly to the point of insanity. She can’t
last two minutes against it.
After a few hours of boring reviews and lessons, John finds himself in gym class playing softball. He volunteers to be one of the outfielders, as sports happen to not be one of his strong points. Richard gets center fielder position, despite his protest of wanting to be a third base man. Daisy gets mid fielder position, being very ecstatic and cheering their team on. John and Richard didn’t know if they should be amazed at her energy or be embarrassed by her enthusiasm.
Near the end of the game, Leonard steps up to the bat for his team. He eyes Richard, who stares right back at him. Smirking, the prized quarterback of the school gets into position while hiding his disdain about playing anything resembling baseball.
“Hey batter batter batter,” Daisy sings loudly as the pitcher throws the ball, “Heeeey batter batter batter! Swiiiinng!”
Grinning, Leonard swings the bat with all of his strength, hitting the ball.
“LOOK OUT,” the catcher screams.
SMACK!
“AARRGH,” Richard yells painfully.
“Richard,” John and Daisy yell, running to their friend as he kneels on the ground while holding his arm.
“You see,” Leonard said smugly, “This is why baseball is such a lame sport. A simply hit, and you’re crippled. At least in football, you have decent gear to protect yourself. Plus, my grandmother could take hits harder than that one. You wimp.”
“Leonard,” their teacher yells, “that’s enough out of you. Alright everyone, back inside and get ready for your next class. John, you and Daisy take Richard to the nurse’s office. I’ll be seeing you after class Leonard.”
“Whatever,” Leonard drops the bat and follows the other students inside. John and Daisy help Richard inside and, after a quick trip to get their clothes and school bags from the locker rooms, then head to the nurse’s office.
* * * *
Hell's Detective: Murder Page 11
