His Twisted Smile

by Chris Thompson

  Gordon gathered his clothes from the bundle they were in at the bottom of the bed and left the room. He went to the bathroom to freshen up and dress before heading downstairs. The television had played through the night and he reached for the remote to switch it off, but his attention was drawn to the morning news.

  “Tiffany Willis.” The news anchor said. Gordon hadn’t caught what was said before that, but what had attracted his attention was the picture they were showing of her. She was a beautiful blonde with features that made her unmistakably similar to Millie. It halted Gordon in his tracks as a disturbing thought occurred to him – an understanding of the gnawing feeling he had, had, which told him he was forgetting something relevant to the case in hand. Isabelle wrapped her arms around his waist startling him.

  “Hey.” She said softly. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” Gordon told her, turning to look at her as she slid around to his side. “I was… I was a million miles away.”

  “What is it?” She asked, now looking from Gordon to the news.

  “I think there’s a chance there’s more to Millie’s death than either of us thought.” Gordon told her. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, but before he started tapping in the number, he looked at Isabelle. She was facing him with a confused expression marring her beautiful face. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly on her lips then straightened.

  “If I’m wrong then we’ll be exactly where we are right now, if I’m right, then we’ll need to look at everything again from a different angle. I need you to carry on trusting me, Izzy, and I’ll call you when I know more, I promise.” Though she still looked mildly bemused she nodded in agreement. “But I can’t leave without saying: I hope last night was as special for you as it was for me.” He added with genuine warmth.

  Isabelle rewarded him a radiant smile. Reluctantly now, Gordon pulled away from her and started to leave, his mind already racing ahead of him with what he needed to do.

  Gordon tapped in Jones’ cell phone number and placed his phone on the hands free holder on his dashboard as he pulled away from Isabelle’s home. On the seventh ring, his old partner finally answered.

  “Crane, this is far too early in the morning for you to be calling me unless you’re outside with coffee and breakfast.” Jones told him grumpily.

  “Jones, I urgently need a favour. That case I’m looking into, Millie Reese-Smyth, I think whoever killed her also killed Tiffany Willis.”

  “Tiffany Willis?” Jones questioned, accompanied by the sound of him moving about in his home and the distant voices of his children.

  “Yeah, the girl they think was an escort.” Gordon confirmed.

  “That case is already closed as an accidental overdose.”

  “Closed by?”

  Jones hesitated for a second.

  “By Jenkins.”

  “Figures. Listen, I need to see all the reports, preliminary or finalized, that you can get for me.”

  “I don’t know--” Jones started.

  “I’ll owe you.”

  Jones sighed.

  “Come see me in one hour. I’ll have what I can get on my desk and you can take a look. I’ll be calling this favour in one day, you know that right?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Gordon said, clicking off. He had driven out of the gated community and was now on the main road. He decided to drive straight to police station and wait in the lot until it was time for him to meet Jones. As he drove, he considered his new line of thinking. At first, it seemed only logical to conclude Millie had been killed in an isolated incident; a woman who was caught by someone she knew or was grabbed after whatever secret meeting she was attending. She was drugged, defiled and then killed either accidentally as she was released back onto the street, or on purpose in a manner designed to make it seem accidental. But seeing Tiffany, seeing just how much she looked like Millie, led Gordon’s probing mind to a place where Millie wasn’t the only victim; perhaps she was one in a string of seemingly accidental deaths, or the start of chain of killings designed to feed the sick need of whoever was murdering these women. It was a long shot, but his gut told him it was no coincidence. So, before he could move on from this line of thinking he needed to see what the report said and, if he could convince Jones to allow him to, take a look through the records for the past few months and see if any other beautiful blonde women had died in a similar fashion, because now that he was aware of the possibility he was certain he’d seen a news report about another accidental overdose of a blonde escort recently.

  The wait in the parking lot was aggravating, but eventually the time Jones had told him to meet him rolled around and Gordon practically jogged into the police building. He exchanged the briefest of pleasantries with Reed and walked as calmly as he could through the station. Arriving at Jones’ desk, he found his ex-partner flicking through a slim file.

  “Is that it?”

  “Good morning to you too.” Jones said as he handed the file to Gordon, who took it and quickly started reading the first page; summarising the information as he scanned through the official document.

  Tiffany Willis was a known escort who was, according to those who knew her, well paid for her ‘entertainment services’. She had been picked up and charged once, but otherwise her record was clean. She’d never been found in possession of drugs or connected to that world in any way. The file included the same picture of her that had been on the news; she looked vibrant and beautiful, and Gordon was sure that she’d made many a client’s dream come true during a special night in Carlson Flats. The next picture of her in the file wasn’t quite so pretty. She had been found about two weeks ago near a dumpster behind some big box stores. Her clothes were dirty and, to Gordon’s interpretation, she was generally dishevelled; her hair was a mess, her makeup crudely put on, and in her arm was a needle. The coroner’s report indicated she had died of a massive overdose of liquid cocaine; the prints on the needle were hers and a run of recent track marks indicated she had shot up several times over a period of a few days. For some reason, she had decided to turn to drugs in a big way and accidentally killed herself in the process. The rest of the report was sketchy and poorly filled out; she wasn’t having money troubles, she wasn’t having any problems that her friends were aware of, other than a general dissatisfaction with her line of work. Would that be enough to cause her to seek out drugs so suddenly?

  Gordon continued reading. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Tiffany had very recently had sex; it was apparently rough, and whether it was consensual was difficult to determine. Her body was bruised and apparently her hands had been bound. Unlike Millie’s death, it was much more believable that she had died in this manner because of her occupation, but to Gordon, it was too coincidental, with similarities he couldn’t ignore. The only other thing of note was that she died the same night she was found. She had, it seemed, been missing for at least three days prior to her death, as none of her friends had seen her nor had they heard from her, which they said was unusual.

  “I don’t suppose you can remember any other deaths that seem similar to this recently?’ Gordon asked as he re-read the file.

  “Overdoses aren’t that uncommon.” Jones told him.

  “I’m going to need another favour.” Gordon informed his friend.

  “You want me to check through other recent deaths, whether they were classed as homicides or accidental, and see if there are more pretty young blonde girls who met their end that way. Oh, and you’d like to keep my partner out of it.”

  Gordon looked at him and cocked an eyebrow.

  “We were partners for years. I know how you think. The system is already processing the request.”

  “Thanks, Jones.”

  “Don’t mention it. I think this is good for getting you to come over for Christmas at the very least.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “If these are more than what they appear, do you have anyone you like for it?”

  “I do, but I can�
�t tell you exactly who I think it is. However, if you could take a look into Leland Security and anything you can get publicly about their company, it’d be a big help.”

  “Hell! Gordon Crane!” A familiar, but unwelcome, voice announced from behind him. Gordon quickly passed the file back to Jones and then turned to find himself looking into the chiselled features of Jenkins. He was handsome, very photogenic, with a look that made him appear trustworthy. This was likely one of the reasons the upper ranks had their eyes on him rather than the more rugged looking officers like Jones. Department politics were as much about a personality contest and a beauty pageant as they were anything else, and Gordon was forced to admit Jenkins looked good for that kind of role.

  “Jenkins.” Gordon replied, not entirely sure of the reception he was about to receive.

  The younger detective approached him quickly and extended his hand, which Gordon shook politely.

  “How’ve you been?”

  “I can’t complain. I hear you’re on the fast track to success.”

  “Well, I’ve had some luck with my case closure rate and it seems that’s impressed some people.”

  “I see.”

  “What are you doing here? Taking a trip down memory lane?” Jenkins asked with a chuckle.

  “Oh, just comparing notes with Jones here on an old case.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “No thanks.” Gordon told him, glancing back at Jones.

  “Email me when you’re ready.”

  “Sure thing, Crane.” Jones replied, returning to his computer and starting to work. Gordon faced Jenkins again.

  “Nice to catch up with you but I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

  “Well, don’t be a stranger. Let’s grab a beer sometime, eh?” Jenkins suggested as Gordon started to walk away. Gordon gave him a brief, non-committal, one handed wave in response. His mind was swimming with disturbing possibilities, and as he wordlessly tossed his visitor's badge onto the desk and left the station, Gordon realized he needed to take a much closer look into Derek’s life.

  Chapter Nine

  Gordon went back to his office and spent some time both on the phone and his computer, enlisting the help of a few of his contacts to get Derek’s home address, while making as few waves as possible in the hope his father wouldn’t be alerted. In the early afternoon, he received an email from Jones with a list of names, five in total.

  ‘Crane, I’ve managed to narrow it down to five in the last six months, which includes Millie and Tiffany. All are blonde, similar in body type and looks and all died of various ‘accidents’. Other than Millie and Tiffany, two died of cocaine overdoses and the other one fell down the stairs of her apartment building and broke her neck. Going back any further will take more time. Let me know.’

  He had included scant information; just the names of the victims, one of whom Gordon recognized, proving his earlier thought that some half forgotten detail was relevant to the case in hand. The file also included the dates of their deaths which, roughly speaking, translated to one killing six months ago, Millie two months later, and then one per month since then; this could be considered a pattern of escalation coming from both the increased need of the killer as well as a growth in confidence. One thing the other victims had in common with Tiffany was that they were known escorts, which meant they were likely chosen not just because of their similarity but also because they were easy to contact and could be lured to any destination the killer chose unlike Millie, although the reason for the meeting was undoubtedly the lure in her case. Gordon was familiar with a few of the factors that went into the FBI serial killer profile thanks to a case he’d been a part of with Jones a few years back, and he was satisfied the trail of murders followed the pattern of a kill followed by a cooling off period, which was now shortened due to his needs. Considering how carefully the kills were being set up as accidental or self inflicted, Gordon felt confident the person responsible was intelligent and highly organized. That the victims had engaged in sexual activity, almost certainly unwillingly, meant that the sexual component of the kill was important to the perpetrator, which meant he was unlikely to stop of his own volition.

  Gordon thought on this point further. The cool down period was shorter now, but it still spoke to a pattern of stress that built up and caused him to need to express himself violently. Did that describe Derek, Gordon wondered. He was obviously in a stressful position and the relationship between him and his father was definitely poor. Derek was also a loner, someone who preferred his own company or to remain on the fringes of a group, as if he didn’t want attention focused on him, or perhaps because he was aware he couldn’t mix with the same confidence as the other members apparently did, which would not only be stressful but a little humiliating. And Gordon imagined being struck by his father would further demean him. Of course, Gordon readily admitted to himself, there was no guarantee Derek was definitely the one responsible for the array of killings. The two main reasons Gordon was focused on him were that he was almost certainly hiding something, and Millie was a smart girl who, while she avoided certain worldly pleasures, wasn’t blind to the dangers of the world. If Millie was taken after leaving her home to attend a meeting, it meant she was taken by someone she knew. Gordon knew he had to keep the broader picture in mind but he was also aware he had only learned of the other murders through investigating Millie’s death. Therefore, she was the key to unlocking the entire case to Gordon’s mind.

  Gordon heard his phone and reached across. He’d received a text message from Isabelle asking if he was coming by that night. He wasn’t sure what to answer, a guilty sensation having suddenly crept up on him for the pleasure they had given and taken the night before. His gaze turned to look through the bedroom door at the drawer in the bedside table where the picture of his family resided and a fresh stab of guilt thrust into his heart. However, despite the guilt, he wanted nothing more than to see Isabelle again. He replied he would definitely swing by, but wasn’t sure when as he was going to be working late. She responded almost immediately, informing him she’d have some food ready to heat up and he could fill her in on any developments after they’d eaten. There was no mention or hint by either of them of anything that had happened between them the night before, leaving Gordon unsure whether she considered the prior night a mistake. Rather than deliberate on the situation further however, he put the idea firmly out of his mind. As he’d told himself that morning, whatever happened between them, first and foremost she’d paid him to do a job and that was what he was going to focus on.

  Seeing that it was a little after four in the afternoon, Gordon imagined Derek would be leaving work soon. Gordon left his office and drove near to the Leland Security building. He pulled into the parking lot of the building across from it as he had the day before and found a decent vantage point. He watched and waited as time rolled on to after five then after six. He finally saw Derek leaving the building and heading towards his car. A couple of minutes later, the pair of big security personnel who had escorted them to see Leland Senior travelled over to a non-descript black SUV and casually followed Derek as he drove out of the parking lot. Gordon hunkered down in his seat making himself difficult to see and, once they had driven by, shuffled back into the optimal position and turned his engine over, following them at a safe distance.

  Given that it was the time most people were heading home from work, it wasn’t exceptionally difficult for Gordon to mingle in with the traffic and conceal his stealthy observation. However, it did make it a little more challenging to ensure he was following the right parties. Nonetheless, Gordon managed to tail them without having to close the distance between them and risk detection, following Derek and his escort to a fast food restaurant where Derek actually went inside and ate in the building rather than making use of the drive through. With his escort parked directly across from the restaurant, Gordon had to park down the street. Using binoculars however, he could see Derek quite clearly. For whateve
r reason, he looked sad. Gordon wasn’t sure why this would be, but there was an unmistakably forlorn expression on his face as he slowly ate his burger. Was the cause the pressure of his job, the pressure from his father, or was he suppressing his urge to kill? Gordon took a deep breath and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Derek ate with no sense of urgency, sipping at whatever beverage he had ordered with brief looks out of the window. His eyes lingered on the security SUV across from the restaurant and a flash of annoyance crossed his face, but then he returned to eating. It suddenly occurred to Gordon that the escort might be serving two purposes: firstly, it was obviously aiming to keep Gordon away from Derek, but secondly, could it have been put in place to try to prevent Derek from killing again? The latest victim indicated that it might be too soon for his kill cycle to activate again, but with enough pressure and the right opportunity, perhaps… perhaps Derek’s urge to kill would spike so hard it would cause him to escalate. It was a disturbing thought, and one Gordon couldn’t quite deny as being possible.

  Once Derek was done he exited the restaurant and got back in his car, so Gordon readied himself quickly to resume his pursuit. After several, meandering minutes, Gordon decided Derek was driving around without a destination in mind. He continued to follow, cautious not to allow his concentration to waver and fail to turn at an intersection or neglect to allow a greater gap to open up when the traffic became lighter, until Derek eventually pulled into the parking lot of a bar. It had a single front window, which was almost entirely covered with neon signs indicating the variety of beers available within, and a heavy looking, wooden door to the side. Derek’s escort pulled up across the street, keeping a keen eye on the entrance. Gordon stopped down the street, parking at the side of the road and out of obvious line of sight of Derek’s escort. He waited a few minutes, pondering what he should do next. If he wanted to try to meet up with Derek without his escorts knowing, then while Derek was in the bar might be the best time - provided he could find another way in. Gordon figured it wouldn’t hurt to find his way around to the back of the bar to see if there was rear entrance. After putting his binoculars in the glove compartment, he exited his vehicle and began making his way around the block.