by Elias Raven
If I had a question from a story and my parents did not know the answer, I would go and research the subject. The librarians thought I was a cute little bugger and would pretty much give me anything that I asked for.
By the time I went to public school, I was already too advanced for beginning anything. My initial placement tests were off the charts. My parents had to have me privately tutored.
Of course, being a small lad, I hadn’t emotionally matured yet. I was still a little guy on the inside, but the outside was a whole different ball of wax. I could really identify with the comic characters Calvin & Hobbes. My personality was very Calvin-like. My mom even purchased a stuffed tiger that looked just like Hobbes. I dragged it around with me everywhere we went.
I was very quick witted and had an answer for everything. I lived to solve anything and everything that was deemed a challenge. I learned from my idol Sherlock Holmes to only study and retain that which I needed to remember, and to not learn things that would displace knowledge that I felt was needed. It was like my mind was a series of cabinets, and in each cabinet, I placed additional knowledge that I would need to be successful. When my parents took me in the motorcar to work to introduce me to their coworkers and show me what they did, well they might as well have lit a fire in their little man.
My dad’s job was the coolest job ever. I wanted to be a detective; then again, my mother being a forensic scientist and working on crime scenes was just as cool.
I tried not to be a pest, but I could be a handful if I wanted something bad enough. I begged them both to take me with them every chance I could. If I couldn’t go to work with them, I would beg them to share or teach me something new that I had never done before as long as it had something to do with what they did for a living.
As I got older, I started helping them quietly from the house, as they would let me assist on different cases as they came up. I never got the gory details, it was more surveillance and background checks or going to the library or combing the papers and later the Internet to look for leads. Eventually, I landed a summer internship at my mother’s work. I was the youngest summer intern they had ever brought into the company, and I was in hog heaven.
Now in all of this, you never heard me utter the one word that I despise above all others, and that was defeat. I had managed to assimilate knowledge at an incredible speed and every challenge that I was presented with, I always found a solution and losing just wasn’t in my vocabulary. I supplanted my lack of social skills, with a very competitive spirit. It was a way I coped with things, and it leveled the playing field immensely. I think all of the early success and my own arrogance helped to eventually set up my fall.
I had proven my intellectual prowess was without peer, or so I thought anyways. Each new endeavor I pursued, I would use the same formula to subdue and conquer and make my mark in whatever I did.
One of my father’s heroes was the Brazilian Formula One Race Car Driver, Ayrton Senna. My father had actually taken me to a race at Silverstone Racetrack in England as a way to teach his young son that there were some areas that intellect alone couldn’t win. That you had to be disciplined in, and understand other areas of knowledge to be a true winner. Senna was one my father’s heroes, not only for his skill but also his humility. My father had the following Senna quote framed on his wall at work.
These things bring you to reality as to how fragile
you are; at the same moment you are doing
something that nobody else is able to do.
The same moment that you are seen as the best,
the fastest and somebody that cannot be touched,
you are enormously fragile. ~Ayrton Senna~
He told me it was a way to bring humility when he runs into a case that is unsolvable. That no matter how hard he tries to get all the pieces to get the arrest, that sometimes the villains are one step in front of you erasing and changing evidence as you’re working the case and sometimes we are enormously fragile when we are close to or have arrived at the doorstep to our own demise or defeat.
I laid on Rhianna’s couch reminiscing. Her cat was curled up on my lap sleeping contentedly. The tequila had long worn off, and the back of my skull had already started to pound even as the dryness in my throat had started. It served us right for not having enough beer on hand. I would have to remind Rhianna to have a stocked refrigerator for when company was about.
‘Yeah, right and pigs will fly out of your ass Royston.’ I could hear Rhianna saying back to me. She didn’t mind beer, but the woman did love her Tequila.
This new case with Reid and Mac really had me stumped. The profile I had worked up on this killer bore some resemblance to a case my father had worked on years and years ago in London that I had helped him with.
My parents had let me work on the fringes of the case. I wasn’t officially on the force, and I was still only a teenager at the time. My parents knew I had a knack for connecting the dots and seeing things that were missed by others. They gave me the pieces of the case that they could, and I taped it all up on a blackboard in my room. Then we would brainstorm.
I would throw questions at my dad, and if he needed reinforcements, he would call in my mom. We went round and round like a dervish grouping and ungrouping. My mom would answer forensic questions and break them down, so I understood the basics of it if it was something I had not yet learned. Try as we might, we could never tie the loose tendrils together and make it fit into an image or something we could use to tie the killer to the crimes.
The facts that we had were bare bones. The blighter or woman or whatever they were, loved to leave everything staged. The killer had appeared out of nowhere and struck during the fall and winter of my sixteenth year. He loved women and favored prostitutes and women that suffered from some type of chemical dependency. He preferred intravenous drug addicts especially. The ones that loved shooting speedballs (cocaine and heroin) or straight heroin or even methadone.
Many of the victims were lower middle class or living on assistance from the crown. Some were of a criminal background or were known associates of the lowest of the low. Very few lived in London proper but lived on the outskirts or in the areas where the surveillance cameras were not so heavily populated.
The killer was meticulous. A few times the killer, prior to striking, had somehow managed to paint over the lens of a camera right before he struck. By the time the constables arrived, there was evidence of a paintball gun being used to shoot the cluster of cameras, but little else. The killer even changed the color of the paintballs, so they were never the same color twice.
At first, the police had thought it was vandals until the missing person reports were filed and my father and I figured out that the cameras and missing persons reports coincided with the killings. Just as suddenly as he appeared during that cold winter, he disappeared, leaving a pile of corpses and clues, but it was a jigsaw puzzle that was incomplete.
It was my first unsolved case and as far as I knew it was still unsolved and sitting in the filing cabinet at Scotland Yard. The press had famously dubbed the killer The West End Whistler after some witnesses said they heard a man whistling some sort of children’s rhyme around the time of the killings.
A housewife had heard the whistle echoing up and down the block. The killer loved to leave presents with his victims too, like trinkets and flowers in their mouths and such. One witness had told the press she saw a man loitering in the area accosting the working girls, wearing a real dark colored London Fog trench coat with a bowler hat or perhaps it was a Fedora?
Not all the pieces fit, but there were similarities. I had hesitated to mention it to Mac and Reid because it had happened a long time ago. Now there was more than one body, and some of the pieces were similar. Maybe I could ring up my dad and see if the Metropolitan Police would let us have a look at the case files again.
Rhianna’s story had really put the chill in my bones. I chewed on my lip while I pulled my phone out and sent text messages to both. I wondered
if they could get me the Coroner’s report on the last victims? Or, if Mac and Reid would think I was daft bringing Rhianna’s dream, her poem, and pictures to them. I knew they could be trusted, but this was a tad out of the ordinary even for them.
The fact that Rhianna had bits and pieces of the case in her pretty little noggin was even more astounding considering she knew nothing about the matter at all. I gave a long stretch and rubbed my skull. The house was still quiet although there was plenty of wreckage about. The various empty bottles and plates. It had been quite the party indeed.
I quietly started gathering up the empties, moved into the kitchen, and made quick work of it. Rhianna would gripe at me for cleaning up, but I had brought the party to her house, not the other way around. It was the least I could do to help clean up. I made trips into the dining room, and living room and soon had the trash gathered. Closing the kitchen door, I rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. The sun was coming up. It was the time between twilight and sunrise. I heard a door squeak, and Rhianna came into the kitchen.
“What are you doing Royston?” she asked very bleary eyed and sleepy.
“Cleaning up a bit, I figured I would lend a hand before waking you for breakfast at Del Mar’s.” I smiled at her and gave her a wink.
She held her head. “My head is pounding. How much Tequila did you bring?” she muttered.
“Well, the fine folks at Patron figured an assorted case would do as a present for you and the band for their sponsorship,” I told her laughing.
“No Shit. I was wondering how you footed the bill for that much booze,” she said laughing. Then she grabbed her head.
I gave her a quick hug.
“I just sent text messages off to Mac and Reid. Why don’t you get dressed and wake Misty up? She loves to get up early anyways. We can go get breakfast at Del Mar’s and meet with the boys afterward? Let Elias & Abel sleep in with the girls, and we can give them a ring and see if they want us to bring them back breakfast when we are done?” I told her.
Rhianna smiled at me.
“Sounds like a plan. Let me see if I can get my girl to wake up. She crashed hard last night. So did Gia and Genevieve. It was good to talk to all of you, but I loved hanging with the boys for once.” She kind of smirked at me.
“I’ll take my car, and you and Misty grabs your motorbikes. I’m sure you don’t want to be seen slumming in my Mini Cooper.” I told her laughing.
“Naw, we have a reputation to uphold. Although, I do have to admit that Mini Cooper does look pretty badass since you had it modified all to hell. The burgundy and black paint job and new mag wheels and flair kit look really nice, for an English car anyways,” she said laughing.
“Laugh it up, darling. I know you and your motorcycles. You love riding your phallic rockets don’t you,” I shot back.
Rhianna started laughing clutching her sides.
“Royston, did you just say I was riding a fast dick?” She was tearing up she was laughing so hard.
I joined in the laughter.
“It was the first thing that popped into my head,” I replied.
Rhianna shook her head.
“What the fuck am I going to do with you? Some days you are the smartest mother fucker on the planet and others you are the goofiest bastard I have ever known, and that’s why I love you,” she said still tearing up from laughing.
I gave her a big hug, and she put her head on my shoulder, and we both laughed until it finally died down. Rhianna looked up at me.
“Do you think the cops will think I’m nuts?” she asked.
“Naw, I’ll vouch for you. You know them both, maybe in passing, but they know who you are.” I told her in a soothing voice.
I brought my hand down hard on her ass with a loud crack.
“Hey,” Rhianna yelled punching me in the side.
“I was just trying to get your attention,” I said holding my hands up.
“Yeah, Yeah. Ass bite. Don’t go getting comfortable paddling my ass. Misty is the only one that gets to do that,” she shot back.
I raised an eyebrow and looked at her.
“My dear, I don’t need all of the gory details of your love life.” I started laughing again.
“I paddled you to tell you to get a move on. I’ll remember that is Misty’ place and not mine for further reference,” I said still laughing.
Rhianna playfully jabbed at me as I dodged and feinted.
“I’ll meet you at the Cafe. I’m sure Ava and the girls will love to see you,” I said.
Rhianna gave me a thumb’s up, and I grabbed my red and black leather jacket and headed out to my Mini. I hit the remote starter and was greeted with the engine firing up.
The sun was coming up, and it was a beautiful day. I jumped into my car, backed out of the driveway, and popped it into gear and hit the gas. My phone buzzed with replies from both Mac and Reid.
I started to sort it all out in my head. I would probably have to meet with them privately to go over the details of my father’s case in England. Better they talk with Rhianna and crap. We didn’t tell Misty. Hopefully, Rhianna remembered to give her a heads up before dropping the bomb with the police.
I still didn’t know what to make of it all, but memories of The Whistler Case kept playing in my head as I shifted through the gearbox and headed to Del Mar’s.
Chapter 7
~Constancy~
I love her with the seasons, with the winds,
As the stars worship, as anemones
Shudder in secret for the sun, as bees
Buzz round an open flower: in all kinds
My love is perfect, and in each she finds
Herself the goal: then why, intent to tease
And rob her delicate spirit of its ease,
Hastes she to range me with inconstant minds?
If she should die, if I were left at large
On earth without her-I, on earth, the same
Quick mortal with a thousand cries, her spell
She fears would break. And I confront the charge
As sorrowing, and as careless of my fame
As Christ intact before the infidel.
~Michael Field~
~Misty~ I was used to getting up early. My internal clock never missed a fucking beat. It was like counting down a time signature, it was always right on. My eyes would pop open right around 5:30 AM, but no later than 5:45 AM. When I came home to Rhianna, or Rhi as I liked to call her, it always took me a day or two to wind down and get back on Bay Time as we called it.
I could see the sky changing color above our bedroom skylight. I reached over to wrap my arms around Rhi and found her side of the bed empty. I leaned up on the bed and noticed the bedroom door was partially open. I could hear talking coming from the living room.
I recognized my girl’s voice, and the other could only be Royston’s. I knew if all the boys were up, the girls would have come in and taken me hostage and dragged my happy ass into the living room and started the party back up.
It was way too fucking early for that. She probably had gotten up to go to the bathroom and heard Royston moving in the living room or kitchen. He was like me in that respect. We both were super early risers.
In our facetime chats, I could tell Rhi was on edge. It wasn’t like her to be skittish, not my girl. She usually kicked ass and took names and numbers before she punched your lights out. She was tough, and that was one of the things I loved about her.
When I pressed her for more information, she looked away and said she would tell me when I got back home. All my flags had gone up, but I knew I would be coming home the next day either solo or with the boys, so I had reassured her, but the conversation still left me uneasy. I kept seeing her face with that sleep-deprived look under her eyes that no amount of makeup could hide. She hadn’t been sleeping for shit, I knew that much. Maybe she would talk to Royston, and I could press him for details later.
I loved my girl; we had been best friends and playmates for
years. We had practically grown up together in the Canyon. She was the first woman that I had ever experienced sexual intimacy with. We were both really young at the time, experimenting and trying new things out. We had dated boys as well, but both of us had always managed to attract the bad boy types that were not only losers but decided they needed to prove their manhood by slapping us around.
We would call each other up on a regular basis to bitch and complain or escape to each other’s houses to take a break from the guys. It was really pathetic. Of course, my mother, and Rhianna’s grandmother would call the police when we came home with a black eye or swollen jaw.
The boyfriends would get arrested, and held on bail, and then we would go hang out with each other and party and get wasted. One of us would get lonely and talk to the loser on the jailhouse phone, who would promise never to touch us again and we would jump in our cars and rescue them, put them in counseling, and repeat the whole sick cycle over and over again. In hindsight, it was really vicious and really unhealthy and both of us we were lucky to get out alive.
The end of our boy-toy experiments ended with my boyfriend winding up behind bars doing a long stretch for drugs and domestic violence. Rhianna’s boyfriend practically choked her out, left her for dead, and fled the state.
After the last guy, I had briefly fled the other way and hooked up with Ricky and tried to bury my troubles between her legs and forget men all together with predictably disastrous results. She might have been a woman, but there were a lot of the same ingredients in my relationship with her that I had shared with many of my old boyfriends. After we had sobered up, we both realized it was a mistake and being friends was better. The sex was awesome, but the commitment wasn’t there and honestly never had been.
The answer was in front of us the whole time, and that was each other.
We finally hit rock bottom and realized that we both had feelings for each other, but we had used men to do the expected thing instead of doing what was right for us. We had been friends through thick and thin. We had been part time lovers, but we could accept that maybe we were bi-sexual. But coming to grips with just loving another woman and leaving the men out of the scene was really new to both of us.
