– Come in! Have no fear, I do not bite! I already had lunch. - The irony of Lt. Mathias did not passed unnoticed by Bogdan, though his face did not seem to show it. Oh My God! If his face had more hair, it would be the face of the girl of "Exorcist" in her worst take; but dumb.
- Sit down, Bogdan.- he ignored him turning his back, as he rummaged through the drawers of his desk. Finally he pulled out a unlit cigarette and placed it on his sensual and thick lips.
- Ahem...! Sir ... - Bogdan coughed a timid disapproval.
- I know, fuck, I can’t smoke! Did you see me light it? - Mathias exploded, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and squeezing it between his sausage like fingers.- Sit down, you cunt!- He shouted angrily.
- Yes, sir ... - stammered Bogdan, sitting down suddenly.
- Okay, speak, what do you know about the death of Rose? What was the real cause of her death? Did you get enough samples to find out some information on who killed her? NOW, SPEAK DAMMIT! -. He cried furiously after having shot through his questions, almost knocking poor Bogdan off his chair. He did not even know how to sit, so nervous and scared as he was, his boss (Gabriel) was an imposing figure, however, Lieutenant Mathias still gave him great fear. "I do not yet know which of the two was worse."
- You were right lieutenant. Bogdan, paused to breathe deep and fill his punished lungs with oxygen. Seeing the face of impatience in Mathias, he continued.- After analyzing fingerprints collected in the area of the thighs and pelvis, I was able to get the traces of the murderer of Rose.- He looked triumphantly at the lieutenant, and paused again. This time to give a little mystery to the tale, trying to impress Mathias, who watched him with a smile of victory in his eyes.
- As you know, sir, when I was at the "pub" "The San Gabriel" with Rose and my boss, I did what you told me, getting the fingerprints of Gabriel, so in his distraction I took a glass where he had been drinking. It was just at the time when, Rose, considered appropriate for me to leave- At this point, Bogdan's voice broke and could not continue.
Seconds later with his voce broken he kept saying;
- I shouldn’t have left her alone, sir ... I shouldn’t have.- Bogdan looked tearfully at the Lieutenant, who without much regard, coughed uncomfortable at Bogdan's tears and urged him with an impatient gesture to continue.
"Well, well, what do we have here?... (a second autopsy by Bogdan behind my back), I removed the mic from my ear, I did not need to hear any more. I knew Bogdan's tale was just confirmation of what good Mathias already knew. According to law, prints collected like that could not be counted as evidence. At the end of the day, her body passed through my hands twice, when I killed her and ... when I performed an autopsy. I could always say I did it without gloves, (in this fucking department evidence is always missing). Would they believe my gloves where missing? I checked my watch, - three in the afternoon, time to end the day. The conversation I had heard made me thirsty, thirsty for blood.
I put my hands in my pockets, then I realized that Alicia's bracelet was in my left pocket. I could not remember why I had brought it that day in my pocket, it must have been when I had the fight with her, (Well, when I got my ass whooped by her, that’s not the same); I guess the next day, after breakfast and showering I put it in my pocket thinking that Alicia could return while I was at work and managed to find it. That bracelet had many secrets I wanted to find out. And I would find out that afternoon. After eating ... now I was hungry.
A cigarette was to blame.
That night, I do not know why but I was restless, perhaps it was my fault for having so many events in my life, too much stress or perhaps the craving for a cigarette, I do not know. The thing is that nothing was planned that night. I stopped in a tree-lined corner, I got off the car, but not before grabbing one of the cigarettes I always carried in the glove compartment (forecast I made on the first day I decided to quit). A tip, if you are one of those that quits very often without success, try to do it by having a good supply of cigarettes at hand, I assure you, you’re not going to be able to quit either, and you will eat your nails off until you have one hanging in your mouth - if you’re a woman, you'll hate yourself too.
As I said, I grabbed a cigarette and hung it on my lower lip – my mouth was dry, it did not cost me any effort. It was cold that night, I went to the car, opened the back door and grabbed my jacket. Once on and zipped up to the neck, I leaned against the separation fence overlooking a football field. I always saw it on the way back home but never had I stopped to look at it. I think it was a problem I had when I was ten or eleven. Well, not just a fucking problem? A fucking bastard asshole teacher soured much of my childhood. No, I won’t tell you now, I'll just say what matters.
This time I could not help but look inside and see how children trained. At that moment they were warming up. Wow, they were sure making them sweat, so cute, running around the football field. I noticed that there were two coaches, both very young. They talked and laughed, forgetting the little ones who did nothing but go round and round. I noticed one of the smallest over the other, "I think he reminded me of myself." I was a little over weight, not fat, but he did have some extra weight. He seemed untrained, like he dint have much time running. He was in last place and gave me the impression that, at any time, he would vomit his guts. I looked and saw the young coaches were just going around. I got angry, really, really angry. The little one had plenty of pride and, despite being devoid of oxygen, pulling his little legs struggling to keep up, I guess the fear of humiliation of his team mates, gave him the strength to endure, even if it was one more lap.
In that moment the cigarette burned my lip, I spat angrily, I hadn't even tasted it, shit! I glanced across the field and saw a man who never lost sight of the little boy and it seemed that at any moment, he was going to run to help him. But he didn’t, he seemed to wait for the coaches to finally put an end to his son's suffering. When he was about to jump the fence that separated him from the field and help his son, he saw with relief how the coaches ended their conversation about their pickups or weekend plans, had ended the laps, with relief for the boy, his father and me!
Just then I saw that the one who seemed to have more authority over the children, said goodbye to his partner and children, grabbed his bag from the ground and marched toward the door. He was a very tall man, in his twenties, tan and athletic. He did not look anything like my gym teacher, however, I hated him at that moment.
When he opened his eyes I saw how they opened inordinately, not understanding where he was or who he was with, in his frightened eyes disbelief shone bright. What was he doing there? Who was this man who looked upside down? I left him no chance to ask, I covered his mouth with tape, which I already had ready in my hand, and went back to check if the ties that bound his hands behind his back were strong enough for him not to manage to free himself, in his more than possible struggles. Impossible, not even Goliath could free himself from these bonds.
He began to drop grunts expecting to be understood, I ignored him. Parsimoniously, I began cutting his clothing off with a box cutter, until he was completely naked. The poor man, naked and hung upside down, looked like a small scared lamb. I placed a wooden box on the ground and sat in silence to contemplate him.
We were not far from the football field, two hundred short meters of distance away, in an abandoned warehouse where Christmas presents were made to order, above all, spectacular baskets filled with ham and such. In one of those hooks, where possibly a ham hung before, the boy was suspended. I did not have another cigarette so I didn't want to wait any more. I pressed the cutter between my fingers and went to him. The boy started moving desperately, he was strong and agile, I had to step aside for a few seconds and think. I found the solution to my problems right on the floor beneath his head, only a foot away and had thick screws coming out of it. -Surely there was there a bottling-machine of some sort. The warehouse was empty, filled with debris, cardboard boxes and wooden rickety everywhere, and, of course, cables, many ca
bles throughout it. I went to the nearest bunch and pulled out a couple of meters, enough for what was going to use it for. First I tied one end coiled in two, in the twisted screws, strong enough to hold the boy still, then I held him tightly by the neck, tying the other bent end tight enough to shorten his breath. I pushed hard to make it tense, ready to break its neck, just "ready". Then, without haste, I devoted myself to the work I liked the most... To make a leather suit with his skin. I knew how to do it and did it, with the cutter I cut around the neck, continued by the chest and abdomen ... his muted and gnashing groans of pain didn’t caused me even the slightest blush. His body, despite being tense and well tied, shook and shuddered as his blood painted his body. Suddenly he let out a piercing scream that sounded like an explosion in the whole warehouse, he had managed to free his mouth of the gag! I didn’t lose a second, with the cutter I mowed the vocal cords with a cut, cutting suddenly the cry of the boy, which became a drowned twittering, like a snore choked by his blood.
His eyes were out of its orbits, in pain and despair. I hated how he looked at me and with my index and ring fingers I popped them out with a dizzying movement worthy of the great David Copperfield, like two rotten eggs. It will be more fun if you do not see my next move, I thought, in a post hypnotic state, the feeling of fear and horror he'll have, not knowing what the next cut will be. Fear crashing into his bones. I felt excited just thinking of it-, I wiped my fingers on his body. At that moment I realized that he had lost consciousness. I disliked that, it wasn’t fun. I grinded my teeth with rage, I didn’t have much time, how could I know if they weren’t looking for him already? I took a few seconds to savor my revenge, thinking the boy as my former gymnastics coach. No, he wasn’t him, I know ... so what?
A cruel murderer
I breathed deeply, I felt tired and my head had begun to wake up and was hurting horribly. That could only mean one thing, I needed to kill. But the truth is I hated to have to do it while the boy was unconscious. How would I enjoy killing him if he was unconscious? I began to get angry with myself, with the boy and even with the mother who birthed him. Enraged, I kicked the wooden box in which he had been resting, with such bad luck that I hit my foot with a fucking rusty nail, which made me howl in pain, helplessly, seeing as the puncture easily crossed the leather and embedded in my poor thumb.
I cannot say how ridiculous my jumps on one leg made me look, a filthy murderer with a nail stuck in his fucking foot.
When I got my shoe off I saw the huge rusty nail crossed from side to side on my big toe and it wasn't a miracle I didn't faint. What do you want? I am very apprehensive, especially when the blood that runs is mine.
I wasn’t counting on that, so I should not waste time, I pulled the nail, grinding my teeth, wrapping the nail with my handkerchief, which I then put it in the pocket of the anorak, to leave no evidence that could incriminate me. I remembered that I always carried a cooler in the car trunk, a first aid kit, not much else beside some bandages, tape and alcohol. That would be enough, for now, I thought.
When I attacked the boy in the back and put him it in the trunk, I took him directly to the abandoned warehouse where we were now. Of course I drove the car in easily, the blinds were old and broken, I assumed that all trash and debris were crammed in a corner of the factory, rickety boxes and even human shit. At some point the building had been inhabited by so-called, homeless. Surely they were evicted from it not too long ago.
Hopping, hurting with every wiggle of my foot, I got to the car. There I cured myself and I bandaged my foot. I took out the pill box from the glove compartment and opening it with one hand I brought some to my mouth swallowing a couple at a time, dry, no water or anything. Then, once calmed, I went to the boy, who had not yet regained consciousness. I resigned myself, what could I do? I moved a few feet away and watched for a couple of minutes. The truth, however young, strong and handsome a man is, without skin ... he looked appalling! It even impressed me, seeing it excited me, it was indeed a strange and unsettling feeling. I did not want to wait any longer, I would finish what I had started. When I started walking I could feel something crunched under my feet, and looked down to see what it was, I found it was nothing but salt. Salt! That gave me an almost brilliant idea, I did not think, I grabbed a handful with both hands and threw it over boy, sticking it to his wounds. I hoped to wake him and continue with my fun but, I was fucked.
The grunt of pain and the violent reaction that he had after waking up to feel the bite of salt in his bloody body, made him shake very violently causing the strained ties he wore around his neck break with a dry sound, killing him instantly.
As you can imagine, my fun was over, just like that, and it angered me more and my headache increased, as result. Well, I could not let it go to waste, so with the cutter, I got myself a good supply of fresh meat for a few days. Of course I still had work to do. It took a little over an hour, to erase and clean all my footprints there, I even erased the traces of the car, pouring a wealth of garbage where it stood. The corpse, don’t ask, I have a foolproof method. (Here you can add a demonic laugh if you want.)
That night I had another visit from the old man, this time it was different, we did not go on a trip, he stayed with me, next to my bed, the strange thing was that I did not recognize the place, no, definitely not my house.
Damn it! How didn't I realize it? I have been seen! I read the newspaper headlines: FINALLY, AN EYE WITNESS CLAIMS TO HAVE SEEN THE NON-SERIAL KILLER, A NICKNAME EARNED DUE TO THE UNSEEMING RELATION BETWEEN MURDERS: No sense can be made from his actions and he doesn't kill like most known criminals.
The article continued: "the witness was able to see how the murderer tortured and killed a young man of about twenty years of age, which he took out from the trunk of his car, apparently unconscious, he said that he had not been able to identify the color, the brand or model. He was able to see the young man and his murderer was because of the moonlight, - it was a full moon-, that came in squarely through the dirty windows of the warehouse, illuminating the scene where the torture and subsequent death of the boy was carried out..." but it was not that what I was concerned about, no, the worrying thing is that after the image of the witness there was a well-known face: Mathias! And if Mathias had taken charge of the protection of the witness, it was going to be frankly difficult to come up to him and ... to kill him. I took instinctively my hand to my pocket and caressed Alicia´s bracelet slightly. Since the last time I faced her, I had always decided to take it with me. I did not know exactly why, but I had a feeling in the nose that it could bring me in a future something very good. And putting it on my wrist didn't affect me at all, not at all, I was seeing myself on a romantic date with it.
Two? Murderers are on the loose
"Okay, I have to think of something, I've just seen in on TV and read about it in the press, there's a witness. This time "I was too cocky" and I made a mistake, a serious mistake, but okay, I'm already going to take care of it. I know that I have time, if Lieutenant Mathias had any clue, he would have come to get me, without thinking about it; he must be missing something, which gives me an advantage.
― Damn, Cuestas! Are you trying to say that the witness does not want to say what he saw, now? ─Mathias was climbing the walls, looking at the Deputy Inspector Javier Cuestas.
Cuestas observed him with great respect, he knew what this could mean for him, he knew Lieutenant Mathias and didn't wanted to go back on the streets giving parking fines. So he swallowed hard and set to reaffirm what he had already told him, that witch seemed the Lieutenant did not understand.
―Yes that’s what I said, the witness refuses to talk, says that if he speaks we will release him and the murderer will kill him. That is the reason why he does not want to speak and identify him. he fears that once the identification is done, and we have no use for him anymore, well leave him in the street, remember Lieutenant that he asked us to keep him in a cell, believing it to be safer, and he even insists; "I'm safer in prison".
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br /> Mathias drove a furious blow onto the table. "I was so close and now that damn bastard refused to talk? I am going rip of his balls and make him have them for lunch!" ―he thought to himself while approaching the coat hanger and forcefully pulling his jacket to walk towards the door. Cuestas followed without asking where, he knew very well what his boss was capable of, very capable of.
―Hey asshole? What's gotten into you today that you don't want to talk?- Mathias said to the subject, with a glare. He was a man of medium height, skinny as a dog and with more "lights" than the streets on Christmas.
The man shrunk and coiled like a snake when he faced the lieutenant.
"And you haven’t seen him angry." ―thought Cuestas to himself.
At the same time, agent Perez approached sergeant Cuestas, whispered in his ear.
- Lieutenant!
Mathias was startled and made an unfriendly face.
-What's happening now?
- Sir, we’ve just been informed of a new murder, it seems that it is our killer and ... the weirdest thing sir is that ... - Cuestas swallowed hard at feeling the dry look of his boss, as if waiting for him to finish at once.
-Gabriel is here sir! ─he said suddenly, feeling the urgent gaze of his boss, who flinched, before the astonishing news─ I just crossed paths with him just before going down to the cells- mister Cuestas lowered his voice as if it were a secret.
- What the hell are you saying? And how do you know it’s the same murderer, eh? Any new witnesses, fingerprints, or are you a psychic? -said Matthias angrily.- Because I know, we never get anything, all I have so far is this witness, who now doesn’t even want to talk.
- Sir ... ahem-after a slight pause, Cuestas continued -Who we have identified is ... Gabriel, no doubt.
Mathias was left with his mouth open ... and with good reason, he was talking about his arch enemy, Gabriel? And the fucker remained mute and did not continue?
Gabriel, I'm (not) a serial killer Page 9
