Killer on Call 6 Book Bundle (Books 1-6)

by Gwendolyn Druyor

Tim sighed and turned to sit against the wall, watching her for a moment. Finn was easily in her seventies although he didn’t know her exact age. He’d have to brave math to figure his own, they spent so much time as other people. Tonight, his hair was dyed black, matching his clothing and his eyeliner. His current alias was DavId, signed with a capital I, Ruchter, a goth pet groomer who spent the day with his feeble old grandmother at her mother’s gravesite. When told the graveyard was closing for the night, he’d apologized to the day watchman for how slow his grams was. The watchman, who had an anniversary dinner he had better not be late for, was easily talked into trusting the harmless pair to shut the gate behind themselves and secure the padlock.

  Tim had secured the chain. But from the inside of the tall gates. He’d hustled back to the records office to find Finn inside, going through the files. She’d ordered him to take up position under the window and watch the gravesite they’d been watching since the private committal service earlier that day.

  That was six hours ago. Now the sun was gone. The cloud obscured stars and new moon provided no light for their vigil. It occurred to Tim that he was blinding himself by watching Finn with her flashlight. He closed his eyes and began turning back to the window before she even spoke.

  “You’re ruining your night vision,” she pointed out. “Ahh, smart boy.”

  “What are you looking for?” he asked facing the glass.

  “New names,” she replied. “Always on the lookout for new names and a cemetery is a great place to find ones that aren’t being used anymore.”

  Tim thought about it. “But all that paperwork would have gone through the system before it got here.”

  “Ah, sure, for the well-to-do folks carefully stowed away in those file cabinets down there,” she told him. “These lonely boxes up here are for the unlucky souls who in days past would have gone into a potter’s field. This cemetery actually has a potter’s field, if you can believe it.”

  Tim made a note to look up potter’s field next chance he got.

  He heard Finn descend the ladder and manhandle it along the row of shelves. She paused to catch her breath and then he heard her step by stop making her way back to the top shelves. While she was creaking her way up the ladder in an outfit and makeup that made her look ninety-eleven, Tim worried she was showing her age for the first time since he’d met her. She would never complain. She didn’t believe in it. She might inform him of a sore back or stiff joints so that he would be aware and keep these challenges in mind on an assignment. But she would never complain. And she would never see a doctor.

  Doctors had told her that she was going to die. She had an inoperable brain tumor and she was going to die, they told her. They had told her this only three days after a car accident claimed the lives of her son and her husband.

  Fifteen years later, she was still alive.

  Tim opened his eyes. His pupils had widened enough so he could see the beautiful graveyard grounds. Up a hill to the right stood the headstone they’d picnicked by all day. And down at the bottom of the hill, just beyond a young elm tree lay the open gravesite of Mr. Theodore Black. No workers had come to fill in the grave with dirt even after the few mourners had left. Now the fancy coffin sat at the bottom of a six foot hole, open to the dark sky.

  Tim could see a hand scrabbling at the grass on the near side of the hole.

  “Finn!” he whispered again, out of habit. “You were right.”

  “Course I was.” She made her way down the ladder to peer out the window with him, tucking the flashlight in the satchel and grabbing her woolen wrap from the hook beside the door. “Why do you always sound surprised?”

  Tim pulled a long black duster from the floor where he’d been kneeling on it and followed Finn out.

  “Lock it.”

  He turned at her reminder, his lock picking kit in his hand in seconds. He massaged the tumblers in reverse until they fell into place and turned the deadbolt. It stuck and he wiggled the knob to get the deadbolt to seat. Leaning heavily on the old wooden door did the trick and the bolt slid home. Finn ambled slowly, whether from her real age or for his benefit, Tim didn’t know. He caught up with her, then checked in on their target.

  A quick glance told him Mr. Black was having some trouble climbing out of his grave. Not surprising since the man had never met a donut he could turn down. Tim saw the appeal. But Finn had taught him self-control.

  “How did you know he wasn’t dead?” he asked as they strolled along the pitch black lawn.

  He could hear her smile. He couldn’t see her light brown face because she’d draped the woolen wrap over her silver wig. They weren’t exactly prowling through the graveyard, but it wouldn’t do to be seen before the job was done.

  Again.

  They’d already killed Mr. Black once.

  “I never believe anyone is finished until I see their cold dead body before my very eyes.”

  Tim turned to stare at the side of her head.

  “Don’t look at me that tone of voice,” Finn said, eyes locked on the target.

  Tim focused on the path before them. “Finn, we saw Mr. Black’s cold dead body.”

  “He was still warm.”

  “The coroner declared him dead on site,” Tim reminded her.

  “Coroner’s are just trumped up doctors,” she declared.

  “Doctors are usually right!” he argued inadvisably.

  Finn stopped walking. Mr. Black had gotten his torso out of the hole. He was lying on the dirt and grass with mud covering his classy funeral duds.

  “I am alive. And right up until the moment I stop caring if I’m dead or alive, I will act as though I am alive.” She looked up into his confused face. “The moment you start believing what other people tell you without searching out the proof yourself is the moment you need to quit this job. Don’t listen to them. You live, my son, right up until the moment you decide it’s time to stop.”

  She nodded her head once and pinned him with her eyes.

  He nodded back seriously. “Yes, Finn.”

  She scrutinized him for a moment longer then bobbed her head so gently it could have been the tremors that had been bothering her in recent months. “Good.”

  Finn turned and continued on their way to the grave where Mr. Black had finally gotten a knee up on the surface and looked to be making significant progress.

  “Why didn’t we just fill in the grave when everyone left?” Tim asked. “There are even shovels right there.”

  Finn made a noise of disgust. “Oh no, my son. Can you even imagine? I mean of course you can imagine. They bury people alive on TV all the time and we’ve seen proof of scratched up coffins from the middle ages.” She ran her eyes over his face again and stumbled. Tim caught her. She continued, “But can you imagine going to sleep every night with the image of poor Theodore there trapped in a black coffin running out of air, terrified and hopeless? No. This way is a way we can live with.”

  The man in question heard the noise when Finn stumbled. He squinted in their direction but he had not yet picked them out of the surrounding blackness. He seemed more interested in breathing the fresh cold air and brushing grave dirt from his clothes.

  Finn tucked a feathered dart into the pipes she’d been screwing together throughout their short walk. She lifted it to her lips and taking a quick breath, she shot the dart directly into Mr. Black’s neck.

  He reached up to the sharp pain in his throat. Just as suddenly he looked up at the two stepping out of the darkness into his line of vision. His eyes widened. Then he fell back into the grave from which he had just struggled out.

  Finn took out another dart and positioned it in the end of the blowgun. She and Tim reached the edge of the grave in moments. They peered over.

  Mr. Theodore Black, child molester and white collar fraud mastermind, had hit his head on the sharp edge of his beautiful and expensive coffin. Blood spattered the white silk.

  Tim peeked at Finn.

  “Is he dead n
ow, you think?”

  His mentor sighed lustily and flung a rope ladder into the hole. “Just go put the man back in his coffin.”

  Thirteen

  His nipple was bleeding. His cheek was bleeding. And Tim was pretty sure the back of his head was bleeding. He felt something warm and sticky dripping onto his back. Plus his thoughts refused to gather together in a sensible order.

  “I’m alive.”

  The sound of his voice startled him. He hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

  “Shut up,” Vanessa barked. “I’m playing with Officer Avi now.”

  Tim spun on his rope. The features of the room flashing by made him dizzy but he kept his eyes open and examined Vanessa’s other captive each time he circled around.

  The woman straddled Avi’s lap. She’d left his black briefs on for some reason but all of his other clothing lay in a sopping heap just beyond the seat in the bathroom. The big man was feeling no pain. He hung against the ropes tying him to Tim’s red vinyl chair helpless to resist her games. Vanessa appeared to be tracing something on his shorn skull. She would abandon that diversion to bite at his nipples, only to return to his cranium. Avi’s head fell back sharply every time Vanessa let it go. The ex-cop offered no resistance. Tim could see cuts now on Avi’s head as his vision cleared with each rotation. Blood trickled red against Avi’s deep black skin. Avi looked dead.

  “He is alive.”

  Again, he surprised himself to hear the words out loud.

  “You are so needy.” Vanessa swung her leg off the bigger man and stomped over to Tim.

  She took her time. Tim spun another full rotation before she reached him. She traced a finger down his stomach, painting pictures in the line of blood on his very white flesh. Her touch tickled. That made him shiver with revulsion. But at least it kept him from spinning.

  Which let his head clear. He needed to find out what Vanessa was planning, where Kissy and Julia were, and he needed to get out of this rigging.

  Not necessarily in that order.

  “Quick question before you,” he looked down to where Vanessa was examining the blood on her hand, “do whatever it is you’re going to do.”

  She looked up. She had all the time in the world. She wasn’t worried about anyone interrupting her little play time. Tim took this as a good sign that she hadn’t hidden any timed explosives around his club.

  He glanced over at Avi again who remained senseless. His head swung around to dangle by his right shoulder so Tim had a perfect view of his face.

  “What’s with the boxers? Why do we get to keep some clothes on?”

  Vanessa strolled around him. She slapped his ass and his entire body tried to flinch away from the sting which caused his bound wrists to bleed again and his tortured shoulders to burn.

  I’m alive, he screamed inside his head.

  Vanessa let her strides take her to the key table by the front door. She picked up Tim’s abandoned glass of prosecco and slapped Avi hard across the face on her way back to Tim. “You boys are very pretty,” she told him between sips.

  “I love your legs. And his chest is fucking to die for.” She choked on her sudden harsh laughter. It took her a moment to calm enough to go on. “But your junk is not pretty. It’s dangly and awkward and let me tell you, cutting it all off does not improve the region visually and seriously impairs its functionality.”

  Tim struggled to keep the revulsion from his face. His stomach sent its contents into his mouth and as much as he would like to throw up now that Vivian was directly beneath him, he couldn’t show her any weakness. He forced himself to breath and swallow back the nausea. Kissy should have just killed the bitch when she had the chance.

  Thinking about it he wondered why she hadn’t. They were in the middle of a nightclub, the easiest place in the world to explain away an unconscious girl. He’d ask her later because, he reminded himself, she’s alive.

  “We’re going to play for a little while. And then I’ll burn this place down. Kissy’s little bestie is gonna be my new partner. Isn’t that perfect? Julia the drug dealer. Honestly the way all those idiots at Circus Freaks torture themselves, they’re gonna be insatiable customers once they’ve gotten a taste of what I have to offer. I’m just sad that the sweet lovers, Officers Kissy and Kee won’t be around to see it.”

  Tim realized that Vanessa had no idea Julia was his sister. She was torturing her as a way of punishing Avi and Kissy. But that meant Julia wasn’t poisoned.

  And yet again, he’d anti-dosed someone who didn’t need it. So where was his little sister?

  As if on cue, a rattling noise came from the Murphy bed.

  “DAMN IT!” Vanessa screamed. “YOU FUCKERS WON’T STAY OUT!” She pushed Tim away and tripped over to Avi on the tips of her toes. “Except you, my love. You’re a good boy.”

  She planted a long kiss on the unconscious man’s blue lips while the racket behind the hide-a-bed grew.

  Vanessa growled as she stomped over to the bedroom area. Tim wiggled like a fish on a hook so he could see what she was going to do. Flipping her blue hair fiercely out of her eyes, Vanessa flung open the double doors hiding the metal frame of the bed with its folded in legs. She pulled a stun gun, Kissy’s Tim assumed, from the gold lamé belt of her catsuit but while she was distracted with that, the bed shot away from the wall.

  Kissy leaped out.

  Kissy’s hands were duct taped in front of her and it looked like the remainder of the roll had been used to muffle her with the final few feet wrapped all the way around her head with no regard for her fine black hair. This same strip of tape crossed her eyes and ears. A black stick in her hands, Kissy spun this way and that as she tried to figure out where Vanessa had gone. At first Tim thought she’d broken off a leg of his bed but then he recognized the thick metal pipe as one of the homemade fighting sticks he kept under his pillow.

  Vanessa crawled out from under the bed and silently crept towards Kissy.

  For a moment, Tim watched with the idea that he was as silenced as her. Then he came to his senses and yelled, “Kissy, four o’clock!”

  When she shook her head he repeated “On your right, a little behind you!”

  She spun, but it was too late. Vanessa took a glancing cuff from the pipe on her left shoulder before she got inside Kissy’s reach and jammed the already sparking metal teeth of the stun gun against her chest.

  Kissy’s momentum pulled her away from the electricity but the shock made her fall. Her head slammed on the metal corner of his bed and she bounced to the ground.

  Tim screamed and struggled against his bonds.

  Vanessa screamed in triumph and raising the stun gun over her head like a dagger leapt onto the love of Tim’s life.

  Fourteen

  Blood dripped from Tim’s wrists into his hair and onto the floor and furniture around him. Still he flailed against the restraints dangling him from the rafters. Even if his feet weren’t bound at the ankles the rope he hung from was tied in a complicated knot suspending him nine feet up. The whole rig connected to a locked ratchet pulley on the far wall of the kitchen. He had to take a second look when he found it. The woman had bolted the pulley to his wall.

  It made him wonder how long he’d been unconscious.

  He would not be able to get free. He would not be able to reach Kissy. But the flailing had started him swinging and he threw his weight into the swing, trying to fly far enough to kick Vanessa in the head. She stooped, speechifying over Kissy’s unconscious body. God, the woman liked to talk. Tim felt some hope as the raised stun gun lowered a little. Vanessa was more interested in grandstanding than killing. It meant he had a chance to talk her out of it.

  “What’s that, Vanessa?” he shouted. “I can’t hear so well with all the blood rushing from my head.”

  “I was SAYING,” she screeched, “the lady cop needs to wake up so she can watch her boy toys die.”

  “Ahh,” Tim intoned, trying now to stop his body from spinning. “Well, I’m okay
with you killing Avi. Who’s her other boy toy?”

  This ploy distracted Vanessa. She finally looked away from Kissy’s helpless body. “You.”

  Tim laughed, “No ma’am. Ms. Kiersten has never played with me. I’m not saying I am not one hundred percent willing. I mean just look at that body.” He would have slapped himself if either of his hands were free or working. He’d just gotten her to look away.

  But no worries, as Red would have said, Vanessa didn’t look at Kissy. She stalked over to Tim and stopped the spinning with a hand under his chin.

  “Just look at this body,” she demanded, turning herself from side to side. “What the fuck does she have that I don’t have?”

  “Style. She’s classy. She’s smart. She writes music. And her songs aren’t just beautiful or witty, they make you feel. She can do the splits, which a guy has to appreciate.” He paused to see if Vanessa would show off her own splits but no. “She really listens. I’ll be honest, I’ve been in love with her since the first time I met her and I would give everything I own, which I’ll grant you isn’t much of value so let’s say I would give her everything I am, if she would give me the chance to win her heart.”

  He gazed at Kissy. She hadn’t moved. He couldn’t even see her chest rising and falling with breath. Was this stalling a waste of time?

  Vanessa stared up at Tim, stunned into silence.

  His honesty was at least keeping her attention. He went on. “You can do what you like with me. I have made the world a slightly better place. You know, I used to think my life wasn’t worth the oxygen I used. Keeping Kissy safe has made my life worthy and if she is dead, then you can do whatever you like with me. Go ahead and kill me if it makes you happy. I am not and never have been her boy toy. So when you decide to kill me, just don’t do it because you think it would make her unhappy.”

  Vanessa stood perfectly still, watching him with her cold eyes. Her pupils dilated, the black merging into the thin dark brown ring at the edges. Calmly she sneered, “You’re already dying. I dosed your wine with belladonna, you obsequious prick.”

  She stared up at him, eager for his response.