by David Carter
“Shit, are you for real?”
“Just think about it.”
They walked back to Blaze’s cell in silence while Franks mulled over his bold proposition. When they got there, and Blaze had all his restrains removed, Franks pulled his baton from his waist belt and clubbed Blaze across his back, and shouted, “Get back in your cage, Blaze! You have a date with Poochie tonight!”
He slammed the door behind him and stormed off out of the den.
Danny had been watching from his cell. “What the hell was that all about, man?”
Blaze violently kicked the toilet bowl in his cell. “Fucking asshole!” he screamed at the top of his voice.
“What is it?” Danny asked again, confused.
Blaze eventually calmed down after he tore the mattress off his bunk and punched the concrete wall with his bare fists. “Sorry, Danny boy; looks like it’s stale shit on toast for the immediate future again.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Blaze sighed. “It means I just struck out with Frankie. That’s fucking what.”
Chapter 24
Ryan and Hampton pulled into the parking lot of the pint-sized Glendale hospital, and made their way through the main doors to the reception desk. Behind the clutter sat a plump, middle aged lady wearing a long white overcoat over her lilac uniform shirt and long pants. She sized up the two men as they approached her. “Detectives Ryan and Hampton, I presume?”
“Yes, that’s us. You must be Anna. Thank you for your call earlier today,” said Ryan.
She walked out from behind the desk. “This way, gentlemen,” she said as she led them to O’Brian’s room.
The smell of disinfectant pierced their nostrils as they scurried down the main corridor. The bare grey walls, army green linoleum floor, and sterile odour made for a bleak reception. When they entered the recovery ward, Anna stopped outside a room with a name tag on the door that read: K. O’Brian. She pulled back a stray strand of her long, curly red hair from her face, then sternly said, “Listen up, you two, I need to brief you on Karl’s condition before I can let you see him, okay?”
“Fire away,” said Hampton.
“All right then,” she said, and quickly read the notes on her clipboard. “Karl received a trauma to the side of his head with a blunt object, knocking him unconscious. From what the neurosurgeon could tell, his P.H.I should have killed him”
“His what?” interrupted Ryan.
“Sorry, penetrating head injury,” she explained. “It’s a miracle he had no damage to his vital organs, as he received a total of thirteen stab wounds to his abdomen and chest. The surgeon who patched him up has good reason to believe that your killer knew exactly what he was doing when he attacked him.”
“How so?” asked Hampton.
She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Let me put it this way; if you randomly stabbed somebody’s chest and abdomen thirteen times in a state of rage, what are the odds that your victim would receive no critical damage to any vital organs?”
“Probably a million to one,” he answered.
“Exactly. Now I know I’m no detective, but the team who worked on him was in agreement, that the stab wounds on his body were strategically placed to create a slow draining of his blood, which would have eventually killed him. He was lucky to be found so soon.”
Ryan scribbled down the surgeon’s hypothesis in his notebook, as did Hampton, who said, “Before you called us, we were going to come here and ask you whether you have any leads on who it was that found him. Can you recall anything about the conversation you had with the person who called you from Karl’s residence?”
“Sorry, I have no idea who is was, nor do I remember anything unusual about it. No, wait I remember the man was breathing heavily—as if he was out of breath from running or something like that.”
“Thank you,” said Hampton as they both scribbled down the information. “Is there anything else you can tell us about Karl’s condition when he was found?”
“Yes. He was discovered face down on the floor with a verse from the Bible carved into the skin on his back.”
Ryan and Hampton looked at each other grimly. “There must be more pieces to the puzzle,” said Ryan.
“No kidding,” replied Hampton.
“The verse carved into Turner’s back pointed towards the abomination of homosexuality in the eyes of God.”
“Yeah, and?”
“So, what does the other verse on Karl have to do with anything?”
“Good question.”
Ryan turned back to Anna. “Do you happen to have the verse written down in your notes there?”
“Actually, yes, I do,” she said, and handed Ryan her clipboard.
“First John, one, nine,” he said, and wrote it down.
Anna’s face tensed as she sternly said, “The only reason I’m permitting you both to see Karl so soon after surgery, is because this is a murder investigation in a small town. My town. There is going to be mass panic when the locals find out we have a killer in our midst. I want him found quickly, and I want to see him put to justice! Karl was a much loved and respected constable in the community.”
“We realise that, Anna, which is why we are most grateful for your cooperation with our investigation,” said Ryan.
“I must reiterate that Karl is stable, but he could relapse at any moment if he is pushed too hard.”
“We will tread as lightly as possible. You have my word on that.”
“Okay, you may go in now. But please bear in mind everything I just said.”
She bustled off back to the reception desk. Ryan went into O’Brian’s room first, and saw him lying in the hospital bed with more bandages covering his body than a mummified Egyptian. He had an I.V. line plugged into his hand, as well as morphine, keeping him alive and comfortable. His eyes were closed, and the room was silent except for the constant beeping of his heart monitor and his oxygen mask as he breathed in and out in his semi-conscious state.
Hampton followed Ryan in, and couldn’t help bowing his head and crossing himself in reverence for the man who defied death by the narrowest of margins. Ryan pulled up the only chair in the room and sat next to O’Brian while Hampton stood back. Ryan leaned forward as he gently said, “Hi there, Karl, can you hear me?”
O’Brian’s eyes rapidly flickered open as his pupils adjusted to the light in the room. He stared wearily at Ryan, and managed the tiniest nod of his head.
“I’m Detective Cameron Ryan from the Milton City Homicide Unit, and standing behind me is my partner, Detective Steve Hampton. Did you understand what I just said?”
O’Brian nodded ever so faintly.
“That’s really good,” said Ryan encouragingly. “We don’t want to rush you, but we do have a few questions that may help us with our investigation into your tragic circumstances for which I can only offer my sincerest condolences.”
O’Brian groaned his approval.
“It will make our investigation much faster if you are open and honest with our questions, and I would also like you to know that there is no judgement about any particular lifestyle choices that some narrow-minded people may find offensive in this room.”
O’Brian painfully nodded his understanding, and managed a microscopic smile of appreciation in the corners of his mouth.
“All right, let’s get this over with so you can rest up,” said Ryan with a smile. “First question; I’m just going to cut to the chase. Were you and Luke Turner involved in a secret, sexual relationship?”
O’Brian’s eyes told him the answer. They shot open the second he registered Ryan’s question. “You can nod your head, or squeeze my hand for yes, or just say and do nothing for no,” said Ryan.
He faintly nodded.
“Thank you, that already makes things easier, as now we have a clear motive. Second question: both the MCHU and the Glendale Police found no visible signs of forced entry to your home making us presume you knew the person who attacked you and
let them come inside, after which you were blindsided. Is that what actually happened?”
O’Brian was struggling to stay lucid. The concentration required to listen to Ryan’s cross examination was draining him severely. He struggled to nod his head, so he raised the index finger on his left hand.
“Does that mean yes?” asked Ryan.
He lifted his finger again. “Did you get that down, Steve?”
“Sure did.”
Ryan had to calm himself. This was too good to be true. The lone survivor defies the odds to live and identify his killer, he thought. “Okay, last question: I am aware this may not even be possible, but can you identify the person who did this to you?”
O’Brian raised his finger.
“Can you physically tell us?”
O’Brian didn’t move.
“Is that a no?”
He lifted his finger.
“We are so close!” groaned Hampton.
“Calm down, Steve, we need to keep a peaceful atmosphere in here,” said Ryan sternly.
“Sorry, mate.”
“Wait, I have an idea. Write down the entire alphabet on your notepad, and do it quickly.”
“Sure. Why?”
“Don’t ask why, just get on with it,” he snapped. “He looks like he’s gonna pass out on us any bloody moment.”
Hampton quickly scribbled it down, and passed it to Ryan. “Okay, Karl, I’m going to move my pen across the letters on the page, starting with the letter: A and keep going through them in order to the letter Z. If you can spell the name of the person who attacked you, raise your finger when my pen touches the letter that corresponds with the first letter in their name, and so on, until the name is complete. I realise this will be very difficult for you, so take your time and try to be as accurate as possible.”
He raised his finger.
Ryan put his pen on the page, and slowly dragged it across the letters. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath with anticipation, waiting for O’Brian’s signal to stop. The tip of the pen passed over the letter: M. O’Brian’s finger wiggled like crazy.
“M?” asked Ryan.
He raised his finger
“Thank you,” said Ryan, and winked at Hampton.
Clever dick, he thought proudly.
He started at the Letter: A again. O’Brian was in obvious distress as the concentration was taxing him dearly. “You better do this quickly, mate, I think we’re losing him!” urged Hampton.
“Come on buddy, hang in there,” said Ryan, and was positive he got a raised finger from O’Brian as the pen passed over the letter: J. But just as his finger moved, O’Brian suddenly began convulsing on the bed. His monitor beeped loudly as his heart rate plummeted, sending the detectives into a panic. Ryan pushed the emergency button above O’Brian’s bed and yelled for help. The emergency alarm sounded and two nurses came blasting through the doors, almost knocking Hampton over in the process. Ryan watched on in horror as one of the nurses started CPR compressions, and the other administered a drug into his I.V. line and charged the defibrillator. Then suddenly, like a cat with nine lives, O’Brian’s heart rate returned to a steady rhythm.
Anna Davies came storming in. “Right, you two, that’s enough. You need to leave now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Hampton.
Ryan wasn’t about to argue with her either, even though they hadn’t quite gotten what they’d came for. They hightailed it out to the car and got in, relieved to be away from the sudden chaos and Anna Davies. Hampton turned to face Ryan. “You did real good, boss. We actually got a decent lead from our visit. Don’t you go beating yourself up over what just happened in there, okay? Running the pen over the letters on the notepad was bloody genius.”
“Thanks, mate. I’m just glad we came away with something. At least now we know we are looking for someone who has a deep hatred towards homosexuals, and an obvious passion for God and what the Bible literally says about such subjects.”
“He could possibly be overweight, too” said Hampton. “Anna described his breathing as ‘heavy’.”
“And we’ve got the letters M.J to work with,” added Ryan.
Hampton frowned. “The only problem is that I don’t know any names that begin with M.J. Are you sure that’s what he said?”
“As sure as I can be,” Ryan thought for a moment. “Do you think he knew he was about to lose consciousness and gave us the perpetrator’s initials instead?”
“It’s possible, I guess. He is a senior constable; I’m sure he’s used to thinking on his feet.”
“I’d buy that logic.”
They sat silently for a moment. “So, what’s the plan now?” said Hampton. “Got any ideas on where we should start our search for our needle in the haystack?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Let’s go have a chat with my new favourite person in Glendale; Sharon King.”
“Sharon? That sexy little number from the bar?”
“The very same one.”
“Why would you ask her?”
Ryan paused, before he cheekily replied, “That is why I am Batman, and you are my loyal Robin.”
Hampton laughed. “You’re such a smartass.”
“Tell me, Robin, where is the one place most male locals like to hang out in a small town?”
“The pub?”
“Bingo,” he said, before he fired up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.
Chapter 25
Danny broke the silence by saying, “You need to be on your A game tonight, Blaze. Poochie might be slightly overweight and have the intelligence of a steaming pile of shit, but I’ve seen him in the ring, and he can fight. Once he lands a punch, it stays landed; he hits super hard.”
Blaze was sitting on the edge of his bunk, flicking the blade of his knife out, closing it up again and repeating it over and over as he silently fumed about Franks. He eventually looked up at Danny. “I’ll be ready for him. I just need to get myself motivated.”
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“You said that Poochie is a child molester, right?”
“Yeah, sometimes he brags about the little boys and girls he’s had his way with then brutally murdered for fun.
“Well, that’s motivation enough for me. Plus, tonight I’ll be fighting with a little extra passion than the average guy.”
“In what way?”
Blaze hopped off his bunk and sat down on the floor in front of the bars that separated them. Danny did the same. They looked at each other face to face. Blaze decided the time was right to finish his story. “Well, I told you about how my mum was the principal of the boarding school in Glendale, and that me, James, and Trinity all lived there during the week, except on weekends, right?”
“Yeah, you told me that.”
“Well, my mum will never admit this, but even my brother and sister agree with me that Mum was taking the easy way out, as we were under the school’s care when classes finished for the day, meaning she didn’t have to be a mother for five days a week. And the thing that annoyed me the most was that Mum would make time for Trinity, as they were really close, and James played the smart game: keeping Mum wrapped around his little finger. He got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. I got exactly none of her time. James was clever enough to work out that when Mum had got through her initial financial troubles after divorcing Dad; she had started to accumulate a decent pile of money. Because when Mum’s contract was up for review that year, the school was in major financial trouble, and instead of giving her a pay increase as initially promised, they compromised on all three of us kids virtually living there for free. All our meals, lodging, and school fees were taken care of, making my mum a rather substantial saving during our time there. I didn’t give a shit about money then, and I don’t give a shit about it now, but her tale about us having to live at the school because it was a “valuable life experience” was just a load of shit
. She was creaming it, and James was playing her for a fool.”
“Fair call, if you ask me,” agreed Danny.
“Now, because I wasn’t close with Mum, I ended up hanging out by myself a lot. I was rooming with another boy my age, until he made the mistake of ganging up on me with his friends in the changing sheds after gym class one day.”
“Shit, I bet this will be good.” Danny chuckled.
“There were four of them. I asked my roommate, Terrance, what the hell his problem was. All he had to say was that he was ‘sick of rooming with a weirdo’. He said I had to make an excuse to my mum to move out of my room, or they would beat me up. I just laughed at him. I told him to stick the idea right up his ass, for two reasons: one, I never liked asking my mum for anything, as it just wasn’t in my nature. And to be completely honest, she was probably glad I didn’t ask for much, as I was the difficult son who purposely went against the grain just to wind her up. I guess I was acting out from her lack of attention towards me. And two, I never give in to bullies, especially spotty nosed twats like Terrance. So I gave him an ultimatum. I told him to ask my mum for a transfer to another room on the grounds that he couldn’t sleep in the same room as me, or I would kick his ass instead.”
“Some choice, eh?” Danny grinned.
“It was the perfect excuse, as some nights I’m a chronic sleep talker. Sometimes I kept him awake all fucking night.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Danny joked.
“Unfortunately for Terrance, he declined my generous offer. So, I went to plan B. He was obviously the leader of his group, so I figured if I could fuck him up enough; it would make the rest of the group think twice about taking me on. Just like I told you earlier today; once you cross the line with me without any provocation, I don’t hold back and I aim to cause pain. Anyway, the stupid prick wore glasses, so I marched up to him, and punched him in the eyes—pop, pop. He had two broken lenses and a bleeding face in approximately two seconds.
“The classic Blaze technique,” said Danny, laughing.
“He grabbed his face and squealed like a baby, leaving his entire body unguarded, which I’d learned was an opportunity to strike after all the beatings I’d taken from my dad. I tackled him around the waist, driving him backwards until he slammed into the tiled wall of the shower block. I gave him my customary knee to the groin, and watched him crumple into a ball on the concrete floor in agony. Just to make sure he got the message, I took a piss on his face and turned the cold water onto maximum pressure, freezing the little shit half to death. Needless to say, his buddies left him for dead and fucked off outta there quicker than I could say, who’s your daddy now? And as expected, I got in the shit with my mum. Trinity stuck up for me and convinced Mum to go easy on me as I didn’t start the fight. So, I got the room to myself and those dickheads never bothered me again.”
