by H. B. Rae
"What is?" he asked.
"Are you sure nobody saw you?" I asked him, quite puzzled by what he’d said.
"I don't think so," he said. "But I don't know."
"Was this a quiet street?"
"Yes. It was really quiet, actually. I couldn't see anyone in their houses, so maybe it was just luck."
"And the fourth murder?"
"This was the final one," he said, rather enthusiastically. "And in this one, I had to set a trap for him."
"Go on," I said, interested to discover what he had to say.
"Well," he replied, "I had seen Richard flirting with another girl, so I wrote a fake love note asking for him to meet up in the woods,"
"How did you get it to him?" I asked, feeling like I was on top of the case.
"I slipped it through the vent in his locker, when no-one else was there. There was no closed-circuit TV at the time, either, so I was very lucky."
"O.k.," I said, "and then what happened?"
"You'll know the rest, really. After school finished, I watched him walk into the woods, where he expected to meet his crush. I then stabbed him about eight times, like the rest of them."
"You stabbed each of them eight times?"
"Roughly," he replied. He looked like he was being honest about the whole thing. As time went on and he spoke more and more, it was becoming less and less likely that he was making the whole thing up. I was half-expecting him at any moment to jump up and say, "Ha ha! This whole thing was just a joke!" but he didn't.
"So, there is nothing you want to add about any of the murders?" I asked him, ready to take more notes.
"If I think of anything else, I’ll tell you."
"O.k. Let's move on to the motive," I said, ready to finish the interview. "Why did you choose to do this to those people?"
"Well, Josh, Daniel, Steven and Richard were always making fun of us."
"Us?" I asked, intrigued by the possibility that this man had friends.
"Me and my friend, Laura. I don't see much of her now."
"Alright. What things did they do?"
"They used to play little pranks on us, but on me in particular. About a week before the first murder, the group of them grabbed hold of me in the woods and threw me in the river!"
It was then when I clicked. I had established a connection between the places where three of the four bodies were found, and the motive for murder.
"They sound very immature," I said, trying to keep him talking.
"Yes, and I had this all of the time."
"Well, that's about everything I have to say to you at this moment in time, but I will definitely come back to you later. What's going to happen now, is you are going to be charged, and we'll look at this in a bit more detail. Do you understand?"
He nodded.
"There is one more thing I would like to ask you," I said.
"Fire away," he said, clearly trying to make light of the whole situation.
"Do you take medication for anything?"
"Yes," he replied, "because I am schizophrenic."
"Alright," I said, knowing that my suspicions had been confirmed. "So does anyone look after you?"
"My cousin. Her name is Monica."
"Does she know you are here?"
"No."
This was very interesting. I now wanted to talk to Monica to see what she had to say about the whole thing. I left the room and talked to my colleagues. Graham and Patricia had returned with the news we’d all been waiting for.
"He's not making it up!" cried Graham.
"Right," I said, getting very excited.
The five of us gathered round in a circle, looking at all of the evidence collected at the crime scenes. In the witness statement of the first murder, it was written that Josh Davis did a chicken dance before he left the building. That was exactly what “John” said. In fact, everything that “John” said matched the details of the murders. The number of stab wounds matched, as well as the places the bodies were found and times of death.
"Furthermore," said Patricia, "None of these details were released to the press. I triple checked."
"You know what this means?" said Miranda. "The man in that room is the Minot Hacker!"
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***
Sample of Accused My Murder Mysteries #3
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B018KL5Z7S
Chapter 1
Tears rolled down her eyes that morning. The water inside the droplet of the tear was so peaceful – it was soon rubbed off by the woman who released that tear. Tammy Williams was standing in the bathroom one morning. It was a normal morning, as nothing else had changed since that day. Everything was back to normality – Tammy had been back at work for six weeks, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As usual, she had gone back to investigating gang killings in the area. She was bored. She was sick of her job, and sick of life. It was fair to say that she had been feeling depressed since she was told the news that her boyfriend had suddenly died – she did love him, after all. Although no-one was to blame for the death other than Danny, Tammy could not help but feel angry, wanting justice for Danny, even though there was no justice to be served.
Tammy returned to the office, where everyone else was seated.
"Are you alright?" asked Miranda, who Tammy did not like very much.
"I'm fine," Tammy lied. She just wanted to heave herself through the day and wait until the next day.
She had tried to speak to her mother about it, but it was no use. Even her aunt, who was a vicar, could not help. It would take time for Tammy to get over his sudden death, although how long that would take was debatable.
As usual, Tammy was assigned her next task – to discover who had murdered a member of the top gang in town. It made her sick, how people could just go and kill others for no reason. Today, Tammy and the team were doing some desk research into the key suspects and witnesses.
During the day, they conversed, as usual, and then one topic came up that Tammy did not want to hear about.
"So," said Pam Kurtis. "I saw Barry Scott yesterday."
Even the mention of that name made Tammy feel sick. Barry Scott was a serial killer, and he just happened to be the only person who Tammy had not managed to bring justice to. She hated him, and the thought that he was still out there, living his life, while the relatives of his victims were devastated, their lives turned upside down, all because of him.
"Really?" said Miranda. "Where was he?"
Miranda knew that Tammy hated talking or even hearing about Barry Scott, but she continued to speak about him. She did not care for Tammy much, perhaps because she was jealous of her amazing sleuthing abilities.
"He was in the nearby shopping centre," replied Pam, "looking as happy as Larry, as always. He just makes me want to kill him!"
"I'm sure he'll get his comeuppance one day," said Graham Mitchell.
"He won't," Tammy replied. "He's too clever to be caught out."
"People know who he is," Pam said to her, reassuringly.
"But not enough people. This case had to be thrown out, even though he pretty much confessed to me that he was the killer, and that's what gets to me!" cried Tammy, beginning to get passionate.
Nothing else was said on that topic. Instead, they started to talk about the job they were currently working on, in order to try and distract Tammy.
"Anyway, does anyone fancy going out for a drink tonight?" said Pam.
The others agreed to go before Tammy did. Perhaps a drink was one easy way to forget about her troubles, she thought.
Chapter 2
They arrived at the bar, immediately after work. They needed a drink, all of them, because the week they were having was rather stressful and tiring; nothing ever changed much, and they were all getting extremely bored of the same routine. Tammy just wanted something dramatic to happen, as it had in Paris. Although that was a rather morbid thought, she wanted something to challenge her brain, for she fea
red the lack of exercise was slowly killing it, eating away at it so that she would not be able to use it like she used to. Times were changing, and Tammy had to accept that. Things were never as simple as they used to be.
As soon as Tammy entered the bar, she received the shock of her life when she noticed Barry Scott standing there! Time stood still at that moment, and Tammy's eyes widened. She just could not believe her luck. He was standing there with friends, laughing and joking, and there was nothing Tammy could do about that. Barry then noticed Tammy, and said to her, "Oh, hello, Tammy! How are you today!"
He winked at her. That made her feel physically sick. She just wanted to turn round and vomit on the floor, but she knew she had to face up to him sooner or later, to try and show that he had not defeated her, even though he had. She hated him for that. Tammy then turned her head and saw another group of people. They were staring at her, making snide remarks. Tammy wondered why they would do something like that – she had never seen them before, or at least she thought. She came across many people in the job, so she did not know whether she had seen them before or not.
The group got the drinks ordered and sat down in view of Barry.
"We can't let him get to us!" cried Miranda.
"How is that possible?" Tammy asked her, trying to resist the temptation to look in Barry's direction, to see if he was looking.
"Well, we’ll just show him that we’re happy. That might make him upset."
Tammy gave in to temptation. She turned around and, just as she felt, Barry was standing there, looking at her, as if he was waiting for her to turn round, knowing that she would. He winked at her for a second time, making her feel even more angry.
"So, anything interesting happen to anyone lately?" said Pam, trying to start the conversation.
Tammy turned her head slightly, but not in Barry's direction. Instead, she was looking at a woman in red clothing who stood sipping on a glass of red wine. She was eyeing Barry, and it was clear she was flirting with him, even though she did not speak a word to him. Tammy just felt like getting up and screaming, "Don't do it! Your life is at risk!" but she didn't. She knew that she could not accuse Barry Scott of murder because there was no official evidence implicating him, even though she knew for a fact that it was him.
Then, Tammy remembered the last thing that Barry had said to her: "Do you like to hunt?"
She then started to have sinister thoughts. Perhaps he was planning on killing her next? She knew that she could not think about it, because she just wanted to get out of there.
Then she felt a sudden urge to go to the toilet. It came on her suddenly, so she was not expecting the need to go. She started to look for the bathroom, and unfortunately, the door was right next to Barry Scott.
"Can you look after my keys?" she said.
Knowing there was no escaping it, she got up to walk to the toilets. She knew that she needed to think fast about how to approach Barry Scott. Perhaps she would ignore him, but she knew he would talk to her, making some sort of smug comment about how she failed to solve the murders.
She was right. As Tammy walked past Barry and toward the restroom door, he said to her, "So, we still ready for that hunting trip?"
Tammy plainly ignored him. She went into the bathroom, and when she came out again, two minutes later, Barry was still there, laughing and joking with a bunch of half-drunken men.
"Are you alright?" Pam said, as Tammy sat down again.
It took Tammy about five seconds to answer that, but she lied when she replied.
"Yeah," she said, trying to put on a brave face.
Chapter 3
Tammy looked at the table where the five people were sitting. Tammy did not know them, but they knew Tammy. She tried her best to listen to their conversations, to see if she could work out who they were.
"I wish he was dead!" cried Linda Bell, a middle-aged woman who was sitting there. She then turned around and glared at Barry, although he did not see her, not caring to notice her.
"I can't believe he murders our relatives and gets away with it!" yelled an enraged Joseph Hart, who was an elderly man. He was the father of one of the victims.
Tracy Bradley, the mother of the youngest victim, just sat there, crying again.
"I'd do anything to bring justice for my boy!" she said.
"Believe me, love, any one of us would!" cried Bethy Sanders, the young daughter of one of the victims.
"And there's that bitch detective who failed to solve the case!" cried William Sanders, the brother of Bethy, who was considerably older than his sister.
Tammy knew they were talking about her at that point, but she did not want to make it obvious. She sipped her drink, continuing to listen.
"I agree with you there," said Linda. "She deserves to be sacked!"
Tracy Bradley had had enough.
"I'm going out for some air," she said.
"I'll join you," added Joseph Hart, quickly jumping up to follow her.
Tammy thought that was rather strange. She began to think rather sinister thoughts – perhaps they were plotting to murder Barry Scott? It was certainly a possibility, and it had happened before, and given the mental state that group was in, it was certainly likely, although Tammy did not want to get involved in any way – if they were going to do it, she would let them get on with it.
Tammy then turned around and saw Miranda talking to the woman in the red clothes. She looked like a tart, in Tammy's opinion, but since Miranda was chatting with her, she must be a decent person, thought Tammy.
"Don't say anything," said the woman, whose name was Angela. "But I'm planning on getting with that man tonight!"
"Which one?" asked Miranda, dreading the inevitable answer.
Angela pointed to Barry Scott. Inside, Tammy felt sick. Could Angela be his next victim?
"He's a dangerous man!" Miranda tried to explain to her, but Angela did not listen. Angela then stopped talking to Miranda and approached Barry, who was still at the bar, and started dishing out flirtatious compliments to him.
Five minutes later, Tammy had had enough. She walked out, unable to face that man any more. Unfortunately, on her way out, she caught Barry Scott kissing Angela around the side of the pub.
"Ah, hello!" said Barry.
Tammy was so sick of it. By now, four or five other people were standing outside of the pub, smoking cigarettes.
"You make me sick," said Tammy, in a slow tone of voice.
"Do I?" he said.
"You know that you won't be free forever! You'll be behind bars sooner or later!"
By now, Miranda and Pam had also left the building.
"Really?" said Barry. "And why do you think that is?"
"Because you're a serial killer!" cried Tammy, getting excited.
"We've been through this," Barry replied. "I did not kill anybody. You have no evidence of that, and you never will find any evidence of that. I'm sorry, but you've lost on this one!"
"So, you're confessing?" said Tammy, trying to force it out of him once and for all.
"No," said Barry, "just telling you the facts. You will never catch the killer if you keep going on at me. Let's face it, even if I were the killer, you would not have been able to catch me, so that makes you a really crap detective, doesn't it?"
Tammy felt so small inside.
"I'll tell you something," she said to him quietly, going right up to him. "I'll see you get what you deserve one day, even if it's the last thing I do!"
Barry said nothing and laughed.
"I'll get you!" screamed Tammy, almost slapping him on the face. However, she was stopped by Pam.
"Come on, get back inside," said Pam.
Tammy was almost dragged back in, but she did not go back into the pub.
"I'll walk home!" she said, extremely frustrated.
Before she left, Tammy gave one last look at Barry Scott. He smiled and winked at her.
"See you soon," he said.
"Do you think Tammy will be al
right?" said Pam, back inside the pub.
"She'll be fine," said Graham, more interested in drinking his beer.
About twenty seconds later, a scream was heard. Everyone rushed outside, where they found Angela standing over the body of Barry Scott. She was in shock, for she could not move.
In the dark background, Tammy emerged and saw what had happened. Barry Scott had been standing in exactly the same place as he’d been when he was last seen by Tammy. Everyone gathered round the body of Barry Scott, not knowing what to think. Tammy approached him and looked deep into his eyes. They were bloodshot. It was clear that Barry had suffered a terrible, painful death.
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***
Sample of Wicked by H. B. Rae
http://www.amazon.com/Romantic-Thriller-Wicked-Suspense-Mystery-ebook/dp/B016YGYTUA
Chapter 1
"How old were you when you learned there's no Santa?" Devin McGee asked while tossing long strands of silver tinsel up in the air to cover the top branches of the Christmas tree. He remembered the tree seeming to be so colossal when he was a little boy. Just like the Christmas holiday itself. It was all consuming and he loved it even now that he was nineteen years old.
"There's no Santa?" Jessica said, shocked, her hand to her throat and a grimace on her face. "Are you kidding? I still believe in Santa." she said, smiling down at the last batch of sugar cookies she was about to shovel into the oven.
"Did your parents tell you or did you find out...on the streets?" Devin looked at her through squinty eyes.
"Yeah, the word around town was hey man, this Santa dude, total figment of someone's imagination. Not even real. Every parent in the world is in on the conspiracy."
Devin began to laugh as he continued overloading the tree with the sparkling strings. He looked outside and saw the snow was still falling. It wasn't hard. Not by Alaskan standards. If they got three or four inches that would be a nice start to the holiday season and no need to put the chains on the wheels of his car just yet. All Devin wanted was the old Dodge Neon to just last one more winter. Just one more and then he'd be off to Anchorage to college. The town had everything a young man needed to survive within walking distance, even in the middle of winter. The convenience store, Laundromat, sporting goods were all two blocks away.
