Blood Week

by J. D. Martin

  “It was a long time ago,” I said with a wave of the hand.

  “Still, I can understand how it feels. I lost my Dad pretty early on too. I was only 12 when he died.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Let’s just say that he didn’t run in the best of circles. Nothing worth mentioning over such a wonderful meal.” She took another bite as she looked around the apartment. It was clear that she wanted to talk about the deaths in her family about as much as I did.

  “Well, I’m sorry we missed last week,” I said. “You know how busy things can get at the precinct.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she laughed. “I have been swamped with DNA swabs over the past few weeks. I don’t remember the last time I had to run so many profiles for so many detectives. Sometimes it’s hard keeping them all straight.”

  “Who were you running information up for this morning?” She tilted her head and furrowed her brows in confusion. “The file I saw you with at the elevator?”

  “Oh, that actually wasn’t for a case. I’m actually applying for a loan to see about buying a house.”

  “Really? That’s great.”

  “Yeah, I figured it was about time that I started doing some adulating, ya know?” We both laughed as we continued our evening.

  Our conversations continued on topics that ranged from work to upcoming events; all of which was intermixed with flirtatious and often sexual remarks. Dinner seemed to finish quickly with thoughts of pressing our bodies together at the forefront of both our minds. Although the plan was to go dancing at the Blue Room that night, her legs peeking out of her dress had other ideas.

  Lifting her up and setting her on the kitchen’s island, she wrapped her legs around me as our hands explored the other. I pulled at the clasp at the back of her neck, allowing her dress to fall to her waist and expose her breasts. Before I could examine them closer, she pushed me back and hopped of the counter. Doing so allowed her dress to fall completely to the floor and reveal what had been in hiding. The view of Kathryn’s exposed flesh made me feel like a voyeur as her totally nude body caused a tightening of my pants. Without a moment to waste, I picked her up and cradled her in my arms as I whisked her away to my bed.

  Chapter 16

  A blade of light crept across the streets of Kansas City, as the sun rose over the skyscrapers downtown and fought back the darkness. It pierced through the cracks in window curtains to greet humanity with its morning glow. But as those rays snuck past my drapes in search of my face, it peeked through my eyelids to wake me like a dog needing walked. It didn’t care that I wasn’t ready to wake because if it was up, then I should be too. Trying to fight off the morning after a long night, I pulled the comforter above my head, but it seemed the world was banding together to revoke my sleeping license.

  The alarm blared with that buzzing sound that made me want to introduce it to my gun. Since shooting the alarm clock still required getting out of bed to retrieve my weapon from the safe, I resorted to other means for silence. My palm slapped the electronic nuisance to cease the ear-rattling sound. Although I wanted nothing more than to tell the world to fuck off for a few hours, the time on the clock confirmed its vocal nonsense was valid. My whopping two hours of sleep had come to an end, so I rolled out of bed with a groan.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that my head had just hit the pillow seconds before the buzzing woke me. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I rubbed at my face to force back to urge to roll up a human burrito with the comforter as the tortilla and me as the filling. Although the comfort of my California King put up a convincing argument, duty called. My shift would be starting soon so a cold shower and a jolt of caffeine was a requirement to keep my body motivated this morning.

  My night of dancing at the jazz club went much later than originally anticipated. Although, the dancing was not on our feet and the jazz was only over my stereo. Ms. Morrison and I made the walls ashamed of what they’d witnessed last night. Afterwards, I was wide awake and didn’t pass out until a couple hours ago. She had crashed immediately, so I left her alone in the bed to let her get some sleep.

  Twisting around, I looked at her laying on the other side of the bed. With how I’d tossed the covers back, her back was exposed low enough to hint at the cusp of her backside. Her bright blonde hair was like fire on the dark grey pillowcase. My evening with her had burnt the candle at both ends to say the least. The longer I sat there, the more the urge for a morning delight followed by more sleep begged. No matter how pleasing it sounded, I didn’t want to be late for work. As I stood to go take a shower, I felt Kat’s hand grab mine and pull me back.

  Tilting her head towards me, she pulled me down to taste her lips. At my touch, she pressed her chest into mine. Flashes of the sexually charged night went through my mind as our escapades had moved to the kitchen, table, and even the balcony for a time. It was voyeurism at its finest. For now, though, it was time to get ready for work.

  “I should go,” I said between kisses. “I have to clean up for my shift.”

  “Are you sure you have to leave?” she moaned. “I can make it worth your while.” With her arms wrapped around me, I pulled back and saw the sexiest little smirk.

  “Tell you what, how about you join me in the shower. You can make it worth my while and get me clean at the same time.”

  Without responding, Kathryn released me and hopped out the bed as she headed off towards the bathroom. Her naked body bobbed from side-to-side with each step until she paused at the doorway. Brushing the strands of hair from her face as she peered back at me, she winked and disappeared into the bathroom. As I heard water begin splashing against the shower tiles, she peeked back around the corner and smiled, “Coming?”

  I didn’t have to be asked twice as I hopped out of the bed like it was on fire and the shower was the only thing that could put out the flames. The glass was steaming over from the heat of the already occupied shower. Stepping in to join her, I interlaced my fingers in the wet strands of hair behind her head and pressed my lips to her neck. I tasted the warm droplets sliding down her skin as my tongue traced a line towards her chin. Pressing her against the walls, I ran my other hand down the back of her thigh before wrapping it over my hip. This was the best way to get clean.

  After the shower, I turned on the radio while getting dressed. All thoughts of more sleep were gone as the shower had left me fully refreshed. As I gathered my suit for the day, the latest rock played over the station. It reminded me of a concert I’d gone to a few months back at Liberty Memorial. Each year they held the largest single-day rock festival in the country on the grounds of the WWI monument. It was a giant party that brought in over fifteen bands to kick off the summer. I’d gone a few times, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be there next year or not.

  Before I’d settled on a suit, Kat peeked her head into my walk-in closet and picked one for me. “You should wear your sexy suit,” she said. When I didn’t know which one she considered to be ‘sexy’, she pulled it off the rack for me. Obliging the lady, I sat out the navy one she liked on the bed and finished drying off. Since she also had to work today, she chose to leave after having chosen my attire. I walked her to the door and kissed her goodbye before going back to the bedroom to get dressed.

  When I finished, I was craving a morning pick-me-up more substantial that the shower escapades. I decided to get a shot of caffeine from Scooter’s Coffee House since it was only a block down Walnut. When I got there, I selected a mocha which was in my head moments later. Having also picked up one for Delgado, I hopped in the Tahoe and nearly spilled one down my leg. Luckily it hit the pavement instead of my slacks, but the drops that landed on my finger burnt like hell.

  I used one of the napkins I’d been given to dab away the spilled coffee while cursing the accident. Tossing the cup into a nearby trashcan, I quickly ordered a replacement before hopping back into the vehicle. With two full cups in stow, I pulled away from the curb to drive towards the precinct whe
n my cell rang. Marcus informed me they’d found another body.

  “Wait, where?” I asked when he tried to give me the location. When he told me again, I realized it was in the opposite direction so I flipped a bitch on 9th and headed to meet him. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  Chapter 17

  Turning off Mission Road into the Reinhardt Estates, I found myself out of my jurisdiction. Fairway was on the Kansas side of the metro, and was well outside of KCMO. Located on the other side of the river, I was familiar with the neighborhood situated a few blocks from the Kansas City Country Club. It was a ritzy part of town that I’d been to a few times with my parents. I hadn’t spent much time in the area since then, but houses and sections of streets were reminiscent of my childhood.

  My destination was clear without the need to continue following GPS due to the overabundance of black and whites lining the curb. It was as if a large neon sign was pointing at the house to notify everyone that something had gone down. Off the main drag, the rubberneckers were relegated to people that lived nearby. This meant it wasn’t as bad as on the highway where I’d spend twenty minutes trying to make it the quarter mile to an auto accident. I definitely didn’t miss the beat-cop days.

  Finding a spot had been difficult until Delgado saw me approaching and flagged me over to a spot he’d saved across from the address he’d sent me. After parking and exiting the Tahoe, I pushed my way through the parade of news vans and neighbors with their phones recording the mayhem up to the yellow tape where Marcus waited. With him expecting me, I didn’t have to flash tin to someone I didn’t know to get past the tape.

  “We’re a little out of our element, don’t you think?” I asked Delgado as he held the line up for me to pass under.

  “I know, but this was brought to my attention to address anyway.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Probably best you just come check it out.” I gave a shrug and he turned to lead me in. Now that I was past the circus in the street, I started to admire the house and surrounding neighborhood as I followed Marcus up the drive. I preferred the cityscape of skyscrapers to the suburbs, but if I ever decided to make a change, this would be a nice area to relocate. There was slim chance it would ever happen with how much I loved the city, but that didn’t mean this area didn’t have its merits.

  For starters, under normal circumstances the traffic couldn’t be beat. The streets never slept downtown, so that was the most glaring difference. Beyond that was the open spaces both inside and out that you didn’t get elsewhere. Perhaps if I had a family at some point, places like these would make more sense. The thought of settling down made a certain brunette with a passion for forensic pathology flash through my mind. It was unexpected since I never really considered the future in that way. At least not consciously.

  With my past though, family life didn’t seem like something I was destined for. Before my mind could wander farther into that realm of uncertainty, we reached the front door to the large brick home. Delgado held open the large white door with four windows peeking into the open-concept entry, allowing me to step past him.

  “So, we’re having a bit of a crossing of jurisdictions today,” he said as we entered. “Let me show you why.” Gesturing with his hand towards the other end of the home, I followed him through a crowd of cops down the hall to the master bedroom. Stepping through the doorway, I surveyed the room and realized that this master suite was probably a third of the size of my entire apartment. While it didn’t have the views of my loft, the space was nothing to scoff at.

  On the large bed centered on the back wall was a man in his early 50’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers with blue and green squares. The covers strewn about on the floor were soaked with blood and so was the fitted sheet covering the mattress where the body lay. Although this was clearly a murder scene, it still didn’t explain why Marcus had brought me out to Fairway, so I turned back to him with a questioning shrug.

  Realizing that I wasn’t going to figure this one out on my own, he pointed at the man on the bed. I looked over him a bit closer and was about to throw in the towel to ask what the hell I was doing here when I finally saw it. On his chest in tiny letters were R-E-U-S; one of the vigilante’s calling cards. It would seem that the victim was part of our case; jurisdiction be damned.

  “This is a Blood Week murder? But he always sticks to the city limits. What would have brought him out here?”

  “It would seem he’s branched out into new hunting territories,” Delgado said.

  “Strange that he’s never done that before. Do we have a TOD yet?” I asked.

  “Time of death is 12:37AM,” said a raspy voice from the bed. I looked over and all I saw was the body, so I looked back at Marcus with a raised eyebrow.

  “Mr. Raymond, resident pathologist for this side of the border,” he whispered back.

  “I’m not just a pathologist,” said the stick-thin man that rose up from the other side of the bed with an evidence bag containing a few hairs. “I’m also certified in fingerprint analysis, forensic ballistics, and an accomplished pianist.”

  “I apologize for not reviewing your entire resume while we’re here,” I said, “but are those hairs a possible lead on who killed the vic?”

  “Don’t think so; look liked cat hairs. There is an orange tabby running around here somewhere, which is why my sinuses are in a tizzy. Regardless, I’ll test to be sure.”

  “Among your expertise, can you fill me in on how you have such an exact time of death? I’m used to getting a time range, but you’ve made a specific delegation before even doing an autopsy.”

  Raymond indicated the area behind him that showed signs of a struggle and then lifted a rectangular desk clock that was contained in another wrapping of clear plastic. “During the struggle, this analog clock was knocked off the night stand and busted. The last time it indicated was 12:37AM when it struck the floor.”

  “How can you be sure the clock wasn’t previously broken?”

  “This isn’t my first rodeo, detective. The clock also has a date indicator from last night. So, it’s a safe assumption to say the death was around 12:37 this morning or last night depending on how you look at the day change.”

  “Each of the other victims was knocked out,” I said, turning back to Delgado. “What makes this one so different?”

  “Maybe Mr. Matthews saw him coming and put up a fight?” he said. Again, I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, the victim is Joseph Matthews.”

  “Oh shit, this is Judge Matthews? I know him.”

  “And yet you didn’t recognize him,” said Mr. Raymond in a noticeably condescending tone.

  “Rather I know of him,” I responded. “Judge Matthews is a retired Kansas City District Judge. If this is who we’re dealing with, we need to get the captain involved.”

  Returning to the precinct to get all our ducks in a row, I’d informed Hawthorne privately of the ID on the body that took us on a trip to Kansas. “You mean the guy from your parent’s case?” she asked.

  “One and the same,” I said. Judge Matthews had served on the trial involving my parent’s death, which is why I knew the name. “I don’t feel this will affect my work, but I wanted to make you aware.”

  “I trust you, Alex. Get your team working on how this is linked to the vigilante.”

  With a curt nod, I re-entered the bullpen to start throwing the ball around. Detective Richard Bronson was the first to speak up. “I guess the theory of him only killing criminals is blown.”

  “That’s assuming there aren’t skeletons in the judge’s closet we aren’t aware of,” said Marcus. “The killer seems to always know something we don’t or have a way of digging deeper into his victim’s backgrounds. For all we know Matthews has done some despicably criminal things we don’t know about.”

  “Seems unlikely from everything I’ve heard about him,” I said. “According to stories told, he’s a great man that devoted his life to the law.”

  “But aren’t
the squeaky-clean records always the ones that are hiding something?” asked Bronson.

  “Not necessarily,” responded Delgado. “But it seems out of left field if the judge wasn’t dirty.”

  “I can vouch for him,” said Pinick coming to the Judge’s defense. “I’ve had dealings with him a few times in the past. He’s a good guy.”

  “I’d have to agree with Edward. Also, how do we explain the other problems linking it to Blood Week?” All three men waited patiently for me to elaborate. “Didn’t anybody notice the walls? “

  “You’re right,” said Marcus. “Ex malo bonum wasn’t written anywhere, but the murder was also in the suburbs this time. It’s possible he was interrupted before the ritual could be finished. The body was found by the housekeeper this morning, so she could have unknowingly chased the killer away.”

  “I suppose it’s possible,” said Pinick, “but the theory seems a bit weak. The vigilante has always been so methodical. Do we really want to believe he wouldn’t know the housekeeper’s schedule?”

  “I agree,” said Bronson. “However, can we ignore the evidence that does fit just because other items are missing and some of us heard good things about Matthews?” Delgado nodded towards Bronson in acknowledgement of validating his point about the Blood Week connection.

  “No, we can’t,” I said. “Let’s run with the connection to the vigilante for now and see where the evidence leads us.”

  Over the next hour, more information rolled in on Judge Matthews as Fairway P.D. turned over the evidence processed on scene to us. Cooperation between precincts from both sides of the river was common in KC. Since the metro crossed between Kansas and Missouri, mutual respect and cooperation was essential. That didn’t mean there wasn’t ever jockeying over jurisdiction. It was known to happen, but the concept of working together for the greater good usually won out in that battle.

  In the evidence was a dark hair found on Matthews that didn’t belong to him. His hair had gone white over the years and his wife was blonde, so forensics was testing it to see if the owner was in the system. That meant Kathryn would be pulling DNA from follicles, if there were any, before another would compare the hair to any from other cases. Additionally, it appeared Judge Matthews may have been tortured prior to death. This fact corroborated Delgado’s initial push that it was connected to Blood Week, and he was all too happy to point that fact out.