No Ordinary Killer

by Rita Karnopp

  “It means we have a cop serial killer or someone who has access to our database,” Sparks said. “He’s smart … and he’s not afraid. This guy is burning up inside and he has an agenda. Like Maxwell here said, we need to figure out his obsession.”

  Cooper paused for a moment. “Nice you could join us, Bicsak. Would you care to share any information you think the team would benefit hearing?” Cooper sat on the edge of the table and sipped his black coffee.

  “Come in late, you sit on the hot seat, eh? Well, I don’t think it’s me who has things to share. I’d say you do, Reynolds. Don’t you have a little show and tell for us this morning, detective?”

  “Art, back off,” Dallas said.

  “No, that’s okay. Let me share what we have. Sparks, put the receipt we entered into evidence this morning on the board,” Cooper said. “It’s interesting to say the least.”

  “Where did you find that?” Weaver stood, sending his chair flying to the floor behind him.

  “It was in a fake book at the second crime scene. The eyeballs looking through the glasses sort of directed us,” Sparks said. “Damn spooky way to point out a clue.”

  “I don’t know, or didn’t know, Sandy Owens.”

  “Did you buy a fancy watch and have it engraved?” Cooper asked.

  “I did … but … not on the date it shows. It was way back in college.”

  “The date does look a bit doctored,” Maxwell pointed to a thick date at the corner. My guess is this date was written over and changed. We can have that verified. I want the date on the receipt from the original crime scene checked also. Take care of that for us, Delores,” Maxwell nodded her way.

  “Why would the killer want to point a finger at me?” Weaver picked up his chair and sat down hard. “This case gets goofier by the minute.”

  “Maybe he was suggesting you’re gay?” Sparks patted Weaver on the shoulder and everyone laughed.

  “Shut the hell up. I’m not gay and everyone here knows I’ve probably fucked more women than all of you put together.”

  “Now there’s the truth. My partner can’t keep his eyes off a nice round ass. Whatever meaning the killer had, it certainly wasn’t suggesting my partner is gay.”

  “Maybe it’s the simple fact that since we know that Weaver here isn’t the killer … then putting a receipt in a book doesn’t make a killer,” Maxwell paused. “You see, he’s pointing out that Michael Powers might have been named on a receipt, but he was also innocent. Taking us back to the scenario that the killer is proving we were all wrong. Michael Powers died in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “Okay, let’s move on boys and girl. Next you’re going to see a little surprise I had waiting for me last night. This is a picture of a poem taken from my window. It is written in lipstick, which I’ll have you know we confirmed belonged to Agent Fortune. How we know that is, not only did this person use her lipstick to write it, he returned it back to her purse once he was done.”

  “No shittin’ way. Are you telling me the killer got access to her purse, wrote this damn thing, and found a way to put it back without anyone seeing him do it?” Weaver shook his head.

  “That’s what we’re telling you. Let’s see what we think of his poetry: ‘My, my, careless little IA agent Dallas, let the handsome detective see your malice. You may think you’re the target dear, but it’s not really me that you should fear. Watch and don’t allow yourself to believe, or you’ll be snared into the hell I’ve weaved.’”

  Maxwell studied the projected poem. “Not bad.”

  The room burst into laughter. Cooper cleared his throat and glanced around the room. “He’s pointing out he’s aware we have an IA team working with us. He’s pointing out the obviously lovely Dallas. Do you have a history of showing anger or blowing up, Ms. Fortune?”

  “Now that’s uncalled for,” Bicsak shouted. “We’re here to investigate and also to help if we can with this case. We aren’t here for you to turn on—“

  “Enough Bicsak, I can fight my own battles. I certainly can’t blame you for asking, Detective Reynolds. Truth be known, I’ve bucked the system a couple of times and won one and lost the last. It was a choice; IA or turn in my badge. I think the killer wanted the team to know this.”

  “Maybe you should fill us in, Agent Fortune. It might be relevant to this case,” Weaver turned toward her.

  “Nothing much to tell. My partner, Mike and I were following a lead. We had information that a perp was holed up in an abandoned, fallen-down shed. Mike got out of the car and I called in for backup. By the time I caught up, he was dead and I was taken hostage by gunpoint. By the end of the day he was so strung out that I was able to catch him off-guard. We fought and the gun went off. Bullet went right through his heart.”

  “Good, bastard got what he deserved,” Sparks said.

  “Just what I thought until I was in front of an inquest, fighting for my shield.”

  “Maybe our killer wants to point out another police injustice. Except he also seems to be warning her that he’s not the only one she should be afraid of.” Sparks shook his head. “That last part reveals more than I think the killer meant to. “

  “What you getting at, Sparks?” Maxwell asked.

  “Watch and don’t allow yourself to believe, or you’ll be snared into the hell I’ve weaved. He’s admitting this is all a setup. He’s out to get someone and if we can figure out who, we’ll have this killer’s obsession.”

  “Guys … turn that TV on, you have got to hear this,” Captain said, from the doorway.

  “Walking his dog, Ryan Igna discovered yet another grizzly murder early this morning at the Giant Springs State Park. Ryan said they were crossing the springs when he spotted a bloody knife and saw. He immediately called 911. Although police would not comment, inside sources tell us it’s believed to be the third murder described in Megan Reynolds’ thriller, Malicious Intent. There was a bizarre new twist—“

  “I’d like to get my hands on that inside source,” Captain Gulchinski shouted. “Get out there and find me some damn answers. Maxwell, you get your ass out to the scene this time.” He turned and stormed away. “You can study that damn board when you get back. I need some answers yesterday.”

  Cooper grabbed his jacket in one hand and his coffee cup in the other. “Okay people, we know the case and what to expect. Arnott and Fortune come with me. Sparks and Maxwell work the crowd and get some overalls, then I want you taking pictures of the crime scene. Weaver, wait in your car and as soon as we ID the victim, I want you to drive like hell to the parent’s house to intercept a package containing the victim’s feet. Bicsak, I’d like you to drive yourself to the scene and blend in with the crowd. Get rid of that tie and suit … Sparks toss him your hoodie and baseball cap. Study the bystanders. Is anyone trying to help the police? Is anyone offering suggestions? You know the drill. Let’s get a move on. Delores?” Cooper held back while the room cleared out.

  “Detective Reynolds?”

  “Get a handwriting expert to take a look at that poem. Also, have that hollow book and receipt tested for fingerprints. Get me all you can on both IA agents, and that request is between you and me.”

  “Yes, sir. Um … Cooper?”

  “Yes, Delores? “

  “I don’t believe you gave Megan that information for her book. Bud, I do think it was someone in this building through.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “The evidence for all three cases in Megan’s book were checked out and returned. I saw it on the log. When these murders started happening I went back to see who signed them out … and—“

  “Well?”

  “That page has been torn from the log book.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit, sir. I didn’t say anything because I … I was afraid they might say you had opportunity and it would make you look more guilty than you already do. I’ve been waiting and watching to see who else has thought of checking the evidence log bo
ok.”

  “And who did?”

  “That’s just it, no one has.”

  “Cooper … you coming or what?” Arnott shouted from across the room.

  “Keep an eye on it. Thanks, Delores.”

  “Any time. I’ll get right on this.”

  Cooper nearly ran to the elevator where Arnott and Fortune were impatiently waiting. “I know … I know … I’ll be late for my own funeral.”

  * * *

  Megan sprinted across the room and dove at her purse on the bed. The phone was a distraction she didn’t need, but hell she did deserve a slight break. “Hello,’ she shouted, breathless.

  “Please don’t yell, dear. I know you told me not to disturb you, but I thought you would want to know that … that—“

  “Know what? Come on, tell me, Mother.”

  “They’ve found another girl.”

  “What do you mean, they found another girl?”

  “You know, like in your book. The third murder where the dancer is killed. I really didn’t like all that killing. Now you can see where all that violence has led. I don’t think you should be writing another book like that. Why don’t you write—“

  “Shut up. I can’t think. Are you sure it’s just like the one in my book?”

  “Of course, dear. They’re all talking about you and wondering where you got your information from. Someone said … I think it was that nice talk show lady, Kari Winslow, who said they might get a judge to subpoena you. I think that’s what she said.”

  “Mother, listen to me. Are you listening?”

  “Yes of course I am.”

  “Good. You are to tell no one … I mean no one where I am. Do you hear me.”

  “Of course I hear you, but why? You know I won’t lie to anyone, that’s not my way.”

  “If anyone asks you where I am, you just tell them I’ve gone off to write. That’s the truth. You have to trust me on this one.”

  “I can’t just tell the police that. I mean I do know where you are. The bible—“”

  “Mother, you love the twins, right?”

  “You know I do. What does that have to do—“

  “You must not tell even the police where I am … or something awful might happen to them.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “What have you gotten yourself into? I think if the twins are in danger … oh, dear … am I in danger then, too?”

  “I … I guess you might be. Just listen. Say nothing to anyone and you won’t have anything to worry about. That is all I can explain.”

  “Well that’s not enough. If we’re all in danger then we need to call Cooper.”

  “No, don’t you dare. You have to promise me you won’t. Promise me?”

  “Why, I just don’t understand.”

  “One thing I do know and that is if you call Cooper or anyone at the station, he will take the twins.”

  “Who will?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know. Just do as I say. Something happens to the twins because you didn’t listen to me … I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Oh, dear. You are really scaring me.”

  “Good. Don’t answer the phone unless you see it’s me. Don’t talk to reporters or the police. Whatever you do, don’t talk to Cooper.”

  “Okay, for the twins I’ll do what you ask. But let me tell you, young lady—“

  “Goodbye, mother.” Megan stared at the phone a few seconds then jumped off the bed and turned on the Kari Winslow show.

  “Julie Billings was last seen leaving the Gold Nugget around two this morning. No one knew there was a problem until Target Owens, owner of the club, found a box on his desk this morning. Nothing prepared him for what he found. Julie’s severed head was wrapped in cellophane. No one saw who delivered the package or when. ”

  Damn, Megan hated that woman. It would be interesting to find out who her source was.

  “Police found Miss Billings’ mutilated body at Giant Springs. The crime scene is identical to the third murder described in Megan Reynolds’ book, Malicious Intent. Another dramatic development occurred this morning, when police rushed to the parent’s home, hoping to spare them from opening a package containing the victim’s feet. They arrived just as the ambulance left the Billings’ home. Mr. Billings suffered a massive heart attack and it is questionable if he’ll survive the ordeal.”

  Megan closed her eyes. This was all Cooper’s fault. The only good thing was the last murder was over … she paused … wait until they realize the murders described in her new book are from actual old cases … when Physical Evidence was released, would these murders also start happening?

  “It’s reported the police also stormed St. Michael’s Church and found Julie Billing’s bloody hands on the alar, bound in a praying position. This is just too horrible to imagine. We can only be grateful there are no more murders described in Malicious Intent.”

  “I’ll get even with you, bitch!” Megan shouted, then pushed the off button on the remote. The phone rang in the library and Megan ran to answer it. “Yes?”

  “You’ve been watching TV. You are wasting time. Get back to work.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I know everything you do, Megan love. Now get back to work.”

  “Will these new cases you gave me start happening all over again like in Malicious Intent?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “It matters to me. I don’t want the same thing to happen after this book is released. Please tell me you didn’t do all this.”

  “What do you think? You’re closer to the killer than you think.”

  “Are you telling me Cooper did all this? You’re not suggesting Josh Arnott, are you?”

  “Why would you think that? Because you slept with him, all the while pumping him for information. You like my euphemism? Who is your lover?”

  “I didn’t sleep with Arnott and it’s none of your business who my lover is. I can’t do this. I won’t.”

  “Oh, you can and you will. If you want me to prove I mean business … just try me.”

  “No … I don’t … I’ll write the damn book. You just better hope I don’t figure out who you are. Because if I ever do … I’ll kill you myself.”

  “Oh, there’s that feisty woman I so love. You are excited by me. I can tell. I’m all that is wild and uncontrolled. I’m not bound by laws or by religions. As free a spirit there is. That intoxicates you. You want to let go and by writing these murders, you too can act in wild abandon.”

  Megan swallowed hard. She knew some of what he said was true. She was drawn to the dark side, always had been. That’s why when Cooper shared some of his case files, a word here and there, she wanted to know all the details. It became more orgasmic than sex.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “That I will do. Get back to writing that book.”

  Megan tossed the phone down then noticed a tray of cheese and crackers and a bottle of chardonnay chilling in ice. When had these been delivered? She hurried to the door and flipped the lock. This was going to be a long two weeks.

  Settling in front of the computer with a glass of wine in hand, Megan moved her thoughts into the mind of the victim and typed with urgency as the scene took over.

  Somewhere through the pain, Doris struggled to survive. If only she could slip her hands from the ropes … she might have a chance to run. There was so much blood and … he was inside her again. Doris gasped for air but he squeezed his fingers tighter and tighter around her esophagus and like a dimming light that grew smaller and smaller … darkness and peace conquered.

  Megan sat back and wondered why the dark thrill of killing excited her. Adrenaline rushed through her veins when the killer took over the story. As the victim, she lived through pain, fear and unexpected emotions that would someday help with her acting career.

  * * *

  “Arnott, get blood samples and check the othe
r stalls. Make sure the uniform stays outside. Fortune, follow me and be prepared for a scene you’ll never forget.” Cooper led the way into the men’s room. He pulled on latex gloves and cleared his throat.

  “My God. He’s always been an organized killer. This reeks disorganized to the point of frenzy.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. He’s completely organized. This gruesome scene is exactly what he wanted to create. He wants to shock us. He left her torso here because she wasn’t worth anything more than this shit hole. He sent her head to her boss at the club to get the last word. By now he’s tied her palms together like they are praying on some altar in a nearby Catholic church … atoning for her sins as a topless dancer. The one I hate the most, he cut her feet off and will put them in a bubble pack and have them delivered to her parents. He’s telling her parents had they created a more grounded environment, she wouldn’t have turned to such immorality.”

  “The stench is nearly unbearable.” Dallas pressed her sleeve against her nostrils and breathed in. “This bastard is just evil. So what did you sequester?”

  “Very good, Agent Fortune. He sent her eyeballs to the station.”

  “To anyone in particular?”

  “Funny you should ask. He sent them to Detective Weaver.”

  “Hmm, and we have the receipt with his name on it. Either our killer believes Weaver is our guy or he’s trying to point out the obvious.”

  “Which is?”

  “A name on a piece of paper does not make a killer. Anything else?”

  “Now comes the bizarre, if all this isn’t enough. Her heart was cut out and we never found it. Some think he fried it up, ate it, and then washed the pan, dish and fork, which were found drying in the sink of his apartment.”

  “Same similarities; cannibalism, murder weapons left near water, and eye extractions. Her name was Ella Burquist, so what was the original victim’s name?”