Murder Mystery McKenzie (Frank McKenzie complete collection so far)

by Luis Samways

  ‘Frankly, I don’t honestly care for overpriced tat. I’m more concerned with the fact that 15 people were murdered last night. That in itself is scary enough, let alone the fact that the murderer is still at large.’ Frank lets out a little laugh. ‘I’ll catch them. That’s what I do.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope you do, Mr McKenzie,’ the woman answers.

  Frank’s eyes light up. ‘Ah, so you do know who I am? I was hoping you did so we can skip all the small talk and get to the fun!’

  ‘I can assure you, Frank, that the only fun we will have is this.’ The woman lets her gaze wander to the pile of bodies keeping them company.

  ‘Damn, I was just playing around, lady. Haven’t you ever been told that a little joke here and there can do wonders for your life?’ Frank says. ‘I’m sure that the things you see every day are just as bad as the things I see. So releasing steam seems appropriate.’ She blatantly isn’t impressed.

  ‘Look Miss, I’ll catch the bastards. They are only human after all,’ Frank assures her.

  She grimaces. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’

  She gestures for Frank to follow her and walks out of the living room and up the stairs.

  He follows her into the home’s office. A trashed computer seems out of place in a whole house that is in pristine condition. None of the house’s contents, so far, is damaged— aside from the Persian rug. ‘What’s up with the broken PC?’ ‘The woman downstairs is Jane Chase. We have a positive ID on her and the 14 other victims. Her children are included on that list. The only person who did not die here last night is her husband, Connor Chase. He’s MIA at the moment. We know he works at MIT, and we also know he went to work yesterday. He acted normal all day, then all of a sudden, he ups and vanishes 30 minutes before his shift ends,’ the woman fills him in.

  Frank looks puzzled. ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘I am his boss,’ the woman declares.

  ‘Oh, I thought you were a CSI.’ Frank laughs.

  ‘MIT works in all fields, Mr McKenzie.’ She points up to the ceiling. Frank follows with his eyes. The woman is pointing at some writing on the ceiling.

  “FOR HELL HAS RISEN HERE TONIGHT. IT SHALL ONCE AGAIN ARISE UNTIL JUSTICE IS MET, AND THE INVADERS ARE EXECUTED.” The message looks like it was written in blood.

  ‘So much for the murderer being human, Frank,’ she says succinctly.

  ‘What’s with this guy?’ Frank isn’t sure what to think.

  ‘He thinks he’s Judge, Jury and Executioner to privacy invaders,’ the woman explains.

  ‘What do you mean? “Privacy invaders”?’ ‘He has a thing for privacy.” The woman looks exasperated and Frank isn’t sure if it is with him or the situation. “Haven’t you noticed the rather large wall outside of his house?’ She waited for Frank to nod. ‘When he’s at work, he’s always talking about how it’s socially acceptable it is to plaster your life online for everyone to see. He’s always said how one day that would change. I guess this is what he meant.’

  Frank laughs. ‘Look Miss. Leave the detective work to me. You don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. He murdered his family for Christ’s sake. He clearly loved them; there are countless pictures of him and his family all over the house, smiles and all. Maybe, just maybe, he killed them to save them, save them from the invaders,’ says Frank

  ‘Who are the invaders then?’ she asks

  ‘You guys. He was protecting them from you’ Frank says

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘It’s simple, lady. He thinks officials and government is the enemy. It’s obvious. He smashes his office. He puts an enormous wall around the house. Yet there are no CCTV cameras anywhere. Why? Because he thinks the government is spying on him. He doesn’t have the internet. He has cable downstairs, but I noticed no router for the internet. Don’t you think that is strange, seeing that almost all cable packages usually include the internet?’ The woman looks confused.

  ‘How the hell did you come up with that? So that’s it? The guy is a paranoid psycho! All worked out within a few hours by master detective Frank McKenzie?’ the woman says sarcastically. “Case solved?”

  Frank gives her his trademark wink and a smile. ‘No, I’m just getting started lady.’ he assures her.

  Four

  Connor Chase is tired. He’s been running through the subway system in the middle of the city for over 6 hours now. The modern wonder stretches over 17 miles underground. It is a maze of darkened passages and old brittle tracks. His steps echo loudly as he runs through the western tunnel leading to his planned safe haven.

  Connor is finding it hard to see. The lighting down the western track is sparse, making sections of the track completely pitch black to the naked eye. He carries on full pace down the tunnel with all the momentum he can muster. Suddenly, his right foot shifts on the gravel between the tracks and he falls tumbling down the western tunnel faster than he would like. He crashes into a platform and to a stop. He gasps for air and feels pain. A smoulder of dust surrounds him as he gets up. He pats himself clean. His office clothes are now torn, and he looks like the victim of a natural disaster. He carries on and makes his way up the platform he crashed into. Stopping dead, he looks up at the flickering sign above the platform exit.

  “SOUTH BOUND MAINTENANCE” the sign reads.

  He smiles and makes his way to the exit.

  Five

  Frank McKenzie walks into the downtown police precinct at 9.00 am. He just spent six hours at the crime scene. There is a certain fear in the air. Frank could smell the anxiety a mile away. The place is abuzz with chaos. Police officers rush around, files are scattered everywhere, and phones ring off the hook. For only one reason. No, the president has not been assassinated; the super bowl is not on; there hasn’t been another 9/11. The police precinct is in chaos because Connor Chase made history with the most prolific serial killing ever in 12 and half hours. Everyone in the room looks scared, and not because they feared being hurt. They knew it wasn’t over. Out of the corner of Frank’s eye, he sees the Chief rolling towards him with his arm extended to shake Frank’s hand. Frank obliges and the chief chuckles. ‘Good to see you lad, been way too long in my estimation.’ ‘It’s good to see you, Shaw,’ Frank says.

  Admittedly Frank did not like Shaw. He isn’t sure if it is the Chief’s lack of Irish charm, or the fact that Shaw fired him not too long ago.

  ‘Good to have you back, Frank,’ Shaw confesses. ‘Let me be the first to admit it was not in the best interest of the Force to let you go.’ Frank realises Shaw isn’t walking on egg shells here and digs deep to find a sudden respect for the man.

  ‘I appreciate that, Shaw. Now let’s stop fucking around and concentrate on nailing this bastard!’

  Frank and Shaw shake hands again; Frank walks towards the information desk. He waits a few minutes, soaking in the disorganised chaos that engulfs the police headquarters. The information clerk is nowhere to be seen, so Frank goes behind the desk in hope a spare case file on Connor Chase may be lying around the vicinity.

  He searches the assortment of papers and floppy discs on the desk. None of the labels coincide with the subject he is looking for. He sits at the desk and stares into space, trying to piece together yesterday’s events. The officers going about their business blur his vision and Frank holds his head in pain. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his pills. He swallows a few to alleviate the headache that has made its presence known and to put him on an even keel.

  As his vision returns to normal, and the pace in the room goes from slow-motion to fast forward to reality… He stands and shakes his head clear. The CCTV monitor catches his eye. He sits back down and pays close attention. A figure walks out of the stairwell to the side exit of the building. Normally, nothing to raise an alarm in Frank’s mind, but this figure in the CCTV is hiding his face from view.

  Frank goes numb as he realises what is happening and stands to yell out his hunch. A massive explosion
from upstairs is followed by shattering glass that falls from the two storey atrium. It cascades all over the first floor of the precinct. Officers hit the ground in reflex but Frank stands in shock behind the desk. Files that were once cluttering desks float all over the room. The atmosphere fills with smoke and dust.

  The gas pipes ignite a second explosion. Frank knows that sound and isn’t standing any more. He hits the ground as a huge fireball courses through the precinct from grates and pipes interconnected in the surrounding walls. Shrapnel pings and clangs off every surface, a piece of it nearly taking Frank’s eye out. The CCTV monitor above his head implodes. Shards of plastic and wiring fall as Frank lies on the ground and tries to protect himself from the horrors of the explosion.

  Finally, the sounds of terror die down and people begin to get to their feet. Chief Shaw is among the officers trying to recover from the physical and mental shock. He pats himself down and makes his way to the middle of the room. ‘Is every one okay?’ The response around the room is timid at best.

  ‘Okay I want a full sweep of the building.’ Shaw continues when he sees there are no injuries. ‘We need to search for any wounded and find the fuckers who did this. I want three man teams going from top to bottom. No mistakes gentleman.’ Frank gets up from behind the desk.

  ‘Sir we have a problem,’ Frank says as he approaches Shaw.

  Shaw laughs. ‘I know detective. We’ve just been attacked by terrorists. I think that qualifies as a big fucking problem.’

  ‘It’s not terrorists,’ Frank says.

  ‘What are you saying? Santa Claus came in and blew out the fucking chimney?’

  ‘No sir. I saw who did this. It wasn’t Santa Clause.’

  Six

  ‘That’s bullshit Frank! You have no evidence what so ever,’ Shaw laughs off Frank’s assertion.

  Frank doesn’t appreciate being laughed at. He thumped his fist on the table to make his point. ‘Look just hear me out. I know for a fact that Connor Chase is the man behind this,’ he says.

  The room goes quiet. Shaw stands with his back to everyone and looks out at the skyline of the city. ‘How do you work that out Frank? Please tell me why my best detective is pulling at strings here?’ ‘I know it was Chase sir because I saw him on the CCTV before the explosion. One shoulder was lower than the other as if he was carrying a heavy bag. He wasn’t carrying a heavy bag though. That’s the way he walks after the accident. That’s how I know it was him,’ explains Frank.

  ‘What accident?’

  ‘He sustained one at work a few months ago. His boss told me about it this morning. She was at the crime scene. She told me a lot about him, valuable personal stuff,’ Frank added.

  ‘So why did you not write up a report on it McKenzie?’ Shaw asks.

  ‘I was just about to sir, when the explosions started.’ Everyone in the conference room mumbles in doubt. Shaw looks at his fellow peers and then at Frank. ‘Okay Frank. Get the woman to verify you’re story. In the mean time, everyone here will run a risk assessment on whether this psycho will strike again. I want a profile on this asshole as soon as possible; this guy is going down today.’ Shaw’s orders emptied the room. In the midst of the crowd of officials leaving the room, Frank holds his phone to his ear.

  ‘Hello?’ A voice answers.

  ‘Looks like we’re going on a date after all!’

  Seven

  Frank sits at the diner waiting for his coffee while staring at the beautiful woman across from him that he met a few hours ago at the crime scene. A waiter comes with his coffee and sets it gently on the table. He asks the woman sitting across from Frank if she wants anything. She shakes her head. The waiter leaves and Frank notices that the name tag she got at the crime scene is sitting on the table. He takes comfort in finally knowing her name.

  ‘So let me get this straight. Conner blew up the precinct?’ Tasha asks.

  Tasha’s low cut top distracts him as he enjoys a sip of coffee. Tasha notices and buttons herself up.

  ‘Damn, Frank, get your eyes off my breasts and your mind back on the matter at hand?’

  Frank smiles, takes another sip of coffee and sits back in his chair. He feels as if he finally has everything under control.

  ‘I already told you what happened, Tasha. Chase broke into the evidence lockup and planted some C4. Before you know it, BOOM!’ Frank exudes the confidence he feels.

  ‘But why? Why would he blow up the police station? In fact, why would he blow anything up?’ Tasha looks as confused as she sounds.

  ‘I don’t know. That’s why we’re here. You’re the one who knows him. You’re one of the few left alive who knows him at all, Tasha’

  Tasha sighs.

  ‘Cheer up, at least we got each other,’ Frank teases playfully.

  ‘That’s what I’m worried about’

  ‘A bit harsh, lady, I’m trying to lighten things up around here. I’m just inserting some of my trademark humour into the situation’

  Frank smiles and Tasha finally breaks a forced one back at him.

  Frank touches her hand. ‘Look Tasha, I know it’s hard to come to terms with the situation. I mean, it’s not every day someone you knows kills 15 people and blows up the local police station. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. But there’s something you can do now. Help me find him and nail him!’ Frank still holds her hand, hoping he’s giving her comfort.

  This time she means the smile she gives him. ‘I appreciate it Frank. It’s just,’-Tears fill her eyes, smudging the immaculate make up that brightens her beaming face, ‘I feel responsible. I should have spotted the warning signs.’ ‘I don’t think there are many signs that a serial killer is going to massacre his whole household, Tasha,’ Frank tries to reassure her.

  Frank’s cell phone goes off and he instinctively answers it. ‘Frank speaking’

  ‘Oh hello, Mr. McKenzie.’ The voice is unfamiliar. Frank pulls the phone away from his ear and checks the caller ID. It’s unknown.

  ‘No point checking for a number Frank. Surely you wouldn’t expect me to call from a traceable phone? Especially with my hang up about privacy’

  Frank muffles the phone against his chest and looks at Tasha.

  ‘Get out of here Tasha, call for help. I got Chase on the phone’

  Tasha bolts from the diner as Frank puts the phone back to his ear.

  ‘There was no need for that Frank, this won’t take too long. I take it my message was loud and clear at your place of work?

  ‘Crystal clear. We know all about you Chase and we’re going to hunt you down like the mangy mutt that you are.’

  ‘Oh I concur. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Call it coincidental, Frank, but I enjoy a good old chase. Now listen up and listen good. I want you to make your way to the downtown public records building. In the car park next to the building you will have all the things you need to get the job done.’

  ‘What job?’

  ‘The job I’m giving you Frank., You see, the public records building houses some of the most personal details of people who live in this city. I’m sure that no one would mind terribly if that building and its contents were destroyed. That’s where you come in Frank. You’re not a wanted man. Not yet anyway. I need you to do what I tell you, or I kill some more people. It’s that’ simple.’

  ‘I don’t think so Chase…,’ Frank is interrupted by a screaming voice on the phone. A child’s voice. It’s closely followed by a gun shot.

  Frank yells in frustration.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes. You have one hour.’ The phone goes dead and all that’s left is the deafening silence of murder. That sound surrounds the day and tears Frank’s soul apart.

  Eight

  ‘I’m standing outside a house in Stella Avenue where 15 people were murdered last night in what is the most shocking crime in recent memory,’ says the news reporter on the TV in the DA’s office. ‘Police have called a press conference that’s getting underway in a few mi
nutes. They’ll address the public and release the name of the suspect. A crowd of a hundred people or so from the community have gathered outside the house with candles to pay their respects.’ The reporter’s voice echoes through the spacious office.

  Eddie Smith sits at his desk, watching the news coverage and taps nervously on a stack of files. He gets up and paces up and down the room. His cell phone rings and he answers immediately. ‘Talk to me.’ ‘Hey, it’s Frank. I have some unfortunate news, sir.’

  Someone rushes into the office before Frank can finish.

  ‘Haven’t you heard of knocking?’ The DA snaps. “I’m on an important phone call here.’

  The man grabs the remote and switches the TV to another channel.

  The DA looks shocked as he reads the headline scrolling on the TV.

  “Public Records Building Destroyed in Terrorist Attack”

  ‘Holy shit, Frank. Have you seen this? They bombed the public records building?’ Eddie speaks into his phone.

  ‘Yes sir. That’s why I’m ringing. I know who did it,’ Frank says.

  ‘How do you know? I mean…. Tell me!’

  ‘It was me, sir.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Frank? Why would you?’

  ‘It was Chase sir, He made me do it. He had hostages and killed a kid. He said if I didn’t blow up the building, he would kill more hostages. The guy’s a psycho. I didn’t doubt him for one minute. Just look at what he did today.’

  ‘But you can’t go around blowing up buildings willy-nilly, McKenzie. I’m going to have to bring you in, Frank’

  ‘Don’t worry sir, I’m already in custody. I turned myself in. I’m using my one phone call to let you know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do, sir. He was going to kill more people.’

  The phone goes dead. Eddie grabs his coat and rushes out of his office. He makes his way to his Limo. Destination: the slammer.

  Nine

  The cold surface of the interview table made Frank uneasy. For years, it was him on the other end of the darn thing. Now he sat staring into the eyes of a person who obviously thought this was the break he’d waited for the make or break B.S that would determine whether he played desk jockey the rest of his life or commanded the desks.