Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel)

by Graystone, D. A.

  “Oh well, then you absolutely have to get married if you went to all that bother. But the rum better be good!” said Belinda.

  Belinda waved for another round and Christine settled back in her chair. She could not stop smiling. Her life had never been better. She had been smiling since mid-morning when her boss had presented her with a wedding present – a promotion. She was now Divisional Head of the East Coast Section of Marketing and Sales. How would she fit all that on a business card?

  “Will you please stop smiling?”

  “You’re just jealous, Bel.”

  Belinda pointed at the crowd of men at the bar. “I have a right to be jealous. Have you seen these losers? Christ, 99% of the population is gay, married or just too ugly for words!”

  The three girls all stared at each other and then burst into uncontrollable laughter.

  *

  Preston was staring.

  He tried to look casual but it was difficult.

  How long had it been since he had seen her? He didn’t want to think how many years it had been. She had hardly changed. She was still beautiful. She still looked as beautiful as the first day he fell in love with her.

  As beautiful as the day she destroyed you.

  He ignored that thought and watched her over the top of his drink. God, Sandra Kew. After all these years, there she was.

  Squinting slightly, he could see her nose crinkle when she smiled. Just like before. Her nose had always crinkled when she laughed.

  And, she always laughed at you.

  How old had he been? High school? Almost, the summer before high school

  *

  He had spent the day at the library and got interested in a book. He was in the back where there were no clocks and little traffic – a place where he could go unnoticed. A place where he could hide. As if any of the Neanderthal jocks ever came into the library. But still – always better to be safe.

  When the library lights flashed to signal closing time, he had been shocked. He should have left fifteen minutes earlier. The book had been so good. He loved books. He escaped in books. But this one had cost him. If he didn’t hurry, it would cost him even more.

  The fastest way home meant cutting through the schoolyard which was not his normal route, never his preferred route. The sight of the large red brick building pricked his senses. Tensing, he became more alert. He tried to stretch his senses as far as he could, watching for a flash of a coat. He listened for the pounding of the basketball. He couldn’t see the courts but he should be able to hear the dull thud of the ball. He listened for the bicycles or laughter.

  He heard them before he saw them.

  Instinctively, he stopped and crouched behind a car at the curb. One of them came into view. He was on his bicycle, standing on the seat with one leg stuck out behind him.

  Preston moved as fast as he could across the open space from one car to the next. His heart was beating. He only had seconds. He mustn’t let his fear freeze him. Act now, he told himself. Using all the speed he had, he ran to the next car and stopped. He wondered if the explosion of laughter was directed at him. Carefully, he peeked over the car.

  The group had appeared around the corner. There were six of them, four boys and two girls. The boys were on bikes, doing tricks for the girls. He heard “tether ball” drift across the street and knew where they were headed. He still had a chance, if he had the guts.

  The tetherball pole was at this side of the school. If he looked to his right, he would be able to see it. They would play tether on their bikes. The girls would cheer them on and he could get by. He even had a choice.

  The safest way would be to continue down the street to the gully. Once down the hill and in the trees, he would be safe. He could come up just two streets from his home. He would be home before he knew it. And, more importantly, before they knew it.

  Except, it had rained for days. Today had been the first sun since Wednesday. The gully would be muddy and slippery. If he went home muddy, his father would not believe him about the library. His father would take one look at the mud and know he had been down in the gully. He could not tell his father why he had to go down in the gully. His father would call him a sissy. Then, his father would beat him.

  Forget the gully.

  That left the more dangerous route of the primary side of the school. He was really risking the bacon by going that way. All it would take would be for them to decide to go back around the school. Still, he had no other choice. He could go around the primary side and walk behind the bleachers. Once behind the bleachers, they wouldn’t know it was him. He would be safe and almost home. He would arrive clean and no beatings tonight, thank you very much.

  His keen mind, honed by years of hiding, had come to this conclusion in seconds. Before they could reach the tetherball and while they were still focused on their bike tricks, he moved. In a matter of heartbeats, he was safe with the school between him and them.

  He listened carefully for anyone behind him. As he approached the final corner, the bleachers just yards ahead of him, he thought he heard a noise behind him. Looking behind, he was around the corner before he realized – and was looking straight at them.

  Echoes. The echoes had betrayed him.

  Panicking, he tried for the bleachers. He had barely leaned into his first step before the first bike skidded to a stop in front of him, kicking gravel onto his shoes. On his left was a huge puddle. He heard another bike coming up behind him and he started to spin around. He never even saw the foot aimed at is back.

  He was jammed forward and went sprawling into the mud puddle, his glasses flying from his face. For a moment, he just stayed there, unable to move. He was covered in mud, his back ached from the kick and his chest hurt where he had landed on a rock.

  “In the mud, right where you belong, porker!”

  He slowly brought himself to his knees and searched the dirty water for his glasses. Putting them on his face, he tried to wipe the mud from the lenses but they just smeared. He didn’t trust his voice – it would just crack and sound like he was going to cry. He struggled to his feet and started to walk. He just walked between two of the bikes and prayed. Then, he saw her – Sandra Kew.

  He worshipped Sandra and knew that she loved him. Everyone was laughing but her. Amid the hoots and taunts, she was just standing there. Despite the pain, he straightened more. She would stick up for him and everything would be all right. She was popular and they would listen to her. All she had to do was admit that she loved him.

  And then?

  Then, even through the mud-streaked lenses of his thick glasses, he saw her nose. The nose that he loved so much began to crinkle. Just a bit, at first. Then more. Then, the laughter burst from her, spittle spraying from her mouth. Suddenly, she could barely stand, she was laughing so hard.

  At you, always at you!

  *

  He looked over at Sandra’s table.

  He had welcomed the beating from his father that night because it helped to erase the sound of Sandra’s laughter. The pounding of his heart in his ears helped to drown out the memory. Even the taste of the blood in his mouth was a relief from the bile that had risen since Sandra’s betrayal. That little crinkle of her nose had crushed his world.

  And now you can crush hers.

  She looked over at him. He suddenly knew, with crystal clarity, that she had seen him. She had seen him and recognized him. And just like that day, she had turned against him. She was laughing at him, again. She was telling all her new friends about that day. She was telling them about the little mud baby. That is what her friend had been pointing at – him!

  They were laughing at him. All his life, he had been laughed at.

  His glasses. His weight. His walk. How smart he was. How bad he was at sports. It never ended.

  Even Sandra. He loved Sandra and she ridiculed him. He could have given her so much. His very soul but she had crushed him.

  How had she found him? How had she tracked him her
e? Why had she invaded this place, his one haven? The one place he didn’t feel alone. He was always invisible but, at least here, he could almost feel like he belonged.

  Now, he could never return.

  It was always the same. The story would spread. Soon, people would be pointing him out and whispering. They would know about the puddle and the tears and the humiliation and they would laugh. He could never escape the laughter.

  There is a way though, isn’t there? A way to pay them back. A way to get even.

  He clenched his fist. He clenched it so tight that his fingernails dug into his hand. He could feel the pain and something else.

  He could feel the boy’s hair in his fingers.

  An electric chill passed down his back. Goosebumps broke out on his body. The sound of the wet thud and the crunch of bone erased the sound of laughter. Tiles cracking, bone splintering, blood and brains splattering. The power surged through his body.

  Control, power and revenge, everything that had been denied him. His breath came rapidly and he felt light headed. Then, it happened. He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and felt the knife. He held his breath. She stood talking to the others, her coat in her hand. They didn’t move. With a final giggle, she turned away from the table. She was leaving and she was leaving alone.

  The pissant boy had been good. He had felt so good.

  But the boy wasn’t real – just an accident.

  True, it was an accident. He hadn’t meant to kill the boy. He hadn’t even known the boy.

  He knew Sandra. It will be so much better this time.

  The bar stool scraped loudly as he got up and left the bar while Sandra paid her tab.

  Chapter 9

  Cliff Degget was a happy man. He popped a beer and crossed the apartment to the narrow bed. Apartment, hell the place barely qualified as a room. Seven paces across. Two hundred and sixty-four trips across the room made a mile. And he had done his miles waiting for the call that was due tonight. He was finally going to connect with Angelino’s number one guy. He was only one step from the boss of bosses. And that was closer than most criminals ever got to the man and light-years closer than any other cop!

  Not bad for a poor black boy from the ghettos of Kingston, he thought, smiling at the invented persona.

  Two long years of working his way through Kingston, Miami, and New Orleans and finally back to Kesle. He stretched out on the bed. Lucky he was short, he thought, as his feet hit the end of the bed. He drank down half the bottle of beer and let out a restless sigh.

  Getting up again, he went over to his laptop and checked his latest bid on eBay. Somewhere in the long hours and endless nights, he had got himself hooked on eBay. He only won maybe one in fifty of his auctions but it passed the time. And besides, it wasn’t as if he could afford to win more. But his eBay days were almost over.

  He could see the end of this assignment. Everything was in place for the final play. And this play would guarantee him a Detective Second Grade once he brought Angelino in.

  He fought when his boss had wanted to bring in the Special Organized Crime Unit. This was supposed to be a Narcotics bust. But, now that they were involved, Degget had another option when the case was finished. Narcotics had been an incredible opportunity, especially right out of the Academy but it had its limits. SOCU might be the answer to his next step in the department.

  Degget was so busy imagining which Division he would get himself assigned to, he almost missed the light step on the back stairs. He checked his watch. They were arriving early. They were also being quiet.

  Too quiet.

  After two years, Degget’s paranoia was well earned and keenly developed. He reached for his gun and moved silently over behind the couch near the window.

  They came in fast. Two men were in the apartment and spreading out as the door banged shut again. The first carried a shotgun and the second had a semi-automatic. Bullets sprayed the open kitchen and bed. He waited for them to move farther into the room.

  The shotgun blew a large hole in the bathroom door. They started forward, forced to bunch together to get by the small dining table. Degget stood and pumped two rounds into each man. The shotgun went off as the first fell and Degget felt the hot air pass his left side. The second man went down silently.

  Degget took a step toward the bodies as the front door burst open again. Degget launched himself backwards and fired. The bullet plowed through the heart of the third intruder as he was still trying to find a target. Degget continued backwards out of control. He heard the glass break behind him and felt himself suddenly suspended in nothingness.

  Chapter 10

  Without really thinking, Preston picked up the yellow plastic strap some careless paperboy had discarded after opening his bundle of papers. He supposed he picked it up because he hated litter. It might be useful though.

  He crossed the street and walked quickly along the other side. Sandra was walking slowly as though she had all the time in the world. She was smiling. She must have enjoyed telling her friends about him.

  Rage began to fuel every step. His vision was clear – observing every detail on the street.

  He saw where he wanted to be and walked even faster. There weren’t too many people around. Only the little neighborhood tavern was open at this time of night. With a little luck, it could work. He crossed back again.

  Timing was everything. He set his pace to be at the precise spot when she arrived. She passed a couple walking in the opposite direction and said something. He couldn’t quite make it out but was sure she said to go and hear the story at the bar. He wrapped an end of the strap around both hands.

  A cab was coming down the street toward him. He watched Sandra turn and step toward the curb.

  Her arm went up to signal the cab. But between her and the cab, the couple did the same. The cab swerved to the side in front of the couple and they got in.

  As the cab did a U-turn and started back down the road, he watched Sandra shrug and start back down the street.

  He glanced behind to make sure he was still alone. The cab would be out of sight in seconds. A lone man walked in the opposite direction across the street. Preston adjusted his speed to make up for the interruption by the cab.

  She passed him at the mouth of the alley and said hello.

  He almost missed his chance.

  She said hello right to his face but didn’t seem to recognize him. For a moment, he was confused and then he realized it was just her way of saying how unimportant he was. The rage flared brighter.

  The strap slipped easily around her neck and he snapped his hands back. Taken completely by surprise, she fell backwards. He dragged her into the alley and moved behind a huge garbage container. He used all his strength to pull the ties tighter around her neck.

  She clawed at the strap.

  A gurgle escaped.

  He heard the sound and pulled the straps tighter.

  Even as she died, she laughed at him.

  Would he ever escape the laughter?

  She stopped moving after a minute or so. He released the strap after five. She fell backwards into the garbage. Her tongue was sticking out at him, taunting him. He kicked her in the face. His foot connected just under the chin and almost totally severed her tongue.

  Flexing his cramped hands, he felt the pain for the first time. He looked down at his bloody hands and realized it was his blood. The strap had cut into him. He sucked the blood and took a step back, careful that the garbage bin still hid him from the street.

  Shoving one hand in his pocket, he felt the boy’s knife. He pulled it out, looking at the black handle with the thin red stripe. He thumbed the button and the blade sprang out. Bending down, he finished cutting through her tongue until it fell onto her chest, landing right between her breasts.

  Was that enough to stop her laughter? He looked at her throat, pale against the dark blood and bright yellow plastic. Why not be sure and take her voice with him? The Egyptians and the Vikings believed y
ou brought your world with you into the afterlife. What if she went without her voice? Forever mute?

  He stabbed the blade into her throat and cut around her larynx. He reached his fingers in and pulled out her voice box, silencing her for all eternity.

  He stepped back and admired his work, his hand still wrapped around the bloody bit of flesh in his jacket pocket. He had done it. He had struck another blow for the used and abused. Once word got out, all those like him would feel uplifted and rise up in his support. They might not be capable of acting but they could live through him. They would take pleasure in his acts. Their support would be spiritual but support nonetheless.

  But how will they know? She’s just another slut in the trash. Who will understand? It isn’t as if your last kill made any difference.

  He had to leave a mark. But what mark could represent him? Whenever his mind played through his years of torture and terror, there was a single focus. His signature was obvious.

  Like an artist examining a sculpture, he decided on the perfect spot.

  Using his foot, he kicked her over. She landed with a wet plop in the soggy garbage. Too bad it isn’t mud, he thought, surveying her smooth slim back.

  Kneeling down, he started to cut.

  Chapter 11

  “Damn it all to hell. This crime scene is three days old! There isn’t anything cordoned off let alone a body.”

  Mann stared down the alley and then backed up to look down the street, trying to picture the position of the body based on the photos. If he backed up enough, he could see the unlit sign of Jake’s Tavern. “It shouldn’t have taken so long to get to us.”

  “It’s the knife,” Tetrault explained unnecessarily. “They tossed us the case once it was IDed. If it wasn’t for the new database the tax payers bitched so much about, we never would have tied it together and Central would still have it.”