Murder! Too Close To Home

by J. T. Lewis

  Traveling here only every three months or so, Tex always had a lot of pent up desires that she was more than willing and able to satisfy. He was also more than willing and able to pay for her ministrations.

  Setting the hat gently on her head, she took a moment to admire her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her perfectly coifed, shoulder-length blonde hair complimented the jet-black Stetson like it was made for her…which as a matter of fact it was.

  The perky breasts and flat stomach that helped define her sensuous body had always been as much of a turn-on to her as it was to her “friends”. She moved a hand to her breast, and then slowly caressed her belly as the hand made its way slowly to its target.

  The sensation that ensued had her closing her eyes as a tremble ran its way up to her throat, escaping as a moan as she found the spot.

  Clearing her head finally, she finished the final touches to her light makeup, and then turned toward the adjoining room for a long night of ecstasy that would last until the sun came up.

  Stopping suddenly, she turned back as she remembered the coup de gras that she had purchased just for the occasion. Finding it in a drawer, she lifted the belt and cinched it up, letting it fall to rest on her small, sexy hips as she reached in for the final piece; a dildo in the shape of a gun.

  Inserting it in the holster, she turned once more, calling out to the man in the next room. “I have something special for you tonight, Tex.”

  As she walked through the doorway, the apartment exploded in noise as the man on the bed boomed out, “Yeeee Hawww.”

  Chapter 12

  February 18, 1997

  Arriving home that night I was greeted by the heavenly smell of Betty’s Chicken and Dumplings. While Betty was a wonderful cook, she very seldom had time to make a regular meal, much less my favorite winter fare.

  I quickly hung up my parka and took off my shoes, letting the aroma carry me into the kitchen. Having entered somewhat quietly, I was treated to the scene of my beautiful wife toiling over the pot on the stove.

  Still in her black police uniform which she filled out better than anyone ever had, I unabashedly stared at the love of my life. A strand of her long brown hair had released itself from the pony tail she wore for work, hanging down sensually on her face as she busied herself stirring the pot. I momentarily fantasize about her cooking with something a little skimpier on until she somehow got wind of my presence.

  “If you don’t stop thinking like that you’ll lose your appetite for the dumplings,” she said with a smile, having somehow read my mind again without even looking up. I eased up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist as she leaned back into me, her body seeming to blend into mine.

  “I think we should have time before the night is over for both of my appetites to be satiated,” I said with a stupid grin, burying my face into her neck and inhaling her perfume like it was a life giving force. Betty moaned, leaning her head back on my shoulder for a moment before shooing me away so she could finish the meal.

  The sound of clicking on hardwood flooring announced the arrival of Lucy, our border collie/mixed breed dog, our only child. Actually, Lucy was Betty’s dog through and through, having moved with her into my old house when we had gotten married.

  While she was not as close to me, she more than tolerated me, letting me lavish affection on her when she felt like it. Nuzzling my hand when she got to us in the kitchen, I reached down and gave her a good rub behind the ears, her favorite spot for affection.

  She continued to grace me with her presence as I wandered towards the living room, picking up the paper on the dining room table as I glanced through the day’s mail.

  I heard the clinking of plates and silverware as I sat down in my recliner to browse through the paper, an update on page three saying that the Sheriff was still looking into the one-car accident that had caused the death of the out of town couple. At least the cover story was still holding, although I personally was undecided if this was the right tack to follow.

  Shouldn’t the good people of the county know that there was a murderer about?

  Reaching down, I gave Lucy a few pats on the head as if to assure her everything would be all right, like she was the one that needed it

  “Come and get it detective,” I heard Betty call from the kitchen. I walked back into in the kitchen with my canine buddy in tow, observing my goddess scooping out two heaping portions of her magnificent smelling meal. Using a nod at the silverware I was to pick up, she then led me to the dining room where she gracefully deposited the plates at their assigned places. I laid out the eating tools then sat down, grabbing the fork and shoveling down a mouthful before Betty knew what was happening.

  “Hey mister, we say grace first, and then we eat.” We bowed our heads as she said grace, crossing herself at the end of the prayer.

  Betty had been raised Catholic and was devout in the rituals taught to her years ago by the nuns. I was a believer, but had long ago had a falling out with organized religion, or should I say the organizations of religion. We had both recognized and come to terms with each other’s personal beliefs, neither of us having any desire to change the other’s persuasion in the matter.

  She looked up, giving me a glimpse of her dazzling smile as she picked up her fork and took a bite. I was right behind her, totally enjoying the taste and texture of her specialty.

  “How does this keep getting better every time that you make it,” I asked between bites, “you using some new secret spice”?

  She gave a small giggle, saying that my taste was probably just getting less selective.

  I held my tongue at the rebuke of my palate, being too busy enjoying my meal. She asked about my day and I told her of our meeting with Doc Elliot, and the clue coming out of another one of my dreams. Betty had always been amazed at the inner workings of my mind, especially the strange dreams and the relative consistency of their accurate outcomes.

  “You should really have your own TV show,” she said with a grin as I got up to get us a second helping. I would need another walk tomorrow to make up for my gluttony tonight.

  We talked of the case some more, then on to other more mundane topics as I immersed myself in the fabulous food and conversation. Finally getting up to clean the table, we walked into the kitchen to do the dishes as I gave my nightly thanks to whoever had invented the dishwasher. Getting it loaded and turned on; I stood up to be greeted by the sight of Betty staring at me with a serious look on her face. Instantly concerned and being very familiar with that look, I asked what was the matter?

  “You know of course that I’m assigned to the taskforce,” she stated matter-of-factly, “and I just want to get the ground rules straight from the get go.”

  I sat down at the yard sale kitchen table that Betty adored, knowing that when she was this serious about something there was no use making plans to do anything else until she was ready.

  “I’ve been in this business for a long time Gabe, and even though you are a dear sweet man, you have a tendency to try to be overly protective of me…or do things for me when we work together. I will be pulling my weight on this assignment as usual, and I just want to make sure that we are on the same page on this issue.”

  I knew that she had hit the nail on the head with her comment; I did tend to be overprotective of my lovely wife. She was a very able and accomplished cop in her own right, having reached the rank of Detective Sergeant in a very male dominated force. I also knew that we would need all hands going full throttle to get this case concluded quickly, hopefully before anyone else got hurt.

  I look up at her sheepishly, agreeing to be as professional as possible, and to not show any favoritism while working together.

  Just as long as she remembered that she was my favorite.

  Her smile returned quickly as she sat down on my lap, putting her arms around my neck.

  “That’s all I can ask,” she said as she snuggled into me, the smell of her perfume instantly enveloping me.
<
br />   “Now, about that other appetite of yours,” she whispered in my ear, instantly bringing me to attention.

  Putting my free arm under her knees, I stood up (almost) effortlessly, carrying my bride to the bedroom, the sound of her half-hearted screams of protest ringing through the house. Lucy, for her part, seeming to know that no more attention would be forthcoming this night, padded off to her bed by the fireplace.

  ***

  Later that night, as we snuggled together in our bed she mumbled something in my ear that I couldn’t quite make out. Asking her to repeat it, she sleepily said “you need to find out about the necklace.”

  “What necklace,” I asked, at this point thinking she was half dreaming.

  “The necklace the woman was probably wearing,” she said a little less groggily.

  “The perp probably pulled off the woman’s necklace, that’s more than likely what caused the mark on her neck.”

  It took a moment for the information to sink into my thick skull before I slapped the palm of my hand against my forehead, finally comprehending that the doer had taken a necklace from the woman victim.

  He had taken his first souvenir!

  Chapter 13

  February 19, 1997

  The raspy whisper had returned as he listened to his new orders.

  “The new instructions are at the drop. You need to go now and get them.”

  The man happily responded that he was getting his coat on as they spoke. The thought of proceeding on to the next project was already making his heart rate rise as his eye fluttered in excitement.

  “Follow the directions word for word, no more cowboy antics or you’re out,” the mentor threatened authoritatively.

  The man assured Jasmine that he had learned his lesson. Picking up his keys as he hung up the phone, he walked out of the dingy apartment and jumped into his car.

  Heading over to Taylor Park, he angled the car into a dark slot and started walking as normal as he could muster towards the assigned spot. He covered the hundred yards to the designated park bench in about three minutes, sitting down casually like he was just enjoying the night.

  He nonchalantly reached into his pocket and got out a cigarette, lighting it and inhaling the pungent flavor of the non-filtered cigarettes that he preferred. After making sure no one else was around, he reached down under the bench, finding the brown paper sack exactly where it was supposed to be. Finishing his cigarette a few minutes later, he put the sack in his coat pocket and stood up, returning to his car by a different route through the playground.

  Upon returning home, he got out the sack and opened it.

  Finding the usual storage container inside, he lifted the lid and took out the crumbled wax paper. She had designed this to look like someone had just left their lunch container in case anyone had ever found it.

  At the bottom, he found the tightly folded piece of paper within a plastic sandwich bag, opening it to reveal the cryptic lettering inside. Taking the paper to his messy desk and brushing off enough room to lay the paper out, he opened a drawer and pulled out a notebook.

  Mastering the code book given him by the mentor had been hard for him, reading having never been a strong point. But he had done it…and felt a huge amount of pride in his accomplishment.

  Another skill useful to fulfill his dream!

  Checking the top set of characters that told him what page to work off of, he turned the book to that page and started decoding the instructions.

  When he had finished the decoding, he lifted the paper and sat back in his chair to study the writing, reading it through several times and committing it to memory. He then folded the message and stuck it in the back of the book, replacing the book back into the drawer.

  The new preparations would take some time to accomplish, but at least he had something to do. And of course, the reward at the end would make all of his time worth it.

  Having lifted his spirits with the thought of his mentor’s new instructions, he decided to celebrate with a few beers.

  Celebrate the inevitable return of the Ghost!

  Chapter 14

  February 19, 1997

  The first full meeting of the Major Crimes Taskforce was scheduled for 9:00 AM, but a short meeting of the minds between Frank, Betty and I to discuss the necklace had occurred at 8:30. Frank went off to contact the family to see if they could shed any light on the subject, and I walked Betty to the meeting room.

  All in all I think I definitely got the better of the assignments.

  All of us on the task force were of course very familiar with each other, all having worked together on more than one occasion. There was Frank and me, of course, Tucker and Larry from the Sheriff’s department, and Betty along with Harry Clausing from the Allenville police department.

  Harry was an unimpressive specimen physically, easily being around a hundred pounds overweight. A lieutenant in rank, he had long ago been removed from any type of daily patrolling, the resultant desk duty having culminated in a massive girth.

  Harry was not a man to be dismissed easily though, having thirty years on the force under his massive belt. He had seen a little of everything over the years, and had been involved with solving many of the city’s cases.

  Overall I felt pretty good about the makeup of our group. If we couldn’t solve this crime, I felt no one could.

  We all busied ourselves with getting coffee, a number of the group bagging one or more of the bagels sitting on a tray as we waited for our leader to arrive.

  The door suddenly exploded open as Allen Vanguard entered the room like a whirlwind, carrying with him an arm-load of folders.

  Setting down the folders at his favored spot at the head of the table, he worked the room like the politician that he was, greeting everyone individually before heading to the side board to claim his own cup of coffee.

  Frank was the last to arrive, showing me a note as he filled his own coffee cup and grabbed a bite out of a bagel before we sat down.

  We all took our seats, and I spread my accumulated files and information out in front of me for easy access.

  Allen had confided in me a few weeks ago that he was really excited about getting his new taskforce off the ground, a project that he had dreamt of for years. Getting the best of this county’s investigators working together as a unit was a no-brainer, and he had been working tirelessly for months to get approval and funding for his dream.

  When Allen had seated himself, he thanked all of us as a group for agreeing to work on the taskforce. He then started handing out the file folders to each member of the group.

  “Ok people, whatawegot?” Allen started, “Does anyone know anything new on the murder of Abby and Tyler Letterman before we get to these files?”

  I nudged Frank, who gave me a pissy look before speaking up.

  “A few of us were working on the mark on the neck of Mrs. Letterman, trying to figure out what might have caused it. Betty came up with the idea that maybe she was wearing a necklace that the perp forcibly removed, so I contacted the family this morning to ask if that was a possibility.”

  “The mother confirmed that Abby always wore the same necklace,” Frank continued, “A Celtic cross, given to her by her grandmother when she graduated high school. I asked if they had access to a fax machine and she agreed to find and send a picture of Abby that showed the cross. We should have it in a few hours.”

  “Ok, good work,” Allen stated excitedly, “Anything else new?”

  When no one spoke he continued, “Let’s go over the case file once, and then I will leave you guys to your labors. From here on out we will meet every two or three days as the case warrants. Otherwise, consider this your fulltime job for the duration…at least until we find the perpetrator of this crime.”

  “Ok, let’s get started.”

  We spent the next hour going through the too-thin information, rehashing the evidence, trying for a new angle. Everyone was getting pretty frustrated when there was a knock on the door
and Allen’s assistant Ellen immediately walked in. Taking a thin file around the table, she leaned over and whispered a few words to the prosecutor before taking her leave.

  Allen anxiously opened the file, reading it with a serious expression for what seemed like ten minutes before looking up.

  “I have a report on the ballistics of the gun, they have matched it to a Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum revolver, previously used in a robbery in Allenville in December 1994. It was entered into evidence April 1995, and the last known location of the piece since then has been the Sheriff department’s evidence locker.”

  He looked up with disbelief showing on his face, “People, this murder was committed using one of our own guns!”

  Chapter 15

  February 19, 1997

  Sheriff Lean McHenry was fit to be tied.

  “Where’s that paperwork?” he shouted at the room, waiting for the evidence log to be brought to him. He took the cigarette from behind his ear and stuck it in his mouth. In his distracted state it dangled precariously, barely catching his upper lip in a display that would have done James Dean proud.

  He stood up and paced back and forth behind the desk, wondering how this could have happened, knowing it must be some kind of mistake. Finally tired of waiting, he quickly strode off toward the evidence lock-up, mumbling under his breath at the incompetence of his deputies.

  Half way down the stairs he met Jane and Jason walking up, clutching an armload of binders each.

  “Where the hell you guys been?” the sheriff asked, frustration mounting in his voice.

  The Chief Deputy looked down at his shoes, but Jane stood her ground, being used to the blustery disposition of her dad when he was stressed out.

  “We were just making sure that we had all the relevant files that might in any way have to do with the missing gun. Would you like to take them back into your office, or look at them here?”