Killer Curriculum
© 2019 by Douglas Alexander
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, uploading, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
50/50 Press, LLC
140 Quay Rd.
Delanson, NY 12035
http://www.5050press.com
ISBN-13: 9781947048492
Library of Congress Number: 2019942790
Edited by: Megan Cassidy-Hall
Printed in the U.S.A. First Edition, August, 2019.
To my grandfather, Bob,
Who always stresses the value of
Continually educating yourself
Table of Contents
Five-Star Reviews for Killer Curriculum
Chapter 1- Moving Parts
Chapter 2- New Home
Chapter 3- First Impressions
Chapter 4- Back to School
Chapter 5- The Widow
Chapter 6- Fieldtrip
Chapter 7- The Lucky Roll
Chapter 8- Homework
Chapter 9- A Quick Drink
Chapter 10- Research
Chapter 11- The Box
Chapter 12- Square One
Chapter 13- Group Work
Chapter 14- Déjà Vu
Chapter 15- Coffee Break
Chapter 16- A Step in the Right Direction
Chapter 17- Breadcrumbs
Chapter 18- Digging Deeper
Chapter 19- Sitting Ducks
Chapter 20- Springing the Trap
Chapter 21- Settling Accounts
Chapter 22-Retribution
Chapter 23-Loss
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Five-Star Reviews for Killer Curriculum
5 Stars! Reviewed By Jack Magnus for Readers’ Favorite
Killer Curriculum is a sleuth murder mystery novel written by Douglas Alexander. When FBI Agent August Booker retired after being injured on the job and accepted a position on the teaching staff of St. Webster’s University, a small private college in Berksville, NY, he had no intention of doing anything more than teaching profiling and criminology to his students. Dean Lawson’s request for him to aid the Berksville Police Department was therefore not entirely welcome. Dean Lawson’s friend, Captain Mark Harrison, however, was faced with a particularly gruesome murder case, and the detective working the case was a new transplant from Brooklyn.
Detective Sarah Rime was the consummate cop’s cop from a third-generation lineage of law enforcement, and her seven years on the Brooklyn force meant she was equipped to deal with any situations arising in the small town she’d moved to. But nothing she had seen during her time in the big city had prepared her for the carnage awaiting her at the murder scene. Rime was equally unimpressed when Captain Harrison asked her to accept Booker as a consultant in the investigation. When she finally met up with the professor and the three students comprising his Advanced Profiling Course, however, she began to appreciate the possible advantages of having them assist with the case.
In Killer Curriculum, Douglas Alexander creates a new partnership between a police detective and an eccentric and talented FBI profiler -- a partnership for readers to get excited about. I started getting psyched about this detective story as I learned about Detective Sarah Rime and got positively enthusiastic when I met August Booker and his student profilers. Fans of the police procedural and private sleuth genres should seriously consider giving this well-written, thought-provoking and downright exciting mystery novel a try. The cast of characters Alexander sets up is marvelous, and his plot is ingenious and intricate. I’ll be watching for the next book in this new series. Killer Curriculum is most highly recommended.
5 Stars! Reviewed By K.C. Finn, Author of The Book of Shade
Killer Curriculum is a quirky and compelling murder mystery novel penned by author Douglas Alexander. We first meet Detective Sarah Rime at a crime scene, on her first day in a new small-town post in New York State. The unusual and grisly crime is going to cause problems fast if it isn’t solved, and her captain recommends an unorthodox method to do just that. Enter August Booker, a retired FBI detective who spends most of his time teaching his star students how to profile killers. So when Booker invites cheerleader Kara, tech nerd Max and the elderly but plucky Ski to join Sarah’s case, she suddenly has a lot more on her hands than just a murder to solve.
Fans of the cozy mystery genre will really enjoy the short chapter style and easy readability of this excellent little mystery. Author Douglas Alexander builds plenty of charm into every page with a real commitment to his ensemble cast, and the humor and pathos of their exploits contrast well with the genuinely grisly and intense moments where crime scenes and criminals rear their heads. I enjoyed the portrayal of August Booker best: an ‘old soul’ whose work has beaten him down before he’s even hit forty, making him reminiscent of a classic noir detective from the thirties. The dialogue is always sharp and enhances characters well, and each person gets their moment to shine with their special skills, slowly changing Sarah’s perceptions of them. Overall, Killer Curriculum is a superb novel sure to impress murder mystery fans everywhere.
5 Stars! Reviewed By Keith Julius, Author of the CASA Chronicles
Douglas Alexander has written an interesting type of whodunit that is sure to appeal to fans of police procedurals. Killer Curriculum centers around August Booker – a retired FBI agent who now teaches criminology courses at a small town college – and Detective Sarah Rimes, a New York City police officer who has just moved to the small town of Berksville to make a name of her own away from the big city. Sarah's first day on the job thrusts her into the middle of a particularly brutal crime and her superior on the force, Captain Harrison, brings in Booker to help with the case. One condition of helping the police is that the instructor insists on employing his three students as helpers in the investigation – Kari, the gymnastic cheerleader who has a keen understanding of the criminal mind, Max, the computer nerd, and Ski, an eighty-year-old coffee drinker who seems to have connections everywhere.
Killer Curriculum follows a steady and logical course as the team investigates the murder. Douglas Alexander moves the story along at a steady pace while he brings out the idiosyncrasies of the team members involved. The minor characters provide some of the more interesting interactions, bringing small doses of humor to an otherwise tragic and gruesome story. And just when you think everything has been solved, you find out things aren't always as they seem with the story moving abruptly at the end in a direction that will have permanent ramifications for Booker and his students. If you like murder mysteries, if you like police procedurals with offbeat characters, or if you just want to relax for a few hours with a good read, then Killer Curriculum is the book for you.
Chapter 1- Moving Parts
After midnight, the world seems unadulterated, Sarah thought. For a moment, it was just Sarah, the wind, and the open road. She was taken in by the fragrance of the night and the absence of noise in the world. Sarah’s thoughts were interrupted by the sudden bend in the road. She looked down at her gauges and decided to back the motorcycle down below 60mph. After all, there would be no way to recuperate from wrapping her bike around a tree on the way to her first homicide.
The country road snaked around another bend, and suddenly the pureness of the dark
exploded into a brilliance of red and blue, alternating. Sarah pulled the bike in between two of the cruisers and parked it. A steady stream of uniformed officers, technicians, and what appeared to be coroner staff filed up and down a steep embankment, like ants traversing their mound.
Sarah straddled her bike for a few extra minutes before slowly lifting off her helmet. Dark hair cascaded out of the shell as she fished the shiny new detective badge out of her leather jacket and hung it around her neck.
The foliage was thick just off the road as the ground dropped off. A thick mixture of maple, oak, and pine trees created an alien landscape to Sarah. She had spent her whole life in New York City, surrounded by the comforting towers of concrete and steel. Things were busy there. Always. Even the nights had a steady hum to them. She found herself thinking about how she missed it as her eyes tried to adjust to the country roadside, devoid of streetlamps.
Shuffling down the bushwhacked path, a lanky officer moved to intercept her, before eyeing the swaying badge that read Detective. He nodded and pointed further down the trail. Gravity pulled her down the hill more than any willful movement of her own. Two quick shuffles as she reached the bottom brought her to a halt.
Portable lights had been set up, encircling a number of officers and non-uniformed technicians. As Sarah closed in on the scene, one uniformed officer turned from the huddle and vomited. Great, Sarah thought, my first case in this Podunk town, and it’s got all the yokel-locals puking.
A stocky officer with stripes on his arm turned to see Sarah coming. Grey hair stuck out from under his hat, matching the bushy mustache that defined his face. While she usually thought grey hair was distinguishing on men, this guy just looked worn out and old. He reached out his hand for an introduction. “Detective?” It was more of half a statement than a question.
“Rime.” Sarah grabbed his hand with the firm handshake her grandfather had drilled into her head as a young girl. “It’s Detective Rime.” She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and began stretching them over her hands.
“I’m Sergeant Blue.” The old officer stuck his arm through the crowd and parted the men with the ease of motion that could only be accomplished by a man who had earned the respect of the other officers. As Sarah looked closer, she could almost count the wrinkles that experience had carved into the corners of Sergeant Blue’s eyes. “We’ve got a messy one, Detective.”
In her seven years on the force in Brooklyn, Sarah thought she had seen it all: gang shootings, arson, multiple stabbings, and even a woman who had tried to drown her own kids. None of it even came close to what she found in front of her as the officers moved out of her field of view.
There were body parts strewn across the ground. An arm, a foot, a stomach, were the first things that she could identify. The grass-covered dirt soaked up a large pool of blood underneath the pile of body parts.
On the long ride from New York City to Berksville, Sarah tried to roleplay how professional and impressive she would be when she showed up on a scene. It was important to set a good image with the officers of her new station, but the longer she stared at the ground, trying to identify what looked like pieces of a coat hanger in the gruesome mix, all that came out of her mouth was “What the hell?”
“It looks so far like we’ve got a middle-aged male,” Sergeant Blue began, giving Sarah the rundown. “Not much else to go from right now.”
Sarah could see the combination of shock and nausea dripping off the faces of the men around her. This was the time to step up. Fearlessly, she bent down and began to lift and observe some of the severed limbs.
Blue continued, “There were no clothes or identification. The scene was stumbled upon by a pair of teenagers who were hiking.” He pointed further into the woods. “A few hiking trails cut right through this area.”
“So, whoever did this would have known that someone was going to find the body,” Sarah mumbled more to herself than to the veteran cop, but he continued to nod in agreement either way.
“We worried about disturbing the crime scene here, Blue?” she asked.
“Don’t reckon so.” The older man shook his head. “Too much… guts and gore to be disturbed if you ask me. Bag it and tag it any way we can. That’s the plan tonight.”
Sarah gave a quick nod before impulsively reaching down into the muck. Setting aside a leg and part of an arm, she called out, “Here! There’s a head under some of these parts.” Two more officers lost their dinner at the sight of the decapitated head. A technician stepped up and Sarah set her prize in his awaiting hands. “There you go, that’s for you.”
She turned back to Blue. “The parts seem to be connected by some kind of wire.” Pulling a pen out of her jacket, Sarah dipped it into the remains and hooked a piece of what she had thought was a hanger. It was more flexible, and up close she could see it was a type of thick wire.
“The parts are all tied together by that wire. And seems like it was tied around the tree at some point.” The sergeant motioned to a fifteen-foot length of the wire that was trailing off toward a nearby tree.
“Any footprints around here that aren’t ours?” she asked.
“The techs have plastered everything and will eliminate our footprints from the group when they get back to the lab.”
The taller, skinny cop who had passed Sarah on the way down approached Blue with a tray of coffee and the sergeant grabbed one. “Sorry, we would have had them get you one, but I didn’t know what your preference was.” Blue apologized as he took a long sip from the paper cup.
Shrugging it off as no big deal, Sarah looked back up the hill. “Any sign of a dump car up there?”
“Nothing according to the first officers at the scene.” Blue scratched his head and looked back up the hill. “Plus… can you imagine anyone making it down that while carrying a body?” He pointed to the woods again. “My money is on the killer coming through the hiking trails. ATV’s aren’t supposed to be on the trails, but they rarely listen or obey.”
“It is quite the trip down” Sarah looked around at the handful of officers who were now focused on her observations. “Let’s have a few officers canvas the nearby trails for any evidence.”
Blue nodded and pointed toward the trails. Three young officers saw his gesture and v-lined in that direction at a quick pace.
“Wow, that was easy,” Sarah said to Blue as the officers disappeared into the woods.
The old man grinned and nodded, “I’d like to take the credit, but I think they were looking for any excuse to get away from this mess.”
Sarah nodded grimly, and without another word, they began the slow trudge up the hill as staff from the Coroner’s office continued bagging up body parts.
***
August Booker knocked on the well-polished oak door. The thing held up for being over one hundred years old. I wish I held up as well, he thought. He waited, impatiently tapping his cane. The longer he stood the more annoyed he was becoming. This administrator wants to play games. Does he think by making me wait outside his door, he’s making a power play? Patience. Let’s see how he plays.
“Come on in.” The voice was muffled through the heavy door. August turned the iron handle. Entering the office, he began looking around. He had been in the dean’s office before, but this time he was really looking. It only took him a few moments to absorb what he needed. Wrinkled shirt. Five o’clock shadow. Duffle bag.
“Dean Lawson, I got your email. You needed to see me?” The professor leisurely walked in and sat in an overstuffed wing-back chair without waiting for the offer. The chair was over by the window, at the opposite end of the office. August chose his seat with intention, avoiding the chairs in front of the desk. The antique desk, behind which sat the dean, who tried to ignore the slight.
“Professor Booker! It seems like forever since we’ve had the pleasure of speaking.” The middle-aged man sat up in his chair with the rigid posture of a drill sergeant. Lawson closed a file, which August guessed, he had on
ly just opened to give the impression he was busy. “Go ahead and take a seat,” Lawson added, trying to grasp for some semblance of authority.
Unfortunately, August knew he already had him on his toes. “While I appreciate the invitation, Dean Lawson, I have a class in half an hour and a stack of papers to grade.” Might as well look as academic as possible he thought, then hastily added, “Can I help you with something?”
The dean took in a long breath through his nose and continued. “It seems like we have an opportunity for you to add some good community relations for the whole St. Webster’s University family.”
“You mean more than the opportunity to say you have a retired FBI agent teaching at your school?” August wasn’t about to yield. “My reputation does more to add ‘good will’ and credibility to your institution than any opportunity I can imagine.”
August grinned and relaxed further into the chair, laying his cane across his lap. St. Webster’s was a nice school, but in the days where most kids could go to school much cheaper at a state school in New York, a small private college needed as many perks as it could stuff into a brochure.
The administrator was doing his best not to grit his teeth. August was smiling on the inside because he was still holding his best cards.
“Mr. Booker, Captain Harrison of the Berksville Police De…”
“Pass,” August quickly cut him off.
“You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”
“I don’t need to. I no longer work with any form of law enforcement. I thought that would be clear when I joined your faculty in God-knows-where, Upstate New York.” His fingers tensed around the cane. “I teach now. I have no interest in consulting or sleuthing or whatever the good captain has in mind.”
“There was a murder. A bad one. The local police department has requested your assistance.” If Lawson tried to sit up any straighter he would be standing.
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