A Kiss Revealed

by Frances Hoelsema

  This was a predicament she was uneasy about. He had to die. But they were out in public. She didn’t want to get caught. Looking around, she’d have to make this fast. He was getting further and further away from her.

  As quietly, but quickly, as she could, she ran up to his back and inserted the needle into his neck. He never saw it coming. He did cry out and fall to his knees, though. Thankfully, it didn’t appear that anyone noticed.

  “Serves you right,” she spit at him.

  “What did I ever do to you?” he whimpered.

  “Tried to stop me.”

  He didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t. He was too busy writhing in pain.

  She had to do something with him. The longer he was out in the open, the more likely someone would see and get help. That would ruin everything! Putting her arms under his and wrapping them tightly to his chest, she dragged him back inside the lawyer’s office.

  Inside, he died. She looked around, making sure she wasn’t missing anything. As fast as she could, she hightailed it out of there, back to her car. Faster yet, she peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street.

  The music was turned up. She felt satisfied. Alive! Much better than before. She didn’t realize just how much she missed the thrill of doing this.

  Her phone was in the cupholder beside her. She looked at it, tempted to call him and tell him to scrap the plan. She’d just go ahead and kill the judge. But she decided against it. It was time he had a little more of an active role in this game.

  * * *

  He pulled up the driveway to a two-story brick house with a bay window and white columns capturing the overhang from the front door. He was impressed. The neighborhood was clean and ritzy. Each house was almost a cookie-cutter version of the one next to it. It was typical living quarters for someone like Judge Kirk Robertson.

  Stepping out of the car, he looked around. Things were quiet. Everyone was probably inside for the evening, enjoying a three-course dinner at a table with chandeliers above it. Or sitting in front of a large TV, watching a family movie. He wondered what the judge was doing right now. What he was feeling. Did he like the outcome of the trial? Did he have any regrets?

  For some reason, he doubted Judge Robertson even cared. It was just more money in his pocket. It didn’t matter what happened or who was involved. To that end, he figured the judge was probably sitting in an oversized lazy boy recliner, stuffing his face with filet mignon, watching whatever it was that struck his fancy. Not for long, though. His lips formed a sly smile.

  What he was about to do was a first. Not that he hadn’t thought about it before. He just enjoyed controlling the situation better. He felt power when all he had to do was mention a name and what she had to do, and she listened. She’d probably kill herself, too, if that’s what he wanted. She was his pawn in this game. And she made it easy, letting her feelings get in the way. Just pretend he loves her and she’ll do his bidding.

  But this art of taking someone’s life had to come sooner or later. And he was ready. His heart pumped proudly of what he was about to accomplish. There was no stopping him now.

  At the front door, he saw the white bell that would make the judge come to him. All he had to do was push it. So, he did. A deep chime rang out from the inside.

  He straightened himself out, standing nice and tall. It was important to look good in the face of someone who was about to stare wide-eyed at you. He whistled quietly, trying to act like this was normal. That he was no threat to this neighborhood.

  The sound of approaching steps was loud and clear. The lock on the door was disengaged. Finally, the solid wood door slowly creaked open. There was his enemy.

  Without words, without any gestures, and without any warning, he stepped forward. He glared at the judge. He thrust the needle into his neck.

  “Wh…who…who are you?” he asked, stepping backward, eyes bulging from their sockets.

  He pushed Judge Robertson down. Stepping over the threshold, he closed the door.

  “Margaret?” he cried out.

  “None of your business.” He walked about, taking in the ornate structure. Anything to pass the time as he waited for the judge to die. Gasps, and groans, and bouts of wailing echoed in the room. He shook his head, believing the judge was overreacting.

  Finally, it was quiet. He looked at the body. Lifeless. Finished. That was easy.

  In one corner of the room the judge had a shrine erected of his late wife. He thought it would be a good idea to drag his body over there. Maybe cops would think he got too sad looking at the woman that he died. Far-fetched, but he was going to stick with it.

  On his way back out of the house, he checked around. Things were peaceful. Justice was served.

  He nonchalantly made his way back to the car as if nothing happened at all. The judge’s neighbors would have no idea of what just happened inside those walls. And just as casually he arrived, he left.

  After reaching over to the passenger seat for his phone, he dialed his partner’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s done.”

  “Same here. Should we meet at your house or mine?”

  “Mine.”

  There were a few things he needed to remind her of before she pulled that stunt again, calling him and changing plans. Not that he didn’t enjoy what just happened. She just needed to know who was really in control.

  “I’ll see you in a few.”

  Yes, you will. Now he had to think of her rightful punishment.

  Chapter 10

  E

  arly the next morning, the judge’s murderer saw a boy sitting on a bench in town, dangling his legs that weren’t quite long enough to touch the ground. More than likely he was waiting for the school bus that would surely come any moment now. He looked old enough to follow directions, yet young enough to not be able to give any important information away about him. The perfect age to do what needed to be done. Better yet, there were no adults around to protect this kid. The whole town was quiet this time of day. Just what was hoped for.

  The man checked both ways of the downtown city street, squinting as the bright sun’s rays about blinded him. Making a quick jog over, he again double checked to be sure there were no witnesses. Any that could potentially ruin his plan that is.

  In front of the boy he stopped. The kid never looked at him. He must not have noticed he was there or was trying to get his attention. The earbuds in the kid’s ears didn’t help matters, but it’s not like he could yank them from their resting spot. What was he to do? Shout at him? Nudge his feet? He rolled his eyes. Youth these days. Always playing with, watching, or listening to something.

  “Want to make some money?” He made sure his words rang out loudly enough.

  Thankfully, the kid looked up. His face twisted. Pulling out one earbud, he asked, “What?”

  “I said, did you want to make some money?”

  The boy shrugged. “Sure. What do I have to do?”

  He smiled. Looking around again, he took a white envelope out of the front of his jacket. “All you have to do is take this down to the police station.” He pointed in the direction it was at while speaking. “And hand this to the person at the first desk you see.”

  “That’s it?” The kid’s face scrunched as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “Why can’t you do it?”

  “That’s it.” He took a twenty dollar bill out of his back pocket, ignoring the kid’s other question. Waving it in front of the boy, he asked, “Are you willing to do it?”

  The boy’s eyes widened. It was like he hadn’t seen that kind of money before. “Yes!” He reached his hand out, waving it excitedly, begging to hold the twenty dollars.

  “Great. Thank you.” He handed the boy both the money and the white envelope. “Hurry on now.” For the billionth time that morning, he looked around to be sure there was no one prying on him. He didn’t want to look suspicious or raise any red flags with anyone.

  The young kid ran
off down the side of the street toward the police station. A few birds chirped their frustration and anger as they flew away from a bush the boy had brushed against. He watched as the boy entered the building and went out of sight.

  Turning the other way, he whistled quietly as he made his way back to his car. He had to zip up his jacket again. The sun was warm, but the early morning air was still crisp.

  That was easy. Now to get to work and live like a normal human being in society.

  * * *

  Cassie woke up early so she could get to the police station and take care of some private business before she was to be on the clock. Being in her last semester at Capstone University, she had the honor and privilege of interning at the station. After all, when her degree was handed to her, she was hoping to land a job there.

  One perk to interning was that she was a floater. She was able to help in various departments and get a feel for what everyone did on a daily basis. One of the departments allowed her to use their system for finding information. This was going to come in quite handy.

  Looking at the clock, she noticed she only had ten minutes before she’d have to go up front and act as the receptionist, a job she found out a cop by the name of Mindy usually handled. It wasn’t Cassie’s favorite role to play, but this was getting her feet in the door for sure.

  Sitting at a desk, she signed into the computer and then loaded the correct program. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the McDonalds receipt she used yesterday when writing the license plate number. Following all the directions, entering everything she knew, she hit the button and waited for the results.

  The computer spit out a set of data. The car in question was a 2005 Ford Mustang GT. It displayed only one owner: a man by the name of Charlie Richards. Cassie pursed her lips, thinking about the name. Something about it was familiar to her, but she couldn’t place it. She certainly didn’t know anyone right now with that name. So, she had to dig a little further.

  She wrote the information down underneath her writing on the receipt. With a few different search engines and tools, she tried looking up this Charlie Richards. She coupled his name with Crimson Shores, but there were no hits. Something wasn’t adding up, but she wasn’t sure what was going on. Who was this Charlie? And why does her aunt have his car? Though it appeared to be a dead end, Cassie refused to believe that was it. One way or another, she was going to figure this out. She just needed more clues and more time. Right now, it was time to start working. She cleaned up the desk and made her way to the front where Mindy was already sitting.

  “Hey, Cassie,” she greeted. It was muttered. Automatic even. But Cassie learned quickly that she wasn’t a morning person.

  “Hi, Mindy!”

  The front double glass doors opened. A boy that couldn’t have been older than ten or eleven walked in. Cassie thought it to be a little odd, but she smiled at him and greeted him like she would anyone walking through the doors.

  He quickly walked up to her, handing her the white envelope, not even looking her in the eye. He turned around quickly and started to bolt out the door, but she yelled, “Wait!”

  As if he was in trouble, he stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. His head hung low.

  “What is this?” Cassie asked, waving the white envelope in the air.

  The boy shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Some guy down the street gave it to me,” he quietly mumbled.

  “You don’t know who it was?”

  He shook his head.

  Cassie’s head cocked to the side and she squinted her eyes. This was very strange. She looked at Mindy who clearly didn’t have a clue what was going on either.

  Looking back at the young boy, she said, “Okay. Well, thank you.”

  The kid hurried off quicker than she had ever seen before.

  “Shall we go –” Cassie started to ask Mindy, who was already getting up and going after the boy. Not even bothering to finish the question, she, too, jogged to the doors and headed outside.

  Neither of them found him. There was a school bus stopped at the end of the street, its doors just closing. They assumed that’s probably where he went.

  Nothing else appeared out of the ordinary. Life was as usual in Crimson Shores. At least on the surface.

  * * *

  Detective Randy Kojak took a seat in front of his desk. After straightening his navy tie, he simultaneously scratched the side of his chin by his goatee and made sure his brown hair was still parted nicely to the side. Stacked before him were a bunch of files that he had meant to go through, but just never did yet. Well, today was the day, which is why he came in earlier than usual. He knew that if he didn’t do so, more important things would come up or, at the very least, sound more appealing to do, and it would still sit there. And left undone, his desk would be unusable.

  He flipped through the paperwork, making sure they were organized according to date and then alphabetically. A menial task for sure, but all part of the job.

  Halfway through, someone knocked on the door. He hadn’t realized how engrossed he had been until the sound startled him, almost to the point of jumping out of his seat. Clearing his throat, he invited the person in.

  “Hey, Detective.”

  “Cassie.” He nodded toward her.

  “This just came in for you,” she stated, promptly setting the white envelope onto his desk.

  He took a quick glance. His name was written with permanent marker on the top. He smiled at the intern. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She turned around and left, her blonde hair bouncing at the tips.

  The detective got up to close the door. The few steps back to his seat had his eyes glued to the white envelope. He had no idea what was in there. He wasn’t expecting anything. For it to have his own name written with permanent marker but no return address or any other information of any kind was unusual.

  The package in his hands, he carefully opened it. All that was inside was a single white page. He happened to pull it out with the blank side facing him, so he flipped it over. What was written was short and sweet, but not something he wanted to read.

  Everyone’s made a big mistake. Now #8, #9, and #10 have been completed. There was a kiss in what appeared to be red lipstick. It was signed, Margaret.

  Detective Kojak sighed heavily as he leaned back into his chair. Waving a hand through his hair, he allowed it to rest on the top of his head. What was he going to do?

  Since Laura Keaton was put into prison, all the murders stopped. Things in Crimson Shores were getting back to normal. His job was more enjoyable. His evenings were completely free, which made things nicer at home with his wife, Tina. He liked that. He longed for that.

  When he found out that Laura was set free, he had this feeling in the deepest part of his gut that this wasn’t going to be good. But he couldn’t do anything about it. And perhaps what bugged him the most was the fact that if the jury was right, that meant The Margaret Killer was still out there. There were many times he prayed to every deity known to man that nothing would happen anymore. Staring at the short note before him, something already did. Now he had a feeling that he was in for a long ride.

  Detective Kojak realized he had to think and act fast. Who is it that would have been killed already? Laura wasn’t even out of prison for a day, for goodness sake. Even more importantly, though, who was behind it? Was it really, truly Laura? Circumstances sure pointed to that. Or was it someone else? Maybe, just maybe, there was a different part of the story that he was missing. Could there be something more sinister going on such as Laura being framed? But who would do that?

  The questions and probabilities were whirling through the detective’s head. It was almost too much for this time of the morning. What was supposed to be a lazy catch up day was already turning into a crazy busy, headache filled one. He was going to need coffee.

  He grabbed the letter, stuffed it back into the envelope, and exited his office. The first stop was the coffee mach
ine. After that, he went toward the front to speak with Cassie to see if she had any further details on where this message came from.

  “Got a second, Cassie?” he asked.

  She jumped a little in her chair. There, now they were even.

  Turning to face him, she said, “Sure. What can I do for you?”

  He wagged the envelope. “Where did this come from?”

  Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she replied, “Some young boy dropped it off.”

  “A young boy?”

  “Yeah. He said some guy down the street gave it to him.” She cocked her head to the side. “Why? Is everything okay?”

  Guy? Nothing the intern was saying was making any sense to him. Completely ignoring her question, he asked one of his own. “Have any calls come in?”

  Cassie’s face scrunched. “No. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” she asked again.

  Just as he was about to answer, the phone rang.

  She put up a finger to have him wait while she tended to it. “Hold that thought.”

  Detective Kojak looked around for Mindy, but she was gone. He took the free moment to sip on his coffee. Maybe the caffeine would help a little.

  “Sir?” Cassie put the phone down and faced him.

  “What is it?”

  “They need you down at Jonathan Miller’s office. There are two dead bodies.”

  He perked up right away. It must be in relation to the letter that came in the white envelope. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

  Stepping aside, he took out his phone and dialed another officer’s number. When he answered, the detective said, “Margaret’s back. Three people dead. All I know is that Ms. Keaton’s lawyer might be one of them.” After instructions were given, he hung up and quickly grabbed his keys from his office.

  On the way out the door, he got Cassie’s attention. “I need you to do a couple of things. First, run this down to test for fingerprints.” He handed her the white envelope. “Then I need you to start making some phone calls. Check on the judge, foreman, anyone and everyone involved with The Margaret Killer case. Got it?”