Posts Tagged ‘murder fiction’

Murders in Progress by Eldon Cene

November 23, 2012

Rape Kit

(Episode 15)

After Leland had dealt with the last of the reporters, he returned to the booth where he sat, eating his pie across from Agent Hailey.  “You want to come with me to visit a suspect?”  He asked.

“Why all the favors?”  Agent Hailey replied.

“As long as you’re going to get pimped, you might as well get paid.” Leland said.  “Besides you may come in handy.”

“Handy?  How so?”  Agent Hailey put down her fork.  She hadn’t eaten much of the pie.  Which was too bad, Leland thought, because the pie was good.  “You want the rest of it?”

Leland rose.  “C’mon, let’s go.”

As they left the café Leland shouted back to Carmella, “Department billing.”

Carmella flipped her receipt book and wrote this on the back of the check.

“Regular tip,” Leland added.

Carmella nodded and scribbled a quick calculation on the front of the check.  “What do you want me to call it?!”  Carmella called after him.   “A date?!”  She flipped the receipt book over again and looked real interested as she smiled at Leland.

“Community rela  …PRESS relations,” Leland corrected himself, and slammed the door behind them.

Out by the Kimmel County Sheriff’s SUV, Leland paused before unlocking the vehicle.  “If you come, you’ve got to promise me this is just between you and us.  The FBI proper needn’t know any of this yet.”

Agent Hailey didn’t hop in.

“Hey.  They ‘pimp’ you out.  They’re assuming you’ll do what’s needed to please the customer.”

Agent Hailey looked up and down the street, perhaps looking for her vanished partner, as she considered this.

“Why don’t you want me to share any of this with the Agency?”  Agent Hailey asked, after she’d settled in and fastened her seat belt.

“Because this town only has one dentist.  And if the FBI were to interrogate him presently, like as not, he’d be whisked off to a black project somewhere and we’d never see hide nor hair of him again.”  He pulled down his lower lip.   “And I’ve got receding gums.”

“Sorry to hear it.”  Agent Hailey replied.

Leland nodded.

Heading out of town by way of a network of back alleys and crossing a dirt lot or two, Leland shook the remnants of the press corps which had stuck to his tail like burrs.  Agent Hailey raised her brows at the irregularity, and gripped the door handle, initially thinking that perhaps this Sheriff was the town lunatic.  But when Leland indicated the rear view mirror with a nod of his head, Agent Hailey looked behind and caught the method behind this madness.  The last of the press vehicles was bottomed out on a log hidden in a field of weeds and the fellow was getting slowly out to inspect the damage.

“So…” Leland began as they hit the paved road leading north out of town with a brief chirp of the tires, “…Ramey, our local dentist / psychic.”  And he began filling Agent Hailey in on the details to date as he drove swiftly north.

By the time they had reached Ramey’s, Agent Hailey was pretty well up to speed on all that Leland presently knew about the case – as it applied to Ramey.

“It sounds to me like we have already located the killer,” Agent Hailey said as they pulled into Ramey’s gravel drive.  There was another car there, which Leland knew to be Doctor Chatham’s.  “Unless you believe this man can truly predict events?” Agent Hailey adjusted her hip holster to cant her duty weapon a bit more comfortably. The Glock 23 functioned flawlessly, in sand, rain, and mud, but carried like a plastic brick.

“Were it so simple,” Leland sighed, remained seated in the car and indicated Agent Hailey should do likewise.  “But there are ways any normal person, and especially a hypersensitive Dentist/Psychic like Ramey could have come across a snippet of this information around here.  And then there are some other discrepancies.  Ramey doesn’t have any buddies to speak of, and all indications are that these crimes involve two perps.  Second, I know that Ramey is nervous around any kind of weapon.  And third, I just have a real hard time imagining Ramey as any kind of sadistic murderer.”  Leland indicated Agent Hailey’s revolver.  “So let’s not shoot him, just yet.”

“Fine,”  Agent Hailey said, holstering her revolver.  “Do I take the front or the back?”

“You take the side,” Leland indicated with a toss of his head.  “That way you’ll be able to see both exits.  I’ll go in.  Give me five minutes.  And I’ll either step back out and wave you in,  or you can break down the door and come in shooting.”

“Gee.  Sounds like fun.”

So that’s what they did.  Agent Hailey stationed herself twenty yards south of the house, where she could see both entrances to the home with revolver raised and locked in both hands.  And Leland rang the buzzer.

Doctor Chatham answered it, peering out the cracked door.  Leland had to bend down to hear him.

“He wants a rape kit,” were the first words Doctor Chatham uttered.

“You’re kidding,” Leland replied.


Photo by Carl Nelson

Murders in Progress

October 8, 2012

The Road Ahead…  continued

(Soundtrack at:  )

Warning!!  X-Rated due to Poor Sex and Extreme Violence!

(Episode 7)

(Editor:  We last left Stan and Bob dragging Nancy away into the darkened woods.)

“This Benny Green ain’t going to be any use to you now, lady,” the thicker fellow said.  “Cause we’re criminals.  This a Crime!”  He bounced with some glee into the woods ahead, clearing a trail.  They walked and stumbled for a while.  “Which means we do what we want, nevertheless.”  He hitched up his britches in the darkness as he turned about to speak.  It looked like they had come to a clearing.   Nancy was just having a hard time registering what he was saying.  “Cops, Benny, the Law… We just don’t…  give them much truck, if you know what I mean.  Cause we is des-per-ate men.  Wouldn’t you say, Stan?”

Stan gave a vicious kick to the side of her leg.  Nancy gave a shrill shriek of agony as she collapsed there in the clearing.  He right leg was bent at the knee to a 90 degree angle.

“If you’re going to rape her, now would be a good time.”  The thinner man shoved her further into the ground with a boot sole on her backside, so that she was clawing the dirt and sticks like a bug.  Stan tapped a smoke out of the pack of cigarettes he carried in his shirt pocket, lit up, and stared at Bob.  “I’m going for a smoke and will get to work when I get back.”

“Right now?”  Bob said.

“I don’t see a line.”

“Okay.  I’ll just get to it, then.”

“Are you waiting for some soft music?”

“Oh, no.  No.”  Bob turned away and started undressing.   First he hunted for some place to sit, and then took off his boots.  Then he stood, turned around hunting nervously for his buttons, and undid his shirt, which he hung neatly on a bush.

As  Bob’s pink stomach flopped from his jersey,  “What the f%^k are you doing?”  Stan asked.

“Am gettin’ ready to plow the field.”  Bob grinned.

“Fuck!”  ‘My knee is ruined!’ Nancy was pissed.

“You know, by the time you get yourself all ready, and perfumed and all dolled up…”

Stan’s speech was interrupted by the pop! pop! pop! of Nancy’s small Glock firing in all directions.  She was shooting for Stan, but the guy was quick as a snake, and three times as deadly.  And Nancy couldn’t get a good bead on anything what with the darkness, her tied hands, and the gun being caught in the cloth lining of her pocket.  “Goddamned expensive coat!’  Nancy cursed silently through ragged breaths.  And fired off another: pop!

“Shit!  Shit!  Shit!”  Stan stamped on her gun hand repeatedly, like it was a striking snake.

“Really?”  Bob was confused.

“You asshole!”  Nancy swore up at Bob.  Trying to hit the big f#cker again with two shots:   pop!  pop!

Stan kicked her hard in the stomach.  Nancy threw up some blood.  Stan removed the Glock from her broken hand and tossed it to Bob.

“Really.”  Stan exhaled and pointed his cigarette at Nancy’s butt.  “Now get your pecker out and get to it.  Because…”  Stan waved with his cigarette, then turned and strode off back towards the Mercedes.  ‘It wasn’t good to get mad at your troops.  But Lord, sometimes…’    ‘Command was lonely,’ Stan finally decided,  by the time he got to the car.  He closed all the windows, turned off the lights and locked it tight.  ‘No reason to leave it for thieves,’ he thought.  Then he heard that damn bitch yelling.  So he had to tramp back through the dark woods and sticker bushes to see what Bob was up to.  And when he got there he couldn’t believe it.  The woman was yelling her head off, calling Bob every name in the book and Bob was just standing there naked and flushed pink with embarrassment at his wilted little pecker.  And the woman was still fully dressed, with her hair was full of dirt and sticks.

“What the hell?”

“I can’t do it,” Bob whined.

“Fuck!  What do you mean, you can’t do it?  It’s the most natural act in the world!  Everything does it.  Chipmunks do it.  Worms do it.  Ducks do it.  Everything in fucking Creation does it, for fuck’s sake.  Now man up, and fuck that bitch!”

“The moron’s impotent!” Nancy shouted.  “He’s f#$cking impotent, and he’s trying to be a rapist.”  She started laughing uncontrollably, and pointing.  Till Stan gave her another hard kick in the stomach.

“No Stan.  It’s true.  It’s true! I am impotent,” Bob nodded, miserably.

“And…”  The woman nodded, on her side.  “His little dick is about the size of a worm!”  She clutched her stomach and groaned.

“No you’re not!”  Stan slapped Bob hard twice.  “Now man up!!”

“Man up!…”  the woman was laughing her ass off, trying to point, and coughing and groaning.

‘Like most, this woman just didn’t have any good sense’, Stan thought.   “I like it when you make it worse for yourself,” Stan said.

“I’m a CEO and I deserve a better fucking than that!”  The woman kept shouting and glaring with such disrespect that Bob looked even more miserable than Stan thought a person could.

“How am I supposed to get it up, when she talks like that?!”  Bob whined, looking all the world like the aggrieved party, that Stan had to agree with him.  Though with the woman shouting,  “I’m a CEO and I deserve a better fucking than that!”  And Bob whining, that Stan thought for moment that he was going to lose it.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?!!!”  Stan said, smashing the woman’s jaw so hard to shut her up  – again and again – that all the teeth flew out and the rest of her face was so fractured is oozed blood like a sponge.

Nancy felt like she must have fallen into a nasty, inbred, rabid little nest of McCoys,  or was it Clampits?  That was the only thing in her addled mind which seemed could explain it.  But to tell herself the truth, her mental functions weren’t razor sharp; and she could barely count.  She knew, because she tried it… doing a real slow review of systems: “onnnntoootreeeeeeefffffoohhhhhhhhhrrrrRRR…..”

“How’s that?” Stan asked Bob, ignoring whatever it was ‘the bitch’ was trying to say.

“A little better!”  Bob said, feeling a little tingle in his member.

“Here!  Let me break a leg.”  Stan tromped on Nancy’s left thigh resting on a branch.  It broke with a snap.  Nancy let out a broken jawed shriek.

Bob smiled.   “I’m gettin’ … …a woodie,” he exclaimed.  “Here it come!”

“Well there you go,” Stan encouraged him with a pat on his shoulder.  And it was true.  He was.  They both stood there watching is grow in the moonlight as the woman moaned.  Bob gave the woman a little kick himself, and it grew all the more.

Stan couldn’t say it was much of an erection as those things go himself, but Bob was definitely excited, and quite proud of it.  “Ya just got to know how to handle ‘bitches’,”  Bob said, with another little kick.  “But she’s still dressed,” Bob noted to Stan, afraid to move or do anything for fear of losing his ‘woodie’.

“So undress her!”

Bob sighed, and knelt down, neatly unbuttoning her blouse.

Stan cursed, pushing Bob away, slicing the woman’s garments off from stem to stern with his K Bar knife, and then tearing the shreds away finally in a fit of pique, tossing bits of her undergarments this way and that.   “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh yeah, oh yeah,” Bob said, eyes all alight with glee.  “Am I ready now!  Yessum, Bob.  Ah am ready now!”  Bob gazed down at the woman’s private parts, pale in the moonlight, with wide eyes.

Stan stood back an’ shook another cig from his pocket pack.  “If you’re going to start trying to improve upon a woman, you’ve gotta rape ‘em first, or last…  But you got to rape ‘em,” Stan mused.  “Otherwise, people’ll start thinkin’ you’re just another nut.  They can’t comprehend the finer aesthetic.”  Stan lit the cigarette and walked off.   He was disgusted by all of Bob’s grunting and didn’t care to watch.

When Stan returned he found Bob flat on his back, covered in cum and blood, and with his arm around the woman while smoking a cigarette, gazing off into the stars and talkin’ real chummy like.  “The first woman I ever made it with… Well, she wasn’t much of a …woman, actually, I’d guess you’d say.”  Nancy groaned some agonizing blend of gurgling vowels beside him.  “But we got along… we got ‘er done.”  Bob smiled and offered his smoke to the woman.  But she wasn’t really all there by then, Stan figured.  “I miss her, I guess.”  Bob studied the tip of his cigarette.   “She run off with a Mexican.  Not that I hold it against her.”  Bob nodded to Nancy.  “ She was real young…”

“WHAT the F#$K!  ARE YOU DOING?!!!”  Stan shouted.

“’Am relaxin’!  …in the …afterglow.” Bob look bewildered.  He’d dropped his smoke and it rolled underneath of him.  “Shit!  Ouch!  That burns!”  Bob gasped, rolling about and kneeling his heft up while swatting at his back.

“Well put your damn clothes on and get prepared to help me.”

“Okay.  Alright!”  Bob looked annoyed.  But he rose and got himself dressed, turning his back to them both.  Nancy’s body gurgled and seized.

“Okay.  Now hold onto the shoulder there real tight.”


Stan returned him an unblinking stare.

So Bob held her shoulders down as well as he could, while Nancy’s eyes grew even more saucer-sized, if that were possible, as Stan began sawing away on the crown of her head, gently removing the cap of her skull.  He looked in there for a while, poking this and that, nodding for Bob to look.  Then his attention returned to the neck, gently dissecting out certain ligaments and blood vessels for reasons Bob had no idea of, thought he nodded in the affirmative, as if he agreed.

Nancy, all the while, had a real feeling she wasn’t going to get out of this night alive.  But she wasn’t at any sane place where she could have put that into words.

It was a couple hours  before,  working away as hard as they could, and getting all bloody besides, they had finally removed the head.

Photo by Carl Nelson

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