Three prominent members of the community gruesomely murdered and zero leads.
Chief Marco Gaines was in a foul mood. His bucolic hometown had been safe as far back as he could remember. The past five years, under his watch, nothing more than the occasional traffic violation or drunk and disorderly. If he didn’t get a lead soon the State Boys would humiliate him.
They constantly made fun of his “backwater town,” and joked that he was a glorified rent-a-cop.
Mr. Paul Swan was the first murder victim. He was one of the wealthiest men in town, a family man and philanthropist. On the surface, it looked like an accident. He had driven off the road and struck a tree, only the impact didn’t kill him.
The night patrolman who discovered the accident noticed something around the deceased’s neck, a garrote fashioned out of black pantyhose. A bunch of condoms had been stuffed down his throat.
Then came the second victim, Ms. Marion Sneeds, a real estate broker and president of the
school board. At first, it looked like a tragic accident.
She had fallen down the basement steeps in a newly built house she was listing. She was
found by an employee, who grew concerned, when she failed to return to the office.
Upon closer inspection, the fall had not killed her. She died of suffocation. Her mouth was stuffed full of pink fiberglass insulation.
Last night’s victim was Pastor Carl Murray. He was a widower and lived alone in the small
house adjacent to the church. He had been pastor of Christ In Charge Baptist Church for the past twenty years.
The pastor’s housekeeper, Mrs. Ida Phillips, discovered his lifeless body. Cause of
death, blunt force trauma to the head. A crucifix stuck down his throat.
The state police were exiting Pastor Murray’s home as Chief Gaines led Mrs. Phillips
to the sanctuary for a few more questions. She was extremely calm for someone who had just found her employer’s murdered corpse.
The housekeeper was not a suspect. She was seventy-four years old, five-foot-two, overweight, and walked with a pronounced limp. Mrs. Phillips did not have the strength to bludgeon a six-foot-two, two-hundred-pound man to death.
Maybe her excessive prattling of mundane information was a coping mechanism, but it was getting on his nerves. He had heard all about the pastor’s favorite foods, bathroom habits, and how much merlot he liked to drink.
“Let’s go over this once more,’’ Chief Gaines sighed. “Tell me about the last time you saw the Pastor alive.”
“Well, I tidied up the house and Pastor was in his study. I put his dinner on the table and left promptly at five o’clock. It was his favorite, meatloaf, boiled potatoes, and creamed corn.”
“I’m sure it was delicious, but I need to know if he was expecting any visitors. Did he have a falling out with anyone? Did anything out of the ordinary happen that day?” Questioned Gaines.
“Everyone loved Pastor. He had no enemies,” she asserted. “He had his routine and never strayed from it. He received visitors on Saturdays, never on weeknights.’’ Mrs. Phillips explained.
Chief Gaines thanked her for her time and walked out of the church. The coroner had left only moments before. He noticed Mrs. Berry, the ancient organist, walking towards the church. It would take her twenty minutes to walk the twenty feet, so he briskly strode over to her. When he told her about Pastor Murray’s murder, the frail old woman swayed and her legs buckled. He caught her twig-like arm preventing her from crumpling to the sidewalk.
Another delay, but he couldn’t leave her there. Gaines helped her to his car and drove her down the block to her home.
***
Back at the police station, he spoke to his deputies. No witnesses, no motives, and the three deceased had little in common. Pastor Murray was a widower, Mr. Swan was happily married, and Ms. Needs had two ex-husbands. Neither Mr. Swan nor Ms. Needs attended Christ In Charge Baptist Church.
The phone rang just as Chief Gaines was getting into bed, another murder. Ken Parcel,
murdered in his grocerette. A regular customer, who had been walking his dog, noticed the
back door of the store wide open, fearing that a robbery was in progress, he called 911.
The responding officers found Ken in the walk-in freezer. He had been beaten to death with a large frozen turkey. A meat thermometer was shoved down his throat.
Fingerprints were taken. Evidence was gathered, including the bloodied, thawing turkey.
Gaines tugged on his goatee. Something didn’t add up.
Same as the other murders, no suspects, no motive, and no fingerprints. Mr. Parcel was well-liked by his customers. Never married, Parcel was an only child. He had inherited the grocerette from his parents.
This murder spree was starting to look like the work of a serial killer. An extremely strong serial killer with an oral fixation. It was as if the killer were a ghost, but Chief Gaines knew ghosts don’t murder people; people murder people.
***
The next morning Gaines was in his office when the dispatch call came through. A Meals on
Wheels driver wanted the police to do a welfare check on Mrs. Berry. She always greeted the volunteer delivering her meal. The Chief volunteered to go himself because he had known the elderly church organist since he was a boy.
The police and fire department had spare keys for most of the elderly citizens’ homes in town. Gaines let himself in. He called out to Mrs. Berry expecting a response. When she didn’t answer, he stated loudly that he was going to walk through the house.
He found her in bed; she had passed away in her sleep. He didn’t know her exact age but
figured she was in her mid-nineties. She was frail as a bird with almost translucent skin.
He pulled the sheet over her and turned to call for the coroner when something caught his
eye. It was poking out from under her bed. He reached down and retrieved a journal. Curiosity got the best of him; he opened it and began reading.
To be continued…
Sheila Kirk became interested in writing and storytelling in first grade. She enjoyed writing assignments and started writing short stories in high school to amuse her friends. She enjoys writing horror and dark comedy.