The Ninth Precinct E-Book

A.E. Stanfill

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Private detective Grant Dawson is looking for his first big money case. When the mayor of a small town calls him to help solve a murder, he doesn't think twice - especially since the money offered was right up his alley.

But nothing would prepare him for the horrors he would face. His body and mind will be pushed to the limit, as the line between right and wrong blurs.

Can Grant solve the case, or will he be driven mad by the killer's mind games

Leseprobe

THE NINTH PRECINCT

A. E. STANFILL

CONTENTS

1. A Rainy Night

2. The Coroner’s Office

3. Looking Into Clues

4. A Game Of Cat And Mouse

5. Looking Through the Eyes of a Killer

6. Promises Not Threats

7. Trials To Overcome

8. More Bad Dreams

9. Things That Change A Man

10. A Time To Kill

11. Friend From The Past

12. Starting Over

13. Getting Closer To The Truth

14. Not Over Until It’s Over

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2020 A.E. Stanfill

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

1

A RAINY NIGHT

The rain was pelting the ground on a warm summer night, washing. away any signs of murder. Multiple voices along with the sounds of footsteps could be heard in the old part of town, as red and blue lights danced off the side of an abandoned building. A crowd of pedestrians had started to gather, just to get a glimpse of the horrible display that was before them.

"Get these people back, Wilson!" An older gentleman grumbled. He was wearing a gray trench coat with a brown hat, the kind detectives would wear back in the golden days. "This is a crime scene, not a red carpet event."

"Sorry Lieutenant, I have the barricades up," Wilson nervously replied. "You know how people flock to the sight of a murder, it's hard enough just to keep the reporters out."

"Just do your damn job," he flung his arms up in the air before walking over to survey the crime scene. He was aggravated and mad but still had a job to do. What he had noticed first was how gruesome the sight truly was, this time the body was stripped of its clothes, not only that the poor soul had been skinned and nailed to this run down building for the world to see. The lieutenant had witnessed some brutal murders in his time on the force, but nothing to this extent. He pulled his coat tightly around himself and gave a little shiver.

"Doesn't matter how hot it is in the summer, the midnight rain still sends chills throughout the body," a melancholy voice said.

The Lieutenant spun around to see a silhouette of a man standing before him wearing a trench coat quite like his own just of a different color and more, shall you say, modern. "Do you always sneak up behind people?”

He walked up closer to the Lieutenant releasing a cloud of smoke from his mouth and out into the rain, "Keeps a man alive," he joked. "You taught me that.”

"That I remember, but I think those cigarettes will kill you first before anyone else gets the chance right, Grant?" The guys laugh sounded like a large bear warning others to stay away.

"Who knows and who cares.” He shrugged.

"Cryptic as always. So what brings you this far out of the big city?"

"I was just passing through, seen the crowd and decided to stop."

"Cut the shit," the Lieutenant hissed. "I know you. Dead bodies being hung up in different locations, each one worse than the last. No leads or clues to who the killer could be, this is right up your alley."

Grant took another hit from his cigarette before flicking it to the side, "Guess you figured me out, Harris." He looked at the body nailed to the building, "I was called and offered money from a very wealthy client to help investigate this case."

"Didn't think the money mattered to you."

"It doesn't," Grant said. "I have been looking over this case for some time now, and by the looks of things, the killer is becoming bolder. He must not be getting the attention he's craving. Plus a man has to make a living.”

"That means he's become careless.” He brushed off the last words Grant said. "The killer will slip up soon enough."

He stepped closer to the body that was on display, "Don't be so sure about that." Grant motioned for him to come closer, "See how perfectly he skinned this person?"

"All I see is a body that got butchered by some crazed psycho," Harris snarled.

"You're not seeing the whole picture here, Lieutenant. The killer sees this as a work of art, this is also the way we have to look at it as well. Whoever this individual is, wants to be seen as an artist, not as a madman." He looked to where the organs should have been. "If you look closely, you will notice how the killer cut the organs out of this body with precision, showing off his handy work."

"Why does any of this matter?"

Grant sighed and lit up another smoke, "These are all clues to finding out the identity of the killer." He exhaled a cloud of smoke, then took another drag from his cigarette.

"How can there be clues? The rain has washed it all away," Harris argued.

"Look closer, Lieutenant." Grant pointed, "Notice how there are markings on certain bones. Not only that, the killer left the mouth open revealing that some of the teeth have been removed. The eyes were left but the eyelids have been cut off. Also, the left ear has been removed, but the right ear has been left alone for a reason. He wanted us to see the earring for a reason. Don't be confused by the body being left out in the rain, it wasn't because he wanted to wash the evidence away. It's because, in his eyes, the victim was a sinner, and he made them into something beautiful. The rain is just a symbol of washing the unclean."

"I see," Harris responded coldly. "Anyways, the coroner is here to take the body. Let’s say we go get a drink at the nearest bar. Honestly, the reporters flocking around are starting to piss me off, and you know what that does to me."

"Could need some antacids old timer.”

"Any other smartass remarks before we go?" Harris asked as he walked towards his squad car.

"None off the top of my head. Promise me one thing, though."

"What?" Harris’s brow raised.

"Once we're done with the drinking, you take me back to the coroner's office so I can take a look at the body again," Grant answered.

"I will see what I can do," Harris replied. Grant nodded turning to take his leave, "Where are you going?"

"To my car.”

"Ride with me."

"I will just follow you there," Grant insisted. There was a tone to his voice that told Harris the man he called friend wasn’t the talking type like years past.

"Shut up and get in the car," Harris demanded. "Don't forget that you're not a cop anymore, I can still arrest you."

"On what grounds?"

"Disobeying an officer of the law," Harris answered with a grin. "Would you like to get in, or do I need to use the handcuffs?"

He stood there brooding it over, "I will do things your way, for now."

It was a quiet ride to the nearest pub, the only thing breaking the silence was the sound of rain hitting the windshield along with the squeaking of the wiper blades hard at work. There was only one bar that was open at that time of night, and that was good old Willie's. The owner was a good friend of both Grant and Harris’s. Plus he was the bartender and enjoyed a good conversation from law enforcement. Thus why keeps his pub open such late hours.

"Lieutenant Harris." Willie smiled. "What can I do you for tonight?"

"The usual.” Harris tossed his hat on the bar before taking a seat.

"How about you sir?" Willie looked at Grant and asked.

Grant took off his coat placing it on the back of a chair, "Have I been gone for so long that you've forgotten what I like to drink?"

Willie's eyes widened, "Is that you, Grant?"

"It is, I'm back in town working a case."

The man turned and began pouring a beer for Harris, "Does it have to do with all the strange murders?" he asked, keeping his concentration on the task he was performing.

"You could say that," Grant said as he took a seat.

Willie slid the beer over to Harris before grabbing a shot glass and a bottle of bourbon from behind the counter, "Is that the reason you're back or not?" He poured a shot of liquor and slide it over to him.

Grant grabbed the glass and gulped the drink down, "Another shot if you don't mind.”

"Answer my question and the first five shots will be on the house."

Harris could see the glint in the eyes of his friend, and that usually spelt trouble or at least it did in the past. "You know we're not allowed to talk about that case with anyone," he interrupted. "Just let the man have his bourbon."

"Tell you what." Grant held up his glass. "If you give me that bottle, and answer a question for me first. Then I will kindly oblige and give you an answer as well. What do you say?"

"You can't make deals like that!" Harris’s voice raised.

"That's where you're wrong, Lieutenant. I'm a private eye now not a cop. The same legalities don't apply to me anymore, if I want to share information to get information then that's what I will do. Or are you not curious about what Willie might know?"

"I was never here, got it?"

"Understood. Do we have a deal or not, Willie?"

Willie set the bottle on the counter, "It's all yours.”

"Good, we have an understanding." He began pouring himself another drink. "Tell me Willie, have there been any strange characters hanging around the bar lately?”

"This is a bar? Strange people hang around here all the time."

Grant swallowed down another drink of bourbon, "Let me rephrase that, have you yourself heard or seen anything out of the ordinary?"

"Hmm," Willie ran his fingers through his thinning grey hair. "I haven't seen anything personal, but I've heard stories."

"What kind of stories?"

"Odd ones." Just talking about the things he’s heard gave him the creeps, not the kind bar talk he likes.

"Go on.” He poured himself another drink.

"Well, I've heard stories of a man dressed in black walking the streets late hours of the night, whistling while carrying a red rose tight in his hands," Willie said with an eerie tone to his voice.

"What does this person look like?"

"Not sure, nobody has seen his face," Willie said.

"Then how do you know if it's a man or a woman?" Harris interrupted.

"How should I know?" Willie responded. "I hear what I hear, but I believe you owe me an answer now.”

Grant smiled and pointed towards the other side of the bar, "Looks like that answer will have to wait, you have some more patrons that need their whistles wettened."

"Don't worry the bottle it’s on me, but this isn't over." Willie wasn’t happy that he was cheated, but he didn’t have time to argue the facts for that matter.

"Now that he has gone, I can get to the real reason I brought you here," Harris said.

"I had a feeling you had an ulterior motive for bringing me here.”

Harris took another sip of his beer, "Tell me, Why did you leave the force?"

Grant lit up a cigarette and released a cloud of smoke from his mouth, "Reasons." Is all he would say.

"Something must have happened that made you not want to be a cop anymore. You had it all, you went from being a street cop to a detective all in a year. Before you made captain you decided to walk away, there has to be a logical reason to why." Harris seemed like he was hurt in what Grant had done years ago, and wanted some answers.

"If I tell you, you would think that I am mad," he said, drinking down another shot.

"How about you put the bottle to the side and try me.”

“No thank you.”

Harris shrugged, “At least I tried.”

Grant took a drag from his cigarette, “But I will give you this bit of information. I went to an asylum to visit with a man accused of murder twenty-something years ago. His name was Bobby Sikes, after hearing his story I kind of helped him escape to get his revenge on the real killer. That man gave his life to save others. Long story short, when I told my superiors they demanded I keep things hush or I would be demoted. It was then that I made the choice to walk away and become a private eye. Do I question my actions? Do I regret it? Not for a second."

"Did it have anything to do with your brother?”

"It did." Grant nodded. "And I finally found the closure I sought after all these years, not only that my brother's spirit can rest in peace."

"Didn't think you were the religious type," Harris said before taking a drink of his beer.

"Things change when you stare into the eyes of the devil," Grant answered. He pushed the half-empty bottle of bourbon over to the man sitting next to him, "On the house." He stood up and grabbed his coat.

"Where are you going?" Harris asked.

"I said I would have a few drinks and I did. Hell I even gave you some unneeded information." He started to walk away from the table then paused, "Time is wasting, and we need to make a trip to the coroner's office."

Harris looked at his watch, "The place should be empty by now." He slammed the glass on the table, not exactly pleased he was leaving a cold beer behind. "Let’s go."

2

THE CORONER’S OFFICE

Harris pulled his vehicle into the parking lot of the coroner's office, all the lights on the inside and outside of the building were off. The place was completely enshrouded in darkness and the rain seemed to part, which added more to the already creepy vibe of the place.

"Here we are," Harris said as he turned off the vehicle.

"The place looks closed to me," Grant muttered.

Harris held up a set of keys, "Don't worry about that, I have a way inside." He opened his car door and exited the vehicle, making his way towards the entrance. Grant got out of the car and followed behind Lieutenant Harris, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. "Something wrong?" Harris asked, after unlocking the double doors in front of them.

"It’s nothing. Let's get inside before it starts pouring down again."

Harris opened the set of doors, "After you." Once inside, the Lieutenant lead him down a dimly lit corridor. There was barely enough light to make heads or tails of what was in front of them, but Grant was used to the darkness, it had become more of an ally than a hindrance to him. "Watch your step," Harris warned. "We don't need to make any unwanted noises, and whatever you do, leave the lights off."

"A little on edge, eh Lieutenant."

"This is no time for jokes," Harris grumbled. "I could lose my job if anyone catches wind of me letting you in here after hours. Think about how that would look if a cop got caught helping out a private investigator."

"I wouldn't let that happen. Besides, you need my help with this case. Let's be honest here, you haven't had any luck and the body count is increasing. These kinds of cases are my specialty, of course my credentials speak for themselves."

Harris stopped at a door that read "morgue" above it, "Your credentials are not in question." He used another key to unlock the door and pushed it open, "I was never here," he whispered before turning his back.

Grant stumbled around the room until he found a small lamp to turn on that gave him just enough light to see. He picked up a clipboard that had a sign in sheet clipped to it, he looked it over thoroughly. "The body has been signed in, but the coroner has yet to look it over. I imagine he or she is waiting until sunrise." He continued to study over the papers until he found what he was looking for, "body was placed on table four, body bag tagged C4."

He put the clipboard back down on the desk and went off to search the room again. It took awhile but he found what he believed was table four when he looked over the body bag his suspicions were confirmed. Grant reached down and unzipped the bag revealing the dead body inside. "If I'm careful the coroner will never know that I examined the body before they did." Leaning his head in closer, he noticed more markings than he had originally seen. Grant took out his notes and began jotting things down.

The eyes being left in place, along with the earring was a the clues he needed to look further into. What really had him concerned was the fact there were no rose petals left behind like the killer had done multiple times before.

This had Grant worried that a copycat killer could be responsible for this pour souls demise. "What's this?" He put a rubber glove on his right hand and reached down to open the victim's mouth, rose petals were stuffed inside, "How did these get here?"

Sounds of footsteps could be heard coming from down the hallway followed by whistling. Grant slowly walked over to the door and peeked his head out, however, there was nobody there. He wanted to call out, but something deep down in his stomach told him otherwise. Instead, he went on the hunt to find out who the uninvited guest that somehow managed to get inside without being noticed. There wasn't a thought in his mind that it could have been his old friend, he wouldn't have allowed that much noise to take place. Question is, where was Harris?

Grant slowly crept down the dark hall making sure not to make any sudden movements that would give him away to the intruder. As he approached the entrance every single light in the building flickered on. Whoever followed us inside must have reset the timer for the lights, Grant thought to himself.

If I don't find Harris and get these lights off we will have some unwanted attention. When he rounded the corner something caught his eye, there was a body lying face down on the floor. "Harris!" Grant gasped, quickly making his way over to his fallen friend, to his relief, Harris had only been knocked unconscious.

"What happened?" Harris asked, holding the back of his head.

"Somebody got the jump on you," Grant replied. "Not only that, this place is lit up brighter than, New York City."

"Damn." He tried to stand straight but was still too woozy and fell back against the wall.

"You should stay here and clear your head," Grant insisted. "Tell me where I need to go, it's not like I can't work a timer."

"Down the hall, fifth room to your left," Harris reached in his pocket to hand Grant the keys, but they were gone. He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed.

“I can tell by the look on your face that something is wrong.”

“Whoever got the jump on me, took the keys.”

"I don't need keys." Grant smirked, "There are other ways of opening a door."

"Just be careful."

"Likewise."

It took Grant all a little time to make it down to the room that controlled the lights to the building. What he didn't expect to find was a flashlight taped to the door along with a note that read, "you're going to need this." He took the flashlight in hand and wiped the sweat from his brow, then slowly entered the room. Grant wasn't afraid of what he would find on the other side, he found himself in worse predicaments than this and survived.

The only thing on his mind was getting the lights turned off, and perhaps a clue to who might be behind all of this madness. Grant turned the flashlight on and looked around the room, to him it looked as though someone had removed the lightbulbs. As he glanced over the room over further he caught a glimpse of a red substance smeared on the wall. Investigating on revealed that it was a drawing of an eye, not just one but many.

Being focused on the wall he didn’t notice the cops on the other side of the door. His concentration was interrupted when he heard the sound of metal banging across the floor. By the time he realized what was happening it was too late. Smoke filled the room, Grant’s eyes burned and it even hurt to breathe.

Cops wearing gas masks rushed into the room. They had their flashlights and guns in hand aimed at him. "Put your hands in the air!" One of them shouted.

Grant dropped his flashlight making sure to raise his arms up slowly, "Easy guys, this isn't what it looks like." He choked out those words but it did him no good.

Another cop grabbed his arms jerking them down behind his back, slapping cuffs on his wrists, "Shut up and move." He was lead out of the darkroom and back into the hallway where Harris was being looked over by the paramedics. The cop pushed Grant's back against the wall, "Stand here and keep quiet." He pulled the mask off and Grant knew exactly who it was.

"Getting the same treatment from you as always, eh Turner?"

"Shut up!" Turner went to push Grant again.

"That's quite enough from you, Turner," warned the police chief.

"But-"

"I said that was enough!" She snapped.

Turner walked away angry as the chief of police approached, "What do you think you’re doing here at the coroner’s office at three in the morning, Mr. Dawson?" she hissed.

Instead of answering the question Grant decided to be a smartass, "Me being here of all places got the attention of the police chief. Don't you have a murder to solve instead of worrying about me? Right, Simons?"

"Don't screw with me, Dawson. I can have you thrown in jail for being here.”

"You could if I had done something against the law," Grant said. "I know my rights, and seeing how I was helping an officer in need you can't hold me."

Lieutenant Harris walked up holding the back of his head, "He's right Chief, Grant was helping me out of a sticky situation.”

She glared daggers at the Lieutenant, "What was Mr. Dawson doing with you in the first place?"

Harris leaned his back up against the wall, "I can't remember exactly."

He closed his eyes. "My head is still aching from whoever got the drop on me.”

"Okay Lieutenant, I see what is going on here." Simons snarled, "Get Dawson out of my sight. Oh, and one more thing I expect a full report on my desk as soon as you walk inside the precinct."

"Of course ma'am," Harris replied. "Time for us to be on our way, Grant."

"One second, Harris." Grant looked back at Simons and smirked, "Do you think I can get these cuffs removed first?"

Simons grabbed him by the end of his arm and spun him around, slamming his chest first against the concrete wall, "Someone likes it rough." Grant chuckled.

"You have no idea just how rough I can be." She breathed into his ear. With a turn of a key the handcuffs were off. Simons grabbed him again and shoved him towards Harris, "He's all yours."

"Do you ever know when to leave things alone?" Harris mumbled under his breath as he made his way towards the exit.

"When it comes to Simon’s, not a chance."

"Figures." When he pushed open the double doors something fell out of his coat pocket. Grant didn't say anything, he figured the best thing to do would be to pick up whatever object his friend had lost and return it to him once inside the squad car.

He knelt down to find a set of keys lying on the floor, "These are the set of keys to coroners office," he gasped. "Harris said they were stolen from him when he was knocked unconscious. If that was the case, why does he still have them?" Grant felt a nervousness swelling up in the pit of his stomach, it was a feeling he had to quickly shake. Why Harris still had the keys on him doesn't make him a murderer. However, he couldn't let him know of the item he had dropped, not yet anyway.

Grant had barely gotten any sleep the night before, and he stayed up the rest of that morning thumbing through his files on "The Midnight Killer" case in his hotel room. The first file he studied was that of a man named, Leonard Clifton. He was one of those real scumbags that had a rap sheet a mile long. Yes, he liked to throw his weight around with the ladies, on top of that he was known for selling drugs, but did that make him a killer?

The second file was that of a lady that goes by the name, Grace Jones. She had been in and out of an asylum for years now. Having her on file as a possible suspect didn't sit well with him, the killer had already proclaimed to be a male. But still, he had to check all leads just to be safe plus she has made claims that a demon stalks her at night, could be a clue in his eyes.

The third and final file in his possession was that of a man named John Wallace. No criminal record on file, no signs of any violence in his past, pretty much a man on the straight and narrow. Which leads to the question, if the man is that squeaky clean, then why have the cops been keeping an eye on him?

"These can't be all the suspects." Grant fumed, tossing the files to the side. "Maybe the evidence will reveal more clues and lead me to a more solid suspect than these three." He reached for the file that contained pictures of the crime scenes, and of evidence collected by the forensics team. Looking through the pictures of the victims first, something caught his attention. Red marks around all six of their necks, by the angle he could tell the assailant attacked them from behind.

Next thing that caught his eye was the fact of certain body parts missing. Why would the killer take an eye, an ear, fingers, and toes from his victims? Could be that he thinks this is his way of revenge or justice. The killer washes away what he believes to be their sins with how he dresses the bodies up in certain clothing. Or leaving the victims out in the rain.

Grant set the pictures to the side and started going over what was collected. Pictures of rose petals are what Grant looked over first. This was a significant clue to maybe finding out the identity of the killer. Truth be told, this was a type of Japanese Rose, thus in the United States isn't easy to find. They only grow in the harshest of winters. Which would mean the killer is having them imported into one of the flower shops in town. The first thing to do will be to visit the flower shops in town, he thought to himself.

Next bit of evidence was the clothing he would dress the dead, some would be dressed in things that no average man could afford, while others were dressed poorly or not at all. This must have something to do with how he felt about each victim he would choose.