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View Full Version : The Messiah Murders 1,400 wd excerpt.



Kingstonmike
July 18th, 2014, 12:12 AM
They showed up bright and early the next morning.
Matt had expected them to be driving a late model Crown Victoria, coloured dark blue. No markings.


In reality, they were driving a red rental Denali.
Certainly not doing their part for the gas crunch, driving a boat like that all the way in from Denver, Matt thought when he saw it. It would probably have been better manners to have gone out and greet them in the parking lot, rather than wait for them to unload and come into the office.
But, he waited.
And watched.
By and by, they got out of the truck, unfolding themselves, as people tend to after a long road trip. Matt guessed his lifelong habitual TV watching had warped his sense of reality a tad, However, when he heard FBI, besides the car, he expected someone looking very much like Agent Smith from “The Matrix” to get out of the car. Either him or Mulder and Scully from “The X Files.”.
What there was was a pair of agents that could have blended into a C.S.U. kegger. The driver was Matt's height, six two, maybe an inch shorter, with short spiky blonde hair , John Lennon granny glasses and wearing a yellow Descente ski-jacket. Definitely not your stereotype Fed. The passenger might have had a bit more trouble hiding in that crowd, as she was at least six foot as well and very athletic looking. She immediately reminded Matt of someone he couldn’t place and it was, typically, the middle of the night when Matt realised that he had been thinking of Gabrielle Reese, the ex-volleyball player.
He met them at the doorway.
“Just saw you pull up,” he said, extending a hand. “ I'm Sheriff Matthew Wills.”


The passenger took his hand, pumped up once, then down, then released it.
“Agent Hicks,” she said,then motioned toward the man. “My associate, Agent Paxton”.
Paxton shook Matt's hand a bit more effusively, and then released it after a pause.
“How was the drive?” Matt asked.
“Long, boring...cold,” Hicks said, “We lost the heater about 45 minutes ago”
She said this with a laugh, so Matt got the feeling she wasn’t as tightly wound as he imagined.
“Coffee?” He asked, “It’s a fresh pot.”
“Hell yeah,” Paxton said, “I’d sell my grandmother for something hot right about now...”
Hicks surprisingly waved me off.
They sat down while I poured two cups.
Placing a cup in front of Paxton, I sat back down behind my desk, sipping from my cup for a minute.
“Ok,” I said finally, “ Let's cut to the chase; what’s the scoop on why you’re here?”
“Amanda’s dentals set off a match in Quantico’s VCAP victim files,” Hicks said.
“VCAP? That's serial killers, right?” I said,“But...she drowned...Autopsy concluded 'Death by Misadventure' Her snowmobile went through the ice up north and the current carried her down into town. Open and shut case. It certainly wasn’t a serial killer...as far as we know, anyway.”
Hicks shifted in her seat. “Well, you're right. and I'll tell you that certainly put a wrench in what we THOUGHT had happened to her...”
“Which was?” I asked
“Well,” Paxton cut in, “to back up a bit, her name isn’t actually Amanda...It is ...or was...Emily Richardson. She was a 15 year old Sophomore at The Reynolds School, some private girls high school in Boston. She was abducted about a dozen years ago by a guy named Frederick James Lavoy, who was a two-time loser from some backwater shithole in Louisiana, working construction on an new office complex at MIT. Asswipe couldn’t even spell MIT, I bet.”
He paused for a second, took a sip of coffee, then continued.
“Anyway, he snatches her and demands a huge ransom for her, which the folks pay.... then..” He leaned forward in his chair. “and here's the strange part about this... disappears without ever picking it up.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Disappears, that is, until three years ago when we find him with two nine mill holes in the back of the head behind a dumpster in Biloxi, Mississippi. Which, I might add, is not surprising, as he’d been running meth for a local kingpin.” He leaned in again and lowered his voice. “What I think happened is that he developed a taste for it and was 'shorting' said kingpin and making a side deal or two to support his habit.”
He paused to take a sip of his coffee.
“So...Emily’s been gone all these years and, we assume, dead and buried and only Freddie knew where.He's dead. Case is cold. Too bad, so sad.... So, imagine our surprise a week ago when Emily’s dental records show up across our desks with here as the sending address. Imagine our bigger surprise when we read the report saying she’s been dead only a few weeks at most, instead of the better part of twelve years.”
“So,” I said, “ the big questions become why here, why now?”
“Exactly, ” Hicks said.
He looked at me. “Not to imply anything by that,” he said.
“I realise that,” I answered, “We’re not exactly the centre of the action around here.”
Of course I realised that we weren’t. When I was in Denver, I had been vaguely pleased by the number of Cops, EMS people and generally everyone I ran into who were from towns like Bethany. It gave me this sense that, by some odd small town mentality, we were keeping Urban Decay at bay or something. Now that I was back in Bethany, I realised that others might be looking at my move as a giant step backwards. I even questioned my motivation from time to time. I think my Dad had more to do with it than I was admitting. I think, even though he really did try to do the best he could for the town, the Tommy Davis case really took the winds out of his sails, as far as he was concerned.
Tommy “T-Bone” Davis was a wannabe drug lord from North Denver who had tracked his wayward girlfriend of sorts from there to Bethany, after she’d taken a runner with the somewhat sizable proceeds of a drug deal. We figure she was bee-lining it for LA, where she could disappear. Why she ever stopped before she made it there is anyone’s guess. Fate, I guess, or just bad luck. Davis was understandably pissed and apparently he had some juice with some phantom at the credit card company and found out when and where her credit card was being used. He caught up to her at the Done Rite Inn, out by the highway.
Apparently, he tied her to the bed, gagged her and took his revenge with a dremel tool. The chambermaid found her the next morning and promptly lost what little breakfast she’d had that day.
My father caught up to him at the Red Barn that night, sitting at the table like nothing had happened.
“Get up, Tommy,” my father said simply.
“Fuck you,” Tommy said, pushing up from the table and reaching into his pocket.
Now, my father should have expected this and already had his gun out. But, knowing him, he had his gun safely strapped under his coat, worried about accidentally hitting someone in the bar and Tommy already had his gun about halfway out when Dave Burroughs’s pool cue came whizzing around and connected solidly with Tommy’s neck. By the way Tommy crumpled, my Father knew what had happened. Tommy woke up in hospital a couple days later to the news that the pool cue had dislocated his third cervical vertebrae and he’d be sitting down and pissing into a bag for the rest of his life. His folks showed up a couple days later. I recognized the old man, Deevon Davis, from the news. He was a big shot in Denver’s African-American Community. Well-connected and perfectly able to put a spin on this. Somehow, after the fact, some shyster Lawyer convinced the two of them to mount a law suit against the town, charging that the “attack” was racially motivated and that Burroughs had used excessive force. The charge was totally bullshit of course. But, within a week, the story with the new spin on it was making the national papers and blogs around the world were thinking of Bethany as Klan Central.

Plasticweld
July 18th, 2014, 12:56 AM
Mike reads well except for the end, I got lost and went back a couple of times

My father caught up to him at the Red Barn that night, sitting at the table like nothing had happened.

I think you need more of a lead up to this, it took me a read through to see what you meant, makes perfect sense once I got it.

The last paragraph has all most too much info and kind of confusing.


Good dialog, interesting story..Bob

Kingstonmike
July 18th, 2014, 02:25 AM
Thanks... I realized that I'd kinda just shoved the two parts together without properly setting it up...The last part comes from the original writing of the story, circa 1996, so I think it needs to be re-furbished or re-wriiten to bring it up to snuff.