The Tangerine Killer Page 2

  “You can’t stop me from being here. This is my wife.”

  He turned to face her, his bloodshot eyes still brimming with tears.

  “Not anymore,” she said.

  I watched as something snapped inside Frank. His whole body shuddered before he lifted his shirt tails and pulled a silver revolver out of the waistband of his jeans. He waved it above his head, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

  A woman in the back of the room screamed. It was time to make that phone call. I was usually the last person to involve the cops, especially the incompetent ones in this town, but I wasn’t about to have my head blown off. Frank had hired me to find his wife. I failed. I’m pretty sure that made me his number one target.

  “You,” he finally slurred. “You did this.”

  Bingo.

  FOUR

  Frank swayed forward and centered the gun at my chest. He pushed the barrel into the taught skin beneath my white shirt. It hurt like hell but I didn’t flinch. I felt the power in its solid mass, begging to be released into my pounding heart. One drunken slip of his finger and it would be lights out for me.

  The room faded away. I couldn’t see Faye or Harvey. There was no coffin with its bouquet of drooping flowers. The only thing I saw was Frank’s desperation as the stench of his liquored breath filled my lungs.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I whispered. “You won’t be able to take it back. Trust me when I say, it will haunt you every day for the rest of your life.”

  I watched him try to process my words. He looked straight at me and I knew he saw the resemblance of his dead wife. As kids we looked like sisters but the likeness faded as we grew older. I had chopped my hair off in a fit of rage so it was jagged and uneven, while silky blonde waves still swept over her shoulders. Only our sky blue eyes remained the same. Except they weren’t now. The last time I’d seen Lisa’s they had been half eaten by fish.

  “Lisa wouldn’t want you to do this. We were friends. She wouldn’t want you to hurt me.”

  “Friends?” His voice was distant.

  “Sure. When we were little.”

  “I didn’t know her then.”

  “I know.”

  He spoke through a drunken haze. If I couldn’t get through to him, I’d have to try and grab the gun but if it went off and shot someone in the room we would all be screwed. I had to distract him long enough to get his guard down.

  “She was so pretty,” he said softly.

  “Yes, she was.”

  “You look just like her.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why didn’t you help her?”

  His words twisted in my gut. They hurt more than the gun pressed against my chest.

  “I tried but I couldn’t find her. Remember?”

  “I don’t think you tried hard enough.” His voice shook and his eyes filled with tears again.

  “I worked hard to find her, you know that.”

  “But you never figured it out, did you?”

  His arm quivered and then he started to cry. The gun dropped from my chest. He blinked a few times and then shook his head.

  “It was right in front of you the whole time.”

  He leant forward and kissed my cheek, his lips wet and cold against my flushed face.

  “You shouldn‘t have trusted me.”

  With those final words Frank raised the gun to the side of his head.

  “No,” I screamed.

  In that split second I knew what was going to happen. I lunged forward to grab the gun but it was too late. He pulled the trigger and blew his brains across the room in a crimson splash. He crumpled to the floor, his body now as lifeless as his wife’s in the coffin behind him. Blood oozed from the hole in his head and trickled into the azure blue carpet.

  Before there had only been stunned silence but now everyone in the room fell apart. Men hustled to remove their families from the awful scene. Cell phones beeped as people tried to call for help but it was too late. The damage had been done and it couldn’t be undone. No matter who we called or what we did, a life taken could never be brought back.

  “You shouldn‘t have trusted me.”

  His words soaked into my head just like the blood that was spreading across the carpet. I’d lost another one. I should have been faster. Tried to wrestle the gun away or threatened him with my knife. I kicked out at the nearest chair. It toppled over with a domino effect that sent several more crashing into one another.

  “Oh well,” Faye said. “The bastard had it coming.”

  She jumped back from my path of destruction and stood regarding Frank’s limp body with a look of distain.

  “No one deserves to die like that,” I said.

  “Trust me. The prick is better off dead. If he hadn’t taken care of business, I’d have done it myself.”

  Her flat, no nonsense statement was cold and hard. I knew she meant what she said. Whatever had gone on between them all was far bigger than I’d been able to uncover and now they were all dead, except for Faye. I threw a withering look in her direction but she didn’t even seem to notice.

  The police finally arrived, late to the party as usual. They covered Frank’s body with a white sheet and took statements, then bustled about trying to look important. Assholes. If they’d stepped on the gas maybe they could have done something to stop him. I managed to slip around them and make a bee line for the exit. Faye followed me.

  “You should come and stay at the house,” she said.

  Stay with Faye and listen to her constant whining? The two people who lived in the same house with her both killed themselves. One of us would end up dead for sure and it wouldn’t be me.

  “No thanks. I’m better off at the motel.”

  “But it would be so much fun. Just like old times when you kids had sleepovers.”

  “I said no Faye.”

  “Suit yourself,” she snapped, before stalking off.

  The cops were still interviewing people as I slipped out into the dark night. There wasn’t much for them to do. Frank had killed himself with his own gun. No criminal to pursue. No victims to deal with. Only a room full of traumatized mourners who just saw a guy blow his own brains out in front of them. The second suicide this town had seen in less than a week. I hoped it wasn’t catching.

  One of the detectives caught my eye as I turned to close the door behind me. It was Olin. He was laughing at something one of the other guys said. He must have felt me looking at him because he turned and smiled, then held up his hand to stop me. He started to call out but I slammed the door before he had a chance to finish. He didn’t try to follow. I had to admit I was almost a little sad. He was pretty hot and I really needed to get laid. I wasn’t ashamed by the fact that I slept around like a man. In fact, it was a habit that served me well. My job was stressful. I needed some sort of release. At least I didn’t do drugs. Not anymore, anyway.

  I sat in my Jeep and wrestled with myself. Should I go back? No. Don’t be stupid. I had rules about that sort of thing. Sleeping with cops was all kinds of stupid. I already learnt that lesson the hard way. But what if he had something important to tell me? I was opening the door to get out when the handle on the back exit started to turn.

  FIVE

  He’s been watching for a while. Lurking in the shadows, which is a hard thing to do in Florida. The sun is an all seeing eye. It burns everything it touches. He can’t stand the feel of it on his skin, warm and soft like a lover’s hand. It makes him break out in a rash.

  The plan was formulated long ago. He’s been perfecting the nuances and planting the seeds ever since. It’s a monumental undertaking that consumes his every waking hour. Just the way he likes it. His dedication makes him feel important. He holds all the pieces of the puzzle in his hands. He knows how they fit together and more specifically how he’s going to rip them apart.

  Lisa isn’t his first but he takes his time and that makes her death all the more satisfying. The others have been reckless impulses, back wh
en he was young and foolish. This time is different. He knows her life and all the people who will miss her. Things she will never be able to do again. That power makes him feel important.

  He just wishes he could have carved her up as well. Standing out in the pouring rain, he almost gives in to the temptation. Her skin is slick and slippery as an eels, fine hair pasted to her pale face. His fingers itch to grab a fistful and yank her head back, then filet her throat like a freshly caught fish. The force it takes to control these urges is enough to make him draw blood from his own hand with his nails but he doesn’t give in. Her death has to look like a suicide and to his delight, everyone believes that it is.

  He watches as the wake proceeds, laughing as people sob and dab at their eyes. It’s all bullshit. He knows no one gives a damn about Lisa. No one wanted to find her that badly. No one cared, except Sam.

  She’s lurking in the back. Awkward. Uncomfortable. He knows she doesn’t really want to be there. He feels a twist in the pit of his stomach when he thinks of what he will do to her and it makes him smile. His plan to get her back home has gone off without a hitch. Now he just has to make sure she stays.

  When Frank lumbers in and starts waving the gun around, his heart leaps into his throat. Sam is his prize and he has a lot planned for her. He can’t afford for some drunk bastard to blow her head off and ruin it all. Trapped in the shadows of the balcony he is helpless. He can only watch in horror as Frank points the gun at Sam’s chest. He sees her quietly and calmly talk him off the ledge of his own insanity. Then the prick does an about turn and blows his own brains out. He stifles a laugh. It couldn’t have worked out better if he planned it himself. Two dead and the wheels he’s set in motion keep turning.

  He slips away into the night. Tomorrow is the funeral. He knows what will happen. He’ll let Sam know the game has only just begun. He knows she won’t be able to leave. She’ll have to stay and play his game. He’ll make her pay for what she did to him. Then, she’ll die.

  SIX

  I didn’t stick around to see if Olin was coming out to stop me. I peeled out of the parking lot and back to the dive I was staying at. The Golden Sun Motel had seen better days but beggars couldn’t be choosers. After all, I had to work on a budget. That’s why I had that rule about not working for family or friends. They expected discounts. Big ones. Frank only paid me half of my fee and now he was dead, I didn’t expect to see the rest of my money.

  Located off Highway 441, the motel had cable television and a heated pool. I would have gladly traded it all in for a room that wasn’t orange. It was like waking up under the melting sun. At least it was clean, in that doused with bleach kind of way. Between the heady stench of cleaning products and the mocking orange walls, I was left with a permanent headache. Thank God it would be my last night. Tomorrow I would attend the funeral and then I was out of there.

  I fell onto the sagging bed, exhausted and sore. But not before grabbing the bottle of Jack Daniels I bought from the liquor store on my way home. If I couldn’t have sex, I’d just have to drown out the shitty day with booze. Frank’s words echoed in my head. Even when I closed my eyes his cold, accusing face was frozen in my mind. All that raw emotion directed straight at me. The gun cold and hard, waiting to take me. Then brains splattered everywhere.

  “Sam?”

  A hard knock on the flimsy door followed by my name roused me from a half dead stupor. Shit. I knew exactly who it was. The dumb jerk had tracked me down.

  “Go away Joe.”

  “Come on Sam. Open the door.”

  Joe Fleming. The real reason I had been so eager to flee the comfort of my own home for a little while. The catalyst that prompted me to take on the job I never should have accepted. The son of a bitch had a lot to answer for.

  “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

  I opened the door only as far as the safety chain would allow. One green eye and a mop of brown hair bobbed back and forth in the gap.

  “You know what I want. Let me in.”

  “Fat chance. Go home.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  His voice was filled with mock confusion. As if he didn’t know. He knew all right.

  “Go away. I’m working.”

  “You know how much I need you. Why do you think I came here?” he whimpered through the crack.

  “I told you it was a one-time thing, just a drunken mistake. It can never happen again.”

  I met Joe in a bar while working on my last case and in a severe lapse of judgment, I fell for his charm. I thought he’d be an easy lay but turns out I’m not as unforgettable as I think I am. I just wanted to put that wild, crazy night behind me but Joe didn’t. He poked his head further through the gap and I slammed the door shut.

  “Jesus Sam, you nearly took my nose off.”

  “Good. Now do you get the message?”

  “Message? I’ll give you a message.”

  He slammed against the door with his shoulder and though he was hardly the muscled type, it burst open. The safety chain snapped like a piece of string and there he stood, face red and full of rage.

  My gun lay abandoned on the table beside the bed. I’d have to leap across to reach it. The knife I toyed with that afternoon sat beside it. Never let your guard down. Always be prepared. I should have had at least one weapon on me at all times. I’d become far too complacent. Probably not much of a surprise considering I was kind of wasted. I didn’t think this day from hell could get any worse. Obviously I was wrong.

  “You shouldn’t have just left.”

  He stepped towards me and as he did I backed away.

  “You don’t own me Joe.”

  “Don’t I?” he laughed.

  He sounded crazy. Fueled by rage and fury, I wouldn’t stand a chance trying to fight my way past him. I had to get to my gun.

  “You arrogant bastard,” I said.

  I was done trying to talk sense into people. It hadn’t worked with Frank and it certainly wasn’t going to work with Joe. I wasn’t going to waste my breath. I jumped forward onto the bed, arms outstretched in an effort to reach the gun. Joe launched on top of me and pinned me down.

  I strained for the gun but it was just beyond my reach. Joe pulled my arm back roughly and flipped me over. Trapped by the weight of his body, I spat in his angry face. He just laughed.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this Sam,” he said.

  “Oh yeah? Just wait until I get my gun you asshole.”

  “Fine. I guess it does have to be this way.”

  He ripped open my white shirt. Tiny buttons flew into the air, shining for a moment before they were lost on the bedspread and the floor.

  “Good God Sam, what the hell?”

  Frank’s gun had left a large red welt between my breasts. Blue tendrils fanned out from the center. It was going to turn into one hell of a bruise. Thanks to the liquor I couldn’t really feel it but it would hurt like hell in the morning.

  I used his distraction to free my arm and in a last ditch effort I strained for the gun. I reached the table but instead of the weapon, my hand connected with the old telephone. I yanked it free from its wires and smashed it against his head.

  Phone and skull connected with a crunch and then he fell off me. Blood trickled down his face in a tiny crimson river. I jumped off the bed, pulling my shirt closed around me. Breath caught in my chest.

  “If I’ve killed you, I’m going to be really pissed,” I muttered.

  “You crazy bitch,” he moaned as he stirred.

  Finally, something had gone right. I mean sure, a semi-conscious guy on my bed wasn’t exactly the perfect end to a perfect day but at least we were all still alive.

  SEVEN

  “So you hit him in the head with the telephone because he tried to rape you?”

  “No. Yes. It wasn’t like that,” I said.

  I called the cops. The second time in one day and now I would actually have to speak to them. Joe lay bleeding from the head
all over the bedspread. When he made no effort to move again, I figured I’d better cover my ass. If he had some sort of brain hemorrhage I wanted it documented that this was self-defense. So far it wasn’t going very well. Detective Olin was asking the questions and he seemed to be enjoying every minute of it. In fact, I rather suspected he was gloating a little.

  “He was on top of you. He ripped your shirt. Sounds like attempted rape to me.”

  “We had a thing,” I tried to explain. “It was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?”

  He wrote notes in his little black book. I felt like some sort of suspect and it was pissing me off. He was pissing me off. I focused on his tie instead of looking up into his eyes. It had polka dots on it, hardly standard detective attire.

  “Not the attack, the relationship. I mean it wasn’t even really a relationship. Just a one night stand, that’s all. I guess some guys just can’t take no for an answer.”

  The paramedics wheeled Joe out on a stretcher. He had a bandaged head and a neck brace. You’d have thought he had been in a car accident. I mean I only hit him with a telephone. I think he thought he was dying. He moaned dramatically as they pushed him past me.

  “Shut up asshole,” I said.

  He rolled his eyes and groaned louder. I knew there was nothing seriously wrong with him but he’d press charges if he got half the chance. I’d have to swallow my pride and admit that yes I was a woman and yes a man almost got the better of me. It went against everything my instincts told me. Never look weak in front of the cops. Still, it was better than being arrested.

  “He caught me off guard. It won’t happen again,” I said.

  I rummaged in my bag for the pack of cigarettes I kept in case of an emergency. They’d been in there for six months. The last pack I bought before I quit. I wrapped it in duct tape so I wouldn’t be able to sneak one. Of course in my time of need, I couldn’t get into the darn thing. I stood there fighting with the tape, cursing under my breath.