“Hello, what is it?”
“Mr. Gelati, this is Anwar from the Technology department. Sir, you have an incoming call from one of your brothers.”
“Okay, which one wants money? It better not be Peter… I’m still paying for his pet therapy program.”
“Ah sir, it is Mr. Bater… sorry.”
Freaking wonderful! “No way, are you sure? Damn, send it through.”
”Gelati’s Scoop investigations, this is Gelati how can I help you?” Why not be nice? Could be a prank caller.
A nasal sounding voice filled the small earpiece. “Hello, my dearest brother. It’s Peter.”
Why couldn’t it be a telemarketer? “Okay, it’s been a while. Is this really you? I thought you were in solitary?”
“I occasionally find myself there.” Anyhow, yes, hmm… how do you know it’s me? I will play your game. Well, the last slut I killed was the splitting image of our mother. I wish she was still around… would love to get my hands on her—“
Gelati raised a hand to the phone. “Enough! I believe it’s you.”One sick bastard.”
“Why do you think I get daily treatments of electricity coursing through my veins? Look… the reason I called is, I missed my big brother, and needed some airwaves alone with you.
Why me? “Have they lowered your meds or have you just not taken them?”
“Not the issue. I have been on them, and I’m doing as well… you know…”
As pathetic killers can do? Gelati switched from sarcasm to compassion. “What’s really going on?”
Peter sighed. “Well, the doctor I spoke to today, showed me a newspaper. They are trying to keep me in touch with reality. For reasons, I have no clue… nor care” He paused. “But dear brother, I do have a tip for you though. A serial killer is loose somewhere close to you… and I am the one you need to catch him.”
One creepy guy. “How do you know that? I just got a call today asking for a consult with rural law enforcement.” He raised his voice. “Is there something else you aren’t telling? Why would your doctor all of a sudden just show you a newspaper? I sense psychotic episodes on the horizon.”
“You know me so well.”
“It wasn’t your doctor, who showed you the paper was it?”
Peter cackled. “Aw, let’s just say… the person that contacted you, made special considerations to have me in on the party, as well.” I have certain talents that you lack, so they inquired on a profile of the killer… of which, I have started to build.”
“And I thought you were just wasting away, constructing license plates for crotch rockets.”
Peter mimicked the sarcasm. “You would be surprised what I offer. Gelati heard the shuffling of papers in the background. “Hmm, dear brother… according to these pics of his handiwork, he enjoys blood…and when I say enjoy… I mean, he likes the feel of it all over his flesh. Probably even may sample some of it.”
That destroyed my appetite for the next few years. “I don’t have the pictures you apparently do.”
“No. You most certainly do not.” An eerie silence hovered over the line for several seconds. “You know what would be entertaining?”
The gas chamber? “If you could compare notes with slasher boy?”
“Touché, but no… What would be absolute divine was… if I was to come up to Cutter’s Pass, meet your savvy team of geeks and freaks, and offer you some insight.”
Damn guy, even knew where we were going. “You, free on the streets? I don’t know if I could live with myself, if you decided to play Son of Satan.”
“You could keep me under close watch. Promise, I would be a very obedient guest.”
Peter was a great profiler… never been obedient at anything though. Let me see what I can come up with. I will let you know in twelve hours.”
“Ah, dear brother. Just like when we were kids.”
Gelati wanted to end the call. He could only take so much of Peter. “Okay I will talk to your administrator; I’ll see what I can do. In the mean time, I need to check out this latest crime scene and get the technical team to film it.”
“Cool, why don’t’ you call Harold and Bartholomew in on this too, we may need the contingency of the family.”
Ah, the Brothers Grimm incarnate. Maybe, Harold may want in if we need him, but Bartholomew is unavailable for the next 3-5 years. Too many robberies ended his current freedom status.”
If this happens, I have to watch Peter real close… close indeed.
* * *
Providence Avenue was located on the southern edge of Cutter’s Pass, in an area; most of the city’s generous population would consider upscale. The majority of the architecture was modern, as each was accompanied with the necessary Mercedes and matching cookie cutter lawn. The lack of any uniqueness bordered on the edge of criminal. Reports of another murder, especially in this area, had onlookers filling the streets, itching to get a glimpse of the dead body. They were armed with smart phones and cameras, poised to get visual evidence, before the coroner carted it away. The local media had systematically joined in, not wanting to be second fiddle to the amateurs. KRRT had even set up a tented headquarters, and were aggressively seeking reaction from whoever they came in contact with.
The vultures smell blood. Detective Steve Creighton shook his head, as he pulled in behind the powdered blue patrol car. A uniformed officer, mid-twenties, and pale-skinned noticed him and pointed in the direction of the two responding officers.
Creighton disgustedly stared at the crowd. Pathetic, simply pathetic. His thoughts were interrupted by the soft voice of a shapely uniformed woman in her mid-thirties. Amanda Davis…
“Sir, the woman has been there for a few days…decomposing quickly.” She handed him a barrier mask and a set of latex gloves. “Cody is inside…with her.”
Amanda, nice dirty blonde. Maybe one day… “Officer Davis, who called it in?”
She wiped at her brow. “Nobody. One of her college girlfriends stopped over and…found her like this.”
Good, nobody saw me. “How about her parents?”
“The girlfriend says they are in Nappa Valley for three weeks. No other relatives in the area though.”
“I see, let’s take a look.”
Officer Davis led him to the steps of a three-story brick home. It was lined with large stained glass windows. The front door was constructed of cherry wood, and the knocker which normally would be made of brass, was entirely ivory. Off to the right, was a spiral staircase. Officer Davis pointed. “It’s the first door on the left.” Detective Creighton put a hand on her shoulder; an act of emotion, he usually never expressed. She remained behind, to assist the other uniforms in crowd control. When he reached the landing, the smell of spilled blood, and death assaulted his senses. It was fortunate for him, he was wearing the barrier mask, or everyone in the room would have noticed his inappropriate smile, and this more than likely, would have stirred up possible suspicion, not to mention a visit to the department’s crack psychologist. Focus, this is your crime scene. Clearing his throat, the room snapped to attention. The tall tanned surf guru turned cop, Cody Belz, approached him. “Hey, sir, this is one fucked up dealio.” Officer Belz cringed. “Sorry, slipped.”
Creighton waved him off. “No worries. What have we got?”
Officer Belz escorted him to a behemoth of a walk-in closet. The racks of designer clothes upstaged even the most prestigious vendors within a three state region. Creighton glared at the attire. Spoiled girl got what she deserved. The closet appeared to be larger than he remembered; he was becoming excited as Officer Belz pulled away several layers of clothing, exposing the naked headless body of Jessica Gorman.
Officer Belz turned away. “He took the head.”
Creighton tried to look surprised. “What in the fuck would he want with it?” The delivery service has it… hehe. “A collector maybe, sir?” Officer Belz cleared his throat.
“Makes sense, but if our guy killed her here, there should be more blood?
Officer Belz cocked his head. “You don’t think it happened here?”
“No, there’s another crime scene, and we need to find it.” Creighton bent down, inspecting the body. The piece of white thin paper was sitting at the feet of Jessica Gorman. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a medium sized plastic baggie. “You see the writing here?” Creighton pointed to the signature.
Officer Belz leaned in. “Yes, this is the second one this month. Why sign it Forsaken?”
Can’t tell you all my secrets. “Your guess is good as mine-“A tap on his shoulder, forced him to whirl in the direction of the annoyance.
Officer Amanda Davis thrust a cell phone in his direction. “It’s the Chief. He needs to speak with you immediately.”
“Hello, what is it?”
The man placed the blade against his muscled chest;
with one quick motion, a cascade of crimson stained the steel intruder. Pain
never really meant much to him. It was actually an act of realization if anything. The new scar would join the others, in celebration of his next
conquest. His upper torso was riddled with the reminders of all his wonderful
victims. Today, while he was involved in his daily dose of fitness at Hensen’s Gym, he had acquired an
unlikely target. Her name was Shanna Wilks. A tall toned redhead; who
instructed the early bird yoga class. He was amazed by her blemish—free pearl
skin. She reminded him of a ceramic doll, sitting on the shelf of an exquisite
antique shop, more so, than something
Well, Shanna wouldn’t be that too much longer. He reached into his pocket removing a
metallic holder. Running his fingers along the ridges in the metal always
comforted him. This was his ritual. The monogrammed letters stared back at him, beckoning him to withdraw the
contents. The man removed a blank business card from it, careful not to drip
blood on it prematurely. The smooth texture of the paper was just perfect for
capturing each stroke, as he positioned the knife at such an angle, none of the
precious fluid was wasted. He glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled. Almost time. The sound of chimes filled
the car’s interior. He flipped open the console, and stared at the screen.
“Shit, what now?” Taking a deep breath, he answered the annoyance. “Detective
“Sir, sorry… I know it’s your day off, but we have
something you need to see,” a soft voice apologized.
“Lydia, what’s going on?”
“It’s him again sir. He left us another calling card.”
Must be talking about Jessica. Ah,
her blood was so sweet. “Where?” He playfully used his finger as a
pen, as he scribbled in mid-air. He knew
Lydia’s voice cracked. “2131 Providence Ave. Officer Davis and Beltz have the scene
I’m sure. “10-4, tell them I will be there in twenty. Clear on the other side of town,” he lied.
“Sure thing, sir.
He slammed the phone shut. Why does everyone
fuck with my time off? Glaring at the digital display of his watch, a
crooked smile passed his lips. No
worries, this won’t take long. He ran his thumb along the blade, closing
his eyes, as he captured the sweet life juice with his lips. Ah, better than the last. Detective
Creighton once again repositioned the glistening blade against the thin
cardboard, this time finishing his
signature free from interruption. Perfect,
Creighton gently blew on the card, not
wanting his creativity to be ruined by the natural way blood has the tendency
to flow. Satisfied with his work, Creighton stepped from the dark unmarked
cruiser. He weaved throughout a cluster of bushes and foliage, until reaching
his destination. Strapped between two saplings, was the torn body of a young
woman. The fresh carcass had already begun to attract the creatures of nature,
as they clawed through the flesh, taking prize possessions from their latest
meal. Creighton smelled the air, relishing the moment. Pamela Abens had been way too easy. The twenty-something
brunette simpleton, was a local whore, the town of Cutter’s Pass would not
miss. Creighton had taken advantage of that fact; watching her get wasted in
these woods on several occasions, and barely making it back to town. She had
done it again tonight, but this time she
was his. There would be no more apologies to her distraught parents for the gross error of judgment. Now, the earth would swallow her with welcome arms, and be a part of her for eternity.
Creighton knelt down and placed the card just below where her feet were
dangling. Always the same place, always…
Creighton glanced at his watch. Shit, gotta go! It was ironic to say the
least. Patrolmen waiting for him at the Providence location had no idea;
a murderer was coming to take over their crime scene. Quite ironic indeed…
In the next week, a special holiday arrives and along with it, comes a tasty short story for my new fans and friends. If you enjoy the Brian Jeffer’s character, you won’t want to miss this two-part adventure. I promise there are many twists, I didn’t even count on…hehe. So, without further ado, here is the quick synopsis… and remember, death is only a click away!!
Death arrives in diverse delivery methods.
One in particular is a plague to the detectives of the Marcona Police Department. A monster has returned, and he won’t rest until his vengeance is complete. Armed with a paralyzing concoction and the tools of his trade, he targets a select few to add to his collection.
Chief Mark Blankenship, along with detectives Brian Jeffers and Kelli Jordan, face off against the madman, hoping to end his bloody path of destruction.
Unfortunately, they haven’t anticipated the killer will sacrifice at all costs, making one of them his prized token…
Receiving a Christmas card from most people is supposed to invoke feelings of joy and holiday spirit. However, one couple has decided a card from them marks you for death…
Ryan Hempstead and Astor Chesley formerly worked for retail conglomerate Plaxton’s Superstores. They conspire to hold select employees and even a few customers captive as they deliver their own holiday message.
Marcona Police Chief Mark Blankenship is finishing his Christmas Eve shopping when he is thrust into the middle of the two’s revenge. Will Blakenship be able to stop the rampage, or will he be a victim of this Dead Holiday?
Hello again, fans and friends! A quick e-book short to satisfy your holiday reading hunger. :) I know everyone is patiently awaiting the next Jeffrey Martin novel, and I promise it’s in the final stages of publication…but until then, enjoy the very first installment involving the no-nonsense and trouble magnet Mark Blankenship.
Stay safe and remember…death is only a click away. (Hint, click the cover of the book if you want the link.)
Hmm, let’s ponder that question. Some would say that anyone willing to publish your work is the right one. Not so much, aspiring writers. I know you slaved away on the manuscript and spent countless hours editing it to within an inch of its’ life, and then…yousent out dozens upon dozens of query letters, where the only correspondence was in the form of a cookie cutter rejection letter. It can be disappointing to say the least.
So, your next course of action, is to scour the internet and writing forums for publishers who accept query letters. You take a deep breath…(make sure you exhale, or you will pass out) and fire off a few queries to a publisher who you think will make your writing dreams become a reality. A few weeks/months later, the golden ticket arrives in email/mailbox, and the excitement grows to a level so intense, sleep is barely on the agenda. Hmm, it would appear the hard work has paid off, and you are well on your way to seeing your novel on display as an end cap at the brick-and-mortar stores.
Unfortunately, the publisher you have been so lucky to have been chosen by has no clue how to successfully market you or the novel you possess. When the book finally comes out, it’s so riddled with errors, you wonder if the editorial team (if they even have one) was high on some illegal substances. Now, to top if off…your 300-page trade paperback has been priced at the reasonable price of $19.95. (Hehe!) But have no fear…because you the author of the work will get a reduced price for future purchases (after your one free author copy) at the fair rate of $13.95…what a freaking deal, my author friend!
Wow, you may think the example above is far-fetched…but let me tell you, I’m fortunate to travel across the region doing author events, some with authors in the situation above. Their novel is priced at such an inflated amount, the only people who buy it either are family or friends. It pains me to see this, and I urge all the aspiring writers out there, if you decide to forego the literary agent route and tread into the waters of publishers, be mindful of who you are dealing with. In the above example, the research for finding a publisher was half-ass. A quick check on valuable writers websites tells you many things, but it’s your job as the author to be very thorough. Example, if the publisher has a list of authors, find out if those books are carried at the local book stores and libraries. The individual authors of publishers will have websites, active usage of social networking will also be important. Scour their sales numbers, and reviews through a multiple of networks. Your goal is to determine if this publisher can do the following: honest feedback when you ask pertinent questions, distribute your work to the masses, assist in author appearances, market your novel in all media formats, and the most important, (to me at least) love your novel as much as you do.
Next week, I will continue this conversation and talk a little more about the following:
1. Distribution of your work
2. Reviewing your contract
4. Synergy with Publisher
Until then, remember…death is only a click away.