Uncover the murders... Discover the killer... Discover the reason!
Full cover for the paperback version of the Double Edged novel
Below you can read an excerpt of 5000 words.
Chapter 1
The fifth murder
His blood was everywhere! The windshield through which he crawled out of the car, only made him bleed even more as he reached for the front part of his vehicle to pull himself out. But the murderer caught him by the hair and cut his head off with a double-edged ax. Known as the “Ax Murderer”, he wrote his signature note which said — “I enjoyed every moment watching this man die, watching him how he struggled to survive in vain, watching how the blood was surrounding him and hearing the sound of the blade cutting his throat.”Right after the murder, detective Don, a veteran in World War 2, entered the scene and declared the entire area restricted, giving the order to immediately evacuate everyone. This was the fifth murder of its kind and no progress was made to catch the serial killer. The Ax Murderer always left something behind besides the note. He always left a piece of another body from one of his past victims which made detective Don believe that this was inducing a sick pleasure to the murderer and it was a sign to remind them that he was always in control. But this time it was different! This time, the detective found a side note beside the liver left by the murderer which said — ‘My work is almost complete. I will soon retire — but not without spilling BLOOD!’
The Ax Murderer always killed one person every seven and a half months but this side note implied that he would strike one last time killing dozens. This made the detective ask himself whether he should handle the case himself, or turn it over to the International Serial Killers Association. But, his pride was so big, the thought of someone else catching the killer was almost unbearable. Not only that, but he knew that this was the biggest case that had ever been assigned to him and probably the last one in his career. He was unsure if he could go through with the investigation by himself, but nevertheless, he knew that order in his district had to be restored. All over the neighborhood people were panicking, they were scarred and weak and Don knew that the Ax Murderer took advantage of this situation every time he committed another crime. His victims were closely monitored before they were killed; the Ax Murderer observed not only their habits — but also their lifestyle, their families, their children, husbands or wives and he never picked anyone who didn’t have someone to care for them. His mind was twisted; his cravings for murder were beyond those of a regular killer. The Ax Murderer never killed someone who was alone. In his mind, the idea was simple. All victims had to have a family with children so that the sorrow and suffering of those around them could extend further than the victim’s existence. Interested in no financial gains, detective Don had to find out the reason behind these killings. When the medical team arrived, they were stunned by what they saw. Despite the fact that these were all men with years of experience, they couldn’t stop feeling sick because of what they were seeing. The victim’s head was right besides the front left tire of his vehicle with one eye popped out but not entirely removed and the liver left by the killer was stuck inside his mouth. The man’s body was leaning on the front part of the car and his chest was opened and torn apart. The medical team carefully removed the liver and sent it to the lab for further investigations along with the chopped head and the rest of the body.
“Let me know as soon as soon as you have an update, agent Mark. I need to go and cool down for a minute.”
“Will do, detective.”
Unsettled and restless, Don went to a nearby pub where he hoped to find a small corner of escape. Entering the pub there was almost no one around. A dark room with few lights and only eight or nine tables suited him and his state of mind perfectly.
“What would you have sir,” the waiter asked.
“I’ll get a whiskey tonight, make it double and I need it without ice. “The ice diminishes the taste,” he replied.
“Certainly, I will be right back.”
Looking over the bar, the detective couldn’t stop noticing that the waiter was sweating more than he should have, according to the low temperature of the room.
“Here you are sir. Just as you ordered, a double whiskey without ice.”
“Perfect!” said Don, drinking the whole glass from a single shot.
“Would there be anything else…sir?”
“Yes, bring me another one. In fact, bring me the entire bottle and sit with me for a minute.”
“I’m…sorry, but it’s not allowed for me to have a drink with the customers while I am working.”
“You don’t have a drink with a customer. You have a drink with a detective,” replied Don showing the waiter his badge.
“Alright… Give me just one minute.”
As soon as the waiter brought him his drink, detective Don had already pulled the chair for him and took out his small notebook and plastic pen.
“Is there something wrong detective?” the waiter asked.
“If there was only one thing wrong in the world then my job would cease to exist,” the detective replied and added, “No waiter, there is not one single thing that is wrong, there are plenty of them and I’m afraid that justice cannot make things clear on its own every single time. That’s why we sit down at tables such as this one, with people like you, trying to figure out whether or not they know something about a current event that took place, like let’s say, the murder of the man two blocks away. Do you know anything about that? I saw how you started sweating when I came in the bar. You must’ve felt that I am a cop, or maybe you just started sweating for no real reason at all.”
“All I heard were some very loud screams. I immediately dropped what I was doing and went outside to see what was happening. But… I saw nothing,” said the waiter to the detective with a shivering voice.
“You’re lying,” shouted the detective.
“I… just before going back inside, the screaming started again. I went out for the second time and I think I heard the word “No” but I can’t be sure… That’s all I know…”
“No, there must be more,” said the detective with an ironic grin, “By now you must’ve been both curious and scarred but the curiosity took over, am I right? You went outside for the second time, you heard that “No” and you went there to see what was happening. There was a bus right where the murder took place. You must’ve hid behind it and ran right after the killer murdered the victim, did you not?” Don asked the waiter with the same grin on his face as before.
The waiter got frustrated, got up from his chair and went outside. The detective followed him. Meanwhile, in the medical facility, the doctors were examining the liver left at the crime scene, trying to figure out what had happened to it. The liver had stitches all over and this puzzled the doctors.
“This liver has been stitched perfectly,” the main doctor remarked to himself, “Whatever sick bastard did this, he was either trained in medical procedures or taught himself how to do this. Either way, this is remarkable,” he added.
“Here, be careful with it. Put it on the operating table. Let’s see what lies inside of it,” the doctor told his assistant.
“Understood,” the assistant replied.
“Give me the knife.”
“Here, doctor.”
“I’m making the incision now — Done! What the…,” said the doctor surprised and disturbed by what he found inside the liver.
The assistant looked at him and asked him with the same surprised look as his superior:
“What does this mean doctor?”
“I haven’t got the slightest idea but it’s clear to me that we’re dealing with someone who knows exactly how the human body works. Hand me the phone on the table. We must let the detective know about this immediately.”
Catching up with the waiter outside the bar, the detective looked at him and just when he opened his mouth the waiter interrupted him.
“Look… I was too scared. I only got there before the man got killed. I didn’t see the actual murder taking place.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops?” the detective asked with rage.
“As I said… I was scared; I was in… shock, you see…”
“Why did you start sweating when I entered the bar?”
“I thought that you might’ve done it,” said the waiter.
“Me?” asked Don surprised.
“Well… you might have not realized it but you have blood on your jacket…” he replied.
“… I must’ve got it from the car. Write down your full name on this piece of paper, waiter; we’ll keep in touch.”
As the detective left the bar premises and reached his apartment building, he started climbing the rusty old stairs which were making a distinct sound, specific to all rusted metals. The detective was living with his mother, a sixty-seven year old woman dying of throat cancer and madam Bell, her caretaker, who never took a day off to watch over the old woman.
“Is that you, my son?” his mother asked him as he stepped into his apartment with the little energy that she had.
“Yes mom, it’s me,” he replied with a helpless voice, “I’ll be with you in a little while,” he added.
The detective’s apartment was a simple one with only a few objects and old furniture that he got at least thirty-five years ago. His room had only one small bed, a nightstand and a small closet for his clothes and looking at his curtain, he realized that his room has not been cleaned up in quite a long time. He changed his clothes and tried to take a shower but the water was cut off for not paying the bill since two months ago.
Just before going to his mother’s room to check on her, his phone rang loudly, waking up the stray cat that he got five days ago. At the other end of the line was the doctor who let him know that the results from the biopsy of the liver had arrived.
“Detective, you must come now! What we have found… It’s beyond shocking!” said the doctor terrified.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible, doctor.”
“Don… come son, sit next to me for at least a few minutes.”
Don’s mother kept asking for him but he knew that literally with every second that passed, he was giving the Ax Murderer an advantage over the entire police department. Still, his conscience wouldn’t let him leave without at least checking to see if his mother was alright.
“What is it, mom…?” he asked as he was getting on his knees right beside her bed.
“Have you talked to Lauren?” his mother asked him while she was caressing his right cheek.
“Mom, you know… Lauren and I… are old history”, he replied with regret as he gently took her by her left hand.
“You let yourself consumed by your work. You should give her a call,” his mother said to him with tears in her eyes.
“Don’t start mom… There’s nothing more I can do now. It is… too late for us.”
“You solved all those mysteries my son, but in the end… all that will remain unsolved will be the mystery of your life,” his mother said to him, trying to roll on her left side to see his face for what could have been the last time that she saw him.
The detective didn’t know what to reply. He was tired, angry, but above all, he felt helpless… for himself… and for his mother as well. The only thing that made sense to him was to kiss her on the forehead and let her rest. His work was all that he had left. After his wife had left him, he became depressed and drowned himself in his work. Although he was tired, his investigations were the only things that were giving him strength and energy, despite the fact that he only took a few bites of two sandwiches once a day. He went in the middle of the night to the medical lab to meet the doctor. His work… never stopped.
When he got there, the doctor could barely catch his breath as he ran through the entire floor to meet the detective as soon as possible.
“What took you so long?” the doctor asked him.
“Old personal history that never finds an answer,” Don replied with sorrow.
“Sorry to hear that, detective. I hope you can find an answer to what we have fond. Come, let me show you.”
The detective followed the doctor to his lab where the liver left by the Ax Murderer had been dissected.
“Look! The liver was of a thirty-five year old woman, it was healthy, but beside the obvious and horrible crime what stunned us all was what we found in it.
“What did you find?”
“This… A piece of paper with the drawing of a man’s anatomy… It looks like the murderer is trying to tell you something. He even took the time to stitch back the liver and to our surprise… the stitches were made perfectly. What does this tell you detective?”
Don did not know what to make of it. Dozens of ideas and theories rushed to his head and the half bottle of whiskey that he had at the bar did not help at all. He was already dizzy, his mother’s words about Lauren came to his mind, and as he looked at the piece of paper one more time he said, “Whatever this means, we don’t have a lot of time to figure it out. I’ve learned over the years that there is always more than meets the eye and I doubt that the Ax Murderer just wanted to let us know that he can draw. No… There is definitely more here. I will take the paper to our criminal laboratory tomorrow and have my team examine it. If the murderer thinks that he can outsmart us, then he is mistaken. Him… giving us all these puzzles to solve about his intentions will be the very thing that will destroy him.”
“Very well, detective. If there’s more, I’ll make sure to let you know!”
Thursdays morning, 6:30 AM. Detective Don was woken up by a phone call.
“Detective, we have identified the victim!” said his partner.
“Very well, Mark. I’ll soon be down there myself. I too have something to give you. It will… surprise you without any doubt.”
The detective hanged up the phone and rushed to the bathroom to get ready. As soon as he stepped out of his bed, a horrible headache stroke him and he fell to his knees, not being able to keep his balance. He noticed that the half emptied bottle of whiskey was now completely drained and even dry from the heat in his apartment. When he got up, he remembered that there was still no running water but he recall that he had an extra bottle of mineral water in his kitchen. Unfortunately, detective Don detested this type of water. He quickly got dressed and called a taxi, as he knew that he was in no condition to drive. When he got to his office, his coworkers could see that he had a rough night and took him to the medical department on the other side of the building.
“What’s happening to you detective?” asked Angela, the head medical chief, “You’re not the drinking type,” she added.
The detective looked at the slippery floor and replied, “I’m not a lot of things these days doctor. I don’t know who I am anymore. Maybe I am a drinker… Maybe I’m not even a real detective. That’s how this case makes me feel like.”
“You cannot allow yourself to think this way, detective. This is how the murderer will get away with his crimes. This is exactly what he wants you to do… to start doubting yourself.”
“Perhaps you are right… Thank you… for the reassuring words and for the pain-killers.”
Right after the detective replied to his doctor, Mark entered the room.
“How do you feel Don?” Mark asked.
“I’m not in my best shape, but the good doctor here helped me with some very eye opening words and…with some pills as well, so I guess I’m doing a little better now,” Don replied as he was looking at Angela who was slightly smiling with a somewhat sad look on her face.
When Don went to his office, his partner brought him up to speed with the latest news regarding the beheaded victim. Don learned that the casualty was a twenty three year old man who was living with his mother and his fiancée who had given birth to their first child, a healthy daughter. As soon as Don heard this, he thought of his son, who, just like the young victim’s child — grew up without a father after he split from his ex-wife.
“I will catch this murderer,” said the detective in range after he threw the pencil box on the desk to the ground.
“Of course you will, sir,” Mark replied.
The detective gave his partner the piece of paper that the doctor removed from the liver and instructed him to analyze it and see if he could find out more about it.
“Take this, Mark. It’s what I got from the doctor last night. It seems that our murderer is a real psychopath. He opened the liver of one of his past victims and stuck this paper inside of it. He even took the time to stitch it back together. Analyze the paper, the ink that he used to make his drawing and get back to me as soon as you have something new.
“Will do, detective,” said Mark with a surprised look as he took the paper from Don. “What are you going to do now? he added.
“I’m going back to the crime scene. Maybe there’s something there that we missed.”
“Very well, sir. Perhaps…you should take someone with you?”
“Your concern is noted, Mark, but I found that sometimes, working on the field alone helps me think clearly. Just give me a call when you get the results from the paper’s analysis. We need to hurry, Mark. I’m afraid that this time the murderer will not wait seven and a half months before he kills again. At least… this is what his note implies.” said Don, hoping that he was wrong.
Back to the crime scene, Don noticed that there were massive tire tracks all over the place which led him to believe that the murderer had somehow distracted his victim as he was driving, forcing him to hit the brakes. He approached the car to examine it closely. The windshield and the right window were both broken, the steering wheel was damaged and the driver’s seat had blood stains all over it. A scenario started to form inside the detective’s mind. After being distracted and scarred into a force break, the Ax Murderer threw his ax through the windshield in an attempt to kill the twenty three year old man. His ax hit the man’s chest, but the throw was not fatal.
“The killer must’ve come to the car and broke this window,” said Don to himself.
The detective believed that while the victim was struggling to get the ax out of his chest, the murderer smashed the door’s window, grabbed him by the head and hit him several times against the steering wheel. What the detective couldn’t understand though, was how the man was able crawl half way through the windshield. The only thought that came to his mind was that somehow, he managed to hit the killer, giving himself a few seconds to try to escape. As he crawled through the windshield with the ax stuck in his chest, the Ax Murderer pulled him by the hair, got the ax out of him and cut his head, living the body to lean over the front body of the car. As for the removed eye, Don believed that this was giving the murderer an even deeper sadistic pleasure. The detective found how the man was killed, but why, he couldn’t understand. He took out his notebook, wrote what he had found and went back to the bar to talk to the waiter one more time, but when he got there he learned that he had left his job earlier that morning. This raised even more questions than the answers the detective hoped to find. He interrogated the bar’s owner with the hope that he will learn more about the mysterious waiter and found that the employee had left a note on the counter the other night, saying he was quitting his job, but gave no reason for why he was doing so. Don asked the owner to give him all the details that he had about his waiter and it didn’t take long for him to realize that the name and phone number that he got from the waiter the previous night, were not his.
“When I came in this morning, I expected the bar to be open just like every other day,” said Gabriel, the owner, “We usually open at 9:30 during the week and at 10:30 on weekends,” he added and continued, “I figured that maybe Burt overslept and was on his way here, but when I opened the door I knew that something was definitely wrong. It looked like he had left in a rush. The bar hadn’t been cleaned at all, customers’ bottles were still on the tables and the cash register was not turned off. As I dialed his phone number trying to reach him, I saw his resignation note right on top of our mini-bar where we keep our finest selection of brandy and wine.”
“Do you still have the note?”
“Certainly, here you are detective.”
Unfortunately for Don, the waiter’s note did not answer any of the questions he had about his sudden resignation. It only said: ‘I quit.’
“Did you reach the waiter? I assume he didn’t answer his phone,”, the detective asked Gabriel as he put the note inside the upper left pocket of his thin cotton overcoat.
“I tried to call him several times for the past two hours, but with no result. Every time I dialed his number, his voicemail kept coming up and then, unexpectedly, the phone number got disconnected from service.”
“Can you describe Burt to me, George?” Don asked hoping that the answer he would receive could shed some light on the mysterious and elusive waiter.
“Burt first came to me looking for work about two years ago. This is a small bar, you see… Not a lot of people come in, and so, I don’t require my employees to have any prior experience. Seeing that we only had one waiter at the time, I decided to hire him.
“How did he seem to you”?
“Burt was somewhat slow at the beginning. He didn’t say too much either and most of the time he kept to himself. Unlike us, who had our coffee in the morning, Burt always used to have his, close to midnight, drinking three to four cups right before his shift would end. I myself used to work as a waiter during my youth years and I remember how I couldn’t wait for that day to end to go home and get some much deserved rest after a sixteen hours shift. I thought this was a little unusual and when I asked him about it, he replied that he had to work during the night for a project that he was taking part in. After I hired him, I changed the work schedule of my two waiters, Alexander being the other one who has been with us since I opened the bar three years ago, and the two of them worked for one day, with one day off. I didn’t have any reason to doubt what Burt was saying. I figured that he would rest during the following day when he had the day off.
“You said he came to you almost two years ago, right?”
“Yes; I think it was mid-December at the time.”
“This was just before the murders started happening…” said the detective in his mind.
“Is there anything else that you can tell me about him George, anything at all?”
“I remember one morning, about four months into his employment that Burt called in sick, but his voice did not seem like that of a sick person at all. More than anything… he sounded scarred. I played along though and gave him the day off. When he showed up for work the following morning, he seemed more energetic and even more sociable than usually. As the weeks passed, Burt began to be more confident as well and naturally — at first I was pleased with his change in attitude, but soon after that, he started to become arrogant and sometimes, even violent.
“Did Burt ever used to talk about his family or his life? Or even about his friends?”
“No. Whenever we asked him, he always changed the subject, but he did mention one woman at one point.”
“Do you know anything about her?”
“Just her name... Burt only mentioned her every now and then and when he did, he didn’t really say that much about her. He only told us of one trip that he was planning on going with her to Paris during the winter holydays last year. Upon his return, when we asked him how it went, Burt said that he didn’t want to talk about it and he never mentioned her again. We… never again asked about her as well. Other than that, I really don’t know more about this Beatrice, detective. Perhaps if you were to check with the airline company with which they flew maybe you could find out more about her.”
“Do you think Alexander got to know him better?”
“I doubt it, detective. You can talk to him when he comes in for work. He should show up at any moment now. I’ve recently changed their work schedule and they were working eight hours per day each. It was Burt’s shift this morning.
“Then I’ll wait for him to show up and George, I’ll also need Burt’s phone number.”
“Certainly, I’ll write it down for you. Here it is.”
As the detective was waiting for Alex to arrive, he dialed agent Mark’s number to ask for his assistance.
“Come on Mark, answer the phone!” said Don to himself.
“Yes, detective, have you found anything at the bar?”
“I believe so, Mark. It’s very likely that the waiter is involved in all of this. I need you to check this phone number 536-763-4204. It was disconnected this morning. Find out anything you can about it and get back to me.”
“Alright. Do you really believe that the waiter is our killer?” the agent asked surprised.
“At this point, I can’t be sure, Mark, but there are a lot of things that seem suspicious…”
“Detective?” George interrupted.
“I need to go, Mark. Keep me posted as soon as you have something.”
“Of course, detective,” replied the agent.
“Yes, George?”
“This is Alexander, Don. I briefed him about what happened. He will answer any questions he can.”
“Thank you, George.”
“Should I close the bar for the day?” the owner asked while wiping a glass.
“No; keep it running as usual.”
“Very well; I’ll leave you to it then.”
“I understood that you’ve been here since the beginning. How did you get along with Burt and how well did you know him?” Don asked Alexander as they were both pulling their chairs to sit at the table across from the upper right corner in the back of the bar.
“Well, detective, Burt didn’t let anyone get close to him and I doubt that he had any real friends at all.”
“What about Beatrice?”
“She was the only one he brought up. I believe they were dating but they split right after they came back from their holyday in Paris. At least, this is what I think. Unfortunately, as hard as I tried to get to know him, he never let me. At one point… I even felt sorry for him.”
“George told me that all of a sudden, Burt started to be more energetic and sociable. Did he then started to open up to you at all?”
“Burt seemed indeed to have more energy and to talk a bit more, but not with us, detective. With our customers and only with those that didn’t came in regularly. With us and with our frequent clients he kept the same attitude. It seemed as if he was trying to avoid as much as possible any conversation that he might have had with the people that he got into contact with on a regular basis.”
“Have you ever noticed anything weird about him?” the detective asked while he was writing everything that was being said.
“Weird? Everything was strange about him — the way he talked — the way he acted. Nothing that Burt did seemed to be in its place. Everything we know, both I and George have already told you, detective.”
“And what you have told me will definitely help my investigation. One more thing Alexander; what was Burt’s last name?” Don asked while holding the pen in his right hand, ready to write down the waiter’s full identity.
“His last name detective... was Hunt,” the waiter replied.
The Ax Murderer always killed one person every seven and a half months but this side note implied that he would strike one last time killing dozens. This made the detective ask himself whether he should handle the case himself, or turn it over to the International Serial Killers Association. But, his pride was so big, the thought of someone else catching the killer was almost unbearable. Not only that, but he knew that this was the biggest case that had ever been assigned to him and probably the last one in his career. He was unsure if he could go through with the investigation by himself, but nevertheless, he knew that order in his district had to be restored. All over the neighborhood people were panicking, they were scarred and weak and Don knew that the Ax Murderer took advantage of this situation every time he committed another crime. His victims were closely monitored before they were killed; the Ax Murderer observed not only their habits — but also their lifestyle, their families, their children, husbands or wives and he never picked anyone who didn’t have someone to care for them. His mind was twisted; his cravings for murder were beyond those of a regular killer. The Ax Murderer never killed someone who was alone. In his mind, the idea was simple. All victims had to have a family with children so that the sorrow and suffering of those around them could extend further than the victim’s existence. Interested in no financial gains, detective Don had to find out the reason behind these killings. When the medical team arrived, they were stunned by what they saw. Despite the fact that these were all men with years of experience, they couldn’t stop feeling sick because of what they were seeing. The victim’s head was right besides the front left tire of his vehicle with one eye popped out but not entirely removed and the liver left by the killer was stuck inside his mouth. The man’s body was leaning on the front part of the car and his chest was opened and torn apart. The medical team carefully removed the liver and sent it to the lab for further investigations along with the chopped head and the rest of the body.
“Let me know as soon as soon as you have an update, agent Mark. I need to go and cool down for a minute.”
“Will do, detective.”
Unsettled and restless, Don went to a nearby pub where he hoped to find a small corner of escape. Entering the pub there was almost no one around. A dark room with few lights and only eight or nine tables suited him and his state of mind perfectly.
“What would you have sir,” the waiter asked.
“I’ll get a whiskey tonight, make it double and I need it without ice. “The ice diminishes the taste,” he replied.
“Certainly, I will be right back.”
Looking over the bar, the detective couldn’t stop noticing that the waiter was sweating more than he should have, according to the low temperature of the room.
“Here you are sir. Just as you ordered, a double whiskey without ice.”
“Perfect!” said Don, drinking the whole glass from a single shot.
“Would there be anything else…sir?”
“Yes, bring me another one. In fact, bring me the entire bottle and sit with me for a minute.”
“I’m…sorry, but it’s not allowed for me to have a drink with the customers while I am working.”
“You don’t have a drink with a customer. You have a drink with a detective,” replied Don showing the waiter his badge.
“Alright… Give me just one minute.”
As soon as the waiter brought him his drink, detective Don had already pulled the chair for him and took out his small notebook and plastic pen.
“Is there something wrong detective?” the waiter asked.
“If there was only one thing wrong in the world then my job would cease to exist,” the detective replied and added, “No waiter, there is not one single thing that is wrong, there are plenty of them and I’m afraid that justice cannot make things clear on its own every single time. That’s why we sit down at tables such as this one, with people like you, trying to figure out whether or not they know something about a current event that took place, like let’s say, the murder of the man two blocks away. Do you know anything about that? I saw how you started sweating when I came in the bar. You must’ve felt that I am a cop, or maybe you just started sweating for no real reason at all.”
“All I heard were some very loud screams. I immediately dropped what I was doing and went outside to see what was happening. But… I saw nothing,” said the waiter to the detective with a shivering voice.
“You’re lying,” shouted the detective.
“I… just before going back inside, the screaming started again. I went out for the second time and I think I heard the word “No” but I can’t be sure… That’s all I know…”
“No, there must be more,” said the detective with an ironic grin, “By now you must’ve been both curious and scarred but the curiosity took over, am I right? You went outside for the second time, you heard that “No” and you went there to see what was happening. There was a bus right where the murder took place. You must’ve hid behind it and ran right after the killer murdered the victim, did you not?” Don asked the waiter with the same grin on his face as before.
The waiter got frustrated, got up from his chair and went outside. The detective followed him. Meanwhile, in the medical facility, the doctors were examining the liver left at the crime scene, trying to figure out what had happened to it. The liver had stitches all over and this puzzled the doctors.
“This liver has been stitched perfectly,” the main doctor remarked to himself, “Whatever sick bastard did this, he was either trained in medical procedures or taught himself how to do this. Either way, this is remarkable,” he added.
“Here, be careful with it. Put it on the operating table. Let’s see what lies inside of it,” the doctor told his assistant.
“Understood,” the assistant replied.
“Give me the knife.”
“Here, doctor.”
“I’m making the incision now — Done! What the…,” said the doctor surprised and disturbed by what he found inside the liver.
The assistant looked at him and asked him with the same surprised look as his superior:
“What does this mean doctor?”
“I haven’t got the slightest idea but it’s clear to me that we’re dealing with someone who knows exactly how the human body works. Hand me the phone on the table. We must let the detective know about this immediately.”
Catching up with the waiter outside the bar, the detective looked at him and just when he opened his mouth the waiter interrupted him.
“Look… I was too scared. I only got there before the man got killed. I didn’t see the actual murder taking place.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops?” the detective asked with rage.
“As I said… I was scared; I was in… shock, you see…”
“Why did you start sweating when I entered the bar?”
“I thought that you might’ve done it,” said the waiter.
“Me?” asked Don surprised.
“Well… you might have not realized it but you have blood on your jacket…” he replied.
“… I must’ve got it from the car. Write down your full name on this piece of paper, waiter; we’ll keep in touch.”
As the detective left the bar premises and reached his apartment building, he started climbing the rusty old stairs which were making a distinct sound, specific to all rusted metals. The detective was living with his mother, a sixty-seven year old woman dying of throat cancer and madam Bell, her caretaker, who never took a day off to watch over the old woman.
“Is that you, my son?” his mother asked him as he stepped into his apartment with the little energy that she had.
“Yes mom, it’s me,” he replied with a helpless voice, “I’ll be with you in a little while,” he added.
The detective’s apartment was a simple one with only a few objects and old furniture that he got at least thirty-five years ago. His room had only one small bed, a nightstand and a small closet for his clothes and looking at his curtain, he realized that his room has not been cleaned up in quite a long time. He changed his clothes and tried to take a shower but the water was cut off for not paying the bill since two months ago.
Just before going to his mother’s room to check on her, his phone rang loudly, waking up the stray cat that he got five days ago. At the other end of the line was the doctor who let him know that the results from the biopsy of the liver had arrived.
“Detective, you must come now! What we have found… It’s beyond shocking!” said the doctor terrified.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible, doctor.”
“Don… come son, sit next to me for at least a few minutes.”
Don’s mother kept asking for him but he knew that literally with every second that passed, he was giving the Ax Murderer an advantage over the entire police department. Still, his conscience wouldn’t let him leave without at least checking to see if his mother was alright.
“What is it, mom…?” he asked as he was getting on his knees right beside her bed.
“Have you talked to Lauren?” his mother asked him while she was caressing his right cheek.
“Mom, you know… Lauren and I… are old history”, he replied with regret as he gently took her by her left hand.
“You let yourself consumed by your work. You should give her a call,” his mother said to him with tears in her eyes.
“Don’t start mom… There’s nothing more I can do now. It is… too late for us.”
“You solved all those mysteries my son, but in the end… all that will remain unsolved will be the mystery of your life,” his mother said to him, trying to roll on her left side to see his face for what could have been the last time that she saw him.
The detective didn’t know what to reply. He was tired, angry, but above all, he felt helpless… for himself… and for his mother as well. The only thing that made sense to him was to kiss her on the forehead and let her rest. His work was all that he had left. After his wife had left him, he became depressed and drowned himself in his work. Although he was tired, his investigations were the only things that were giving him strength and energy, despite the fact that he only took a few bites of two sandwiches once a day. He went in the middle of the night to the medical lab to meet the doctor. His work… never stopped.
When he got there, the doctor could barely catch his breath as he ran through the entire floor to meet the detective as soon as possible.
“What took you so long?” the doctor asked him.
“Old personal history that never finds an answer,” Don replied with sorrow.
“Sorry to hear that, detective. I hope you can find an answer to what we have fond. Come, let me show you.”
The detective followed the doctor to his lab where the liver left by the Ax Murderer had been dissected.
“Look! The liver was of a thirty-five year old woman, it was healthy, but beside the obvious and horrible crime what stunned us all was what we found in it.
“What did you find?”
“This… A piece of paper with the drawing of a man’s anatomy… It looks like the murderer is trying to tell you something. He even took the time to stitch back the liver and to our surprise… the stitches were made perfectly. What does this tell you detective?”
Don did not know what to make of it. Dozens of ideas and theories rushed to his head and the half bottle of whiskey that he had at the bar did not help at all. He was already dizzy, his mother’s words about Lauren came to his mind, and as he looked at the piece of paper one more time he said, “Whatever this means, we don’t have a lot of time to figure it out. I’ve learned over the years that there is always more than meets the eye and I doubt that the Ax Murderer just wanted to let us know that he can draw. No… There is definitely more here. I will take the paper to our criminal laboratory tomorrow and have my team examine it. If the murderer thinks that he can outsmart us, then he is mistaken. Him… giving us all these puzzles to solve about his intentions will be the very thing that will destroy him.”
“Very well, detective. If there’s more, I’ll make sure to let you know!”
Thursdays morning, 6:30 AM. Detective Don was woken up by a phone call.
“Detective, we have identified the victim!” said his partner.
“Very well, Mark. I’ll soon be down there myself. I too have something to give you. It will… surprise you without any doubt.”
The detective hanged up the phone and rushed to the bathroom to get ready. As soon as he stepped out of his bed, a horrible headache stroke him and he fell to his knees, not being able to keep his balance. He noticed that the half emptied bottle of whiskey was now completely drained and even dry from the heat in his apartment. When he got up, he remembered that there was still no running water but he recall that he had an extra bottle of mineral water in his kitchen. Unfortunately, detective Don detested this type of water. He quickly got dressed and called a taxi, as he knew that he was in no condition to drive. When he got to his office, his coworkers could see that he had a rough night and took him to the medical department on the other side of the building.
“What’s happening to you detective?” asked Angela, the head medical chief, “You’re not the drinking type,” she added.
The detective looked at the slippery floor and replied, “I’m not a lot of things these days doctor. I don’t know who I am anymore. Maybe I am a drinker… Maybe I’m not even a real detective. That’s how this case makes me feel like.”
“You cannot allow yourself to think this way, detective. This is how the murderer will get away with his crimes. This is exactly what he wants you to do… to start doubting yourself.”
“Perhaps you are right… Thank you… for the reassuring words and for the pain-killers.”
Right after the detective replied to his doctor, Mark entered the room.
“How do you feel Don?” Mark asked.
“I’m not in my best shape, but the good doctor here helped me with some very eye opening words and…with some pills as well, so I guess I’m doing a little better now,” Don replied as he was looking at Angela who was slightly smiling with a somewhat sad look on her face.
When Don went to his office, his partner brought him up to speed with the latest news regarding the beheaded victim. Don learned that the casualty was a twenty three year old man who was living with his mother and his fiancée who had given birth to their first child, a healthy daughter. As soon as Don heard this, he thought of his son, who, just like the young victim’s child — grew up without a father after he split from his ex-wife.
“I will catch this murderer,” said the detective in range after he threw the pencil box on the desk to the ground.
“Of course you will, sir,” Mark replied.
The detective gave his partner the piece of paper that the doctor removed from the liver and instructed him to analyze it and see if he could find out more about it.
“Take this, Mark. It’s what I got from the doctor last night. It seems that our murderer is a real psychopath. He opened the liver of one of his past victims and stuck this paper inside of it. He even took the time to stitch it back together. Analyze the paper, the ink that he used to make his drawing and get back to me as soon as you have something new.
“Will do, detective,” said Mark with a surprised look as he took the paper from Don. “What are you going to do now? he added.
“I’m going back to the crime scene. Maybe there’s something there that we missed.”
“Very well, sir. Perhaps…you should take someone with you?”
“Your concern is noted, Mark, but I found that sometimes, working on the field alone helps me think clearly. Just give me a call when you get the results from the paper’s analysis. We need to hurry, Mark. I’m afraid that this time the murderer will not wait seven and a half months before he kills again. At least… this is what his note implies.” said Don, hoping that he was wrong.
Back to the crime scene, Don noticed that there were massive tire tracks all over the place which led him to believe that the murderer had somehow distracted his victim as he was driving, forcing him to hit the brakes. He approached the car to examine it closely. The windshield and the right window were both broken, the steering wheel was damaged and the driver’s seat had blood stains all over it. A scenario started to form inside the detective’s mind. After being distracted and scarred into a force break, the Ax Murderer threw his ax through the windshield in an attempt to kill the twenty three year old man. His ax hit the man’s chest, but the throw was not fatal.
“The killer must’ve come to the car and broke this window,” said Don to himself.
The detective believed that while the victim was struggling to get the ax out of his chest, the murderer smashed the door’s window, grabbed him by the head and hit him several times against the steering wheel. What the detective couldn’t understand though, was how the man was able crawl half way through the windshield. The only thought that came to his mind was that somehow, he managed to hit the killer, giving himself a few seconds to try to escape. As he crawled through the windshield with the ax stuck in his chest, the Ax Murderer pulled him by the hair, got the ax out of him and cut his head, living the body to lean over the front body of the car. As for the removed eye, Don believed that this was giving the murderer an even deeper sadistic pleasure. The detective found how the man was killed, but why, he couldn’t understand. He took out his notebook, wrote what he had found and went back to the bar to talk to the waiter one more time, but when he got there he learned that he had left his job earlier that morning. This raised even more questions than the answers the detective hoped to find. He interrogated the bar’s owner with the hope that he will learn more about the mysterious waiter and found that the employee had left a note on the counter the other night, saying he was quitting his job, but gave no reason for why he was doing so. Don asked the owner to give him all the details that he had about his waiter and it didn’t take long for him to realize that the name and phone number that he got from the waiter the previous night, were not his.
“When I came in this morning, I expected the bar to be open just like every other day,” said Gabriel, the owner, “We usually open at 9:30 during the week and at 10:30 on weekends,” he added and continued, “I figured that maybe Burt overslept and was on his way here, but when I opened the door I knew that something was definitely wrong. It looked like he had left in a rush. The bar hadn’t been cleaned at all, customers’ bottles were still on the tables and the cash register was not turned off. As I dialed his phone number trying to reach him, I saw his resignation note right on top of our mini-bar where we keep our finest selection of brandy and wine.”
“Do you still have the note?”
“Certainly, here you are detective.”
Unfortunately for Don, the waiter’s note did not answer any of the questions he had about his sudden resignation. It only said: ‘I quit.’
“Did you reach the waiter? I assume he didn’t answer his phone,”, the detective asked Gabriel as he put the note inside the upper left pocket of his thin cotton overcoat.
“I tried to call him several times for the past two hours, but with no result. Every time I dialed his number, his voicemail kept coming up and then, unexpectedly, the phone number got disconnected from service.”
“Can you describe Burt to me, George?” Don asked hoping that the answer he would receive could shed some light on the mysterious and elusive waiter.
“Burt first came to me looking for work about two years ago. This is a small bar, you see… Not a lot of people come in, and so, I don’t require my employees to have any prior experience. Seeing that we only had one waiter at the time, I decided to hire him.
“How did he seem to you”?
“Burt was somewhat slow at the beginning. He didn’t say too much either and most of the time he kept to himself. Unlike us, who had our coffee in the morning, Burt always used to have his, close to midnight, drinking three to four cups right before his shift would end. I myself used to work as a waiter during my youth years and I remember how I couldn’t wait for that day to end to go home and get some much deserved rest after a sixteen hours shift. I thought this was a little unusual and when I asked him about it, he replied that he had to work during the night for a project that he was taking part in. After I hired him, I changed the work schedule of my two waiters, Alexander being the other one who has been with us since I opened the bar three years ago, and the two of them worked for one day, with one day off. I didn’t have any reason to doubt what Burt was saying. I figured that he would rest during the following day when he had the day off.
“You said he came to you almost two years ago, right?”
“Yes; I think it was mid-December at the time.”
“This was just before the murders started happening…” said the detective in his mind.
“Is there anything else that you can tell me about him George, anything at all?”
“I remember one morning, about four months into his employment that Burt called in sick, but his voice did not seem like that of a sick person at all. More than anything… he sounded scarred. I played along though and gave him the day off. When he showed up for work the following morning, he seemed more energetic and even more sociable than usually. As the weeks passed, Burt began to be more confident as well and naturally — at first I was pleased with his change in attitude, but soon after that, he started to become arrogant and sometimes, even violent.
“Did Burt ever used to talk about his family or his life? Or even about his friends?”
“No. Whenever we asked him, he always changed the subject, but he did mention one woman at one point.”
“Do you know anything about her?”
“Just her name... Burt only mentioned her every now and then and when he did, he didn’t really say that much about her. He only told us of one trip that he was planning on going with her to Paris during the winter holydays last year. Upon his return, when we asked him how it went, Burt said that he didn’t want to talk about it and he never mentioned her again. We… never again asked about her as well. Other than that, I really don’t know more about this Beatrice, detective. Perhaps if you were to check with the airline company with which they flew maybe you could find out more about her.”
“Do you think Alexander got to know him better?”
“I doubt it, detective. You can talk to him when he comes in for work. He should show up at any moment now. I’ve recently changed their work schedule and they were working eight hours per day each. It was Burt’s shift this morning.
“Then I’ll wait for him to show up and George, I’ll also need Burt’s phone number.”
“Certainly, I’ll write it down for you. Here it is.”
As the detective was waiting for Alex to arrive, he dialed agent Mark’s number to ask for his assistance.
“Come on Mark, answer the phone!” said Don to himself.
“Yes, detective, have you found anything at the bar?”
“I believe so, Mark. It’s very likely that the waiter is involved in all of this. I need you to check this phone number 536-763-4204. It was disconnected this morning. Find out anything you can about it and get back to me.”
“Alright. Do you really believe that the waiter is our killer?” the agent asked surprised.
“At this point, I can’t be sure, Mark, but there are a lot of things that seem suspicious…”
“Detective?” George interrupted.
“I need to go, Mark. Keep me posted as soon as you have something.”
“Of course, detective,” replied the agent.
“Yes, George?”
“This is Alexander, Don. I briefed him about what happened. He will answer any questions he can.”
“Thank you, George.”
“Should I close the bar for the day?” the owner asked while wiping a glass.
“No; keep it running as usual.”
“Very well; I’ll leave you to it then.”
“I understood that you’ve been here since the beginning. How did you get along with Burt and how well did you know him?” Don asked Alexander as they were both pulling their chairs to sit at the table across from the upper right corner in the back of the bar.
“Well, detective, Burt didn’t let anyone get close to him and I doubt that he had any real friends at all.”
“What about Beatrice?”
“She was the only one he brought up. I believe they were dating but they split right after they came back from their holyday in Paris. At least, this is what I think. Unfortunately, as hard as I tried to get to know him, he never let me. At one point… I even felt sorry for him.”
“George told me that all of a sudden, Burt started to be more energetic and sociable. Did he then started to open up to you at all?”
“Burt seemed indeed to have more energy and to talk a bit more, but not with us, detective. With our customers and only with those that didn’t came in regularly. With us and with our frequent clients he kept the same attitude. It seemed as if he was trying to avoid as much as possible any conversation that he might have had with the people that he got into contact with on a regular basis.”
“Have you ever noticed anything weird about him?” the detective asked while he was writing everything that was being said.
“Weird? Everything was strange about him — the way he talked — the way he acted. Nothing that Burt did seemed to be in its place. Everything we know, both I and George have already told you, detective.”
“And what you have told me will definitely help my investigation. One more thing Alexander; what was Burt’s last name?” Don asked while holding the pen in his right hand, ready to write down the waiter’s full identity.
“His last name detective... was Hunt,” the waiter replied.
Chapter 2
An unexpected victim
The detective gathered all the information that he could from both the owner and Alexander and headed back to his office to run them through a system check and see if there was anything he could find out about this waiter. On his way to the office, he called the number that the waiter had given him and answering at the other end of the line was a man who seemed he’d just stopped crying.
“Yes, who is it?” the man asked.
“”This is detective Don. Who am I speaking to?”
“Gabriel. Have you found him yet?”
“Find who?” the detective asked with a confused voice.
“The man who killed my wife… the one that everyone talks about. The Ax Murderer.”
Don was shocked to realize that the phone number the waiter had given him was the number of one of the murderer’s victims. It was clear to him that the waiter had something to do with all of this, but he couldn’t figure out just yet how to connect him to this and all the other similar murders.
“Sir, tell me where you are! I need to come down there in person and talk to you,” said the detective with an alarming voice and hung up his cell phone.
Gabriel texted his address and the detective went immediately to meet him. He knew that he still had to check the information he got from the waiter, and so, he gathered his strength for another twenty four hours day worth of work. He decided to bring his partner as well as he thought that while he was interrogating Gabriel, Mark could check the surroundings to see if he could find any clues regarding this murder.
“Mark, leave everything that you’re doing and come to the address that I’ve sent you just now. I presume that you’ve started working on that paper already. Bring with you any results that you have so far.”
“What happened, detective?” he asked surprised.
“It’s possible that we have uncovered a sixth murder and something tells me that there have been at least 72 hours since it took place.”
“It’s curious how we only found out about it now. Are you sure it’s the same killer?”
“At this point, I don’t know Mark. It might be and if it is, then maybe the murderer made a mistake this time and left something behind, something that we can use to track him down.”
“Alright, detective. I’ll meet you at the address you’ve sent. As for the results on the paper, it seems that there is more to it than just a simple drawing. We couldn’t find anything through our standard examination, so we’ve ran a more in depth analysis on it. The results should come in first thing in the morning.”
“Very well, Mark. See you at the location then.”
Gabriel, the man that the detective was about to interrogate, lived in a trailer nearby the city. When Don arrived, he was waiting for him outside with his young daughter, Theresa who was playing on a swing that her father had build, like nothing had happen.
“Gabriel? I’m the detective, I’m Don. The one you talked to on the phone earlier,” he said as he was showing him his badge.
“Yes, detective, I’m Gabriel. Please excuse my daughter Theresa for not saying hello. After the tragedy… I told her that we should try to do our best to go on. Her behavior seems almost the same but I’m afraid that she doesn’t say much these days anymore,” Gabriel replied as he got up from his chair to open the trailer’s door for the detective.
“I think I can relate to her. I myself have lost someone and when I did, I hid in my work. This is what we often do us, adults. Get behind a desk and don’t stop working, and the children... hide in their games, but at least… they try to have some fun.”
Just before going inside, his coworker Mark arrived.
“This is agent Mark, Gabriel,” said Don and continued, “He will check the surroundings and look around your trailer to see if he can find anything that we might be able to use.”
“No need for that detective Don. I’m afraid that you won’t find anything here.”
“And why is that?” the agent asked.
“You should come inside, both of you. I will tell you how it happened.”
“Yes, who is it?” the man asked.
“”This is detective Don. Who am I speaking to?”
“Gabriel. Have you found him yet?”
“Find who?” the detective asked with a confused voice.
“The man who killed my wife… the one that everyone talks about. The Ax Murderer.”
Don was shocked to realize that the phone number the waiter had given him was the number of one of the murderer’s victims. It was clear to him that the waiter had something to do with all of this, but he couldn’t figure out just yet how to connect him to this and all the other similar murders.
“Sir, tell me where you are! I need to come down there in person and talk to you,” said the detective with an alarming voice and hung up his cell phone.
Gabriel texted his address and the detective went immediately to meet him. He knew that he still had to check the information he got from the waiter, and so, he gathered his strength for another twenty four hours day worth of work. He decided to bring his partner as well as he thought that while he was interrogating Gabriel, Mark could check the surroundings to see if he could find any clues regarding this murder.
“Mark, leave everything that you’re doing and come to the address that I’ve sent you just now. I presume that you’ve started working on that paper already. Bring with you any results that you have so far.”
“What happened, detective?” he asked surprised.
“It’s possible that we have uncovered a sixth murder and something tells me that there have been at least 72 hours since it took place.”
“It’s curious how we only found out about it now. Are you sure it’s the same killer?”
“At this point, I don’t know Mark. It might be and if it is, then maybe the murderer made a mistake this time and left something behind, something that we can use to track him down.”
“Alright, detective. I’ll meet you at the address you’ve sent. As for the results on the paper, it seems that there is more to it than just a simple drawing. We couldn’t find anything through our standard examination, so we’ve ran a more in depth analysis on it. The results should come in first thing in the morning.”
“Very well, Mark. See you at the location then.”
Gabriel, the man that the detective was about to interrogate, lived in a trailer nearby the city. When Don arrived, he was waiting for him outside with his young daughter, Theresa who was playing on a swing that her father had build, like nothing had happen.
“Gabriel? I’m the detective, I’m Don. The one you talked to on the phone earlier,” he said as he was showing him his badge.
“Yes, detective, I’m Gabriel. Please excuse my daughter Theresa for not saying hello. After the tragedy… I told her that we should try to do our best to go on. Her behavior seems almost the same but I’m afraid that she doesn’t say much these days anymore,” Gabriel replied as he got up from his chair to open the trailer’s door for the detective.
“I think I can relate to her. I myself have lost someone and when I did, I hid in my work. This is what we often do us, adults. Get behind a desk and don’t stop working, and the children... hide in their games, but at least… they try to have some fun.”
Just before going inside, his coworker Mark arrived.
“This is agent Mark, Gabriel,” said Don and continued, “He will check the surroundings and look around your trailer to see if he can find anything that we might be able to use.”
“No need for that detective Don. I’m afraid that you won’t find anything here.”
“And why is that?” the agent asked.
“You should come inside, both of you. I will tell you how it happened.”