Perfect Crime

The night creatures shrill in the distance adding to the ominous feeling as her third victim staggers across the parking lot. Her second victim is unconscious beside her. A large puddle of blood is pooling around his head. The group of men that stepped out the bar door a few minutes ago is still chatting it up on the porch. I'll whack her in the head before she can make a sound. Granny raises her cane to her shoulder as she tightens her grip on the wood. You can do this, old gal. She anxiously shifts her stance.

Tripping over a parking barrier, the drunk victim plummets to the ground. The woman sits up to find her boyfriend lying on the pavement beside her. "Get up, George," she says, shoving his arm. "Come on, you big lug. It's time to go." George doesn't budge. "You've got to get up, George." She shakes him. He still doesn't respond. She anxiously glances at the door and then at him. "Come on, George, get up. We've got to get out of here before they call the cops." The woman notices blood oozing through the top of his shirt; she then sees a stream of red liquid spewing from the side of his neck. She opens her mouth to scream.

"I don't think so." Granny swings her cane around. The hollowed-out object smacks the back of the woman's head. The lady's limp body topples across her boyfriend.

The killer whacks her again. Now to finish her off. Granny raises her cane to the victim's neck and squeezes the handle. Laughter echos across the night sky. She looks up to find more people have joined the men on the porch. I need to get out of here before I get caught. She races to her car at the end of the lot. Granny anxiously turns towards the bar to find the group staggering inside. I could've taken more time. I did what I came to do. Now I can go on home, get some rest. I bet I'll sleep tonight, she thinks, wearily pulling away.

***

Joe pushes his front door open as his phone rings. The killer couldn't have struck again. Scooping his cell out of his pocket, Joe glances at his caller ID. "Hello? There are two more victims at the Pied Piper Pub?" Doesn't our killer ever sleep? "I'm on my way, Sir." He dials a number as he walks back to his car. "Rachel, it's Joe... Jerry already told you. I'll pick you up in a few." He starts to climb into his car when his phone rings again. Now what? "Hello?" He puts his phone on speaker and then throws it on the dusty dash.

"Joe, it's Kirk; Sharon wants me to tell you that someone killed your victim with an object that's the same shape and size of a 44 caliber bullet and that she believes our killer used some sort of spring-loaded weapon. She also said that our victim was beaten with a rod approximately two inches in diameter."

"Did she find any fingerprints or DNA on the victim?"

"I'm afraid not, Sir. Sharon did say his bruises were all premortem."

"How many times was he hit?" Joe asks as he pulls up to Rachel's apartment.

"He was struck six times across his back and twice at the skull base.

"Hi, Joe," Rachel says as she opens the car door.

"Hey, Rachel."

"Kirk?" She asks, glancing towards the back. Not seeing anyone, she turns towards Joe, a perplexed look on her face.

Chuckling, Joe points to his phone.

Rachel laughs. "Hi, Kirk." The door squeaks as she closes it too.

"Hopefully, there'll be more to go on at this crime scene," Joe says.

"We haven't found anything yet."

"We'll be there in five."

"See you then."

Joe turns towards Rachel. "Hang on."

"Oh shit." Fastening her seatbelt, Rachel plants her feet firmly on the floor then grabs the bar above the door.

Joe chuckles. "Aren't you being a little extreme over there?"

"Not the way you drive, I'm not."

Laughing, Joe pulls away.

Joe and Rachel see forensics processing the scene when he pulls up to the bar. The detectives are busy interviewing a line of patrons.

Joe looks over to find Rachel peeling her hand off the door and chuckles again. "The ride wasn't that bad."

"The roller coaster I rode in Japan, the Takabisha, wasn't nearly as scary."

Joe meets up with Jerry halfway across the yard. "We have three victims, boss. Two are dead, and one is in ICU," Jerry says as they walk towards the crime scene.

"We have three victims this time?" Joe scratches his head. Something he does when he's deep in thought.

"I'm afraid so, boss. The last one lost so much blood they're not sure he will make it. He glances at the remaining ambulance and adds, "They had to shock him twice before getting him to the bus."

"Did he say anything before they hauled him away?"

"He was unresponsive."

"What about them?" Joe asks, pointing towards the customers.

Jerry glances around the crowd. "They claim they didn't see or hear a thing."

"Keep asking around. Maybe someone will tell us something. Find out if our victims have any enemies and what their records are like."

"I can tell you that they all have at least one DUI; I gave it to them when I was in the field."

"Find out what else is on their rap sheet."

"Yes, boss."

Joe watches Kirk busily searching the ground as he walks towards him. "What can you tell me, Son?"

"They were killed the same way as our first victim, a bullet-shaped object to the artery, but only one took a beating this time."

Joe scans the crowd. "The perp might have been rushed."

"Maybe; the bartender said the lady left first and the couple about ten minutes later."

"Is there any evidence?" Joe asks as he glances around.

"We haven't found any yet, and their cameras haven't worked in years."

"I can't believe someone can just waltz right in, kill three people, not be seen, heard, or leaves anything behind. That's just impossible."

"We'll keep looking, Sir."

"You do that and let me know what you find."

"Yes, Sir."

Jerry walks towards them. "Boss, I found a group that says they saw the couple leave. Said they heard scuffling in the parking lot but thought they were still arguing. According to them, they'd been fighting all night."

"They didn't see anyone besides the two victims?"

"No, Sir."

"Keep asking."

"Copy that, Sir."

***

Peeking in, Nancy finds Matilda sound asleep in her bed. The poor dear has been through so much the past few weeks. It's no wonder she's been so stern with us. I'd probably be upset too, losing the last of my family and my home in the same month. Hopefully, she'll settle in now that his funeral is over. The nursing assistant starts to close Matilda's door when she notices bloody clothes lying across the trash can. I thought Lisa said she had taken care of them. She probably didn't want to risk getting her clothes soiled or break one of her fake nails she spends hundreds of dollars on. Sometimes I wonder how that prissy germaphobe became a nurse at all. I guess the better question is why she chose this profession to begin with? She doesn't care about her patients, and we do most of her work, everything but pass her pills. It's the only thing she does with a hint of enthusiasm. Maybe that's why she's here; she's pocketing the drugs and then selling them on the street. That'd explain how she can afford that fancy car and all her expensive jewelry. It would also explain why the residents are in such pain on the nights she works. She exchanges placebos for the real stuff. I remember hearing about her med count being off on several occasions. The nights she's loopier than usual. I think I'll talk to the DON about my suspicions in the morning. Maybe do a little investigation between now and then. She scoops up her clothes and throws them in a sack. She then notices Matilda's cane lying across the table with the rubber ferrule in front of it. She's going to need it to get to breakfast. She grabs the two pieces and starts to snap them together. Why is it wet inside, and why does it smell like a salad? Nancy sees baking soda and vinegar on the table. I bet she cleaned it before she went to bed. Why would Granny choose those things instead of soap and water; does it preserve the wood or something? I'll have to ask her about it when she gets up. Placing the cane on the table, she tiptoes out the door.