Babes, Booze and Bullets

[Chickstick]

Eight: Photographs

 

I stare down at the photographs taken at the crime scene and try to stop my stomach from turning over. The first of the four women to be killed suffered the most. The photographs are almost a solid mass of red. This one had her eyes gouged out before she died. Whoever our killer is, he is one sick son of a bitch.

 

The second is not as bad, and I can look at this one without wanting to vomit. She was strangled; plain and simple, a crime that would to me normally suggest a sex attack. This woman though wasn’t raped. The only reason this murder has been lumped in with the others is because the timing and location of the crime was too close to the first to be a coincidence.

 

The third, then. She was older, this whore, at least fifty from the stretch marks visible on her bare stomach, and the morgue guys still aren’t quite clear how she bit the dust. I pray she didn’t suffer.

 

The fourth, much like the girl I saw shot dead a few nights ago, was killed in a drive by shooting. The morgue guys can tell this because of the trajectory of the bullets lodged in her back, or some scientific sh*t like that. All I know is, four women were murdered while I was out sleeping with another woman behind my fiancé’s back. I am screwed.

 

George comes up to me and goes through his usual morning ritual of offering me a doughnut, and I go through my usual morning ritual of declining it. I thank him anyway and try not to think about how good Kat was last night.

 

“You look tired,” he says after a short pause.

“I am,” I reply, and say no more.

“Oh.” He walks away.

 

George is a good man, but at times he seems to go off in his own little fantasy world. I don’t really want to know what he daydreams about. I’m guessing its Gwen.

 

I’m interrupted during this thought by Halliwell shouting my name, seething. He’s still mad. Not that I can blame him, really.

 

Looking up, I ask him, “Yes, Henry?”

“That’s Sir to you, Ross” he replies, and jerks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the door. “Your lady friend wants to see you.”

 

My lady friend? Damn, if Kat turns up here and starts arguing about why I got up and left while she was still asleep this morning, I’ll be f*cked. The assholes in the station will delight in telling Gwen all about it.

 

I steel myself and walk through to see Gwen standing there, waiting for me, and looking just as she probably did last night while she was waiting for me to come home.

 

“John?” Her voice is hoarse. A sound like she didn’t have a particularly good night at the strip joint- her voice always goes when she’s upset.

“Hey, Gwen,” are the only words I can find to say. She walks quickly, almost jogs to me and pretty much collapses into my arms. This time I can think of many things to say.

“Gwen, what’s the matter?”

 

She looks into my face with beautiful, tear filled eyes and whispers, “Last night I killed a man.”

Edited March 16, 2008 by Chickstick

[longkissgoodnight]

Awesome chapter. By the way - out of curiosity - how long is this story going to be? Like how many chapters all together?

[Vercetti21]

Wow dude, great f*cking twist! This plot is going in all kinds of crazy directions, where anything and everything could happen. I love it - flexible yet structured at the same time. As for the writing itself, superb work. I could only dream to have as good of a vocabulary as you.

[Chickstick]

how long is this story going to be? Like how many chapters all together?

Quite long. I won't put a limit on the number of chapters, but I'm thinking it will be over fifty, at least, as there are still about three new characters to introduce- hell, I haven't even had Ross meet Carl Freeman yet, and he was mentioned quite early in the story.

 

Thanks for the comments.

[-/TNT\-]

Another enjoyable read. Interesting twist at the end; who is the man she killed?

[Oxidizer]

3 things I like about this:

 

A. Your style - it's beyond excellent. I like the phrases you use and its rawness and how real it is.

B. The way the main character (I really suck at remembering names - sorry) instantly thought of Kate whereas it was actually Gwen who was waiting for him. I don't know, but it made him seem that more human and real.

C. Kind of twisted - love how strangluation instantly evokes a sex-related murder theory. 'Tis a sexual/control thing all right. *sni**ers*

 

Ahem. With that, good job!

[Chickstick]

Thanks for the comments, lads. The next chapter'll be up this weekend, or at the very earliest tomorrow night.

[Chickstick]

Nine: Gwen's Tale

 

I take her arm and walk out with her. Halliwell shouts something about being pulled in front of a disciplinary board for this, but I don’t care. All I care about is Gwen. I notice her looking at me out of the corner of my eye and turn to face her. She glances away sharply and stares at the pavement. Looking at her now, I wonder how I could ever have been so stupid to do what I did. I’ll probably think that up until a second after I see Kat again.

 

We move quickly down the deserted street, looking for a place to stop and talk. There’s nobody about, not even any addicts, and the all-powerful quiet unnerves me a little. A big street in a big city like this should never be completely silent.

 

Finally we come to two overturned wooden chairs, left in an alleyway behind a bar. I motion for her to sit, and she does. I bend down so I’m slightly below her eye level, and look her straight in the face. She’s started to cry again.

 

“Gwen, honey, what happened?” I ask her.

She’s silent for a few seconds, and eventually answers, “There was a guy waiting for me outside the club last night. He…” she sobs. “He grabbed me from behind, and whispered something in my ear. I was so scared I couldn’t make it out. He dragged me into the bushes and…”

I grasp her hands and frown slightly. I know what’s coming.

“He tried to rape me. Some f*cker tried to rape me, less than twenty feet from the club. I could hear the music inside while he was trying to rip my blouse off. I tried to scream for help but he’d slapped a bit of tape over my mouth. Christ, John, I was scared. I was so scared.”

I pull her closer to me and hold her. She weeps, and I think about saying something like “it’s alright.” I decide not to. After all, when somebody says that, you know it’s the exact opposite of being alright.

 

She says nothing for a few minutes, and neither do I. There’s nothing to say in a situation like this.

 

Gwen continues, “He’d ripped my shirt off and was running his hands all over my stomach. I felt sick at his touch. It was when he moved his hands further down that I panicked. I lost it and somehow managed to bang him backwards a few feet to the wall. I felt him hit it, and there was a crack. I think his arm broke, because all at once he let go of me and screamed a little. It was then I stood on his neck while he was on the floor.”

 

I gape at her. “Christ, Gwen. You broke his neck?”

She nods. “As soon as I felt the bones in his neck give way under my foot I ran. I knew he was dead, and even if he wasn’t, I didn’t care. He would be dead before anyone found him.”

I ask, “Where did you go from there?”

“Back home. I expected you to be in, but you weren’t. I waited four hours for you to come home, John. Four hours. Eventually I fell asleep, and when I woke up again I came straight to the station. I was so glad you were there, John. So glad.”

 

So this is what Gwen was doing last night while I was out f*cking Kat. Almost being raped. I feel sick. I’m an asshole.

 

She grabs onto me and buries her face in my shirt. I can feel her tears running through it. I was wrong last night. Gwen is the one I love. Not that slut Kat. I’ll break it off. I have to. For both of us.

 

Suddenly, as if reading my mind, she darts her head up at me and asks me, “Where were you last night, John?”

 

Sh*t.

Edited March 16, 2008 by Chickstick

[flicko]

t read throught the whole story, it's remarkable. Had me gripped throughout. Nice one, Chickstick. I like the ending of chapter nine aswell, nicely panned out.

[Chickstick]

Cheers, flicko. Glad you liked it.

[longkissgoodnight]

Awesome chapter!

[-/TNT\-]

You've got a nice way of ending each chapter.

[Chickstick]

You've got a nice way of ending each chapter.

Yeah, I have a habit of using cliffhangers a lot, and maybe more than I should do, but I don't think it disrupts the flow of the story in any way. Keeps 'em coming back for more.

[Oxidizer]

Whoa.

 

Didn't see that coming at all - any of it. I wonder what John's gonna do now that his fiancé's killed (albeit in self-defence).

 

You gotta update again soon as!

[Chickstick]

You gotta update again soon as!

I'll update again in a few days; give people time to catch up. I'm almost halfway through this now, and I'm really enjoying doing this. I've started plans for a sequel already...

 

You know, I've only ever seen that :cool; smilie used about four times.

[longkissgoodnight]

Hey Chickstick - I seen that you put a picture of a town and you wrote the name for it which is: Harville: a story of a town. And you updated a little plot for it - but I don't understand it - you mind elaborating on it more? Like what is wrong with the town and what is the story exactly about? Is it like Aliens attacking a town or a virus spreading?

[Chickstick]

All will be revealed in good time, my friend, all in good time. I don't want to give too much of the plot away now, but if you want I'll PM with some details before I start it.

[longkissgoodnight]

Yes, pm me please.

[Chickstick]

Ten: Natasha

 

My mind races. What the hell can I say?

 

The lie comes out much more easily than I expected it to.

“I was drinking. At a bar in the Jewish quarter. I guess, what with the last couple of days, with these whores, O’Leary… I lost track of time. I’m so sorry, Gwen.”

She smiles, and says, “It doesn’t matter.”

She’s believed the lie, thank God.

 

She stands up and says, “Well, I’d better be getting back. I’ll be at the apartment if you want me for anything.”

“Gwen, don’t go. I’ll come back with you. The job can wait.”

She shakes her head. “No, no. You need to get out there and find a serial killer. I’ll be alright by myself. I need to sleep anyway.”

“Okay. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. See you later, John.”

She kisses me tenderly on the lips and I wonder again how I could ever have considered leaving her. I watch her go.

 

As soon as she’s rounded the corner, I lean back against the wall and slide down, holding my head in my hands. I feel ready to vomit. Last night, while my future wife was being f*cking raped, I was out screwing some slut who left me nearly ten years ago. Bastard.

 

It’s then that I hear the squeal of tyres and the thump, followed by a scream. I pull myself up and dash into the street, just in time to see a car door slamming, shutting off the woman lying on the tarmac that has obviously just been thrown out. She’s holding her head, and I can see blood running down her face. She hasn’t uttered a sound since the scream, and for one horrible moment I think she’s been knocked out, her skull crushed into her brain on the hard ground, but thankfully she looks round at me and croaks, “Help.”

 

The car, a black saloon, screeches away from her and vanishes into the next street. It has no license plates.

 

I run to the woman sprawled on the ground and ask her, “Christ, are you okay?”

She nods grimly and says, “Yeah, I’m fine. They just got a little drunk and wanted to take it too far. You know how some tricks are.”

She doesn’t know I’m a cop. I intend to keep it that way, at least until I can learn her name.

“What’s your name, honey?”

“What’s yours, handsome?”

“John Ross.” What the hell, I think, I’ll tell her. “I’m a cop.”

 

She flutters her eyelashes at me and replies, “Well, if it isn’t your lucky day. I’m Natasha Land, and I’m a whore. I have some information you may find useful.”

I can tell already that this is the kind of woman who can wrap you round her little finger without breaking a sweat.

I raise an eyebrow and ask, “What about?”

She says, “Why, Carl Freeman, of course!”

Edited March 16, 2008 by Chickstick

[-/TNT\-]

Let's just say I quoted my last post.

 

It's cool to see that John really expresses his feelings, like right after Gwen left. Really adds to making him more human, even though he's a cop in a city that's choke-full off corruption and crime.

 

[longkissgoodnight]

Awesome!

[Vercetti21]

Finally caught up on the two chapters I missed, and what can I say other than excellent work. With the exception of some minor (and very few) grammatical errors, the writing is flawless. The characters are all unique and alive, I seriously feel so attached to all of them. I actually care about what happens to them and where they're going in the story, and I love that.

 

But what truly stands out is where you're going with this plot. Each chapter adds a whole new layer of thickness to the trials and (few) triumphs of John, and the cliffhangers at the end each foreshadow the upcoming events perfectly.

 

Magnificent work.

[Chickstick]

Thanks everyone.

[Chickstick]

Eleven: Information

 

It’s been four hours since the whore, Natasha Land, told me everything I wanted to know about Carl Freeman. She refused to tell me how she came about the information, and why she was telling me it. I decided not to push it.

 

Natasha (“Call me Landy” she said, as if we had known each other for years) is a pretty young woman who is old before her time. Her eyes seem excited yet sad at the same time. She’ll have seen things out on the streets that would drive some lesser folk insane.

 

According to my stool pigeon, Freeman isn’t the actual head of the drug smuggling business, he’s just heavily involved in it. The only reason he is so high up is because he’s too stupid to go against his superior’s word. He was the only one the boss knew was enough of an idiot to blindly follow everything they said.

 

“Did Freeman kill the girl?” I asked her, and her reply was “yes and no”. I take it by that, that he issued the executive order to execute her, but had one of his thugs do the actual shooting. He wouldn’t get his hands dirty, oh no.

 

The little house I was watching when the girl was killed is a front for the racket, I’m told. So at least I was right on one thing. There was always something a little bit… “off” is the best word for it- about that building.

 

O’Leary knew about it from the start, and was being paid to keep quiet about it. His death apparently was a suicide, brought on by excessive amounts of alcohol and coke in his system. He probably slipped the rope round his neck to have a bit of fun. Lord knows I’ve seen junkies do worse while high. The first death I ever investigated was a guy who had jumped off a twenty-storey building into a bonfire below. His skin was burned to a crisp, and the rats had gnawed some of his flesh away. I had nightmares for months.

 

All this, though, doesn’t explain why all these whores are being murdered. I’m convinced they’re all connected, but nobody else in the department seems to give a f*ck, so I’m on my own. Even Gacy made excuses and left the room when I asked for some help looking through some files to see if there were any known killers who specialised in murders like the ones plaguing the city at the moment.

 

None of them were vicious enough.

 

The only one that even came close was a guy named Wayne Perce, who tortured his cheating wife with a carving knife before ripping her chest open and eating her heart while she was still alive. They found the knife wedged in the wife’s stomach. She had been six months pregnant. Perce, needless to say, had been executed by lethal injection.

 

It appears then that our killer is new, or at least is not known to us yet. It doesn’t appear to be Carl Freeman, so who is it? He was my only suspect, and the case will be closed if I don’t get any leads soon. I light a cigarette and rub my forehead, feeling the onset of a migraine.

 

I sit like this for five minutes, wondering who the hell is mutilating and murdering these poor hookers, when Gacy comes in to my office and looks at me blankly.

 

“What?” I snap, a bit harshly. After all, it’s not his fault I’m getting nowhere with the case.

“They’ve found another one. Down at the docks, this time.”

“Oh, sh*t…” I mumble.

“And…” he stumbles over his words, “oh, Jesus, John, he did it with an axe.”

[longkissgoodnight]

Awesome!

[Chickstick]

Thanks. I wasn't best pleased with that chapter, as it felt a little bit too much like exposition to me. As you can probably tell, dialogue is my weakest point, and I just couldn't work out a way to write the above chapter as a conversation between John and Natasha without making it sh*te, really.

 

@Vercetti21: I'm liking the new look, mate. I've seen the image in your signature somewhere before, what's it from?

Edited March 16, 2008 by Chickstick

[longkissgoodnight]

It still sounds interesting - even though what you said about the dialogue.

[Oxidizer]

I couldn't see anything wrong with that at all. It was just as good as the other chapters (which are wicked BTW) so you have nothing to worry about there.

 

I like how dark and gritty this is - especially the viciousness about it and its characters. Keep that coming!

 

And I don't think I'm very good at dialogue either. That's the first stuff I write (like a script) so I don't come out with anything lame (all you have to do is see the first little convo between Nina and Carl in Products to know what I mean ). What I do to give the dialogue a better flow is to describe what the characters are doing in between sentences, instead of simply saying 'said/replied' etc.

 

Hope that helps.

[Chickstick]

 

That's the first stuff I write (like a script) so I don't come out with anything lame... What I do to give the dialogue a better flow is to describe what the characters are doing in between sentences, instead of simply saying 'said/replied' etc.

I like it.

 

I'll try that in the future, as I have always found writing dialogue to be the hardest part of writing- it always seems to me like every bit of speech that comes out of my characters' mouths is from the same person.

 

So, yeah, cheers for that.

[Vercetti21]

 

@Vercetti21: I'm liking the new look, mate. I've seen the image in your signature somewhere before, what's it from?

Thanks, and it is film noir, a result of a google image search that I thought just simply looked cool.

 

As for chapter 11, I agree that it is not your best, but it is understandable. Sometimes it's good to have chapters like these with mostly information rather than drama or action, and sometimes it is even necessary. Nothing wrong with that, and the cliffhanger at the end made up for it anyway! Nice work.

Edited March 16, 2008 by Vercetti21