The Tangerine Killer (3 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sam?”

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

“Go away Joe.”

“Come on Sam. Open the door.”

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

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

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

“You know what I want. Let me in.”

“Fat chance. Go home.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

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

“Go away. I’m working.”

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

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

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

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

“Good. Now do you get the message?”

“Message? I’ll give you a message.”

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

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

“You shouldn’t have just left.”

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

“You don’t own me Joe.”

“Don’t I?” he laughed.

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

“You arrogant bastard,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good God Sam, what the hell?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A mistake?”

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

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

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

“Shut up asshole,” I said.

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

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

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

“It’s okay.”

Olin put his hands on mine to stop my frenzied rustling. Then he took the pack from me and peeled off the tape with far more success than I had. I lit up in the doorway, feeling guilty and grateful all at the same time. The night air was damp and chilled. It felt good as it blew across my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps.

Olin stood with his arms crossed, watching me with a mildly curious look on his face.

“You shouldn’t smoke, you know.”

“Why do you think I wrapped these bad boys up so tight?” I said. “But it’s been one hell of a day.”

“You can say that again,” he said.

There was hesitation in his voice. I already knew what was coming next before he opened his mouth.

“I saw you at the funeral. You left without talking to me.”

He had me now.

“I was kind of pissed you guys took so long. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I guess we’re even then,” I said.

He cracked a smile. I tried not to look at his dimples or the way his brown eyes softened when they looked at me. Instead I stared at the floor. It was no good. I just couldn’t get involved with him. I’d broken too many rules already.

“So what did Frank say to you?”

“Not much. He was pretty drunk and out of his mind with grief.”

“Did you think he was really going to kill you?”

I rubbed my bruised chest, remembering the glazed look of desperation in Frank’s eyes. I shouldn’t have trusted him. But trusted him about what? Whatever secrets Frank was keeping, he’d just taken them to the grave. I didn’t think Olin would understand. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who kept any secrets at all.

“I guess. I don’t know. He never would have got that far.”

Olin raised an eyebrow.

“Kill or be killed,” I said.

“You know, you shouldn’t tell me stuff like that.”

“Why? Self-defense is legal.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t even want to know.”

They loaded Joe into the back of an ambulance and took off in a blaze of lights. I figured I’d probably said too much already. I needed to keep my mouth shut around Olin but he was just so damned easy to talk to.

“So what happens now?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

“I really need to get your statement,” he said. “I know it’s late and you’re tired. Can you come down to the precinct tomorrow?”

“I’ve got the funeral tomorrow.”

“You’re going then?” He looked surprised.

“Someone told me I should show I cared.”

“Yeah, right before you hung up on me.”

“What? No, I didn’t hang up on you. I dropped my phone in the river.”

“Really? You think I buy that?”

“It’s true.”

“Well perhaps I could meet you after, for lunch?”

I knew it. He wanted a date.

“I’ll stop by the precinct. I think it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep things professional.”

“Professional. Right,” he smiled.

But I was pretty sure I hadn’t dissuaded him.

“This is my last night here. I have to get back home,” I added.

“Uh huh,” he nodded.

“Seriously. I have a life to get back to.”

“And I’m sure your boyfriend will be glad to see you again.”

“I told you, Joe’s not my boyfriend.”

I snuffed out my cigarette with the toe of my boot.

“Good. I’m glad.”

He turned to leave, then pulled something out of his pocket.

“I’m supposed to give this to all victims of sexual assaults. In case you need to talk or something.”

I snatched it out of his hand. Victim’s services. Please. This thing with Joe was hardly a blip on the radar considering everything else I’d been through. If I hadn’t called them by now, I never would. Did I really look that weak and pathetic to Olin?

“Let’s get this straight. I’m not now nor have I ever been a victim.”

I tore the card up and tossed it at his feet.

“I know,” he said as he walked away.

Even from the back I could tell he was smiling.