Read Black Princess Mystery Online
Authors: Jim Power
“All?”
“There’s
the rub,” he said meaningfully. “We learned he may be hiding one set. An
anonymous caller told McNab that Mr. Power has a little shed behind the store.
Apparently you can’t see it from the road, but it’s down a path at the south
side of the parking lot. Do you know it?”
“I’m aware
of it. I’ve lived here practically my whole life.”
“We’re
going to snoop around,” Thorston said. “McNab wanted to speak with Mr. Power
first, but when he gets back, we’re taking a little stroll. We might find
something of interest out there.”
“Is he
under suspicion?”
“Apparently
Mr. Power and Mr. Murphy had conflicts dealing with allegations of cheating in
a golf tournament, but I’m sure you’re perfectly aware of this.”
“I know
about it,” she said.
“We’re
going to check the shed and see what happens.”
“Call me
back later tonight when you’re alone,” Tasheka said.
“Why?” he
asked. “Business or personal?”
“We’ll do
business and then maybe we’ll do personal.”
He
laughed.
“I’m
serious, Thorston. Don’t be afraid to tell me even the smallest tidbit of
information because it might trigger something in my mind.”
He did not
respond.
“I want
the murderer found more than you do. I’ll work with you in any way I can, but I
want the same commitment. What passes between us stays between us. If you’re
not kosher with that, tell me now.”
“I’d love
to solve this murder,” Thorston said thoughtfully. “It’s big in the media
because he was a priest.”
“Are you
in or out?”
“Put your
cards on the table,” he said in the tone of a negotiator.
“We work
together and share information. If you want to run a lead by me, anything, I’m
all ears. It will be the same with me sharing anything I learn with you.”
Thorston
said nothing.
“This is
your last chance. In or out?”
“I’ll do
what I can,” he surrendered, “but under no circumstances do you ever reveal
that we have any kind of arrangement.”
“Agreed.”
She paused. “You mentioned some strange killings the day you took my statement.
What did you mean by that?”
“I told
you these killings occurred far from here,” he said, apparently keen on proving
he would observe their new pact. “I said that so as not to frighten you. The
killings actually occurred within two-hundred miles of Lakeside. They started
six months ago and have been reported simply as homicides. There was no mention
of amputations.”
“Amputations?”
Tasheka said, struck by the word.
“In each
of the killings, at least one body part was cut off. There were two feet and
even a man’s penis and testicles. I know you’re studying this stuff. Does
anything strike you?”
“Trophies,”
Tasheka mumbled. “But something’s odd.”
“What?”
“Cutting
off a man’s penis and testicles sounds like the work of a woman,” she
speculated. “Are you sure all the murders were related?”
“There are
definite similarities.”
“Tell me
more.”
He paused
for several seconds. “It’s generally believed that all the killings were
carried out because of drug debts, and the amputations were some kind of
message. In each case the victim was bludgeoned to death, just like Murphy. He
is the sixth known victim who fits this pattern. The department has not
officially warned the public of a serial killer, but I’ll let you draw your own
conclusions.”
“I have to
know something.”
“What?” he
asked tentatively.
“Was there
anything done to Father Tim’s body?”
“What do
you mean?”
“You know
what I mean. Was there an amputation, as in those other cases?”
He paused
for several seconds.
“Tell me.
It’s important.”
“Yes,” he
surrendered.
“What was
it?”
“His right
hand was cut off.”
Tasheka
squinted and unconsciously flexed her right hand, the same one that had touched
the bloody hatchet.
“McNab’s
pretty sure the mutilation was carried out with some kind of sharp ax or
hatchet.” He paused. “A green one.”
“How does
he know that?”
“Green
paint got deposited on the bone of the arm.” He cleared his throat. “He was
walloped across the back of the head three times with the nine-iron.”
“What a
brutal death.”
Thorston
waited for several seconds but Tasheka did not respond. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” she
said in a quiet voice. “I had no idea.”
“There’s
one oddity, though,” he confided. “The fifth killing took place in November and
was different in the sense that this victim had no relation to the drug world
and he was the only murder victim who once lived in our jurisdiction. Because
of that, McNab has been assisting the investigators in any way he can.”
“Did the
fifth victim have a criminal record?”
“He was a
registered sex offender.”
Tasheka
seemed to be struck by this information. “What was the nature of his offense?”
“He had
sexually assaulted an elderly woman in her home. He’s the one who lost his equipment.
A pickax from his own garden had been driven through his head and it literally
pegged him to the ground. The son of the elderly woman and several of his
cousins were questioned, but all of them were released because of insufficient
evidence. McNab thinks one of the cousins did it, but he hasn’t been able to
establish anything. Not yet anyway.”
“That’s
interesting,” she said. “It sure sounds like we have a serial killer on our
hands.”
“No one
was ever charged in any of these murders,” Thorston told her, “but the cousin
McNab is interested in was trained as a meat cutter and has a long history of
trouble with the law.”
“What kind
of trouble?”
“Assaults
mainly,” Thorston said. “He nearly killed a man who sexually assaulted his
younger sister when he was only fifteen, but two of the other cousins swear
this man was with them the night of the murder.”
“What do
you think?”
“I’m not
sure if he did it or not, but I am sure that his cousins would lie even if he
did. With his record, he’d never see freedom again if he lived to be one
hundred. It wouldn’t matter that he was avenging the elderly woman. They’d
throw the book at him. Maybe this is a case of rallying around the family.”
“Partly,”
Tasheka said, “but I’m sure the department has made this case a low priority.
Not too many detectives are going to lose sleep over finding the person who
killed a rapist, especially when the victim was an old woman.”
“We
investigate all murders equally,” Thorston assured her. “McNab has probably put
in two-hundred hours on that case alone, and technically it’s not even ours.
Even though that man had done something horrible, he still had a mother and
father who loved him. I was there the day McNab promised them he would give
that case everything he had. And he’s kept his promise. He’s trying as hard as
he can, Tasheka. That’s his nature.”
“I don’t
buy it,” Tasheka dismissed. “I know you think McNab can walk on water, but I
say it’s human nature to treat victims differently. If a much-loved and
well-respected village priest is killed, you pull out all the stops, but if a
sex predator dies, that’s a whole different ballgame.”
“When we
finish here, we’re calling it a night. Are you tired or could I see you?”
“Where?”
“I could
drive McNab back to the office and then pick you up. I’ll show you my place.”
“No,” she
said. “Come here. My mother will be in bed asleep by then. We’ll have some hot
chocolate and watch a movie or something.”
“Okay,” he
said excitedly.
Two hours
later she heard a knock and opened the door to Thorston. He looked nervous, but
also eager. Tasheka invited him in and remained patient while he, like everyone
else who saw her house for the first time, marveled at the high ceilings,
chandeliers, statues of angels, and gleaming hardwood floors. She told him her
mother had gone to bed long ago, but to keep his voice down anyway. She led him
into the kitchen where she heated some milk and made hot chocolate. Tasheka had
been impressed by him from the beginning, but now, in this informal setting,
she studied him more clearly and liked what she saw even more than she had
before.
“Would you
like to watch a movie?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered
immediately.
They
walked into a small room at the back of the house that contained a couch, two
recliner chairs, a propane fireplace and a big screen television. Tasheka held
out her hand, inviting him to sit down, and locked the door after she closed
it. She turned on the fireplace and put on an old black and white movie. It was
some romantic comedy he said he had never seen before. Tasheka laughed and said
she had never seen it before either, but they watched it for twenty minutes in
silence. Suddenly she shuffled closer to him and he put his arm around her.
“I’ve been
really stressed out over this,” she said, looking up at him with tired eyes.
“My whole body is so tense it feels like it’s going to break.”
“You do
feel tense,” Thorston said.
Tasheka
unexpectedly pulled away from him and moved forward, sitting on the edge of the
couch. Thorston tentatively placed his hands on her shoulders and started to
lightly rub. She could tell he was nervous and would pull away if she gave him
the slightest indication that she was uncomfortable, but she didn’t. She moaned
lightly and lowered her head, pulling her hair to the side. Thorston took this
as an invitation and massaged more deeply, gently rubbing her neck and
shoulders. She moaned again, moving her head back and forth in little circles.
Then she leaned back and stared at him. He slowly moved forward and pressed his
lips to hers, but only lightly, giving her the chance to withdraw before it
went too far. Tasheka had no intention of pulling back. She put her hand on the
back of his neck and pulled him forward, kissing him passionately and sliding
her tongue into his mouth. He instantly responded, sliding his tongue into her
mouth, and they kissed wildly, like untamed creatures that have discovered the
opposite sex for the first time. They pulled their mouths apart, stared at
each, and breathed fast as they rubbed their tongues together.
“I am so
tense,” she said, pulling his face down to the top of her exposed cleavage. Her
breasts were fairly large and creamy soft. “Do you like it?” she asked as he
kissed her dark skin.
“Yes,” he
said, almost panting.
“Undo my
blouse,” she said with the look of a vixen, leaning against the back of the
couch.
Thorston
sat up and with fumbling fingers undid all the small buttons, spreading open
her blouse. “Oh, my God,” he said, looking at her with eyes wide open. “You are
so beautiful.”
Staring
into his eyes, she leaned slightly forward, unhooked her bra and lifted it up,
exposing her naked breasts. They were soft ebony with large areola and nipples
which pointed out at least an inch. “Suck,” she said. “Relax me.”
Thorston
leaned over and started licking her breasts, his tongue soon stroking her
nipples. Tasheka purred like a cat as he licked and sucked them, bringing her
nipples to an even greater height. He squeezed them and groaned in ecstasy at
the soft, pliable flesh kneading between his fingers. Even after five minutes
of ravenous kissing, his hunger did not seem in the least abated. If anything,
he was growing more desirous, and that made Tasheka feel incredibly hot.
“Do you
like it?” she asked, pulling his handsome face away from her breasts.
“It’s so
good,” he stammered as he looked at her with pleading eyes. “Can I taste you?”
Her heart
pounded. “You want to go down on me?”
“Yes,” he
answered breathlessly.
“I think I
need it,” Tasheka said. “Kneel down in front of the fireplace.”
Thorston
did as instructed and looked at her with a hopeful expression. Tasheka stood
up, unbuttoned her blouse at the wrists, took it off and then slipped off her
bra and laid them both on the couch. She turned to him and unsnapped her
slacks, pulling down the zipper. His eyes drifted down over her dark breasts,
the nipples glistening from where he had been sucking, and he watched as she
pulled her pants down. Tasheka laid them on the couch and faced him, wearing
only a pair of transparent white panties. She looked him in the eyes, slid her
fingers under the band and started to masturbate in front of him. Thorston
looked intoxicated, quite literally drunk, as he watched her hand move back and
forth, up and down.
“Please,”
he whispered, “let me taste you.”
She walked
to within two feet of him and pulled her panties down to her mid-thighs. “Taste
me where?” she teased.