| General Fiction posted May 1, 2016 | Chapters: |
Prologue 1 -2- 3... 
|
  |
Investigation Continues.
A chapter in the book Buttons
Joe and Cindy, Elizabeth, Charles
by jusylee72
| Background Joe talks in first person. Everyone else in Third. Joe was a badly abused, unwanted child. His mother was cruel. He was molested by the parish priest. This is story of his revenge. |
Joe and Cindy
I knew from the time I was twenty that very few girls would ever sleep with me. I was always good with money so I managed to save a certain amount each month for some manly pleasure. At first, I tried the whores who most men want. Long legged, short shorts, low cut, cheesy sluts but they were too quick and never really fulfilling. When I lucked into Cindy my life changed.
Cindy was more of a madam. She took care of the girls. She was almost as old as my Mother which both repulsed and excited me. The first time she offered to come to my house I was hesitant. She was a somewhat demanding woman.
When she came to see me she immediately took over.
"Undress, shower and come back in the living room. I have to see what I am working with, " she ordered. I did as she requested. When I came back in she stared at me, slowly smiled. "You are a gift to women. Rarely do I see such manhood, such virility. If you only knew how to use it."
I started to get excited but she told me, "Wait, you have to learn first."
That evening became the beginning of many lessons. She taught me how to use my fingers. How to use my tongue. How to tantalize and caress. She showed me the small place just inside a woman about the size of a quarter that when manipulated just right made a woman squirm with pleasure, how to fill a woman up with my manhood and make her beg for more.
"Gentle but firm, you know you are in control but all she feels is the pleasure of your body and the intensity of your willingness to give her satisfaction. As she gets close to climax back off just a little, say you need just a little longer then slowly and purposely get out of her, gently place your finger just inside until you find the perfect spot, play with it a little while then when re-entering, press directly on that spot. Always in control, until you feel her contracting, allow yourself to release when she suddenly sighs deeply. Then enjoy the moment and lose control for a few minutes. Afterwards, insist on snuggling and caress her arms slowly."
I treasured each word. Cindy was so patient, so understanding and she would allow me to lead, but stop if I showed weakness. Then she would insist I start over and try again.
But it was the end of each lesson that I loved.
"Go shower again, get dressed and come sit next to me on the couch."
She waited for me, so beautiful in her own way and when I sat next to her, she put her arm sweetly around me, pulled my head onto her shoulder and softly repeated over and over.
"You are my favorite. You will always be my favorite."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delaney and Mary
A police car drove Delaney to the crime scene. He hated to have other people drive but there was no choice at the moment.
"Mary, we have places to go. We'll take your car."
Mary didn't drive like a detective. Ten and two on the steering wheel at all times. She started to brake thirty feet from the car in front of her.
'I wonder if she has ever driven over 60 miles an hour. Who is this young girl and why is she doing this?" Delaney couldn't turn off his detective mind. He questioned everything.
It was too early to go to Shorty's, so they decided to go to a diner. They could talk over breakfast.
Her order proved just how much of a Rookie she truly was. She ordered an English Muffin, Coffee, and Orange Juice. He knew he would need the "Supreme" breakfast, three eggs, hash browns, toast, bacon, sausage, and ham. If they got a got a lead today, stopping and eating would be off the agenda. Sometimes, it was the next day before eating became a possibility.
"Did you review the case I sent you?"
Mary felt annoyed by his tone. Delaney obviously didn't know her work ethic yet. Singing Opera, a highly technical and emotional skill, demanded vigilance. She knew numerous languages, different composers, the nuances of each musical era. Her looks and voice might be enough to get her an audition but it was the attention to detail that kept her working. Contrary to most beliefs, stuck-up divas are not welcomed in the professional music world, which is precisely why her husband couldn't keep a job. William thought he was a gift to music instead of realizing music was the gift to him. Mary pursued everything she wanted to do with a perfectionist attitude.
For a brief moment, she thought about her marriage.
"Details, Details." William would repeat those words over and over. If he didn't like the way the dishes were in the dishwasher, he would take them out one by one showing her how they were still dirty.
"I am detail oriented but not when it comes to things I don't care about. If he doesn't like the way I do dishes then he can do them himself." Mary pulled her mind back to the present.
"I have a connection to this case," Mary said.
Surprise filled Delaney's eyes.
"A Connection?"
"Yes, Father John Mac Murphy, the victim. He taught at the Catholic School I went to when I was young."
"What do you know about him?
"He was strict, especially to the girls. He loved to joke with the boys but he seemed to take pleasure in telling the girls all about the sins of the flesh. Some of the girls tried to roll up their skirts to make them shorter, but we knew to pull them down before we went to his class. My friend Elizabeth forgot to pull down her skirt one day. I can never forget what he did to her."
She described it to Delaney as if viewing a movie.
"Sit down," he yelled, ruler in hand. "Put your hands on the desk. This is for your own good."
With each hit of the knuckles, he would spit out vicious accusations.
"Do you want to open your legs so men can know you? That is what you are telling them. Men can't control themselves when they see whores of women flaunting their bodies."
"With each hit, his anger increased. One of Elizabeth's fingers actually broke. I heard it crack. Finally, Elizabeth became brave enough to get up and run out of the school. I wanted to follow her but I was too scared.'
"Her parents withdrew her immediately. I think they filed a lawsuit. I don't know what became of her, I never saw her again."
"I researched Father Mac last night. Several years after I left that school he became Head Master." Mary restrained herself from sarcastically saying the Catholic system rewarded him for his cruelty. "One thing for sure. He always favored the boys."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joe
Telling Mother
When I was Twelve I started to figure out what Father Mac Murphy was doing to me was wrong. He started spending less and less time with me. I saw some of the younger boys going towards his office. I can't believe it took me so long to realize how he was using me for some sick pleasure. As I grew, I learned what he was doing with me was sinful. It was wrong in the eyes of the Church. It was wrong in the eyes of the world.
Back then I still had a small belief that my Mother loved me. One night when Mother was being unusually nice to me I told her what he had done.
The slap came seconds afterward.
"How dare you accuse a man of the church of this unspeakable act."
"What the hell are you thinking?"
"I knew you were not meant to live. I even tried to stop it. But the church wouldn't allow it and you were born. You brought me shame then and you still do now."
She slapped me again.
"You will never speak of this again."
And I didn't - until one night with Cindy.
She listened so softly and it calmed me. That night there was no lesson. We just talked. She spoke comforting words and sat with me on the couch. It ended in my favorite way.
"You are my favorite. You will always be my favorite."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delaney and Mary finished eating.
"I'm not impressed with the original investigation into Mac Murphy's death." He made sure he hid the fact that Mary, at least so far, seemed to know what she was doing.
He handed Mary a copy of the original report.
"There has to be a reason the school is connected to this. How long has it been since you were at school there?"
"Almost ten years now."
Delaney caught it first. The initial investigation conducted by local cops assumed Mac Murphy, a priest, must be a good guy. They did a cursory investigation of his computer, searched his home, looking for suspects. They found little or nothing on it. Way too little. That bothered Delaney. From what Mary said Mac Murphy might not be without sins of his own. The man was intelligent. He wouldn't have left out in the open incriminating evidence. They didn't take his computer to forensics. They didn't check for hidden walls or hiding places. His computer showed nothing but bible studies. His obvious affection for young boys could lead to other possibilities.
The local investigation never thought to ask"Why" he was the victim.
Be realistic, No man was that innocent. No ugly emails. No pictures of women. Three years before Delaney investigated another priest. He seemed so innocent. He discovered most priests were experts at hiding their carnal side.
"Let's go look at Mac Murphy's apartment."
The priests stayed in a building next to the school. Police tape still blocked the door. The custodian let them in.
They noticed immediately just how clean this place was, impulsively clean.
Even his socks were folded neatly in the drawers. Everything had a place. There were lists everywhere, on his desk, in the bathroom, in the bedroom, the closet. Everywhere, "Rules for living."
The knives and forks were meticulously put in the kitchen drawer. All the same direction, no space between.
Obsessive-compulsive. Excessively neat. Everything has a place. Cleanliness. Lists of rules for himself. So many clues. all missed by non-detective minds.
"Mary", he instructed, "Look for something out of place. Look for something that doesn't seem right."
Mary followed directions. In the bedroom, she noticed a slight discoloration in the paneling on the bedroom wall. One panel was newer than the others. It was a small detail, but once she noticed it. It struck her as odd.
Why would one panel be different than the others? Someone had replaced it.
"Delaney," she called, "I think I have found something."
He agreed. They both fingered the panel. It was loose. Delaney pressed on it, first at the top, then slowly he kept pushing until it popped open. Inside, in a chronological order dated videotapes filled the hidden shelves. Next to the videos were explicit handwritten diaries in beautiful leather bound journals.
Delaney felt sick after reading the first page. The rantings of a pedophile filled book after book. Long narratives portraying stories of abuse covered the pages. Yet, in the authors' voice, the writing was full of loving interactions between men and young boys.
"Look at this self-serving son of a bitch." Delaney couldn't control his language when he spoke about it. "He believed he was called to make young boys know the pleasures of the world. He especially liked the boys without fathers. He could pretend he was teaching them how to be a man."
Mary noticed the dates. The writing started two years before Mary came to the school. The last one was right before Father Mac died.
Great evidence, important night for the investigation yet Delaney knew many more doors or hidden cabinets had to be opened before he had a chance to solve this one. He left the words in his thoughts.
"The man deserved it. Whoever did this might just be a hero."
--------------------------------------------------------------
The next day Delaney was confused. He was trying to fit the two murders together.
The buttons are the only connection. The two crimes are completely different.
Mac Murphy
Priest
Pedophile
Blunt object probably a hammer to the head
Left in the dirt
Frown created by buttons with religious symbols
Waitress
Sexually assaulted
Carved and humiliated
No religious connection
Strangled first, mutilated later
Cleaned meticulously
Gaudy Smile Created by buttons
Delaney searched the archives for button crimes. Nothing came up.
So far, only two unrelated murders.
Mary sat across him at the same diner they had gone to the last time. He again ordered a large plate of food. Mary still was eating conservatively.
"The first question is obvious," Mary listened. " Where do the buttons come from?"
He began making a list of where they would go next.
1. Button factory
2. The church - They would need a list of all the students who attended in the last 13 years. Now that molested children were involved, the case had to be opened to the FBI. We need to a public meeting for the families. Both current students and past students would have to be interviewed.
3. Shorty's Barbecue - to talk to the staff. See if they knew anything. The bar was close by. They needed to interview the workers there quickly. Memories fade fast.
The manager was nervous. Sure the girls dressed a little revealing in here but that couldn't be the reason for a murder.
"Should we be afraid?"
Delaney looked surprised when Mary spoke up.
Only one waitress had anything negative to say about her.
"I didn't like the way she treated some of her customers. If they were going to be fun, she would go all out for that table. She was rude to the ones who weren't up to her standards. I had the section next to her that night. She played up to a table of Jocks. They ate it up. But the guy at the next table basically got ignored. He wasn't a bad looking guy, I have waited on him before. He did seem awkward. He had trouble starting a conversation and he always came in alone. However, I was nice to him and he always left me a great tip. I remember Destiny was joking with the jock table. She whispered some sexual jokes to the jocks, I think they might have been about him. She was furious that night when he left her three pennies as a tip."
The jock table all paid with individual cash cards. They would be easy to find. The lone guy paid in cash. No lead there.
Would someone really kill over bad service? Maybe not, but many murderers will kill when a person humiliates them in public. It was a definite lead.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joe
Cockroaches are hard to kill. My house sometimes has those three-inch tree ones that find their way into your kitchen. I keep a clean house, but somehow a few always find a way in.
This one was extremely large. I named him Charles. He avoided me for three days straight. I would catch a fleeting glimpse of him and then he would find some small crack to magically disappear into. Maybe I should have named him Houdini, but Charles it was. I turned the lights on late one night and I managed to see him in the middle of the kitchen. He had too far to go and I stepped on him full force with my slippers. When I lifted my foot that little bugger scurried away. I brought out the bug spray. I sprayed until I couldn't breathe anymore and then went to bed. Sure enough the next morning he was laying in the kitchen on his back. Even then when I lightly touched him his legs would still move. Finally several hours later he was still.
Humans have protection too. They are not that easy to kill. Since Father Mac Murphy was my first, I quickly found out the human body fights death.
I followed his moves. I went to church several Sundays until I found the perfect time to make things right. There was an announcement during the service about Father Mac Murphy.
"We are honored that our very own Father Mac Murphy has been invited to Italy for an audience with the Pope. This brings great honor to our church and our community. We wish him well as he leaves early Tuesday morning."
This would give me the opportunity I needed. I watched him for weeks. Every night he went for a walk in the woods behind the church at nine o'clock, his flask of Whisky in his hand.
He had plans to call a taxi at one in the morning to take him to the airport. That call would never be made. The Church would assume he was in Rome. They wouldn't know anything was wrong for at least two weeks.
I waited on his path. Hammer in hand ready to strike. I am not a small man and I am very strong. Hatred also makes you stronger. When he rounded the path, I waited until he had the flask up gulping his favorite beverage. I struck him in the back of the head hard. In my innocence, I thought that would be enough. He fell down hard and grabbed his head confused and scared, not sure what had just happened. So I quickly struck again. This one made him fall to the ground but he kept trying to get up.
All in all, it took me ten vicious blows before he would stay down. Even then he reminded me of Charles, feet still moving. Eventually, blood filled the path and it was over.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I knew from the time I was twenty that very few girls would ever sleep with me. I was always good with money so I managed to save a certain amount each month for some manly pleasure. At first, I tried the whores who most men want. Long legged, short shorts, low cut, cheesy sluts but they were too quick and never really fulfilling. When I lucked into Cindy my life changed.
Cindy was more of a madam. She took care of the girls. She was almost as old as my Mother which both repulsed and excited me. The first time she offered to come to my house I was hesitant. She was a somewhat demanding woman.
When she came to see me she immediately took over.
"Undress, shower and come back in the living room. I have to see what I am working with, " she ordered. I did as she requested. When I came back in she stared at me, slowly smiled. "You are a gift to women. Rarely do I see such manhood, such virility. If you only knew how to use it."
I started to get excited but she told me, "Wait, you have to learn first."
That evening became the beginning of many lessons. She taught me how to use my fingers. How to use my tongue. How to tantalize and caress. She showed me the small place just inside a woman about the size of a quarter that when manipulated just right made a woman squirm with pleasure, how to fill a woman up with my manhood and make her beg for more.
"Gentle but firm, you know you are in control but all she feels is the pleasure of your body and the intensity of your willingness to give her satisfaction. As she gets close to climax back off just a little, say you need just a little longer then slowly and purposely get out of her, gently place your finger just inside until you find the perfect spot, play with it a little while then when re-entering, press directly on that spot. Always in control, until you feel her contracting, allow yourself to release when she suddenly sighs deeply. Then enjoy the moment and lose control for a few minutes. Afterwards, insist on snuggling and caress her arms slowly."
I treasured each word. Cindy was so patient, so understanding and she would allow me to lead, but stop if I showed weakness. Then she would insist I start over and try again.
But it was the end of each lesson that I loved.
"Go shower again, get dressed and come sit next to me on the couch."
She waited for me, so beautiful in her own way and when I sat next to her, she put her arm sweetly around me, pulled my head onto her shoulder and softly repeated over and over.
"You are my favorite. You will always be my favorite."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delaney and Mary
A police car drove Delaney to the crime scene. He hated to have other people drive but there was no choice at the moment.
"Mary, we have places to go. We'll take your car."
Mary didn't drive like a detective. Ten and two on the steering wheel at all times. She started to brake thirty feet from the car in front of her.
'I wonder if she has ever driven over 60 miles an hour. Who is this young girl and why is she doing this?" Delaney couldn't turn off his detective mind. He questioned everything.
It was too early to go to Shorty's, so they decided to go to a diner. They could talk over breakfast.
Her order proved just how much of a Rookie she truly was. She ordered an English Muffin, Coffee, and Orange Juice. He knew he would need the "Supreme" breakfast, three eggs, hash browns, toast, bacon, sausage, and ham. If they got a got a lead today, stopping and eating would be off the agenda. Sometimes, it was the next day before eating became a possibility.
"Did you review the case I sent you?"
Mary felt annoyed by his tone. Delaney obviously didn't know her work ethic yet. Singing Opera, a highly technical and emotional skill, demanded vigilance. She knew numerous languages, different composers, the nuances of each musical era. Her looks and voice might be enough to get her an audition but it was the attention to detail that kept her working. Contrary to most beliefs, stuck-up divas are not welcomed in the professional music world, which is precisely why her husband couldn't keep a job. William thought he was a gift to music instead of realizing music was the gift to him. Mary pursued everything she wanted to do with a perfectionist attitude.
For a brief moment, she thought about her marriage.
"Details, Details." William would repeat those words over and over. If he didn't like the way the dishes were in the dishwasher, he would take them out one by one showing her how they were still dirty.
"I am detail oriented but not when it comes to things I don't care about. If he doesn't like the way I do dishes then he can do them himself." Mary pulled her mind back to the present.
"I have a connection to this case," Mary said.
Surprise filled Delaney's eyes.
"A Connection?"
"Yes, Father John Mac Murphy, the victim. He taught at the Catholic School I went to when I was young."
"What do you know about him?
"He was strict, especially to the girls. He loved to joke with the boys but he seemed to take pleasure in telling the girls all about the sins of the flesh. Some of the girls tried to roll up their skirts to make them shorter, but we knew to pull them down before we went to his class. My friend Elizabeth forgot to pull down her skirt one day. I can never forget what he did to her."
She described it to Delaney as if viewing a movie.
"Sit down," he yelled, ruler in hand. "Put your hands on the desk. This is for your own good."
With each hit of the knuckles, he would spit out vicious accusations.
"Do you want to open your legs so men can know you? That is what you are telling them. Men can't control themselves when they see whores of women flaunting their bodies."
"With each hit, his anger increased. One of Elizabeth's fingers actually broke. I heard it crack. Finally, Elizabeth became brave enough to get up and run out of the school. I wanted to follow her but I was too scared.'
"Her parents withdrew her immediately. I think they filed a lawsuit. I don't know what became of her, I never saw her again."
"I researched Father Mac last night. Several years after I left that school he became Head Master." Mary restrained herself from sarcastically saying the Catholic system rewarded him for his cruelty. "One thing for sure. He always favored the boys."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joe
Telling Mother
When I was Twelve I started to figure out what Father Mac Murphy was doing to me was wrong. He started spending less and less time with me. I saw some of the younger boys going towards his office. I can't believe it took me so long to realize how he was using me for some sick pleasure. As I grew, I learned what he was doing with me was sinful. It was wrong in the eyes of the Church. It was wrong in the eyes of the world.
Back then I still had a small belief that my Mother loved me. One night when Mother was being unusually nice to me I told her what he had done.
The slap came seconds afterward.
"How dare you accuse a man of the church of this unspeakable act."
"What the hell are you thinking?"
"I knew you were not meant to live. I even tried to stop it. But the church wouldn't allow it and you were born. You brought me shame then and you still do now."
She slapped me again.
"You will never speak of this again."
And I didn't - until one night with Cindy.
She listened so softly and it calmed me. That night there was no lesson. We just talked. She spoke comforting words and sat with me on the couch. It ended in my favorite way.
"You are my favorite. You will always be my favorite."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delaney and Mary finished eating.
"I'm not impressed with the original investigation into Mac Murphy's death." He made sure he hid the fact that Mary, at least so far, seemed to know what she was doing.
He handed Mary a copy of the original report.
"There has to be a reason the school is connected to this. How long has it been since you were at school there?"
"Almost ten years now."
Delaney caught it first. The initial investigation conducted by local cops assumed Mac Murphy, a priest, must be a good guy. They did a cursory investigation of his computer, searched his home, looking for suspects. They found little or nothing on it. Way too little. That bothered Delaney. From what Mary said Mac Murphy might not be without sins of his own. The man was intelligent. He wouldn't have left out in the open incriminating evidence. They didn't take his computer to forensics. They didn't check for hidden walls or hiding places. His computer showed nothing but bible studies. His obvious affection for young boys could lead to other possibilities.
The local investigation never thought to ask"Why" he was the victim.
Be realistic, No man was that innocent. No ugly emails. No pictures of women. Three years before Delaney investigated another priest. He seemed so innocent. He discovered most priests were experts at hiding their carnal side.
"Let's go look at Mac Murphy's apartment."
The priests stayed in a building next to the school. Police tape still blocked the door. The custodian let them in.
They noticed immediately just how clean this place was, impulsively clean.
Even his socks were folded neatly in the drawers. Everything had a place. There were lists everywhere, on his desk, in the bathroom, in the bedroom, the closet. Everywhere, "Rules for living."
The knives and forks were meticulously put in the kitchen drawer. All the same direction, no space between.
Obsessive-compulsive. Excessively neat. Everything has a place. Cleanliness. Lists of rules for himself. So many clues. all missed by non-detective minds.
"Mary", he instructed, "Look for something out of place. Look for something that doesn't seem right."
Mary followed directions. In the bedroom, she noticed a slight discoloration in the paneling on the bedroom wall. One panel was newer than the others. It was a small detail, but once she noticed it. It struck her as odd.
Why would one panel be different than the others? Someone had replaced it.
"Delaney," she called, "I think I have found something."
He agreed. They both fingered the panel. It was loose. Delaney pressed on it, first at the top, then slowly he kept pushing until it popped open. Inside, in a chronological order dated videotapes filled the hidden shelves. Next to the videos were explicit handwritten diaries in beautiful leather bound journals.
Delaney felt sick after reading the first page. The rantings of a pedophile filled book after book. Long narratives portraying stories of abuse covered the pages. Yet, in the authors' voice, the writing was full of loving interactions between men and young boys.
"Look at this self-serving son of a bitch." Delaney couldn't control his language when he spoke about it. "He believed he was called to make young boys know the pleasures of the world. He especially liked the boys without fathers. He could pretend he was teaching them how to be a man."
Mary noticed the dates. The writing started two years before Mary came to the school. The last one was right before Father Mac died.
Great evidence, important night for the investigation yet Delaney knew many more doors or hidden cabinets had to be opened before he had a chance to solve this one. He left the words in his thoughts.
"The man deserved it. Whoever did this might just be a hero."
--------------------------------------------------------------
The next day Delaney was confused. He was trying to fit the two murders together.
The buttons are the only connection. The two crimes are completely different.
Mac Murphy
Priest
Pedophile
Blunt object probably a hammer to the head
Left in the dirt
Frown created by buttons with religious symbols
Waitress
Sexually assaulted
Carved and humiliated
No religious connection
Strangled first, mutilated later
Cleaned meticulously
Gaudy Smile Created by buttons
Delaney searched the archives for button crimes. Nothing came up.
So far, only two unrelated murders.
Mary sat across him at the same diner they had gone to the last time. He again ordered a large plate of food. Mary still was eating conservatively.
"The first question is obvious," Mary listened. " Where do the buttons come from?"
He began making a list of where they would go next.
1. Button factory
2. The church - They would need a list of all the students who attended in the last 13 years. Now that molested children were involved, the case had to be opened to the FBI. We need to a public meeting for the families. Both current students and past students would have to be interviewed.
3. Shorty's Barbecue - to talk to the staff. See if they knew anything. The bar was close by. They needed to interview the workers there quickly. Memories fade fast.
The manager was nervous. Sure the girls dressed a little revealing in here but that couldn't be the reason for a murder.
"Should we be afraid?"
Delaney looked surprised when Mary spoke up.
"No, no, rarely does a killer return right after a crime. We just need as much background about the victim as possible."
Her name was Destiny Moore. She had worked at Shorties for six months. She was a good waitress and was highly tipped. He provided them with the information on her application.
Next, they started interviewing other waitresses. They were all fearful and full of questions.
Her name was Destiny Moore. She had worked at Shorties for six months. She was a good waitress and was highly tipped. He provided them with the information on her application.
Next, they started interviewing other waitresses. They were all fearful and full of questions.
Only one waitress had anything negative to say about her.
"I didn't like the way she treated some of her customers. If they were going to be fun, she would go all out for that table. She was rude to the ones who weren't up to her standards. I had the section next to her that night. She played up to a table of Jocks. They ate it up. But the guy at the next table basically got ignored. He wasn't a bad looking guy, I have waited on him before. He did seem awkward. He had trouble starting a conversation and he always came in alone. However, I was nice to him and he always left me a great tip. I remember Destiny was joking with the jock table. She whispered some sexual jokes to the jocks, I think they might have been about him. She was furious that night when he left her three pennies as a tip."
The jock table all paid with individual cash cards. They would be easy to find. The lone guy paid in cash. No lead there.
Would someone really kill over bad service? Maybe not, but many murderers will kill when a person humiliates them in public. It was a definite lead.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joe
Cockroaches are hard to kill. My house sometimes has those three-inch tree ones that find their way into your kitchen. I keep a clean house, but somehow a few always find a way in.
This one was extremely large. I named him Charles. He avoided me for three days straight. I would catch a fleeting glimpse of him and then he would find some small crack to magically disappear into. Maybe I should have named him Houdini, but Charles it was. I turned the lights on late one night and I managed to see him in the middle of the kitchen. He had too far to go and I stepped on him full force with my slippers. When I lifted my foot that little bugger scurried away. I brought out the bug spray. I sprayed until I couldn't breathe anymore and then went to bed. Sure enough the next morning he was laying in the kitchen on his back. Even then when I lightly touched him his legs would still move. Finally several hours later he was still.
Humans have protection too. They are not that easy to kill. Since Father Mac Murphy was my first, I quickly found out the human body fights death.
I followed his moves. I went to church several Sundays until I found the perfect time to make things right. There was an announcement during the service about Father Mac Murphy.
"We are honored that our very own Father Mac Murphy has been invited to Italy for an audience with the Pope. This brings great honor to our church and our community. We wish him well as he leaves early Tuesday morning."
This would give me the opportunity I needed. I watched him for weeks. Every night he went for a walk in the woods behind the church at nine o'clock, his flask of Whisky in his hand.
He had plans to call a taxi at one in the morning to take him to the airport. That call would never be made. The Church would assume he was in Rome. They wouldn't know anything was wrong for at least two weeks.
I waited on his path. Hammer in hand ready to strike. I am not a small man and I am very strong. Hatred also makes you stronger. When he rounded the path, I waited until he had the flask up gulping his favorite beverage. I struck him in the back of the head hard. In my innocence, I thought that would be enough. He fell down hard and grabbed his head confused and scared, not sure what had just happened. So I quickly struck again. This one made him fall to the ground but he kept trying to get up.
All in all, it took me ten vicious blows before he would stay down. Even then he reminded me of Charles, feet still moving. Eventually, blood filled the path and it was over.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
As I said at the beginning when I first came to Fan story I put up what I had written for'"Buttons". It was well received, some of you told me you couldn't stop reading it. However, you pointed out to me that it was suppose to be one chapter at a time. I think my first listing was at least eight chapters. Now that I know better, I will keep the chapters short enough to move the story along but still be readable in this format. Thank all of you for your support. I will re-post the first part when I get some dollars together. You are a gift to me.
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