Cyclops?
Aug 09 '08
The Bottom Line Suspenseful tale of a serial killer stalking residents in a Klan-protected Southern town...
(In this chapter, the Crusaders of the KKK in Independence MO have been indicted on State charges of conspiracy. As the trial progresses, the authorities are frustrated in their efforts to bring the Orion serial killer to justice as evidence against the Klan. Meanwhile, UMKC journalism scholars Rachel Masterson and Verne Marriott have been working on an expose on the Orion case. To Verne's chagrin, he finds that their partnership is coming to an unexpected and stunning end.)
Verne showed up at Rachel's house shortly before dark. He was displeased but not surprised to find Sean Devlin at the kitchen table. The two men exchanged pleasantries before Verne took a seat at the table across from Sean, placing his backpack on the floor between his feet.
“Guess what?” Rachel was effervescent, flashing a gold ring before his eyes. “Sean popped the question at last. Can you believe it?”
At once Verne was nearly overwhelmed with a wave of blackness that threatened to engulf his very being. He slumped for a microsecond but recovered instantly, wiping his brow to cover the trauma.
“That’s great, Rach,” he managed. “I’m glad for you. Glad for both of you.”
“Thanks, Verne,” Sean smiled softly.
He had been scrutinizing Verne since he walked through the door. He and Jimmy sweated Joey Romano for hours past midnight last week and eventually broke through the alcoholic’s tortoise-like shell. He found that Joey had exchanged information with Verne for hundreds of dollars, and all of it had to do with the Orion killings. Jimmy worked Verne's neighborhood religiously for the entire day and found that the man was a virtual ghost. All anyone ever noticed was his comings and goings, mostly for a change of clothing. No one was even sure whether he came home to sleep.
Sean had authorized a police check of Verne's AOL account and linked it to several different Yahoo accounts. He used each account for a separate purpose, each of them logging on to various law enforcement and criminology websites. Each of them focused on techniques, case histories and legal issues that pertained either directly or indirectly to the Orion methodology.
He knew without asking that Verne's interest in Rachel was largely due to her proximity to the sitdowns at Denny’s. Still, there were too many blanks that needed to be filled in. Sean had a gut feeling that Verne held a major key to the whereabouts of Orion.
“Looks like you’ve been keeping busy,” Sean grinned, throwing an arm over the back of his chair. “Got some paint on your shoe. Almost looks like blood.”
Verne's boyish smile seemed to freeze on his face as he looked dumbfounded at Sean for a long moment. Finally he looked under the table and stared for another eternity at the crimson streak across the top of his black suede boot.
“Geez, you’re right,” Verne mumbled, reaching under the table.
At once there was a loud pop, as if a firecracker has gone off in the room. Verne had plunged his hands into his backpack, produced a .22 pistol, then aimed and fired across the table at Sean. The detective was knocked off his chair and sprawled over the floor, a small spot of blood spreading across his left breast.
"Verne!" Rachel was horrified. “What are you doing!”
“This is all wrong, Rach!” Verne exclaimed, leaping to his feet, training the pistol on Sean in a two-handed grip. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this! This was supposed to be between you and me! I was giving you the Orion case on a silver platter! You could’ve written a feature story, you could’ve written a book, it would’ve been the key to our future! How could you settle for a lousy cop? He’s one of the causes of the disease! If it wasn’t for him, there would be no Orion!”
“You wouldn’t have shot a cop if there was any other way out, Verne,” Sean managed as he propped himself up on his left elbow. “You know too much.”
"Verne, we can fix this,” Rachel gasped, holding her fists against her temples. “I’ll help you, I swear!”
“The cop’s right,” Verne turned towards Sean. “It’s gone too far.”
At once Rachel lunged towards the stove, picked up the boiling pot of coffee and hurled it at Verne's head. It landed with a loud clank, the scalding liquid and coffee grinds spilling over his torso. He screamed out, dropping the gun, stumbling backwards towards the far wall. Sean made a superhuman effort in drawing his .38 from his ankle holster, rolling across the floor and firing four shots into Verne's chest. Verne fell against the wall and slid to the floor, leaving a huge blood trail on the wallpaper. His eyes stared accusingly at Rachel until their lights went out once and forever.
The County Courthouse had been open later than usual for days on end once the Klan had gone on trial. It had become a media spectacle of sorts as newspapers around the country had sent reporters to KC upon receiving word that a Klan was on trial on a RICO-oriented indictment. After the first couple of days, most of the major syndicates had pulled their star reporters when the indictment counts began shrinking and more and more charges were being dismissed. Word that Orion was still on the loose had killed the story, and the uncovering of evidence pointing to the humanitarian work of the Crusaders quenched any prurient interests whatsoever.
“What’s a word for ‘shrewish woman’?” Terry Oglanus asked as he worked diligently on his crossword puzzle on the defendants’ bench where the Klan officers sat.
“Your mother,” Eddie Maguire said from the other side of Billy Maxwell. Billy swore at both of them as Terry threw the pencil at Eddie.
“If you don’t mind,” Debbie Skelley whirled around, snapping at them from the bench in front of them.
“Hey, c’mon, guys,” the bailiff came over. A hulking black man, he found out during the proceedings that it was his grandma who had approached Debbie in having the Lee’s Summit Klan include her family in their bread program. “He gets on me for this.”
“Now I’ve asked you folks time and again,” the judge warned them. He also found out through the proceedings that Lilya had persuaded his granddaughter to seek counseling for a drug problem through the Crusaders’ outreach program.
“We apologize again, your Honor,” the Klan’s chief counsel glared at his clients. The judge waved a hand at him, looking to his documents.
“You ever look at me like that again and I’ll put your skinny butt in hospital,” Eddie hissed at the lawyer, who visibly paled before his chortling clientele on the bench.
At once there was a cacophony of beepers, MIDI tunes and rings going off throughout the courthouse as people groped frantically for their cellphones. The judge and the bailiff furiously rebuked the spectators as the noise began to subside.
“What the hell?” Jim Ralston looked around.
“I saw this in a movie,” Jack Raccuglia scowled. “It’s a terrorist attack.”
“Great,” Vic Maniacci shook his head from the other side of Debbie. “They’ll pin that on us too.”
Lilya Markoff came over to the railing behind Jim, causing the bailiff to come over to shoo her away.
“Jim,” he whispered in his ear, “they caught the Orion.”
The news shot through the defendants’ dock like electricity. All eyes seemed to focus involuntarily on Billy, who cupped his forehead as if seared by a lightning bolt of pain. Terry and Eddie seemed to grimace as if the sensation spread on either side of him.
To Eddie’s left, Vlad Markoff bent at the waist and could be heard praying in Russian by his sister Lilya. Billy, Terry and Eddie were tormented by the memory of Joey Romano’s screams and cries in his last moments of life, his head trapped in the industrial vise tightened by Vlad until his skull collapsed. They thought they had solved their Orion problem. Until now.
The judge called the DA and the Klan lawyers to the bench for a brief discussion. Finally he announced that the murder conspiracy charges against the Klan were dismissed.
“Lili,” Jim looked up and saw the look of horror and agony in her eyes as she realized what had happened. The bailiff was mesmerized by the look, and soon the entire courtroom was transfixed in silence as the beautiful woman fled weeping through its doors to the bedlam in the halls outside.
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