February 16, 2012

Chapter Six: Here Are the Facts


“Sweet, we’ve got the gang back together!” shouted Stone jubilantly, much to the chagrin of the ring of detectives and policemen, aggravated by his antics.
“Stone, less reminiscing and more focusing on this case. Anyways, you were right about the murders but we’re still back to square one. What do you propose we do then to resolve that?” asked Klein as sincerely as he could, which turned out to be very little.
“What are you talking about? He is clearly connected with Emilia, hence ‘For Em!’ How ignorant can you get?”
“Stone, this guy clearly is a mass murder. Why the hell would you assume that this isn’t some random killing, or do you expect him to personally be connected with every single victim he’s had.”
“Don’t get me wrong, this guy is a serial killer, he probably has killed dozens of random strangers who have nothing to do with him at all. Hell, that one guy whose name escapes me probably just crossed paths with the wrong motherfucker, but he clearly has something to do with Emilia. That’s why I got one of my lackeys to examine witness reports and to see if he indeed does have any connections with her. In fact, there he is right there!” Stone pointed at a reserved, baby faced twenty-something in a business suit clutching a manila folder. Stunned at being recognized, he clears his throat.
“Well, yes. I have police sketches made from various witness testimonies,” he reveals a pencil sketch of a clean shaven well groomed Latino man in his early thirties with unnaturally pale, bleached skin that seemed to have been removed of all life and vitality. “And this is Eddie Dominguez, Emilia’s separated husband.” He produced a photograph with a face that looked remarkably similar to the sketch but with two distinctions that were ingrained into the back of Stone’s skull: a snarl from his upper lip that twisted his facial features and showed his true aggression; and pitch black eyes that seemed to be tunnels to endless and hopeless abyss, the last thing that god knows how many saw as their last sight in this world, as if the eyes themselves snuffed their living breaths out like a candle.
“Well, I stand corrected Stone. We appear to have got our man, so how do we get him?” inquired Klein, his interests piqued.
“Now that appears to be the tricky part. You see, the reason that Dominguez has eluded the grasp from the law for so long is he is a completely different beast. He is fickle, clever, cunning and can extricate himself from virtually any situation. I’m willing to bet that he has made some friends over the years, the type of folk that can make you disappear and reappear again. No doubt that he’s probably got some new documents from the Black Market that he made so that he can charade as something else. It’ll be very difficult to sniff this guy out.”
“So basically you went through that superfluous and completely unnecessary monologue to tell us that you have no plan whatsoever?” asked Marceau in a jabbing kind of way.
“Yeah, pretty much. Although,-“ Stone scans the file, places a sheet of paper and points at a line that read ‘1402 East Temple Street Plymouth, MN 55427’ and proclaims ,”That is a pretty damn good starting point.”

February 03, 2012

Chapter Two: Rules of Courtship


“I cannot fucking believe he is late again! What the hell? He better damn hope that he has a great explanation for this!”
                “Settle down Sterling. I am sure he’ll get here soon,” assured Marceau. Bursting through the doors was Stone, this time uncharacteristically high dressed in a tuxedo and walks down with a suave swagger down to the Plaintiff area.
                “Who the hell are you?” inquired the judge, clearly vexed by the action presiding before him.
                “Your honor I am Jacoby Stone, and I am ready to prove that that guy over there is a bloodthirsty, coldblooded killer.” Stone then dramatically points in the vicinity of the portly cop, who seemed to lose a little weight from all of the worrying. Marceau merely reclines deeply in his seat while Sterling face-palms.
                “Just sit down Mr. Stone and let your attorney do all the talking,” remarked the judge with a sigh. Stone calmly sat down next to Sterling.
                “OK, so I might not have been able to get here in the smoothest of matters, but this case is rock solid, done deal right? Might as well not even bother tuning into it.” Sterling, clearly flustered and frustrated with the ordeal, simply turned her attention back to the court. “Or you can just keep ignoring me too. Whatever.”
                “Why the hell won’t you just listen to Marceau and me and get your shit together? I mean you seriously can’t keep doing this, what the hell is up with you?” Sterling flashed a face of not only anger but genuine fear and empathy.
                “Yeah, well the thing is my ex-wife has been hounding me the last couple of weeks about my son and I guess it’s just been eating me up. I mean I am pretty ashamed that I don’t really know him well and vice versa, and his birthday is coming up so I guess I’m turning into a wreck.”
                “Wow, that’s kinda sweet that you care about your son, but unbelievable that you hardly even know him. Jeesh, what kind of a father are you?”
                “Exactly, I know. That’s why I have no idea how I can save face with him, you know? I mean, what am I to do?” asked Stone, genuinely needing advice.
                “Save face? You could just be a father. I mean, come on, you have to at least know at least a little something about him?”
                “That’s the thing. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years because of my ex and my demanding work schedule, and I haven’t heard a call in weeks.”
                “Wow that is the biggest bullshit I have ever heard. I mean really, blaming your ex? And you hardly even bother going to the office anymore! Hell, if I was your son I wouldn’t call you either, which you are also very capable of doing.”
                “Whoa, hold on. Let’s not backfire all of this onto me. You clearly haven’t met my ex.”
                “Oh, I know she is a piece of work. Which explains why she could tolerate you for so long.” Stone tried to retort, but merely nodded. He knew he was defeated, no point for fighting a lost cause of abandoning your son. He stared at the clock in the far corner, then gazed at Marceau and the client exchange words.
                “How long is this sucker going to last? Because besides unpaid parking tickets, I haven’t been learned of the nuances of court.”
                “This is just the preliminary hearing. I actually don’t really know the process too well, but Marceau said that this was too big a high profile case to ignore, that we needed full representation. Besides, what are you in a rush for?”
                “Not much, just a date with Destiny. Why do you ask?”
                “What is that, a hooker’s name or something?” toyed Sterling.
                “No, she is an escort. A 30 dollar escort, but a damn good one nonetheless! You’ve got any plans with someone interesting?” imaginatively remarked Stone, not to be outdone in any games.
                “Well, yes actually. His name is Steve and we are going to the Guthrie Theater, somewhere that you wouldn’t bother to go.”
                “Sounds fun,” was the only repartee Stone could utter.
                Hours passed and soon Stone grew more and more powerless to boredom and fell into a deep slumber. After the trial proceedings were finally over, Sterling and Marceau tried to wake him up without success, forcing Marceau to drive all three of them home.
                “Marceau, can I ask you something?” asked Sterling shyly. She then checked back to Stone who was dozing in the back, oblivious to all.
                “Yeah, I guess.”
               “What do you think is the future between me and Stone?”
                “Why do you ask?”
                “I don’t know, it feels like I am the only one that cares anymore. I mean I love him a lot, but it doesn’t seem like a two way street anymore. He still treats me more a friend than anything else.”
                “Is that a bad thing?”
                “Well, yes and no. I just want to have the confidence that he’ll always be on my side, and frankly I doubt that will ever happen, you know? I just want to be in a relationship, not whatever we are in right now.”
                “Well, maybe you should propose an ultimatum. Either be in a relationship or cut it off. Then again I am probably not the best man to ask advice on relationships. I have a dozen ex-girlfriends, three ex-wives and a partridge in a pear tree. Now that I think about it, you are probably the most sensible and least dysfunctional person I know, so I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
                “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Sterling didn’t bother absorbing the bullshit that Marceau tried to sell to her, but she appreciated the effort, though it may have done more harm than good. As they coasted up to Sterling’s house, Stone finally emerged from his slumber, asked if they were interested in a round of drinks for a celebration, until Marceau reminded him that the trial was ongoing.
“Nah, I meant for me living through that bullshit. I don’t give a fuck about the stupid trial anymore,” quipped Stone who proceeded to say Good Night to both Sterling and Marceau as he wandered out to the empty streets, whistling a faintly familiar tune.
                The next day, Marceau called Stone and inevitably met some animosity. However, Marceau assured him that his announcement was excellent news and to meet him at his office right away. Stone obliged begrudgingly, knowing fully well that this could be the time that they finally get their big break, a case exciting enough to even bother with, something that wasn’t inane or mundane. Something worth bothering to get up in the morning for.
               After getting dressed, grabbing a quick bite and walking down the block to the familiar wooden plaque hanging above his head that boasted his colleagues’ and his name in ornate letters with a white pawn in the background, Stone wistfully walked inside, each step became heavier and with less energy. Then, his least favorite sound in the world buzzed in his pocket, the song “Hell Awaits” customized for his ex-wife and the impending hell that follows. Stone answered in as genial a tone as possible, “Hello Sam. What the hell do you want?”, punctuating hell with an extra bit of faux sweetness.
                “’Coby? Hi, I guess. Anyways, I just want to tell you that I don’t feel comfortable bringing Jake down to you for his special day, away from all of his friends. I would ask you if you’d like to come here, but I feel that would be a little of a buzz kill if you come here with all of my folks down here. I promise you’ll get him double the time next week to make up for it, m’kay?” Stone hung up right there, thinking ‘The nerve of that woman!’, while simultaneously wondering why he would be such a buzz kill? How much of a buzz kill could he be to be denied to see his son’s tenth birthday party? His boiling temper continued to seethe as he approached the door marked “Robert Marceau, Attorney at Law”.
                (Chapter Three)

February 02, 2012

Chapter Five: So What Now?

“So what now?” asked Sterling, puzzled by Stone’s hazy explanation.
“Well, all we’ve got to do is check out the place and find something, no matter how insignificant it seems, just need to find anything that can prove that I am right.”
“Well that can be a really tall order when you are probably wrong.”
“Now, now, it shouldn’t be too hard to find much. I know medical examiners aren’t exactly adept at finding clues or anything, but I’d appreciate if you would at least back me up here.” Sterling merely nodded, though her disposition appeared more apathetic than Stone had planned.
As they settled into the driveway of Dominguez’s house, Stone couldn’t help but feel the antagonistic atmosphere around him, his instincts telling him the obvious fact that he didn’t belong here. Diving over and dodging the tape, Stone noticed a cheery and undisturbed scene, a glitzy Christmas tree in the corner with several wrapped present scattered around the base of the tree. Treading as lightly as possible and inserting his hands into sterile gloves, Stone and Sterling ventured toward the blood splatter on the wall, when a macabre thought popped into his head that it reminded him of some innocent modern painting at a museum somewhere he wasn’t sure of.
“Okay, let’s start looking,” remarked Stone coolly, with Sterling nodding. Sterling pulled out the pictures to examine the positioning of the bodies, and noticed something that seemed impossible. She beckoned Stone towards the scene.
“OK, notice how the stain is at a downward angle? According to the report, she shot herself and her kid with a .12 gauge shotgun. Now it would be virtually impossible to shoot yourself with a shotgun by lifting it above your head, as it would be much easier to shoot it parallel to the ground or to shoot from below the jaw, which would cause an upward stain.” Stone eked out a half-smirk, extrapolating Sterling’s direction with this theory.
“You know what I noticed? Why would the mother bother to carry her sleeping child all the way to her eventual death scene and kill her there and then shoot herself? That makes no sense at all. If she did kill her own kid, shouldn’t it be in her bed? I mean there was no sign of struggle so the kid clearly was sleeping when she died so why drag her here? Unless if someone shot the mom and killed the kid to make it look like a homicide-suicide when in fact it was a double homicide.”
“Stone, do you think Klein would actually buy that? It seems a little sketchy.”
“Yeah, it’s sketchy, but maybe I’ll persuade him to get a second look at least.”
The next day Sterling and Stone tried to explain the positioning of the bodies and the logistics of the scenario but Klein grew more and more oblivious until it became yelling into deaf ears—useless.
“Listen Chief, it just doesn’t make logical sense. Why would she go through all the trouble?”
“Really, you’re trying to see the logic of a woman killing her child and then herself? Go ahead and question her methods but I can guarantee you no amount of logic will sway me.” The phone rings. “Oh, excuse me for a second. Hello, this is Chief Klein, what is this about? What? Yes, I’ll send the best people I have towards you right now.” Klein then Grabs his jacket and mutters ‘Follow me’ to the pair and lights a cigarette, a trail of wispy smoke as the trail to where he headed to the parking lot. As they each struggled to slide into the cluttered car, Klein gunned as fast as he could, not even hesitating to assess the situation to Stone or Sterling.
As they pulled near a run-down gas station—the questionable type that usually puts watered gas—Stone noticed the throngs of not only squad cars but news vans. Those are never a good sign. When Stone surveys the crime scene, he smells the repulsive, pungent odor of rotten meat. As he drew nearer, what lay before the normally suave and callous detective rattled him beyond belief. As Sterling caught up to him, she couldn’t utter a single syllable, only a stifled sob. A man who had been in his late thirties hung on a rope tied to a cramped bathroom ceiling, with many shotgun holes strewn across his body, with mangled flesh dripping with congealed blood. Behind him sprawled throughout the wall were the words “FOR EM!” in crimson ink produced from the carnage itself, in his own blood.
“Stone, he’s toying with us! He’s toying with us! What do we do?” cried Sterling shaken up and panicking.
“I don’t know. In all my life I’ve met killers face to face, been shot by some, and shot some others. But never have I seen such a sick, twisted motherfucker like this. Never.” Too dazed to even move, Stone had never come across someone, no something, like this. This fucker is actually baiting him, how could he match up to that?
Regaining his composure, Stone clenched his fists and shouted to no one in particular, “If it’s a game you want, then it’s a game you’ve got you fucker!”