This is a collaboration paper between yours truly and her friend Miranda from Canada. (Hey, it rhymes!)
Had to share cos I'm damn proud of it. Best part is that you can choose how YOU like it to end.
And YES, it has nothing to do with what I usually write on this blog.
Disclaimer: All the characters are FICTIONAL and has NOTHING to do with real life people or events. If they sound like someone/something, it is purely coincidental.
Happy reading! Bonne lecture!
Avec l'amour,
Adeliyn and Miranda
__________________________________________________________________
Name: Mark Salling
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 8”
Charge: Embezzlement of $5.38 million from his own business partners but was acquitted of all charges for lack of evidence.
Verdict: Guilty
Execution method: Induced cardiac arrest by introducing potassium to the axillary vein.
End Location: Grizzly Bay.
It leaves me with great satisfaction to see another one of these trashes who litter the world with the crimes they commit, go and meet the Great Judge in Heaven (or Hell). “They” might have needed a little help in getting these jokers where they belong, but I accept that. After all, you cannot always expect the angels to clean up all the messes we leave behind.
Yes, it’s we. No one is a saint. No one is born innocent. We’re all corrupt; it’s just a matter of degree. And dear Mr. Salling was corrupt beyond redemption.
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 8”
Charge: Embezzlement of $5.38 million from his own business partners but was acquitted of all charges for lack of evidence.
Verdict: Guilty
Execution method: Induced cardiac arrest by introducing potassium to the axillary vein.
End Location: Grizzly Bay.
It leaves me with great satisfaction to see another one of these trashes who litter the world with the crimes they commit, go and meet the Great Judge in Heaven (or Hell). “They” might have needed a little help in getting these jokers where they belong, but I accept that. After all, you cannot always expect the angels to clean up all the messes we leave behind.
Yes, it’s we. No one is a saint. No one is born innocent. We’re all corrupt; it’s just a matter of degree. And dear Mr. Salling was corrupt beyond redemption.
-----
It was 5.30 on a Saturday morning. Detective Vincent Lim stood at Port Costa looking towards the San Francisco Bay Area, sipping his coffee.
“Why must these dead bodies keep turning up at the most ungodly hours of the day? Why can’t these murderers just keep to regular humane working hours, like the rest of us?” he grumbled. His partner, Detective Benedict Aden passed him a croissant.
“What do you expect? If they had kept to the regular hours, they would have two problems. One, no food on the table. Two, they wouldn’t be proper murderers already. Not to mention they’d be too easy to catch, and we’d find ourselves out of a job.” Vincent chuckled at Benedict’s remark and rubbed his eyes.
The coroner, Schmidt, walked toward them. “Bad news boys, he’s going to our hotel for a few nights. We need to open him up.”
Lim cursed under his breath. “Isn’t the sucker just drowned? Why on earth were we called here in the first place? It’s a complete waste of time!”
“Procedures, kid. Take it out on the asshole who set it up and said detectives must be present when we do our job,” Schmidt replied, giving Vincent a hard look.
Sensing that Vincent was about to pick a pointless fight, Benedict pulled him aside. “Vincent. Go home and sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I’m not the one who’s trying to bite Schmidt’s head off. And your eyes are bloodshot. I’ll handle things here. No buts. Shoo.”
“What about the…”
“I’ll cover for you”
Lim raised an eyebrow. Benedict also looked haggard from the workload they both had been receiving for the past 3 months.
“Go,” urged Benedict. “I’ll drop by in the evening with the file. The initial report will be done then anyway.”
“Fine,” Vincent huffed as he turned around to walk away. He paused mid-step and said just loud enough so that Benedict could hear him, “Thanks partner, I owe you one.”
“Why must these dead bodies keep turning up at the most ungodly hours of the day? Why can’t these murderers just keep to regular humane working hours, like the rest of us?” he grumbled. His partner, Detective Benedict Aden passed him a croissant.
“What do you expect? If they had kept to the regular hours, they would have two problems. One, no food on the table. Two, they wouldn’t be proper murderers already. Not to mention they’d be too easy to catch, and we’d find ourselves out of a job.” Vincent chuckled at Benedict’s remark and rubbed his eyes.
The coroner, Schmidt, walked toward them. “Bad news boys, he’s going to our hotel for a few nights. We need to open him up.”
Lim cursed under his breath. “Isn’t the sucker just drowned? Why on earth were we called here in the first place? It’s a complete waste of time!”
“Procedures, kid. Take it out on the asshole who set it up and said detectives must be present when we do our job,” Schmidt replied, giving Vincent a hard look.
Sensing that Vincent was about to pick a pointless fight, Benedict pulled him aside. “Vincent. Go home and sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I’m not the one who’s trying to bite Schmidt’s head off. And your eyes are bloodshot. I’ll handle things here. No buts. Shoo.”
“What about the…”
“I’ll cover for you”
Lim raised an eyebrow. Benedict also looked haggard from the workload they both had been receiving for the past 3 months.
“Go,” urged Benedict. “I’ll drop by in the evening with the file. The initial report will be done then anyway.”
“Fine,” Vincent huffed as he turned around to walk away. He paused mid-step and said just loud enough so that Benedict could hear him, “Thanks partner, I owe you one.”
-----
Vincent awoke to the smell and sight of Benedict brewing coffee, and a spread of boxes of Chinese takeout.
Benedict looked up from the coffee, and seeing that Vincent was awake, said, “Hey sleepyhead, time for dinner.”
Vincent yawned. “I regret the day I handed you my keys. And why must we always do overtime at my place?”
“Because you decided that my place is in a perpetual mess after comparing the pictures of our places and we don’t want to risk more work by working in the station.”
“Right,” Vincent nodded as he looked at the boxes of food. “Which one’s mine?”
“All for the two of us. I got us rice and some stir fries.”
“Great, thanks Benedict. So, what’s the story so far?” Vincent asked as he opened the boxes of takeout.
“It’s Salling.”
“The one that got away from the DA?”
“Same guy. Died of heart attack, not drowning.”
“So, simple enough. Case closed then.”
“No,” Benedict simply said as he started eating his dinner. A few moments passed by, and they both ate in silence.
Tired of the silence and lack of an explanation, Vincent said, “Are you going to elaborate and tell me why not?”
Benedict looked up from his food. “His medical records said he was perfectly healthy. He couldn’t have had a heart attack.”
Vincent snorted, but Benedict ignored him and continued, “The DA’s office made sure he was healthy enough to go for the proceedings and had him do a complete body check. “
“What about his toxicology report?”
“Initial findings indicate that the only thing he had in his system was some steroids from his asthma tablets. Not enough to kill him.”
“No alcohol, no coke or marijuana? He must be some kind of saint.”
Benedict sighed in exasperation. “Anyway, they also found a note in Russian in his pocket and a cheque for 2 million dollars. It traced to Mikhailov.”
“The Solntsevskaya? Now that’s interesting. What kind of business was he in?”
Benedict put down his chopsticks and gave Vincent a light slap on his forehead. “That’s what we detectives are for, stupid. It’d be no fun if the criminals were too easy to catch.”
“Don’t we have some guy in custody that’s related to the Solntsevskaya? Spichak? Maybe we can go grill him and cut a deal with him.”
“We aren’t the FBI, you know.”
Benedict looked up from the coffee, and seeing that Vincent was awake, said, “Hey sleepyhead, time for dinner.”
Vincent yawned. “I regret the day I handed you my keys. And why must we always do overtime at my place?”
“Because you decided that my place is in a perpetual mess after comparing the pictures of our places and we don’t want to risk more work by working in the station.”
“Right,” Vincent nodded as he looked at the boxes of food. “Which one’s mine?”
“All for the two of us. I got us rice and some stir fries.”
“Great, thanks Benedict. So, what’s the story so far?” Vincent asked as he opened the boxes of takeout.
“It’s Salling.”
“The one that got away from the DA?”
“Same guy. Died of heart attack, not drowning.”
“So, simple enough. Case closed then.”
“No,” Benedict simply said as he started eating his dinner. A few moments passed by, and they both ate in silence.
Tired of the silence and lack of an explanation, Vincent said, “Are you going to elaborate and tell me why not?”
Benedict looked up from his food. “His medical records said he was perfectly healthy. He couldn’t have had a heart attack.”
Vincent snorted, but Benedict ignored him and continued, “The DA’s office made sure he was healthy enough to go for the proceedings and had him do a complete body check. “
“What about his toxicology report?”
“Initial findings indicate that the only thing he had in his system was some steroids from his asthma tablets. Not enough to kill him.”
“No alcohol, no coke or marijuana? He must be some kind of saint.”
Benedict sighed in exasperation. “Anyway, they also found a note in Russian in his pocket and a cheque for 2 million dollars. It traced to Mikhailov.”
“The Solntsevskaya? Now that’s interesting. What kind of business was he in?”
Benedict put down his chopsticks and gave Vincent a light slap on his forehead. “That’s what we detectives are for, stupid. It’d be no fun if the criminals were too easy to catch.”
“Don’t we have some guy in custody that’s related to the Solntsevskaya? Spichak? Maybe we can go grill him and cut a deal with him.”
“We aren’t the FBI, you know.”
Vincent groaned. Damn feds, those guys were coming next week for the guy. Then, Benedict winked at Vincent. “But we sure can give it a shot before they come, can’t we.” Benedict got up from his seat. “Come on, let’s get back to the station.” He whirled around and strode out the door without waiting for a reply from his partner.
“Couldn’t we at least finish dinner properly for once?” Vincent mumbled to himself as he stuffed his mouth full, before following Benedict out the door.
“Couldn’t we at least finish dinner properly for once?” Vincent mumbled to himself as he stuffed his mouth full, before following Benedict out the door.
-----
Name: Irena Salling nee Karanovka
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Gender: Female
Height: 5’ 5”
Charge: Abetting her husband Mark Salling in the embezzlement of $5.38 million.
Verdict: Guilty
Execution method: Blood draining via two punctures in the jugular vein.
End Location: Own Bedroom.
I felt a little miffed by the fact that Mark’s body was found a little more downstream than where I had intended. I guess Mother Nature decided Grizzly was not a good place. Well, this time it will not happen, unless someone messes with the place. Her body will be found just the way I planned for it.
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Gender: Female
Height: 5’ 5”
Charge: Abetting her husband Mark Salling in the embezzlement of $5.38 million.
Verdict: Guilty
Execution method: Blood draining via two punctures in the jugular vein.
End Location: Own Bedroom.
I felt a little miffed by the fact that Mark’s body was found a little more downstream than where I had intended. I guess Mother Nature decided Grizzly was not a good place. Well, this time it will not happen, unless someone messes with the place. Her body will be found just the way I planned for it.
"Sometimes I feel like a vampire."
Ted Bundy said this in one of his infamous interviews. I really had wanted to feel exactly how he did when he said that, but blood and the soft, raw flesh repulses me. Irena was by no means fat, but I’d rather have Alba over Simpson any day. So, I thought that I could simulate it by draining her blood with two punctures about an inch apart. That’s the distance of my two canines. The effect was quite good, except for the fact that my calculations was off by about half a liter. That went on the bed.
Ah well. The coroners will have a simple puzzle to solve. The sun is going down, and the maid will be coming in an hour’s time. Goodbye, Irena. May your soul burn in hell.
Ah well. The coroners will have a simple puzzle to solve. The sun is going down, and the maid will be coming in an hour’s time. Goodbye, Irena. May your soul burn in hell.
-----
Vincent and Benedict arrived at the station a mere 15 minutes later after leaving Vincent’s place. As they approached their desk, someone hollered, “Hey Lim, Aden! Line 3!”
Vincent scowled. He and Benedict were already having trouble solving the Salling case and this new one comes up. Grumbling, he picked up the phone and jabbed the number.
“Lim, Homicide.” He paused to listen and took a seat. “What?... Really? ...that’s bizarre, definitely sounds like a homicide...we’ll see if the two cases are related...yeah I know I shouldn’t assume...okay whatever. Leave it to me and Aden.” Vincent hung up without saying goodbye.
Benedict seated himself in his chair, leaned back, and raised one eyebrow expectantly.
“Well?” Benedict asked.
Vincent sighed and rubbed his temples lightly. “Turns out Salling’s wife is dead now, too. I have a feeling the two cases might be connected, but we can’t say for sure right now. We’ll have to dig into that. It seems that our unsolved murder might have just become a lot more complicated.”
Benedict grinned. “You don’t really dislike it all that much. I know that. You like complicated.”
His statement elicited a chuckle from Vincent. “Of course. I enjoy my job.”
“Let’s get on this. Do we have any leads?” Benedict asked.
“Nothing really concrete yet.”
“How’d she die then?”
“Punctures in her neck. There was almost no blood left in her body,” Vincent said as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“That’s one sicko we’re chasing after, then,” Benedict said quite flatly.
“Oh yeah, definitely.” Vincent sat quietly at his desk, thinking about the possibilities and where to start. He could hear Benedict typing something on his laptop. “Hey Vince, I got something. I punched their names into the database. Mark Salling’s clean, nothing on him. But something turned up on his wife, Irene Salling. Not a criminal record though. There’s a report filed two days after Mark Salling’s death, just a day before her own death. Filed by...an Officer Gherardi.”
“Efficient. That’s a lead, let’s follow it. Let’s go talk to Gherardi, after our chat with Spichak.”
Vincent scowled. He and Benedict were already having trouble solving the Salling case and this new one comes up. Grumbling, he picked up the phone and jabbed the number.
“Lim, Homicide.” He paused to listen and took a seat. “What?... Really? ...that’s bizarre, definitely sounds like a homicide...we’ll see if the two cases are related...yeah I know I shouldn’t assume...okay whatever. Leave it to me and Aden.” Vincent hung up without saying goodbye.
Benedict seated himself in his chair, leaned back, and raised one eyebrow expectantly.
“Well?” Benedict asked.
Vincent sighed and rubbed his temples lightly. “Turns out Salling’s wife is dead now, too. I have a feeling the two cases might be connected, but we can’t say for sure right now. We’ll have to dig into that. It seems that our unsolved murder might have just become a lot more complicated.”
Benedict grinned. “You don’t really dislike it all that much. I know that. You like complicated.”
His statement elicited a chuckle from Vincent. “Of course. I enjoy my job.”
“Let’s get on this. Do we have any leads?” Benedict asked.
“Nothing really concrete yet.”
“How’d she die then?”
“Punctures in her neck. There was almost no blood left in her body,” Vincent said as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“That’s one sicko we’re chasing after, then,” Benedict said quite flatly.
“Oh yeah, definitely.” Vincent sat quietly at his desk, thinking about the possibilities and where to start. He could hear Benedict typing something on his laptop. “Hey Vince, I got something. I punched their names into the database. Mark Salling’s clean, nothing on him. But something turned up on his wife, Irene Salling. Not a criminal record though. There’s a report filed two days after Mark Salling’s death, just a day before her own death. Filed by...an Officer Gherardi.”
“Efficient. That’s a lead, let’s follow it. Let’s go talk to Gherardi, after our chat with Spichak.”
-----
“Look, we all know that you’re going to be convicted of money laundering and drug possession. But if you cooperate with us, we can probably help you out and lighten your sentence. You scratch our back, and we’ll scratch yours,” Benedict said coolly.
Spichak looked down at his hands nervously. “What do you want to know?”
Vincent quickly scanned through the file in his hand containing the details of Mark Salling’s murder. He pulled out a photo of the deceased and placed it in front of Spichak. “This is Mark Salling. He is related in some way to the Solntsevskaya, like you. Did you know this man?”
Spichak glanced at the photo and fidgeted in his chair. “I’ve seen him around before,” he said vaguely with a wave of his hand.
Benedict rolled his eyes. “You think this is some half-assed attempt get into some chick’s pants? Don’t play hard to get.”
Vincent gave him a look. “We’re going to need more than that if you want our help.”
Spichak rubbed his hands together nervously.
Benedict slammed his file onto the table and cursed under his breath. “You can choose to help us or we’ll get you into jail, 20 years easy.” Spichak stared at Benedict, ashen-faced. Benedict smiled back. “We know there are people who’d loved to meet you again.”
Spichak was clearly sweating. Benedict picked up his file.
“Whatever, maybe you just don’t know anything. By the way,” Benedict pointed into Spichak’s face before continuing, “That doesn’t qualify you for our help, since you didn’t give us anything to work with.” Benedict began to walk towards the door. “Let’s go V, he’s got nothing.”
Spichak panicked immediately. “Wait, wait! I know about him, but not closely. I know what he was doing for Solntsevskaya! I know! I swear I know!”
Benedict paused and slowly turned around. “We’re listening.”
“I need you to first reassure me that I’m going to get a deal out of this.”
“That depends on what kind of information you have,” Vincent said.
“It’s valuable, trust me.”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “That’s what they all say. Fine, Scout’s honor. We’ll help you out if you give us valuable information.”
Spichak took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. “...he was responsible for human trafficking in Solntsevskaya.”
Benedict raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? That news is so old, your mother just gave birth to you.”
“You’re lying. Salling would have been in jail, not dead.”
“Son, ever heard of lack of evidence? We were working our butts off to get this man and his bimbo when someone decides to off them. I want to know where to get the evidences, what we’re getting and who to meet.”
“I need a smoke.” Vincent dug a pack out of his pocket and gave him a cigarette and lit it. Spichak inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Okay. Listen carefully...”
Spichak looked down at his hands nervously. “What do you want to know?”
Vincent quickly scanned through the file in his hand containing the details of Mark Salling’s murder. He pulled out a photo of the deceased and placed it in front of Spichak. “This is Mark Salling. He is related in some way to the Solntsevskaya, like you. Did you know this man?”
Spichak glanced at the photo and fidgeted in his chair. “I’ve seen him around before,” he said vaguely with a wave of his hand.
Benedict rolled his eyes. “You think this is some half-assed attempt get into some chick’s pants? Don’t play hard to get.”
Vincent gave him a look. “We’re going to need more than that if you want our help.”
Spichak rubbed his hands together nervously.
Benedict slammed his file onto the table and cursed under his breath. “You can choose to help us or we’ll get you into jail, 20 years easy.” Spichak stared at Benedict, ashen-faced. Benedict smiled back. “We know there are people who’d loved to meet you again.”
Spichak was clearly sweating. Benedict picked up his file.
“Whatever, maybe you just don’t know anything. By the way,” Benedict pointed into Spichak’s face before continuing, “That doesn’t qualify you for our help, since you didn’t give us anything to work with.” Benedict began to walk towards the door. “Let’s go V, he’s got nothing.”
Spichak panicked immediately. “Wait, wait! I know about him, but not closely. I know what he was doing for Solntsevskaya! I know! I swear I know!”
Benedict paused and slowly turned around. “We’re listening.”
“I need you to first reassure me that I’m going to get a deal out of this.”
“That depends on what kind of information you have,” Vincent said.
“It’s valuable, trust me.”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “That’s what they all say. Fine, Scout’s honor. We’ll help you out if you give us valuable information.”
Spichak took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. “...he was responsible for human trafficking in Solntsevskaya.”
Benedict raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? That news is so old, your mother just gave birth to you.”
“You’re lying. Salling would have been in jail, not dead.”
“Son, ever heard of lack of evidence? We were working our butts off to get this man and his bimbo when someone decides to off them. I want to know where to get the evidences, what we’re getting and who to meet.”
“I need a smoke.” Vincent dug a pack out of his pocket and gave him a cigarette and lit it. Spichak inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Okay. Listen carefully...”
-----
Vincent and Benedict came out of the room grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats.
“That news is so old, your mother just gave birth to you? That’s the best line I heard so far. And Irena as Salling’s accomplice? How the hell did you guess that?”
Benedict laughed. “I thought since she was dead she must have been in anything Salling was in. And I was right. I just needed some confirmation.”
Vincent shook his head in amusement. “If this was some kind of drama, you’d probably get an Emmy or something. That complete change of character and those lines you throw out, sometimes I wished I could get into your head and see what goes on in there.”
“Haha. Trust me, you won’t like what you see.”
“That news is so old, your mother just gave birth to you? That’s the best line I heard so far. And Irena as Salling’s accomplice? How the hell did you guess that?”
Benedict laughed. “I thought since she was dead she must have been in anything Salling was in. And I was right. I just needed some confirmation.”
Vincent shook his head in amusement. “If this was some kind of drama, you’d probably get an Emmy or something. That complete change of character and those lines you throw out, sometimes I wished I could get into your head and see what goes on in there.”
“Haha. Trust me, you won’t like what you see.”
-----
“Hey Gherardi, Aden and Lim for you!” Gherardi grumbled. He looked up and saw a Chinese man of average build with a dark-haired Caucasian of a tall, lithe build he recognized immediately.
“Homicide for Salling-Karanovka right? Hang on.” Gherardi pulled out a file from the pile. “Here you go.”
Vincent took it, scanned the report and passed it to Benedict, who did the same thing. Vincent put out his hand. “Detective Lim, and this is my partner Detective Aden.” Gherardi ignored the offered handshake and leaned back in his chair with crossed arms.
“What do you two want?” Gherardi asked roughly.
Vincent put the hand back into his pocket. Benedict remarked, “You sure are anti-social. Demotion to administration from Vice put a bullet through your pride?”
Gherardi bristled. Vincent whacked Benedict’s chest. “Zip it.” He turned to Gherardi. “How did Irena Salling find you?”
“The usual. She comes in the station, talking her head off about her husband being dead, that she just knows she’s going to die next and then demands police protection.”
“She wasn’t given any.”
“Of course she wasn’t. If every woman who comes in here demanding protection and getting it, the police station will be empty.”
Benedict snorted. “Like the Smith case huh?” Gherardi’s face twisted with rage and he jumped out of his chair, grabbing Benedict’s collar with both hands.
“Hey, HEY! Stop it, both of you!” Vincent shouted. The station became quiet all the sudden. Gherardi and Benedict continued to stare each other down.
“Let go of each other,” Vincent continued. After a long pause, they let go of each other.
“Aden, wait for me outside,” Vincent ordered. Benedict flinched. Vincent never called him by his surname since they graduated from the academy seven years ago. He whirled around and left.
Vincent watched Benedict head out and turned to Gherardi. “I don’t give a damn about the Smith case, whatever that is. All I care about is the Salling case.”
“Just read the report.”
“It just says she came in, and demanded protection. What else? I get the feeling that something is missing here.”
Gherardi look hard at Vincent. “She had no evidence of being blackmailed, or threatened in any way. You have to show some sort of proof before we can give you that can give you anything, even if you’re a Karanovka.” Vincent looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Gherardi closed the file he was working on and threw it into the pile. “Karanovkas’ are one of the biggest human trafficking families around, linked since the Cold War to the Solntsevskaya for that purpose. As far as I am concerned, the two got what they deserved. I’ve been digging around for years for evidence to convict them, but never got any. It’s about time they got some justice served to them.” Gherardi grinned to himself, looking a bit too pleased with the two deaths for Vincent’s comfort.
Gherardi glanced at Vincent. “I’m guessing you are new to homicide too. Don’t look so shocked kid. Ten years in hard crime sector and you’ll be hardened like me too.”
Vincent turned to go when Gherardi spoke again. “And next time, don’t bring that devil Benedict with you.”
Vincent chose not to respond and strode out the door.
“Homicide for Salling-Karanovka right? Hang on.” Gherardi pulled out a file from the pile. “Here you go.”
Vincent took it, scanned the report and passed it to Benedict, who did the same thing. Vincent put out his hand. “Detective Lim, and this is my partner Detective Aden.” Gherardi ignored the offered handshake and leaned back in his chair with crossed arms.
“What do you two want?” Gherardi asked roughly.
Vincent put the hand back into his pocket. Benedict remarked, “You sure are anti-social. Demotion to administration from Vice put a bullet through your pride?”
Gherardi bristled. Vincent whacked Benedict’s chest. “Zip it.” He turned to Gherardi. “How did Irena Salling find you?”
“The usual. She comes in the station, talking her head off about her husband being dead, that she just knows she’s going to die next and then demands police protection.”
“She wasn’t given any.”
“Of course she wasn’t. If every woman who comes in here demanding protection and getting it, the police station will be empty.”
Benedict snorted. “Like the Smith case huh?” Gherardi’s face twisted with rage and he jumped out of his chair, grabbing Benedict’s collar with both hands.
“Hey, HEY! Stop it, both of you!” Vincent shouted. The station became quiet all the sudden. Gherardi and Benedict continued to stare each other down.
“Let go of each other,” Vincent continued. After a long pause, they let go of each other.
“Aden, wait for me outside,” Vincent ordered. Benedict flinched. Vincent never called him by his surname since they graduated from the academy seven years ago. He whirled around and left.
Vincent watched Benedict head out and turned to Gherardi. “I don’t give a damn about the Smith case, whatever that is. All I care about is the Salling case.”
“Just read the report.”
“It just says she came in, and demanded protection. What else? I get the feeling that something is missing here.”
Gherardi look hard at Vincent. “She had no evidence of being blackmailed, or threatened in any way. You have to show some sort of proof before we can give you that can give you anything, even if you’re a Karanovka.” Vincent looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Gherardi closed the file he was working on and threw it into the pile. “Karanovkas’ are one of the biggest human trafficking families around, linked since the Cold War to the Solntsevskaya for that purpose. As far as I am concerned, the two got what they deserved. I’ve been digging around for years for evidence to convict them, but never got any. It’s about time they got some justice served to them.” Gherardi grinned to himself, looking a bit too pleased with the two deaths for Vincent’s comfort.
Gherardi glanced at Vincent. “I’m guessing you are new to homicide too. Don’t look so shocked kid. Ten years in hard crime sector and you’ll be hardened like me too.”
Vincent turned to go when Gherardi spoke again. “And next time, don’t bring that devil Benedict with you.”
Vincent chose not to respond and strode out the door.
-----
Vincent emerged out of the building with the Salling file. Benedict grabbed his arm and hissed, “What was that for?”
Vincent spun around and shouted, “What was what? I should be the one asking that! What’s with you and Gherardi? What’s the Smith case? How did he know your name?”
Benedict let go of Vincent’s arm. “Nothing.”
Vincent sighed, unsurprised. He already knew Benedict wasn’t much of a talker. His head was spinning. The thought “I’m exhausted.” flashed through his mind.
“Hey, are you okay?” Benedict asked concerned.
“Yes. No. Definitely not. Drive me home so I don’t hurt myself trying to get home. You owe me that much.”
Benedict steadied him. “Give me your keys.”
Vincent spun around and shouted, “What was what? I should be the one asking that! What’s with you and Gherardi? What’s the Smith case? How did he know your name?”
Benedict let go of Vincent’s arm. “Nothing.”
Vincent sighed, unsurprised. He already knew Benedict wasn’t much of a talker. His head was spinning. The thought “I’m exhausted.” flashed through his mind.
“Hey, are you okay?” Benedict asked concerned.
“Yes. No. Definitely not. Drive me home so I don’t hurt myself trying to get home. You owe me that much.”
Benedict steadied him. “Give me your keys.”
-----
Benedict slowed the car to a stop as he arrived at Vincent’s apartment.
“Thanks,” Vincent said, but did not move. “I’m going to try this again, and you’re going to actually tell me this time. What’s the Smith case? How do you know Gherardi?”
Benedict scowled at Vincent. “Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”
“No.”
Benedict sighed and gripped the steering wheel. “Gherardi was someone I knew before you became my partner. We were working on a vice cum homicide case, also known as the Smith case.”
“So?”
“The case had a lot of glitches. Turns out that Gherardi was messing around with some people, getting them to give false testimonies and fake evidences, in order to get a conviction. That guy is messed up, messing with the law like that. Schmidt found him out.”
“So why does Gherardi hate you so much?”
Benedict looked Vincent in the eye. “Because I was the one who suspected him and reported him. It wasn’t right for him to do that, even if those people were obviously guilty.”
Vincent stared straight ahead, surprised. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Of course, you’re my partner.”
“Haven’t things just gotten more complicated? Gherardi looked way too pleased that the Sallings were dead. If Gherardi took that call, maybe he didn’t provide protection to Irena Salling on purpose?” “That wouldn’t be beyond him. He’s messed around with these kinds of things before,” Benedict replied.
“Thanks,” Vincent said, but did not move. “I’m going to try this again, and you’re going to actually tell me this time. What’s the Smith case? How do you know Gherardi?”
Benedict scowled at Vincent. “Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”
“No.”
Benedict sighed and gripped the steering wheel. “Gherardi was someone I knew before you became my partner. We were working on a vice cum homicide case, also known as the Smith case.”
“So?”
“The case had a lot of glitches. Turns out that Gherardi was messing around with some people, getting them to give false testimonies and fake evidences, in order to get a conviction. That guy is messed up, messing with the law like that. Schmidt found him out.”
“So why does Gherardi hate you so much?”
Benedict looked Vincent in the eye. “Because I was the one who suspected him and reported him. It wasn’t right for him to do that, even if those people were obviously guilty.”
Vincent stared straight ahead, surprised. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Of course, you’re my partner.”
“Haven’t things just gotten more complicated? Gherardi looked way too pleased that the Sallings were dead. If Gherardi took that call, maybe he didn’t provide protection to Irena Salling on purpose?” “That wouldn’t be beyond him. He’s messed around with these kinds of things before,” Benedict replied.
-----
They reached the Salling apartment at the next morning at 9.
“Hey Schmidt, care to brief?” Vincent strutted over with Benedict trailing behind.
Schmidt started his report, “Salling’s heart and liver were the only organs that were damaged enough to kill him, although the liver was due to alcohol abuse. It’s most likely that he died of an induced heart attack, through potassium overload into his system. There weren’t that many toxins in his body and his potassium levels were rather high. His wife was drugged, was given a dose of anticoagulant and was subsequently drained of her blood. Although the killer didn’t expect her to have more blood than the average Joe. Left a huge patch of blood on the bed.”
“Any witnesses?” Vincent asked.
“Kind of. There were some who testified seeing a man from SFPD going into the house but that’s it.”
“Any guess towards inside job or impostor?”
Schmidt looked at them. “I don’t know, but I’ll go with the inside job story. It’s more logical to me, because she could probably guess who’s the real deal.”
Vincent clucked his tongue. “Really.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants and huffed. “That’d be interesting.” Vincent’s mind instantly flew to Gherardi and his past history with tampering. “Could it be…?” he muttered under his breath to himself.
Benedict gave him a look and asked Schmidt, “Could I get the names of the witnesses? I want to talk to them myself to gauge how reliable they are. Saying someone from SFPD is pretty vague, since she called the police beforehand and all.”
“Yeah sure, let me get you his information.” Schmidt turned around to grab his notebook. “There’s a homeless guy around here, who goes by the name of Gary, and there’s a friend of the Sallings’, Jay.”
He scribbled something on a page of his notebook and tore it out, handing one copy to Benedict and another to Vincent.
“Thanks,” Benedict said. He looked towards Vincent. “I’m going to go check these guys out, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, sure thing. I’ll check out the house, see if I can find anything or put my genius brain to work,” Vincent replied.
Benedict chuckled. “Of course. Genius.”
Schmidt interrupted, “Hate to break you two lovebirds up, but I’m going to head back to the lab. You have my number, call if you need something.”
“Hey Schmidt, care to brief?” Vincent strutted over with Benedict trailing behind.
Schmidt started his report, “Salling’s heart and liver were the only organs that were damaged enough to kill him, although the liver was due to alcohol abuse. It’s most likely that he died of an induced heart attack, through potassium overload into his system. There weren’t that many toxins in his body and his potassium levels were rather high. His wife was drugged, was given a dose of anticoagulant and was subsequently drained of her blood. Although the killer didn’t expect her to have more blood than the average Joe. Left a huge patch of blood on the bed.”
“Any witnesses?” Vincent asked.
“Kind of. There were some who testified seeing a man from SFPD going into the house but that’s it.”
“Any guess towards inside job or impostor?”
Schmidt looked at them. “I don’t know, but I’ll go with the inside job story. It’s more logical to me, because she could probably guess who’s the real deal.”
Vincent clucked his tongue. “Really.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants and huffed. “That’d be interesting.” Vincent’s mind instantly flew to Gherardi and his past history with tampering. “Could it be…?” he muttered under his breath to himself.
Benedict gave him a look and asked Schmidt, “Could I get the names of the witnesses? I want to talk to them myself to gauge how reliable they are. Saying someone from SFPD is pretty vague, since she called the police beforehand and all.”
“Yeah sure, let me get you his information.” Schmidt turned around to grab his notebook. “There’s a homeless guy around here, who goes by the name of Gary, and there’s a friend of the Sallings’, Jay.”
He scribbled something on a page of his notebook and tore it out, handing one copy to Benedict and another to Vincent.
“Thanks,” Benedict said. He looked towards Vincent. “I’m going to go check these guys out, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, sure thing. I’ll check out the house, see if I can find anything or put my genius brain to work,” Vincent replied.
Benedict chuckled. “Of course. Genius.”
Schmidt interrupted, “Hate to break you two lovebirds up, but I’m going to head back to the lab. You have my number, call if you need something.”
-----
Vincent wandered around the Salling house while the forensics was still snapping and placing markers on everything they found. It was richly decorated, and he felt a tinge of jealousy. He could never afford anything so luxurious with his salary, yet those who are involved in criminal circles could. And then he remembered their fate, and chuckled to himself. At least he’s still alive.
He navigated his way around the house until he arrived at the bedroom, where Irena Salling’s body was found. Slipping his hand into his pockets, he pulled out a pair of gloves and put them on. Looking around the room, there was really nothing that stood out. Pictures of the couple were on table tops and on the walls. Everything was meticulously placed, and there didn’t even seem to have been a struggle of any kind. Nothing was knocked over. Besides the patch of blood on the bed, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
He walked slowly around the room, keeping an eye out for anything peculiar. Finding nothing, he sighed. “Of course there wouldn’t be anything,” he muttered to himself. If the killer had the time to drain her blood, he wouldn’t have been so careless to have left something behind in the crime scene.
Desperate for any sort of lead, Vincent made his way around the house, until he eventually found the study. From his past experience, the study was a place where one could find out a lot of information about the victim. He made his way to the desk that was situated at the end of the room. Opening the notebook on the desk and judging by the handwriting, he realized that this study belonged probably belonged to Irena Salling. Just to make sure, he turned on the computer in hopes of finding a user name. Sure enough, the computer flashed IRENE as the user name, and asked for the password.
Feeling as if he was at the top of the world at the moment, he sat down in the desk chair and began rummaging around. An hour later, he found a variety of things but nothing incriminating yet. He found some documents in Russian, but he was confident that it was not going to be anything there as it was too easy to find. The secret drawers he managed to find contained two semi-automatic Brownings and a 357 Derringer for self-defense.
He navigated his way around the house until he arrived at the bedroom, where Irena Salling’s body was found. Slipping his hand into his pockets, he pulled out a pair of gloves and put them on. Looking around the room, there was really nothing that stood out. Pictures of the couple were on table tops and on the walls. Everything was meticulously placed, and there didn’t even seem to have been a struggle of any kind. Nothing was knocked over. Besides the patch of blood on the bed, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
He walked slowly around the room, keeping an eye out for anything peculiar. Finding nothing, he sighed. “Of course there wouldn’t be anything,” he muttered to himself. If the killer had the time to drain her blood, he wouldn’t have been so careless to have left something behind in the crime scene.
Desperate for any sort of lead, Vincent made his way around the house, until he eventually found the study. From his past experience, the study was a place where one could find out a lot of information about the victim. He made his way to the desk that was situated at the end of the room. Opening the notebook on the desk and judging by the handwriting, he realized that this study belonged probably belonged to Irena Salling. Just to make sure, he turned on the computer in hopes of finding a user name. Sure enough, the computer flashed IRENE as the user name, and asked for the password.
Feeling as if he was at the top of the world at the moment, he sat down in the desk chair and began rummaging around. An hour later, he found a variety of things but nothing incriminating yet. He found some documents in Russian, but he was confident that it was not going to be anything there as it was too easy to find. The secret drawers he managed to find contained two semi-automatic Brownings and a 357 Derringer for self-defense.
He sighed and hoped Benedict had a better time in interviewing the Jay guy. He stood up and stretched when he notice there was something under the carpet. He picked it up. There was a riddle written on it.
“Merciful death, how you love your precious guilt. - Anne Rice.
Look behind the quilt and a pool of blood, the key is above what you see.
Avec l'amour, Vengeur de la Justice”
He flipped the card over. To his surprise, he saw that it was Aden’s business card. Whoever the killer was, he knew Aden was working on this case.
Vincent felt intrigued. It seemed the killer wanted to help the case in this case, yet not give a direct clue. He walk around the house and looked around leisurely, absent-mindedly playing with the edges of the card. The forensics team had left a few minutes ago and littered the place with those little number markers. He walked towards the bedroom.
“Salling, where do you hide your dirty secrets?” he said aloud in a sing-song voice. He eyed the ornate Victorian-styled four poster bed. Vincent thought to himself, “This “Vengeur de la Justice” can’t be that literal, right?”
He pulled his gloves tighter and ran the tips of his fingers over the tester on the side of the deceased. He was prodding a flower motif when the glove caught on something near the flower. He pulled his hand away and was irritated to see there was a small hole on the index finger. He took out his flashlight and shone it on the area. A zipper shaped motif was the culprit. Annoyed, he touched the motif. He found a groove, and scratched at it. To his surprise, the zipper motif flipped. Curiosity took over and he pulled the zipper-like thing. It revealed a hidden drawer, and in it were a key and a note.
He pulled his gloves tighter and ran the tips of his fingers over the tester on the side of the deceased. He was prodding a flower motif when the glove caught on something near the flower. He pulled his hand away and was irritated to see there was a small hole on the index finger. He took out his flashlight and shone it on the area. A zipper shaped motif was the culprit. Annoyed, he touched the motif. He found a groove, and scratched at it. To his surprise, the zipper motif flipped. Curiosity took over and he pulled the zipper-like thing. It revealed a hidden drawer, and in it were a key and a note.
“Félicitations!
Avec l'amour, Vengeur de la Justice”
Vincent stared at the items in his hands and shouted, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Congratulations, with love from the Avenger of Justice? Vincent was feeling rather insulted at the note when he realized that Benedict didn’t know much French even though he was of French origins, but he himself took pride in scoring As for French back in his high school years. This guy was not aiming at Aden, but both of them! Vincent looked at the card again. “Look behind the quilt and a pool of blood, huh?”
Vincent stared at the blank wall. He chanted “Behind the quilt and a pool of blood. Behind the quilt and a pool of blood. Behind the quilt and a pool of blood.” Suddenly it occurred to him that he was doing was wrong. “You should have said ‘below’ not ‘behind’ to make it obvious, dammit.” He flipped open the skirting of the bed. Voila, a key hole!
Vincent got excited and quickly tried the key. It turned smoothly. Vincent opened the drawer and saw stacks of files. He flipped a file, and another one. Whatever fatigue he felt for the fruitless search the previous hour, was cured immediately. He flipped open his phone. “Hey Schmidt, get your guys here now. I found a serious stash. Seems like all the files on trafficking are here.”
-----
Vincent walked out after briefing Schmidt and his staff, when he saw a guy rummaging around the trash area. He calls out, “Hey, are you Gary?”
The homeless guy looks up, “Wha? How did you know my name?”
“Just a hunch. I’m Detective Vincent Lim.”
The homeless guy’s eye’s narrowed. “A few of your guys came by already, what do you want?”
“Just wanna chat with you. Coffee sounds good?”
“Only if they come with donuts.”
The homeless guy looks up, “Wha? How did you know my name?”
“Just a hunch. I’m Detective Vincent Lim.”
The homeless guy’s eye’s narrowed. “A few of your guys came by already, what do you want?”
“Just wanna chat with you. Coffee sounds good?”
“Only if they come with donuts.”
-----
After they ordered their food, Vincent began “So, tell me about what you saw on the night of the murder.”
“Jesus, I already told…”
“I want to hear it from you, Gary.”
“Okay. I saw a guy who was a similar build and hair color as the guy who came by earlier to talk to me. The guy said his name was Ben.”
“And…”
“I told him what I’m going to tell you. Just saw the guy go into the house, and then leave awhile later. I had nowhere better to be, so I stuck around to sleep under the tree outside the house.”
“You said he was wearing a SFPD jacket?”
“Yes. Looked real, too. Carrying a gun in a holster and all.”
This startled Vincent. If it were an impostor, it would have been unlikely that they would carry a gun in a holster. Was it an inside job after all? Perhaps Gherardi, as he first suspected?
“I want to hear it from you, Gary.”
“Okay. I saw a guy who was a similar build and hair color as the guy who came by earlier to talk to me. The guy said his name was Ben.”
“And…”
“I told him what I’m going to tell you. Just saw the guy go into the house, and then leave awhile later. I had nowhere better to be, so I stuck around to sleep under the tree outside the house.”
“You said he was wearing a SFPD jacket?”
“Yes. Looked real, too. Carrying a gun in a holster and all.”
This startled Vincent. If it were an impostor, it would have been unlikely that they would carry a gun in a holster. Was it an inside job after all? Perhaps Gherardi, as he first suspected?
-----
Vincent saw Benedict coming through the door with dinner again. “So, did you get to see any of the witnesses?”
“I saw Jay but not Gary.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Benedict didn’t notice Vincent’s reaction and continued, “Jay was a real head spinner. It was so hard to get information out of him because he was trying so hard to prove he didn’t kill Salling.”
“Why didn’t you go and see the homeless guy?”
“Couldn’t find him. I’m not sure if a crazy homeless guy would be a reliable witness. No one’s going to take his word in court anyway.”
“Yeah, but still it might give us a chance to find out who this ‘Vengeur’ is.”
“Who cares about ‘Vengeur’? He’s helping, he’s not a priority.” Benedict sighed. “I’m too tired to do any real work. I’m going to skip dinner and head home. See you tomorrow.” Benedict said as he strode out of the office.
Vincent looked down at his hands. In all the time he had known Benedict, this was the first time Benedict had lied to his face, and he didn’t like it. Benedict was hiding something, but what? And how did he know about “Vengeur” anyway?
“I saw Jay but not Gary.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Benedict didn’t notice Vincent’s reaction and continued, “Jay was a real head spinner. It was so hard to get information out of him because he was trying so hard to prove he didn’t kill Salling.”
“Why didn’t you go and see the homeless guy?”
“Couldn’t find him. I’m not sure if a crazy homeless guy would be a reliable witness. No one’s going to take his word in court anyway.”
“Yeah, but still it might give us a chance to find out who this ‘Vengeur’ is.”
“Who cares about ‘Vengeur’? He’s helping, he’s not a priority.” Benedict sighed. “I’m too tired to do any real work. I’m going to skip dinner and head home. See you tomorrow.” Benedict said as he strode out of the office.
Vincent looked down at his hands. In all the time he had known Benedict, this was the first time Benedict had lied to his face, and he didn’t like it. Benedict was hiding something, but what? And how did he know about “Vengeur” anyway?
-----
Vincent couldn’t get Benedict’s behavior about the “Vengeur” out of his head for a few days and decided to do a stake out at Benedict’s place since he couldn’t make any progress with the Sallings’ deaths. He headed out of the station and went across to the bookstore, waiting for Benedict to head home. Vincent browsed through the magazine rack, second guessing his decision to stalk his own partner. For the last eight years he had known Benedict, especially since the past year as he was paired up with Benedict, he knew for a fact the Benedict usually was able to tell when they were being followed. He was still second-guessing his decision when he saw Benedict walk out the station. He put down the magazine he was flipping through and followed Benedict.
As he followed him, Vincent noticed that Benedict was unusually unobservant. He thought to himself, “Either he has too many things on his mind right now, or my shadowing skills have gotten better.” Benedict arrived at what was apparently his apartment building. Vincent ducked behind a tree. A few moments later, he saw the curtains on the 3rd floor open. It was Benedict.
As he followed him, Vincent noticed that Benedict was unusually unobservant. He thought to himself, “Either he has too many things on his mind right now, or my shadowing skills have gotten better.” Benedict arrived at what was apparently his apartment building. Vincent ducked behind a tree. A few moments later, he saw the curtains on the 3rd floor open. It was Benedict.
-----
Vincent finished his dinner at a nearby establishment. It was a good spot, as he could still keep an eye out on Benedict’s unit. He could see Benedict seated by the window reading a book. Vincent waved the waiter for his bill, deciding that the whole expedition was really just waste of time. As he walked out of the restaurant, he saw Benedict threw his keys into his mailbox and emerge from the building in jogging gear.
Vincent felt his jaw drop open and looked in disbelief. Leaving one’s keys in a mailbox was one of the stupidest acts and was like an open invitation for burglars to rob your house!
Vincent felt his jaw drop open and looked in disbelief. Leaving one’s keys in a mailbox was one of the stupidest acts and was like an open invitation for burglars to rob your house!
“How could Benedict be that stupid?” Vincent wondered.
Benedict got on his bicycle and rode off. Vincent instinctively knew that Benedict was going to Golden Gate Park, which was easily 25 minutes per way, which meant he had about 50 minutes to snoop around Benedict’s place. Curiosity got the better of Vincent. After he saw Benedict’s bicycle took a turn and disappeared down that lane, he sprinted over across the street, grabbed the keys and ran up the stairs. He used the keys and let himself into the apartment.
He stumbled in surprise. Benedict’s place was the cleanest, most organized and spacious apartments he had ever seen. It certainly did not match the photo he had shown Vincent when they were comparing places. Unconsciously, Vincent slipped on his gloves. He wasn’t sure what was he looking for, but with the lies he had heard from Benedict, something was going on, but he didn’t know just what was it.
Vincent walked over to Benedict’s desk. He opened the top drawer and saw a leather-bound journal. He picked it up and opened it in the middle. Recognizing the name, he read the entry.
Name: Olivier Gherardi
Ethnicity: Mediterranean
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 6”
Charge: Faking documents and producing false witness
Verdict: Guilty
Punishment method: Demotion to administration
He doesn’t deserve to die yet. I hope his 4-5 years in administration will tone down with his methods of getting the job done. After all, the system is human made, obviously there will always be loopholes for these bastards to crawl through. You rely on the system to punish someone, but the system doesn’t always guarantee justice. If you want change, do it yourself. Don’t need to be Machiavellian about it.
Vincent wasn’t sure how to feel about this yet. He agreed that Gherardi should be punished, and he too believed that Gherardi deserved it. He continued to flip towards the back and saw many names, some of which he recognized in previous cases and many more which he did not recognize. Then, he saw Salling’s name, and the entry was as such.
Name: Mark Salling
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 8”
Charge: Embezzlement of $5.38 million from his own business partners but was acquitted of all charges for lack of evidence.
Verdict: Guilty
Execution method: Induced cardiac arrest by introducing potassium to the axillary vein.
End Location: Grizzly Bay.
It leaves me with great satisfaction to see another one of these trashes who litter the world with the crimes they commit, go and meet the Great Judge in Heaven (or Hell). “They” might have needed a little help in getting these jokers where they belong, but I accept that. After all, you cannot always expect the angels to clean up all the messes we leave behind.
Yes, it’s we. No one is a saint. No one is born innocent. We’re all corrupt; it’s just a matter of degree. And dear Mr. Salling was corrupt beyond redemption.
Benedict got on his bicycle and rode off. Vincent instinctively knew that Benedict was going to Golden Gate Park, which was easily 25 minutes per way, which meant he had about 50 minutes to snoop around Benedict’s place. Curiosity got the better of Vincent. After he saw Benedict’s bicycle took a turn and disappeared down that lane, he sprinted over across the street, grabbed the keys and ran up the stairs. He used the keys and let himself into the apartment.
He stumbled in surprise. Benedict’s place was the cleanest, most organized and spacious apartments he had ever seen. It certainly did not match the photo he had shown Vincent when they were comparing places. Unconsciously, Vincent slipped on his gloves. He wasn’t sure what was he looking for, but with the lies he had heard from Benedict, something was going on, but he didn’t know just what was it.
Vincent walked over to Benedict’s desk. He opened the top drawer and saw a leather-bound journal. He picked it up and opened it in the middle. Recognizing the name, he read the entry.
Name: Olivier Gherardi
Ethnicity: Mediterranean
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 6”
Charge: Faking documents and producing false witness
Verdict: Guilty
Punishment method: Demotion to administration
He doesn’t deserve to die yet. I hope his 4-5 years in administration will tone down with his methods of getting the job done. After all, the system is human made, obviously there will always be loopholes for these bastards to crawl through. You rely on the system to punish someone, but the system doesn’t always guarantee justice. If you want change, do it yourself. Don’t need to be Machiavellian about it.
Vincent wasn’t sure how to feel about this yet. He agreed that Gherardi should be punished, and he too believed that Gherardi deserved it. He continued to flip towards the back and saw many names, some of which he recognized in previous cases and many more which he did not recognize. Then, he saw Salling’s name, and the entry was as such.
Name: Mark Salling
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 8”
Charge: Embezzlement of $5.38 million from his own business partners but was acquitted of all charges for lack of evidence.
Verdict: Guilty
Execution method: Induced cardiac arrest by introducing potassium to the axillary vein.
End Location: Grizzly Bay.
It leaves me with great satisfaction to see another one of these trashes who litter the world with the crimes they commit, go and meet the Great Judge in Heaven (or Hell). “They” might have needed a little help in getting these jokers where they belong, but I accept that. After all, you cannot always expect the angels to clean up all the messes we leave behind.
Yes, it’s we. No one is a saint. No one is born innocent. We’re all corrupt; it’s just a matter of degree. And dear Mr. Salling was corrupt beyond redemption.
Shocked, Vincent turned to the first page on the journal. It read,
“Si vous lisez ceci, bienvenue dans mon monde de la justice.
Avec l'amour, Vengeur de la Justice
Bénédict Aden”
which meant,
“If you read this, welcome to my world of justice.
With love, the Venger of Justice
Bénédict Aden”
Vincent put the journal back into its original position. Dazed with the revelation that his partner was a murderer and orchestrator of many events for his sense of justice, it overwhelmed Vincent. He struggled internally, as he couldn’t decide whether or not he supported Benedict’s actions. On one hand, he was disgusted by the crimes of the Sallings. Yet, on the other hand, could he truly accept Benedict’s actions in privately giving out what he deemed to be justice? Wasn’t an instituted system just as important?
Unsure and overwhelmed by his new findings, Vincent straightened the area, stumbled out the door, locked it, went down the stairs and put the keys back into the mailbox. Half-aware of his surroundings, he saw an available taxi, waved it down and went home. He had a lot to think about tonight. What was he to do now?
-----
Epilogue
I rode the bicycle, circled the block and came back. As expected, Vincent thought that I had gone to the park and went into my apartment. He’ll probably think I had really fallen behind in my skills when all I did was to lead him on. He took it hook, line and sinker.
I could see him at my desk. He found the journal and reading it. I lit a cigarette. It would probably be my last one as a free man. I wonder which prison I’ll be spending life in. It’s really too bad that the state of California outlawed capital punishment. My time there will be a real waste of taxpayers’ money.
Vincent put back the journal and walked around the apartment. He came out of the building soon after. The poor guy looked like he got sucker punched. He hailed a taxi and got on. I took one last drag of the cigarette, snuffed it out and threw it into the bin. I’m guessing I won’t be arrested tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I went across the street and back into my apartment.
I rode the bicycle, circled the block and came back. As expected, Vincent thought that I had gone to the park and went into my apartment. He’ll probably think I had really fallen behind in my skills when all I did was to lead him on. He took it hook, line and sinker.
I could see him at my desk. He found the journal and reading it. I lit a cigarette. It would probably be my last one as a free man. I wonder which prison I’ll be spending life in. It’s really too bad that the state of California outlawed capital punishment. My time there will be a real waste of taxpayers’ money.
Vincent put back the journal and walked around the apartment. He came out of the building soon after. The poor guy looked like he got sucker punched. He hailed a taxi and got on. I took one last drag of the cigarette, snuffed it out and threw it into the bin. I’m guessing I won’t be arrested tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I went across the street and back into my apartment.
Fin.
Am impressed. Delighted to have encountered a glimpse of a dream. Hmmm, now that's starting to sound rhythmic. I browsed through the work above and confessingly searched to detect perhaps a single boring standpoint. Alas, futile effort and it landed me from junction to junction of continuity till I finally landed up "back into the apartment"...FIN.
ReplyDeleteHmmm...love the work. The breath and breadth of it. Great job!
Now I am beginning to believe the divinity exchange of our paths was definitely not but for the moment. We must do something about that then, young lady!
UR