Murder By A Hundred Cuts Book Sample
Prologue
“Oh…my…god!”
Her head was a daze of confusion. Nausea and dizziness as her eyes slowly opened, closed, then opened again. The bright light painful to her orbs. Her retinas struggled to make the adjustment. No idea of what was going on. No current memory of what had happened or how she got where she was. Wherever she was.
“Where the hell am I!” she yelled.
After several minutes, her eyes came into focus. She glanced down away from the searing light, to gauge the surroundings. A wooden table off in the distance against a concrete wall, a portion covered with a bulletin board. A few tools sat on the tabletop, though she couldn’t decipher what they were. Nearby was a cheap office chair on castors. Her bare feet, bound together with a Velcro strap, rested on the bottom of a round kiddy pool. Their stamped cartoon characters eerie to witness. She tried to move, but her arms were tied above her, attached to something not allowing her to move. She was naked, her skin cold and clammy. The reality of her situation hit her hard as she started to scream in terror.
“What the hell is going on!” She twisted and struggled to get free. “Somebody help me!” Tears ran down her face. Her body trembled. “Please, oh please, help me!”
“It’s all right.” A calming, muffled voice called out from behind her. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to cherish you, Christina.”
Christina Bowles tried once again to break free of her bonds. Her effort only weakened her more, as the drugs in her system, which had put her down, were still coursing through her veins, affecting her stamina.
“You haven’t the strength to break loose,” the muffled voice said. “Ketamine takes a great deal of time to completely wear off.”
Christina tried to recall what had happened. “You drugged me…you son-of-a-bitch.” The hard words had no bite to them.
“Of course. I doubt you would have joined me for my party…willingly.” There was a lilt of joy in the voice.
Nausea rolled through her core, causing her to vomit. She tried not to get it on herself but failed.
“No worries, Christina. Let it all out. I’ll be sure to wash you off before I begin.”
She continued to empty her stomach. Gasps of air required to get control. The horror of what awaited her coming into view.
“Looks like you’re done. Don’t go anywhere—I’ll be back.”
Christina’s head hung limply. She was exhausted, with no resolve to struggle. A horrible taste in her mouth she couldn’t find the strength to spit out. Her eyes closed until a stream of cold water flowed against her skin, making her shiver. The shock was enough to awaken her. The person before her held a garden hose sprayer in hand.
“Feel better?” Cold, brown eyes shown through his mask. His head covered with a surgeon’s cap, not a hair in sight. “Open your mouth and take a drink. You must be thirsty.” He dropped the sprayer and held a bottle of water to her lips. “We can’t let you get dehydrated. It will affect the color of your blood. I want it to be bright red.”
A couple of tasteless sips were taken. Christina wanted to spit the water on his covered face but couldn’t find the will or the strength. She swallowed it down. Would this be the last drink of her life?
Once she was done, the figure walked out of the room and returned with a towel. “Let me dry you off, for you are shivering. I’ll then turn up the heat so you don’t catch a death of cold.” As he rubbed her down with the towel, the man chuckled at his humor.
“Who are you?”
“Oh, Christina, I thought you would know me by now.” He tossed the towel to the floor. “You gave me many tasks to complete through the years.”
“Simon?” Christina blinked several times, trying to focus on what she could see of his face. “It couldn’t be you. You’re dead.”
“No. That would be your brother. Though you don’t acknowledge his name anymore since you dropped Lions.”
“You can’t be Junior. He’s in jail.”
“Exactly. Junior is awaiting trial. A trial where you would testify against him.”
Christina closed her eyes and shook her head, though with little conviction.
“Ohhh…come now. You can’t lie to me. We know all about the deal you made to save your pitiful life. We couldn’t let you get away with murder without suffering the consequences.”
The man moved to the table. His body was draped in a blue hospital gown, his hands covered with medical gloves, his feet wrapped in hospital booties. He picked an instamatic camera, focused on his subject, and pressed the button. The picture slowly ejected and he dropped the white framed square onto the table. He waited for several minutes to make sure the photo lived up to his standards. He smiled when the naked, frightened, and helpless body developed in color before his eyes. He was overjoyed with the results. Stage one, with others to be taken at various times through the process of his artistic endeavor.
“You are a beauty to behold.” His prideful declaration echoed eerily off the walls. “Each still picture will capture my work for a certain man to view. It will make a stirring introduction to my rebirth.”
With the camera back on the table, he reached for a different object and lifted it up. He found another rectangular item and snapped it to the base. A cordless reciprocating saw with a twelve-inch blade. He pressed the button to make sure it functioned properly. The blade moved rapidly back and forth, the noise from the motor loud.
Christina raised her head. “What the hell is that?”
The man held it up in the air. “Nice isn’t it. Heavier than a scalpel, but not too bad. And so much faster at slicing off skin. Wouldn’t you say?”
Christina’s body jolted at the realization of what the tool would be used for. “Please…please…don’t do this! I beg you!”
“Come on Christina. This will only hurt for a minute or so. I’m thinking I’ll start on the leg first and then move on up. The pool will catch all the skin and make it easy for me to gather it up to send to your husband. Clever how I’ve refined and sped up the process.”
The man pressed the button and moved forward. Christina tried to kick her feet but couldn’t muster enough strength to protect herself.
“Moving will only make it worse. The blade is brand new, the teeth quite sharp. I’ll end up cutting into bone, which I don’t want to do. I want to leave the skeleton intact for others to view and study.”
He fired up the button again and, with a downward stroke, made his first pass. The scream of pain one he cherished. Each slice of skin provided him with a joy he’d long desired. An effervescent expression which widened with each carving.
“Christina, what do you think of the name, The Front Range Carver? Instead of FRB people can shorten it to FRC. Or maybe they can call me Carver. I want to stand out beyond the Simon’s and have my own moniker.” A sinister chuckle filtered through the mask. When most would gag, he found humor in his words.
There was no response from Christina. Only screams and sobs, with more to come. Carver continued his work as if he were an artist sculpting a prideful masterpiece. Leering at each cut, gauging where the next one would make the most sense.
Once again, a serial killer had returned to torture the population of the Colorado Front Range. With more victim’s names on a waiting list pinned to the wall. Names of all those who had wronged the man he idolized and wanted to emulate. A name at the bottom of the list highlighted in bold print.
Jarvis Mann!!
Chapter 1
The Private Eye Tavern was boringly quiet this October afternoon, which was normal for a Monday. Each of the three customers spread out at the bar nursing their drinks and food. Most of my employees leaned against the bar or sat with little to do. Watching one of the many televisions or reading a book to kill time before the inevitable after work rush came streaming through the doors. Paying customers to fill their stomachs and leave the stress of their workday behind.
I sat at a back corner booth reading over the inventory numbers on my notebook computer, while I waited for a visitor I’d not seen in several years. Our first meeting had taken place at a Starbucks. The man being the father of my former girlfriend, Melissa. Back then Jonas hired me for the case of a lifetime, despite his dislike of me for emotionally hurting his daughter. The déjà vu of this moment one I couldn’t ignore, even with the different meeting venue.
It had been about three weeks since I had heard the words come out of the mouth of FBI Special Agent Catalina Alegre about the brutal death of Christina Bowles. A death I didn’t grieve over, for I knew the woman was a monster who had used her brother and nephew to murder those she wanted removed from this world. The fact that she had made a deal to save her life and testify for the prosecution against Simon Lions Junior was one I had a hard time coming to terms with. The case against the man labeled The Front Range Butcher, one not requiring Christina to roll over on her nephew. My iron clad graphic testimony would be enough to put the needle in the man’s arm and end the horror once and for all. But since the killings had started again, it was hard to understand what was going on. It appeared to me The Front Range Butcher reincarnated had taken on a life of its own. The horror seemingly would never end.
I tired of looking at numbers and closed the computer. I thought about that night and how I imagined it might end. Catalina there to see me, the hopes of maybe a small romantic spark between us. The chance for two recently single people to get to know each other. All dashed when the call lit up her phone. The FBI Special Agent was now heavily involved in the latest murder, as I hadn’t heard from her since. Calls I’d made to her had gone unanswered. Messages I left were not returned. A task force likely assembled of those involved with the previous Butcher murders, with hopes of tracking down this new killer, which required all her attention and time. A murder I was happy to remain ignorant about. I had enough memories of the brutal killings to carry me to my grave. Memories I’d have to relive on the witness stand in the coming weeks when the trial was finally presented before a judge and jury after many delays.
Jonas Diaz walked through the front door. I stood and waved him over and shook hands with him. The man now in his early sixties, with less hair. What hair remained, nearly all gray. He was dressed casually in a dark blue, long-sleeved cotton shirt and black slacks. He carried a brown leather briefcase which he placed on the table before he sat down. His skin was dark from a seasonal tan, with many age lines born from his time on this earth.
“Good to see you Jarvis,” Jonas said.
“I was surprised when you called.” I sat across from him at the booth. “I hadn’t heard from you in a couple of years.”
“I’ve been busy in retirement. Or at least sort of retirement. I’ve been working on a project.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever retire.”
“Me, neither. The newspaper industry isn’t the same these days. Physical papers are nearly extinct. Most everything is digital and on the web. I hate it because it’s mostly reactionary click bait designed to enflame people.”
I couldn’t disagree. Clicks were where the money was these days. And misleading, attention-grabbing headlines brought clicks to pay the bills. Which I did my best not to fall for. Whether it be websites or social media, misleading information spread like wildfire.
“I do my best not to read most of the crap out there. The Dan Rather days of news is likely gone for good, which is a shame.” I stopped and held out my hand. “Where are my manners. Would you like something to eat or drink? We have the best chicken tenders and boneless wings in town. On the house of course.”
“I wouldn’t say no to some wings with hot sauce and a cup of coffee. Though I’d like a shot of whiskey to add a little bite to the java.”
I wanted to tell him our coffee already had a bite to it, though not in the same manner whiskey would infuse. I nodded, stood, and poured him a cup at the bar, added a splash of whiskey, and brought it back with some cream and sugar. Before returning to my seat, I put in an order for chicken wings.
Jonas took a sip and groaned. “Damn, I’m glad I had you add the whiskey.”
I smiled. “I was going to warn you, but…” I held up my hands in surrender and changed the subject. “What is the project you’re working on?”
Jonas took another sip. “I should have asked for two shots of whiskey.” He opened his briefcase. He removed a stack of papers and tossed them in front of me. “The beginnings of my book.”
I grabbed the paper and turned it so I could read the title aloud. “‘Murder By A Hundred Cuts: The Story of the Front Range Butcher.’ Catchy title. Isn’t the saying by a thousand cuts?”
“I didn’t want to use the cliché and have the title be unique for the search engines. I think a hundred is more along the lines of how many it took for Simon and son to kill their victims.”
I flipped through the pages. “Is there a chapter in here on me?”
“Only partially. It’s why I’m here.”
I grimaced as if in pain. I wasn’t certain I liked the idea of my name being in the book.
“I understand your reaction and concern. Don’t worry, I’m changing the names of all involved. Other than Simon Senior and Junior. Their names are public knowledge.”
“As is mine, if people look hard enough. Not that I didn’t do my damnedest to keep it off the public record. I’m sure Melissa tried as well.”
“Hard to do when you’re both witnesses.”
“Will Melissa be in the book?”
“Yes…to some degree. I struggled with that, but figured the two of you being held by Junior couldn’t be ignored. And my agent and publisher insisted. Her name will be different too.”
I had a few suggestions, though decided I’d keep them to myself. It was his job to name his daughter at birth and on the pages of the book. Though I might whisper in his ear a couple of alternate names for me. Axel, Blaze, or Thor would sound cool and tough.
“Then what do you have here?” I tapped my finger on the pages.
“Several early chapters on Simon Senior and my interactions with him. It has taken a while with all this COVID crap. I’m a little behind schedule. The publishers gave me a nice advance and wanted it out before the trial. With the trial coming up, they want me to include it in the book. I’m thinking it might end up being a second book, since it might be too long otherwise. But time will tell.”
It seemed to me like a second book, titled ‘The Trial of The Front Range Butcher’ would also have a nice ring to it. Both are likely to be bestsellers with the world being fascinated with serial killers. A notion which I wasn’t certain was a good thing.
“Won’t it be a conflict if you’re called to testify?”
“It is, which is another reason why they’re waiting. My publisher’s lawyers are nervous about lawsuits from Junior, if for some reason he is found innocent.”
“Surely there is no way that will happen.”
My cook brought out the chicken wings lathered in sauce and a pile of extra napkins.
“This is my head chef, Gus,” I said. “Best damn chicken you’ll ever eat.”
Gus shook his hand before heading back to the kitchen.
“Smells wonderful.” Jonas grabbed one and took a bite. “Damn, that is good. Tender chicken with the right amount of spice. I hope you pay him well. Someone will grab him up in a heartbeat if everything else he cooks is this good.”
This was true and why he was one of my highest paid employees. Not to mention I provided him with the ideal schedule that worked well for him and his family. Probably took home more than I did since profits had been marginal these last couple of years.
Jonas finished the first wing and grabbed a napkin. “Damn hard not to get sauce all over your face and hands. This outpaces the coffee by a mile.” He cleaned off his hands and mouth. “Back to your question. It’s hard to believe Junior could get away with these murders. But one can never be certain. And now that Christina is out of the way, there is one less witness against him.”
Even though the FBI had done their best to keep the news of Christina’s murder from the front headlines, it wasn’t surprising Jonas had heard. His contacts would have kept him informed as a courtesy.
“I’m sure they have a deposition from her they can use.”
“His new lawyer will work hard to get it thrown out. Find a legal angle to twist and use.”
I wasn’t sure Jonas knew I had a hand in the lawyer change when I got Torey Whitelaw disbarred for sexual harassment. The new legal counsel one I didn’t know, though I’d heard she was a tough female defense lawyer who didn’t often lose.
“Let’s hope not. But still, my testimony and Melissa’s should be enough. Add in the midwife, Abigail Hellmann, and the evidence found at the scene where he held Melissa and I, there should be more than enough to convict. How does Melissa feel about the upcoming trial? Have you two talked about it?”
“She was over for dinner this past weekend and we talked some. Though my wife shushed us about discussing it during the meal.”
“Nice of her to drive up from Colorado Springs to see you.”
Jonas’ eyebrows raised. “I guess you didn’t know. She moved back to the Denver area over a year ago.”
I was surprised to hear this. Though the two of us hadn’t talked for some time now. “Really. Did she get a new job?”
“No. The law firm decided to open a small practice down in Lone Tree. She is one of the junior partners now.”
This was good news. I always wanted the best for Melissa, even if we couldn’t be together anymore. I would think about giving her a call. Though I wouldn’t mention it to Jonas. When it came to his daughter, he didn’t think much of me as a boyfriend.
“Wonderful. I’m sure she is kicking butt in the legal world.”
Jonas nodded and took another wing. Though this time he used a fork, which made it less messy. He swallowed and followed it with a small sip from his cup.
“I doubt I can eat all of these.” He pushed the basket in my direction. “You should have a couple.”
I waved him off and patted my belly. “I already had lunch. And I prefer the sweet sauce.”
“Your loss.” Jonas stabbed another smaller wing and ate it whole. “If you have time now, I’d like to start talking with you about the investigation I hired you for. Get into the meat of the details of what happened when Junior held you and Melissa hostage.”
“You already know most of it,” I said.
He reached into the bag again and pulled out another round of paper and tossed it at me. “You’re right, but I like to make sure I’m accurate. It has been over three years since I hired you.” He tapped his temple. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. Read through this and let me know what you think and if I need to correct anything.”
I took the papers. It was quite a few pages, which would take a while to read. “I may need a little time. Can you give me several days to go through it and make a few notes? Then we can talk.”
“Absolutely. Call me when you’re ready and we’ll set up a time.” He went into his bag again and pulled out a card. “Here is my new cell number. I had to dump the other one. I was getting too many calls, including crackpots. Please don’t share it.”
I tucked the card in my pants pocket. “No problem. I’ve had to change mine a few times through the years.”
Jonas picked up the fork, glared at the boneless wings, then sat the fork down. “I think I’ll take the rest to go. If I have any more, I won’t be hungry for dinner. Leigh Ann will give me grief.”
I got a to-go container and dumped the remaining wings inside.
Jonas took the larger pile of papers and put them back in his briefcase, stood, and put out his hand. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
I shook his hand, hiding my grimace at his vise-like grip. “Like I said, give me time to go through it thoroughly. I’m interested in reading what you wrote.”
With his food and briefcase in hand Jonas walked to the door. “I’m sure Melissa would enjoy hearing from you. Give her a call.”
I was surprised to hear him say this. “Really? I suspected you’d be telling me to steer clear of her after what happened in our past relationship.”
“True. But you did save her life from The Butcher, so I know you have nothing but the best intentions for her.” He walked back over and put a hand on my shoulder. “But if you screw over Melissa again, I’ll punch your lights out.”
I smiled at the threat, though I knew it was real. “I’d expect nothing less.”
The feeling of déjà vu had returned.