Love Always Claire "The Great Murder Mystery"

By James Fee

For Claire, the ultimate shark, the world is her ocean. After circumstances force her to leave Milwaukee, she sets her sights on Chicago to find her former high school love and extract revenge. Unaware of the storm brewing, Shawn McCauley not remembering Claire from school unwittingly hires her to work at his firm. Suddenly both his life and career begin an evil downward spiral.

Mentally ill and with her insidious personality, Claire concocts schemes littered with death, lies and cheap sultry sex to stay a few steps ahead of her fellow employees and the law. But someone is now onto Claire and her evil plan. Believing she is the puppet master and her fellow employees are nothing more than her puppets, she is determined to prevent anything from stopping her diabolical plans. As her insane schemes begin unraveling, the puppet master becomes one of the puppets. In the end, which puppets will be left?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: Sep 24, 2011

James Fee

Being an avid reader, I have read numerous books by such great mystery authors as Mary Higgins Clark, Sandra Brown and quite a few others. I have a degree in accounting and have been employed in this field for at least a couple of decades. Although writing is a stretch from numbers, quite a few of my professors commented on my ability to write in school. I chose to stick with the numbers game since it was the path I felt comfortable with. Since writing Love Always Claire, I haven’t been the same person since. I feel I have found my passion in life, which is writing. I currently reside in Tampa Florida.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Claire Johnson wasn’t the type of person to get the citizen of the year award. On the contrary, she was a menace to society. She preyed on the innocent and simple-minded. She enjoyed messing with their minds. Claire trusted nobody; everybody had an axe to grind and always wanted what she had.

On the other side of the fence, most people didn’t like her, and that included her family. Her own mother would tell people that Claire was evil, and she hated to be alone in a room with her. The father tried understanding her, but in the end, he gave up. He always wanted a big family, but the mother refused to have any more children after Claire. The mother’s excuse was that there was something the matter with their bloodline. One time, Claire overheard the mother talking to a priest about a documentary she had watched on demonic children. The mother had been seriously contemplating an exorcism for her.

Claire was raised in a small town about fifty miles north of Milwaukee and that type of news traveled fast. People would whisper about her when she was seen around. Every time that happened, her precious mother would suffer because of it, and Claire wouldn’t be allowed out of her room after that. This pattern went on until Claire was big enough to bully the parents, and then the shoe was on the other foot. When she asked for something, the parents would jump and get if for her otherwise she would threaten to hurt them. She had beaten the shit out of them quite a few times during those years. The beatings finally stopped when the mother died and the father went into hiding.

Claire, now in her early thirties, stood about five feet eight inches tall with bleached blonde hair. It seemed to work with all her other features. Some would say she looked manly, but she didn’t care. She had to pile on the make-up to cover the years of scarring from bad acne as a child. Claire paid for nothing; she made everyone else flip the bill. She felt entitled to everything that life had to offer. Claire would lie, cheat and steal to get what she wanted. She considered herself the master puppeteer pulling peoples strings to achieve what she wanted. Her real asset was her body. She kept herself in shape. Claire went to the gym five days a week and went to as many cardio exercise classes as possible. She wasn’t doing it to entice a prospective caller; there wasn’t another human smart enough to be with her. She only dated as a means to an end. Claire didn’t care if she dated a man or a woman just as long as there was something in it for her.

Claire had fallen in love only once and it was in her sophomore year in high school. The guy was a senior at the time and his name was Shawn McCauley. She watched every move he made in school and on the field when he played football. Although, he was a jock, Claire knew he wasn’t like the rest. She could tell he was a loner just like herself. After each game, one of the cheerleaders always threw a party. Although she was never invited, Claire would go and hide and watch Shawn at the parties. None of the girls ever hung on him like all the other guys. It seemed Shawn only went to the parties to get drunk and she would watch him pound one down after the next from her hiding place. He would leave the parties stumbling all over the place. This only made Claire want him more. Claire tried to get his attention in school and at the games but was never lucky. They were together only once and it was after one of the parties. As usual, Shawn had come stumbling out and Claire got the nerve to talk to him. He barely said much to her but invited her back to his garage and there they tried having sex. Shawn was so drunk that after a couple of kisses he passed out and she left. He never approached her again and this destroyed Claire in ways unimaginable. Her only conclusion was that he must have blacked out the experience. It took her the remainder of her high school days to get over her love for him. She felt cheated just like with everything else in life. Her love turned to anger as time went on and she realized love wasn’t in the cards for her. There was one thing in the cards and it was revenge.

Claire’s first job was located in Milwaukee where she worked as an assistant to two top lawyers. While working on some billing one day, she came across hours being billed to a advertising agency named Draker and Dean located in Chicago. She knew lover boy Shawn was married and living there but was shocked to find out the weasel was the manager at this company. Shortly thereafter, Claire got fired from the lawyer firm and set her sights on Chicago. It was time for payback to Shawn for not realizing her beauty years ago. She found an example of a marketing resume on the Internet and basically copied it only changing school names and companies she supposedly worked at. Not that she had any marketing skills but Claire’s philosophy was to make things up as needed. She emailed her resume to Shawn and was contacted immediately. She put on the charm during the interview and Shawn hired her the same day. They talked briefly about the town they both grew up in with him being oblivious to the fact that they had crossed paths that infamous night. It didn’t take long before she was playing with Shawn’s life and he ended up in a mental institution. Claire was no stranger to mental institutions or psychiatrists that was for sure. Her parents put her away a couple of times. She dreaded psychotherapy but she sure gave those shrinks a run for their money. The only good thing was the medications. As soon as Shawn was out of the picture, Claire stepped up to his job and now had her sights on Shawn’s wife Sarah. She even had Sarah convinced they were falling in love with each other. Not that it couldn’t be a possible feat but when Claire wanted to get off she preferred the company of a man. The only thing Sarah had in her corner was that Claire needed her to further destroy Shawn.

Sarah reminded Claire of a mousy little girl in her sixth grade class. Amy, the mousy girl, would always make faces at her like she was dirt under her feet. Near the start of their Christmas vacation, the class had to do a book report on their favorite animal and read it in class. Of course, Claire hated animals but always had a thing for snakes, so she wrote about them. She felt they were mean and sneaky, just like she was. Amy seemed quite pleased the teacher didn’t like Claire’s favorite animal, and she smiled the whole time the teacher frowned. Then came Amy’s turn. Of course her favorite animal was her pet, Fluffy the white poodle. She brought a picture of it, a cotton ball with two beady brown eyes. The teacher loved her report and gave her an A, while Claire failed. She knew they both had something against her. That was when Claire decided to get back at Amy.

At first, she followed her home, to find out where the bitch lived. Then she would hide in their neighbor’s yard and watch at exactly what time good old Fluffy went out in the evening. For days, she watched with impending anticipation. Almost like clockwork, the pooch was let out around 6:00 p.m. The family would sit down and eat all the while leaving Fluffy alone. Dinner seemed to last until 7:00 p.m., and then the dog would be called in. To be safe, Claire estimated she had about a half hour, which would be plenty of time. They had a pool, and Fluffy was getting ready to take the dip of her lifetime.

It was the following Monday when the deed was done. She put one of her father’s twenty-pound weights in her school bag with a piece cut from the clothesline. Amy made faces at her the whole day, and all the while, Claire sat there, stone-faced. Instead, she thought over and over in her mind about that little dog gasping and fighting for its life. By the time 6:00 p.m. came, Claire had been more than willing to execute the little monster. Fluffy came bouncing out the door right on time and Claire lured her over with pieces of her ham sandwich that she saved from lunch. She grabbed that powder puff on four twigs and tied the weight around the neck and held her mouth shut and then watched her drown. It was at that point in her life she realized her destiny. She wanted to kill and bring suffering to those around her.

It was Tuesday evening and Claire signed onto her computer at home. She had some shopping to do. Not what one would consider conventional shopping, unless you were looking for a way to kill somebody—and, of course, she had a couple of people on her list. Claire owned a gun but that wasn’t always the best way to do somebody in. Last night, she tried poisoning a cat with antifreeze in the alley behind her apartment. Claire wanted to study the way the cat would suffer from ingesting it in case she used it on humans. She came close to grabbing the cat, but it got away. Animals never seemed to like her, and the cat must have sensed the evil coursing through her veins and bolted away. She really liked the idea of antifreeze, because the victim didn’t die right away. They suffered for quite some time, and Claire would have enjoyed seeing them in agony. After what she heard from her assistant, Anna, today concerning the audit, she decided she would have to speed up the process and find something fast acting.

Claire was never big on the Internet; she felt it was a waste of her valuable time. She typed in a few words relating to what she needed and ended up stumbling on a suicide chat line. She felt like she hit the lottery, somebody would know what she could use. She introduced herself in the room and waited to see if anybody would respond. Within seconds she got a few messages but decided to talk to Stiff. The name piqued her curiosity.

How are you doing tonight? My name is Stiff.

Not too bad! How did you come up with the name Stiff?

You know, death and dying, and you end up stiff from rigor mortis.

That’s what I thought, but I didn’t want to assume in case you were referring to what was going on between your legs. Secretly Claire was hoping that was the story line; she was in the mood to talk dirty with him. On another note, I am hoping you can help me out! Do you know where I can get my hands on some fast-acting drugs to induce death?

There are quite a few places on the Internet you can order from. Search around and I am sure you will find what you are looking for. I can see you are too busy for a neighborly chat tonight.

This wasn’t going the way Claire had planned. She didn’t want to pick just anyone, and she was sure this guy would know the best. I’m sorry, Stiff. I didn’t mean to rush our conversation; it’s just when I have something on my mind I don’t beat around the bush.

That’s cool! So are you looking to use the product on yourself or somebody else?

Myself, of course! I have done my time here.

Me, too. I plan on doing it within the next couple of weeks. I plan on using sleeping pills but you can use anything you like but stay away from cyanide. You will suffer before you go, unless you are into that. Have you planned your funeral yet?

Claire really didn’t want to be bothered but she had no choice. She needed the stuff as soon as possible. No, I decided against anything big.

Well, I have been planning my big day in my head for months and finally got the nerve up today to do some comparison shopping. I checked out a few funeral homes and picked the most elaborate place. Nothing but the best for my big day! The experience was really quite educational. Did you know they stuff your cheeks with cotton balls so they look full and then they sew your eyelids and mouth shut? They even have to break a majority of your bones to fold your hands in prayer.

Claire was finding the conversation entertaining now; she loved morbid things like this! You really seem to know your stuff; I am really impressed.

Damn straight! I even convinced the guy to let me lie in a few different coffins so I would know which one I wanted. The whole experience turned me on, and I experienced an orgasm without even touching myself! Wild! Wouldn’t you agree?

Definitely sounds bizarre! I can see how exciting it has been for you, but I want to make myself suffer prior to dying and feel the experience will be like none other. Can you tell me where I can get cyanide?

I personally think it’s weird you want to torture yourself. I have heard some real horror stories about people who used cyanide. The experience should be peaceful, not painful! Most of the people in the chat room order from this guy named Sal. If you need something, he can have it to you within a couple of days. He will even overnight the stuff, but it costs extra.

He typed in a number and Claire wrote it down. She thanked him and signed off before she could be tempted to offer to kill him. He would probably enjoy it too much. He was so fucking annoying! People like him took the thrill of killing away.

A couple of nights Claire put her little potion to the test. On her way home from work she decided she would hit the bar, Stag’s, around 11:00. It was a great pick-up joint. The men acted like dogs in heat waiting to find a female who would put out. Most people hated to admit they went there, and the stories about who picked up who were legendary. She dressed as plain as possible; she wasn’t looking to get laid. She decided on a brown wig—blonde hair would stand out too much. No need to bring any attention to herself. That was the way people got caught, and Claire was one person who was going to outsmart everyone. After all, she was smarter then everyone, anyway. Career women by day and now scientist by night!

The excursion all happened so fast. She sat down at the bar and ordered a martini and waited for her chance to taint somebody’s drink with the cyanide. The bar was dimly lit, which was to her advantage. It was getting noisy and people were streaming in. The bartender was going crazy making drinks. She slipped on a pair of gloves, and then she took a clean glass, slipped it into her purse, and went to the ladies room and put the cyanide inside the glass. When she got back to her seat she waited patiently for her chance to slip it back in. Sure enough the bartender never noticed the little crystals in the glass when he prepared the next set of drinks. The barmaid took her tray and she was off and running. Claire had no idea who was going to get the drink. That excited her to no end; she was shouting on the inside and sitting docile on the outside. She felt like a contestant in a game show. Will it be this person over here or the one over there?

Then the show began. The unlucky contestant was a guy sitting in the corner talking with this blonde girl. You could tell by the body language this guy was expecting to score. One moment he looked sure of himself, and the next, he looked scared to death. He stood up and started unloosening his tie and his eyes looked like they were going to bulge out of his head. He started gasping for breath and the girl he was talking with starting screaming. That was when total chaos broke out; people were bumping into each other just trying to get a look at the poor sap. She heard somebody say the guy was son of the mayor of Milwaukee. She took another look at the guy and couldn’t believe it. She worked at the same firm he did when she lived in Milwaukee. He was such a prick—he deserved to die.

Claire decided to get out of the bar and stand on the street. The crowd was buzzing with excitement. She stood there, enjoying the festivities and everybody could thank her for the good time, but she wasn’t telling anyone. Sirens could be heard approaching, and within seconds, an ambulance arrived and a team of medics wheeled the gurney in. This was going to be the moment of truth! Would he be dead when they took him out or not? The crowd starting making way and sure enough the sheet was over his head. The sorry bastard was dead. Claire would have liked to stay around but it was best she headed home. She decided she would try and pick up a stray man on her way home to help her celebrate her success. All the excitement made her feel like she wanted to get laid in the worst way.

CHAPTER TWO

Sarah McCauley woke up early Saturday morning, but decided to lie in bed and enjoy the cool breeze flowing through the windows. The sun had come up about an hour ago and her room had a soft, gold glow to it. It was a week before Halloween. Soon, the kids would be dressed as ghouls and goblins or whatever their minds could come up with, going door to door, looking for treats. She always had a big turnout at her house. She loved to decorate, and she would sit on the porch most of the day, weather and work permitting, and would hand out some of the best treats in the neighborhood. Maybe one day, she would be able to have children and take them out, but unfortunately she hadn’t been so lucky to carry a child full term.

It would be hard to get pregnant now, unless she was artificially inseminated. There was no way two women could conceive, and over the past couple of months she had fallen in love with Claire, her husband’s assistant. Claire had been a rock during her husband’s hospitalization. Lately, she thought less and less of Shawn and more and more of Claire. Not that they actually consummated the relationship, but both confirmed their love for each other. Sure, there had been some hand-holding and even a few passionate kisses, but that was the extent of it. She was more than willing to explore lovemaking between two women, but she was waiting for Claire to make the first step. She didn’t know if Claire had experience in this department either—she was always secretive about her past. Maybe she wasn’t ready to open up yet. They were going out to dinner later; maybe tonight would be the big night.

The phone started ringing, and she had a good mind to let it go to voicemail. But nobody called the house phone anymore, so Sarah figured she’d best pick it up. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if somebody from her family was trying to reach her in a crisis. She started becoming panicky as she picked up the receiver. She assumed it had to be her mother. Hey Mom, what’s up?

Excuse me, but this is Doctor Sloan’s assistant from the Newburry Mental Institute. He asked me to contact you concerning your husband. It seems over the past few days your husband is more lucid, and the doctor was wondering if you were free to come in and visit tomorrow. It seems, Shawn keeps talking about you in group therapy and the doctor feels it is time for the both of you to start the healing process and get on with your lives.

Sarah wasn’t expecting to hear this, and really wasn’t ready for Shawn to be breaking through his temporary psychotic state. In fact, she began wishing he would stay in this suspended state, even though it was an awful thought. Will the doctor be in Sunday?

Yes, he is requesting for you to meet with him prior to visitation with your husband. He is hoping 11:00 a.m. would be good.

Tell the doctor 11:00 is fine and I am looking forward to talking with him.

After they hung up, Sarah jumped out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Thank goodness she’d bought a programmable coffee maker. The coffee had already brewed and was ready for her consumption. She fixed herself a cup and then went straight to the cupboard above the stove. She stashed her cigarettes in there. Sarah had quit for a long time but after her miscarriage and Shawn’s breakdown, she’d found herself smoking more and more. After she bought that first pack and smoked one, she knew she was hooked again.

She decided to sit on the veranda. When she needed to think, the outdoors was the best place for it. If she stayed indoors, the house would feel like it was closing in on her. Although it was untimely for her, she was glad Shawn was doing better. It had been over a month since she last went to see him. In the beginning, she did as a good wife should do and visited him as often as time permitted. His coworkers were always calling to find out how he was doing, and she felt it was her duty to stand vigil waiting for a breakthrough. It didn’t take long for her to tire of it, and at Doctor Sloan’s urging, she decided to stop coming and wait to hear from them.

Sarah sat, sipping her coffee and smoking, thinking about the first time she’d laid eyes on Shawn. He was strikingly appealing, in a nerdy way. That was the type of man she’d always been attracted to. Shortly after her first marriage and low on self-esteem, Sarah started seeing a psychologist on a weekly basis. Sam, her first husband, was a real pig. He walked around with a perpetual hard-on and would sleep with any woman who had a pulse. After a couple of sessions, the doctor told her about a group of professionals who met weekly in the lower