Deadly Evil

By Faith Yvette McCann

He worked fast and struggled with the thick plastic bags containing the bodies of Valerie and Morris Robinson. The unforgiving burden of the corpses lay heavily across his muscular back. Hey, not to worry. His back was strong. He put forth every ounce of strength his body could render. Valerie was easy, so small and petite. Morris felt like he weighed a ton. Forcing his body weight against the bag, somehow caused a puncture and Morris's huge arm poked forcefully through the dense plastic, missing his head by a few inches. He smiled and wondered if somehow this could be Morris's last heroic act to try and save the day. Forget it. Not this time. He moved quickly in the dark, to finish his ghastly task. Only the far away sounds of the city streets were witness to his barbarous disposal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 6, 2007
• ISBN: 9780595865727

Faith Yvette McCann

Faith Y. McCann, a retired federal worker, has spent most of her adult life in Washington DC. She lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee, where she is working on another novel featuring detectives Brogan and Freelow.

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Deadly Evil

A Novel

by Faith Yvette McCann

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iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

Deadly Evil

Copyright © 2007 by Faith Yvette McCann

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-42235-7 (pbk)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-87201-5 (cloth)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-86572-7 (ebk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-42235-7 (pbk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-87201-8 (cloth)

ISBN-10: 0-595-86572-0 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

EPILOGUE

For

Emmett

My Love, My Life

PROLOGUE

Two bikes, one blue one pink stood parked against the lattice that surrounded the cabin porch. How odd it seemed to see both bikes idle at the same time. Elva’s curiosity quickly changed to alarm.

Cee Cee! Ray Ray! Her voice rose and fell as she called out to the young children. She gazed beyond the asphalt road bordered by woods, overlooking the nearby gravel pit. The last two years, she’d become accustomed to the children playing at the yard’s edge in front of the lush expanse of trees. She’d made it perfectly clear. The gravel pit was off limits. An uneasy feeling hung in her throat. She called out again, only seconds before she saw them exit the woods.

Balder! Bring it here boy! Ray Ray shouted as nine years old Cee Cee ran behind him. A few yards ahead of them, the huge German Shepherd raced across the road. Seeing the animal run toward her made Elva’s mind summon memories of her Brother Calvin, and the evening he arrived at the cabin with a tiny whimpering puppy tucked inside his jacket.

Are the kids asleep? he whispered. I have a surprise for them.

What have you got in there? she asked, already prepared to make him take the animal back, but her heart melted when she looked into it’s big brown eyes.

Hours after Calvin had left her alone with the silence, the kids and the puppy all sound asleep, a noise from the porch caused her to unlock the gun safe. Her fears of a prowler were quickly replaced by a feeling of intense dread as she discovered one of the guns missing. There was no doubt. She knew Calvin had taken it without her knowledge or permission. She felt the panting dog tug against her leg shoving her back to reality.

Balder! What on earth? she shouted. The overly agitated dog clutched a baby rabbit in his mouth.

He found a rabbit! He found a rabbit! Cee Cee announced in earsplitting mode, and grabbed hold of Elva’s hand. The three of them watched as the baby rabbit wriggled about in the dog’s mouth.

Drop it! Drop it now! Elva shouted. The dog obeyed and immediately let go. The fawn colored rabbit plopped to the ground. It seemed in no rush to run away from it’s captor.

Please can we keep him? Ray Ray pleaded.

No honey. This baby rabbit needs to go home to it’s family.

He’s a stray. He’s all alone. He needs a home. The child’s perceptive words cut into Elva’s memory. She again thought of her brother, Calvin. Years ago, he’d spoken these exact same words to her about Ray Ray and Cee Cee.

Please? Can we keep him? It was Cee Cee pulling on her hand.

No honey. I’m sorry, we have to take him back.

Poor little stray, Ray Ray whispered. He sat on the ground cuddling the rabbit. Tears streamed down his fat cheeks.

Maybe it was tears, the child’s heart-rending voice, or the love she felt for them that made Elva give in.

Okay, but you have to promise me you’ll take good care of him.

Thanks mom! Thanks mom! They both shouted, sharing excited smiles.

Suddenly, the overwhelming need to hear her brother’s strong voice came over her like a raging storm. She was being bombarded by horrible images of Calvin’s death. The images rolled through her head like a trailer from a bad movie. She left the children and hurried inside. She dialed Calvin’s number. No answer. She dialed again. Still no answer. She poured a full glass of scotch whisky, then gulped it down to chase away the chill of fear and dread that gripped her.

She owed Calvin her life. He had made it possible for her to regain her sanity. She’d been through the mill, and suffered the heartache and cruelty of contemp-tous love, until he’d introduced her to these two beautiful children. At first, she’d been afraid to love them because the memory and pain of the past were too unmerciful. Without these children, she’d be lost again in that deep sea of hopelessness. Afraid to open her eyes and breath. Terrified of tomorrow. It was big strong Calvin who always calmed her fears and made her realize that no matter what happened, the love of these beautiful children would be with her forever. She dialed his number again. Still, there was no answer. Only the sound of her panicked heart. An intuitive feeling told her something was very wrong.

CHAPTER 1

This is the crux of it all, two distinct voices spoke in unison inside his head. What were they trying to tell him? He increased the volume on the radio, but in spite of the blaring dribble, the voices persisted.

I don’t need this! I don’t need this crap! He shouted. The voices went silent. He clicked the radio off. Maybe he should have taken the parkway. There were too many cars. Cop cars, whores and Johns. Lower your speed. Take your time. He thought of what he’d done. A crime? A crime of what? Passion. No. Hell no. Coercion? Yeah that’s it Stick to it. If somebody asks, you’ll tell them exactly what happened.

It was 3:00 AM. He rolled the shiny black Mercedes down Market Street and reduced his speed seconds before he reached the turn off to Main Street. A few blocks back he’d observed three hookers leaning into the window of a white Chevy Suburban. He was well known to most of the girls who worked this section of the city. He sped pass them before they could recognize his car and shout his name. Lucky for him, they were preoccupied. Frieda and Sherry, two of the regulars were into their fourth hour. Sherry looked tempting in her blond shoulder-length wig. She wore a short red dress decorated with sequined tassels. When she moved, the hemline twirled back and forth revealing black, open fishnets that clung to her long shapely legs. Another time and he could have easily welcomed her services. He watched her walk over to a silver Lexus. She opened the front of her dress to reveal ample breast. Her friend, Frieda approached the Lexus from the rear. She wore six inch stilettos and a short black skirt that barely covered her round buttocks. After a short verbal exchange, the Lexus sped away. The two women returned to the waiting Chevy. They were now involved in a serious money-in-hand cash negotiation. The price quoted for a two for one in the back seat of the man’s car was far below their hourly rate. The potential client was an overweight middle-aged man. He wore a cheap black wig and dark glasses to prevent the spectacle of shameful recognition by family and friends in case there should be an unforeseen police net. Suddenly, a police cruiser approached and passed on the right, seemingly oblivious to the action taking place across the street. The driver of the Mercedes glanced sharply at the officers. He tried to steady his hand, but almost dropped the cigarette as he took a long draw then choked on the smoke trapped inside his burning nostrils.

Come on. Relax. He told himself. Don’t worry about the cops. There was absolutely no way for them to know the battered and bullet riddled bodies of Valerie and Morris Robinson was stuffed inside his trunk.

He turned left onto Riverfront Parkway. Here the Parkway looped out around the city spiraling along the river’s edge, twisting and turning forward like a giant python with huge tentacles that formed small waterways.

Now, as he drove along the river’s edge, the putrid odors filled his nostrils. He heard the crunching sounds of tin cans and bait boxes as his tires rolled over and flattened them into the grass. This was the refuse left behind by the steady stream of fishermen. They came from the nearby neighborhoods in search of a fresh fish dinner rather than for the sport of landing a rare twenty pound bass. He drove ahead to a spot that was familiar to him, here the tree branches bent close to the ground and the grass grew tall and thick. Years ago, he’d fished here with his friends. He could easily find his way in the dark, even blindfolded. The rippling water made swishing sounds as it carried an assortment of foul debris down the river toward the city. He parked and popped the trunk then looked about carefully before he stepped from the car. He remembered too well that this side of the river was a favorite hangout for members of the despairing homeless population. There was an abundant evidence all around him scattered along the riverbank. He took the necessary precautions, looked under the trees and over the embankment making sure he was alone.

He worked fast and struggled with the thick plastic bags containing the bodies of Valerie and Morris Robinson. The unforgiving burden of the corpses lay heavily across his muscular back. Hey, not to worry. His back was strong. He put forth every ounce of strength his body could render. Valerie was easy, so small and petite. Morris felt like he weighed a ton. Forcing his body weight against the bag, somehow caused a puncture and Morris’s huge arm poked forcefully through the dense plastic, missing his head by only inches. He smiled and wondered if somehow this could be Morris’ last feeble attempt to defend himself. He worked quickly in the dark, with only the far away sounds of the city streets as witness to his barbarous disposal. He tied the thick rope securely around both bodies, then engaged the iron bar. He pulled the two tightly packed suitcases from the back seat and tied both to the ends of the rope. He rolled the bodies closer to the river’s edge. Lowering his body, he used it as leverage, then pushed and shoved until the suitcases slipped over the edge pulling the iron bar and the bodies into the dark murky water. He watched and waited until it all disappeared. He turned quickly and looked over his shoulder. There was rapid movement and a grinding sound coming from beneath the tree behind him. He moved toward it, unsure of what he’d find. He was relieved, when a gaint river rat scampered away. He was glad he’d worn his jacket. It was early April and the city was favored with a moderate climate, warm humid summers and cool winters, but here beside the river he felt a beastly chill. He breathed deeply sucking the foul smelling air into his lungs. Valerie and Morris Robinson wouldn’t be missed for at least a couple of days, by then he’d have all the loose ends neatly in place. The wind was getting stronger now. A rush of dry leaves swept into his face causing him to blink, momentarily, losing sight of his surrounding. He pulled his jacket around him, the frigid air assaulting his back. He gazed over his shoulder not far from the tree where the huge rat had scurried. There was something brightly colored beside the tree. Something he hadn’t noticed before. What the Hell! He walked over, reached down and picked up the foul-smelling orange knit cap with the oily stains.

How did it get here? The rat? No! No! Rats don’t wear hats. Shit! Some dirty homeless bastard. He’d had a front row seat. Think! Find him now. He’ll run to the cops! He moved quickly among the trees, through the grass searching, peering over the embankment, listening. In one frozen instant he thought maybe the bastard could be hiding in the river. Suddenly, he moved toward the water. No wait! Let him go to the cops. The cops would never believe an old mindless bastard. Would they? He examined the cap closely. Nothing unusual. A simple cotton knit cap filled with dirt, oily stains and matted hair. He took a deep breath and looked out over the river. The air had lost it’s foul smell. He threw the cap on the back seat, climbed in and drove away.

By five o’clock, he was back in his apartment. He snorted a few lines. This morally offensive act was his own personal contribution to the city’s mounting crime rate. The fact that he preferred cocain over methamphetamine did nothing to control the mayhem. He began to retrace his steps. Every detail from the beginning. He’d rang the doorbell. Valerie Robinson turned away from the stove and curiously glanced toward the door. Before she answered, she reached inside the hot oven and removed the cheese and potato casserole. He rang again. She lay the dish towel on the counter and hurried to the door. She opened it and her eyes brighten at the sight of him. She was happy to see him, or she pretended. He could never truly read her. She could really fake it when she was in a mood to deceive. She spoke his name and welcomed him. He stepped inside quickly and closed the door behind him. She smiled and stared at the paper bag he was holding, expecting him to withdraw some new little trinket for her curio. Her smile turned to shock when he opened it and produced the gun he’d carefully fitted with a silencer. With horror and dismay, she was unable to speak, and then suddenly, her hands were up and coming for his face. He hit her hard across the side of her face. She screamed and her eyes were frozen in a disbelieving stare. He hit her again and again, this time with his fist. She fell back hitting her head on the edge of the coffee table. He stood over her and pumped three bullets into her chest. The blood began to flow profusely from her wounds. He watched the blood pool around her before he examined her still body. He adjusted his gloves. He’d stuffed an extra pair in his pocket, just in case the job was messier than he had anticipated. He picked up the remote and flicked on the TV. A car raced across the screen, chased by three police cars, sirens blaring. He settled back in the comfortable recliner and channel surfed before switching back to the movie with the police chase. It was 5:30 PM.. Soon Morris Robinson would come through the door. Another hour went by before he heard the key turning in the lock. Morris Robinson stepped through the door and called out to his wife. In a few seconds, there was a muffled choking sound coming from his mouth. He gazed in horror at his wife’s blood soaked body. He went to her, reached out and touched her face. He began to cry and call her name, then a single bullet hit him between the eyes. Another hit him in the throat. His body crashed forward to the floor. His legs quivered. His arms flailed forward then he took one last breath. The movie lasted another fifteen minutes. He flicked off the TV and listened. He peered through the blinds at neighbors returning home from work. Children at play. He saw nothing of concern. Nothing that could alter his course of action. He labored with the bodies, stuffing them into the heavy duty plastic bags he’d swiped from the sanitation company. They’d never miss the damn bags. Hell! As a trusted employee Morris swiped bags all the time. The damn blood. He hadn’t been prepared for all the blood. The stains had slowed him down. The cleaning had taken longer than he had anticipated. He used lots of cleaner and disinfect. The smell had been strong. He was thankful for the large fans overhead that Morris had recently installed. Packing the luggage had been tricky. He’d never packed for the dead. He pulled down suits at random from Morris’ closet. Then emptied batches of underwear from his drawer. He pulled down clothes from Valerie’s closet, mostly dresses, suites, and then lingerie from her drawer. A brightly colored scarf continued to stick in his mind after he’d thrown it into her suitcase. Suddenly, a spark ignited his memory. It guided him. He took the scarf from the suitcase and hung it on the closet door. So many damn clothes. He crammed and jammed them into the suitcases. He made it look as if they’d suddenly decided to go on a long trip. He carefully went through the dresser drawers. Valerie was such a neat freak. Everything always in its proper place. The bottom drawer was locked, but he suspected it contained what he needed. He searched for the key. No luck. He found a screwdriver and soon picked it open. Hidden under a pile of old photographs, he found the envelope marked Important. He opened it. An insurance policy. She had an $800,000 dollar policy! But, where was the fuckin contract? Where would she hide it? He remembered. Morris had bought a safe for valuables, after the kids started stealing them blind. Where was it hidden? Get into her mind. Forget it you bastard. She’s dead. You killed her remember? He went back to the kitchen and pulled open the cabinet doors, one after the other searching. Then he spotted something black and shiny under the sink. A small steel box hidden behind a row of canned goods gleamed in the darkness. He pulled it out. A small lock hung from the door. A combination lock. Now, he needed the combination. He reached into the drawer grabbed a pair of scissors and pried away the lock. The door opened. Inside he found an envelope with $500 and there beside the envelope, he found a yellowing document. Her idiotic contract! He’d found it! He stuffed it in his pocket. The safe? He couldn’t leave it behind. He’d take it with him and dump it later. Everything was falling into place. Suddenly, he was hungry. His appetite always kicked in when things were going his way. He felt good. He went to the stove, still wearing the gloves, filled a plate with his favorite food, cheese and potato casserole. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and settled down again in front of the television. The phone started ringing. He ignored it because earlier he’d turned the answering machine to off. He had another beer and fell asleep. His dreams were punishing nightmares. He was trapped beneath piles of fallen timber. He’d managed to poke his head free and blood flowed from his eyes. His head was being battered to a pulpy mass by a mob of dwarfs whose tiny faces wore a smile. Their mouths and huge eyes were carbon copies of Morris and Valerie’s. He awoke drenched in a torrent of sweat. The clock read exactly 2:30 AM. He flicked off the TV, opened the door and stuck his head out. The neighborhood was dark. Nothing moved. There was no sound. He hauled the bodies out to the car, stuffed them in the trunk and headed for the river. He told himself. It had gone well! He snorted another line and then it hit him right between the eyes. The homeless bastard! The one loose end that haunted him, but he’d take care of him. The good-for-nothing derelict rat would be sorry. Sorry he’d taken that front row seat. His head was splitting. He had to have a cigarette. He reached inside his coat pocket. No cigarette. No lighter, but something else was also missing. The second pair of gloves! Were they back at the house? Had he dropped them at the river? No! Now he remembered. He’d left them lying on the chair. He’d have to go back for them, but should he risk it? What if somebody should see him? No. He’d be fine. It’ll stay dark for another half hour. He moved quickly and was back at the house in ten minutes. He parked the car well out of sight a half block away, walked up to the house and around to the side door, but the door was locked. The lock held a secret, and lucky for him the kids had shared the simple steps with him. The door was always kept locked. Valerie wanted it that way in case the kids accidentally got locked out of the house. She had Morris set the lock a special way. When it was pressed in a certain spot the latch would give and the door popped open. He moved his gloved finger over the lock feeling for it’s raised edges. When he felt the edges rise, he applied slight pressure with his thumb. Easy. He was inside. The gloves. Where did he drop them? There they were beside the chair. Just as he’d suspected. He grabbed them, and headed for the door. No wait. He stopped, looked around closely to see if anything else was amiss. Everything was perfect. He found himself remembering Valerie’s eyes, especially when she saw the gloves. If given the chance, she would have ask him in that sarcastic tone of hers, in the same domineering tone he’d heard her use so many times with Morris.

Mind telling me why on earth you’re wearing those ridiculous gloves? Only this time he didn’t have to answer her because his gun was in her face,