Bantering With Murder: Banter Series, #1

By SJ Wilke

Banter is a gun for hire. After she does a hit in a park, she meets a good looking detective, Corey Van Baine, who is investigating the case. But he's married. When Banter learns his marriage is on the rocks and his wife has left him, she becomes his unlikely therapist to help him overcome the devastation. However, Banter finds herself falling in love with him and suspects Corey is falling for her. A love affair enfolds via cellphones and brief glimpses as they do their jobs. Him, always one step behind her, trying to find out who she is, and she, leading him on… Until they find themselves working together on a mass murder case...and the bullets start flying.

• Language: English
• Publisher: SJ Wilke
• Release date: Jul 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393923282

Book preview

Chapter 1

Banter could feel her gun strapped firmly to her back. It didn’t even shift when she executed one last cartwheel. She had calculated the distance precisely and landed right beside the picnic table. After two deep breaths to recover, she sat on top of the table with her feet resting on the seat. Three breaths later, the black stretch limo pulled up to the curb. She had been waiting for it.

I don’t like you, Banter said.

She stretched her right shoulder while she looked over the park, knowing she had to wait. This was her favorite place to go to execute her parkour moves. She liked that there were several benches, nicely spaced, a few half walls defining garden areas, and picnic tables she could use as obstacles to be navigated. The park still had the old-style metal swings with the A-frame base that was fun to run up and climb. She liked to walk across the top like she was on a balance beam. This was her way of training to stay in shape and keep agile.

Banter rubbed her hands together to generate some heat and expend some of her exasperation. She liked that her thin black gloves kept her hands warm with the added benefit of giving her enough feel should she need to pick a lock or someone’s pocket. They also prevented her from leaving fingerprints.

Give me an opening. I’ve been after you for weeks. I’m getting tired of this. I need to use this gun and get rid of it.

She adjusted her black hoodie, hoping that it would absorb a little of the sun’s warmth, but the late afternoon sun was already too low in the sky to do much good.

I’m waiting, and you can’t see me. Take a chance.

Banter didn’t know why, but a figure dressed all in black garnered no attention, as if invisible. Her clothing was all black, even down to her shoes, where she blacked out the logo with a permanent marker to keep her as nondescript as possible.

We have company, she murmured under her breath, as if she was alerting the gun.

A young girl that Banter guessed was about five years old ran to the swing set that Banter had climbed earlier. The child stood out, dressed in a bright red and yellow jacket. A woman that Banter knew was a hooker and probably the girl’s mother was strutting along the sidewalk where the limo pulled up. She looked a little cold wearing only a short tight red skirt and a white blouse, revealing hefty cleavage.

Right on time today, Banter said while she adjusted her hoodie lower on her face.

Limo’s sitting lower than normal, don’t you think? Bet he brought company. So what do you think?

Her one idiosyncrasy, because of working alone, was to talk to her gun.

I bet he brought two or three buddies? Can’t be more than three. He would be too crowded and wouldn’t have room for the hooker.

The window rolled down when the hooker approached. Banter could hear the murmur of voices, but couldn’t pick out any words. Then the window closed, and the door opened. A hand reached out and literally pulled the hooker into the limo. The door closed quickly behind her.

I don’t think you know what trouble you’re getting into today, girl. Banter murmured, knowing she needed to be patient and wait.

She rued the fact that the limo had bulletproof glass and reinforced doors. However, with multiple people in the back and one hooker, she was betting they would get sloppy.

The limo shifted just a bit from side to side.

Someone’s having a little too much fun. Told you that limo was trouble, girl. Bet they are slapping you around and tenderizing you a bit. Those are not nice people.

Banter counted out five minutes.

Just about show time, she said, stepping from the picnic table.

Mommy? Mommy?

Banter could see the child looking a little frantic, since her mother was out of sight. The child spun around to focus on her because she was the only person in view.

Have you seen my mommy? The child trotted over to her.

It didn’t surprise her that the child saw her. Children seemed to see everything. However, she thought the child was a little too trusting, especially considering her mother’s choice of career. She decided to take advantage of it.

Yeah, she’s in that limo having sex, Banter said, thinking the child would be a good cover. Let’s go over and check on her.

Banter adopted a slow pace while she crossed the park. She heard the child following close behind her, liking the idea that the child would become a blind for a killer on the move. Banter slid out the gun from her holster. While keeping it hidden under her hoodie, she pulled out her silencer from another pocket and twisted it onto the gun. It was a small annoyance that the gun didn’t fit the holster with the silencer on. She had to keep them separate.

When she came within fifteen feet of the limo, the door opened. The hooker almost flew out of the door like the men had thrown her out, making her land face first on the cement. Her bare ass was showing because of her skirt being hiked up. A perfect red bite mark adorned one ass cheek. One shoe was off. Her splayed legs prevented the door from closing. Voices and loud raucous laughter radiated from within the limo, letting Banter know the men weren’t paying attention to what was happening outside the windows.

She made her move, prepared for the worst-case scenario: four men in the back, a driver, and a man riding shotgun. Narrowing the distance, she deftly switched the gun to her left hand, getting the right angle and shifting her body to be out of the path of the ejected shells. She shot twice through the open door: one head shot at her target and one shot at chest level. Then she quickly shifted the gun to her right hand and changed the angle and shot twice more, hoping she hit whoever was sitting across from the back seat.

The driver’s door opened, but Banter, still moving, anticipated this and she fired one shot into the driver. He slumped over the steering wheel while she continued toward the front of the limo. The man riding shotgun looked like he couldn’t get out fast enough. He already had his door open enough and his gun hanging out in hopes he could get her to hesitate. Banter knew the windshield protected her, plus she knew he didn’t have enough of himself out of the door to get the right aim. She kept moving, firing a shot at his hand, taking off a finger. Losing his finger caused him to lose his grip on the gun. He stumbled when he tried to recover his stance. The gun, now slick with blood, was foiling his attempt to renew his grip. It wasn’t helping that he was also trying to keep track of her position. With a second shot, she caught the man in the head, between the eyes. It was a clean shot, and he dropped like a rock, out of sight. There was the sickening thud of his head hitting the pavement.

Banter turned around and returned to her original position. No more doors opened. No more windows rolled down. She knew the driver and the man riding shotgun were dead. She knew her main target was dead since he had been the first one she shot. With that head shot, he was definitely a goner.

Ah... gat de fuck out of here, ya bitch, Banter said, using a low voice with a bit of an accent, talking tough to the hooker on purpose.

The hooker had yet to recover from her landing on the sidewalk, seeming to be afraid to move for fear she was next. Her child was crying beside her, tugging on her mother’s arm.

Banter’s tough talk caused the woman to gain control of herself and to rise. She pulled down her skirt and grabbed her child’s hand. Her nose was skinned and bleeding. The woman avoided looking at Banter as if she knew it wasn’t a wise thing to do. She limped off with her child in tow.

Banter did a quick look around the area before she returned to her picnic table. She took off the silencer and replaced the gun in her back holster, then put the silencer into her pocket. There wasn’t a single person around, and she knew it was safe to wait. She wanted to know how many people were in the limo without the risk of sticking her head in to find out.

Damn. I should have asked the hooker. Why didn’t you remind me to ask the hooker?

She looked in the direction the hooker had gone, but she was no longer in sight.

Oh, well. At least it’s pretty quiet around here. Far enough from buildings. Lots of trees to hide us. I would say they parked that limo in just about the perfect place. Far enough from those pesky traffic cameras that spy on everyone.

She gazed around the park again.

Yes, you’re right. A perfect place. No witnesses. Well, yeah, there’s the hooker, but she won’t tell anyone. She’ll be afraid of retribution aimed at her kid. Yeah, kid, today was your mother’s lucky day.

The child was the only reason that Banter hadn’t included the hooker in the hit.

Amazing what a guy will do for sex. I bet he spent a fortune, too. Don’t you think?

She shifted her shoulders as if nudging the gun for a response.

This isn’t the usual spot to pick up a hooker. Too nice of a neighborhood. Yeah, I would agree with you. Sex was his addiction. A different hooker here every day. Prearranged, definitely.

A bird landed on the swing set, then flew away.

Do you think he got a quantity discount?

She chuckled at the thought.

The joys of fast sex. In and out in minutes. Never gave us an opening. Until today. He brought pals along for the ride. Gave me enough time for my approach. Yeah, I would say he got sloppy. Bet they gang banged that hooker and never even paid her.

There was a siren in the distance, but it faded into the distance. However, another vehicle caught her attention.

Fast sex. For good reason. There’s the patrol car for the neighborhood.

The patrol car hadn’t even reached the limo when it turned on its flashing lights and stopped.

I bet a dead guy by a limo is a big hint that something’s amiss. Especially since he has a hole in his head.

She chuckled to herself, waiting with interest to see how the scene would play out. Remaining at the crime scene had a minor risk, but she knew she didn’t fit the stereotype of a gun-for-hire.

She pulled off the hoodie, revealing her dark hair, which she kept short and sassy. Because she didn’t stay out much in the sun, her complexion was pale, which she knew made her brown eyes stand out. She smiled, knowing her eyes could catch a lot of attention whenever she needed to bait a guy. Add the fact that she was only a few inches over five feet and petite made few people able to judge her age, thinking she was much younger.

Banter closed her eyes, thinking about the hit. It was worth three hundred thousand. That was going to be a good paycheck, she thought, opening her eyes to scan the area. She knew she was pretty good at what she did, despite that her slender frame made it tricky when it came to hiding weapons on her. Strapping her gun to her back was her only option.

Here comes backup.

She watched two more police cars arrived, blocking the other side of the road which hemmed in the limo, securing the crime scene. None of them were using sirens, but they turned on their flashing lights. The officers exited their vehicles to converge on the far side of the limo. Ten minutes later, two unmarked police cars arrived and parked on the grass of the park. The crime scene investigators arrived in their van moments later. Soon, tiny orange markers appeared around the limo.

Let’s see, she said to herself. Seven markers for seven shells. Yep. I fired seven times.

A technician was now walking around, taking pictures of the markers and the limo. She knew they had checked the interior of the limo through one door on the side away from her, as well as through the door on her side that was still open.

An ambulance arrived. It was also not using its siren. They weren’t even using their flashing lights. There appeared to be no hurry by anyone to remove the bodies. Banter felt confident that everyone in the limo was dead. Quiet ambulances usually meant there were no survivors, and they weren’t in any hurry.

Banter pulled out her phone, which was another ploy to remain invisible. No one would pay attention to a person absorbed in their phone. She pulled up a special email app. Her account only allowed her to send email and not receive. She sent an email claiming that the hit was complete.

A shiver ran up her back. The day was cooling, and she was getting chilled from just sitting there.

Hurry up, you guys.

Movement caused her to look up. Three suits and one police officer had grouped by one of the unmarked cars. Banter figured this was the policeman who had first arrived, giving out the details of his discovery to bring the suits up to speed. After a fifteen minute meeting, two of the suits and the policeman walked off toward the limo. The third suit scanned the area and spied her, which surprised her since none of the other officers seemed aware of her.

Banter enjoyed watching the man approach her. He was a good-looking guy that she guessed was in his thirties. Even through his suit, she could tell he had a toned body. He had black hair, brown eyes and a handsome face. It wouldn’t surprise her to find out he was Italian or some other import.

Banter smiled and spoke to him first.

You married? she said, putting a little huskiness in her voice.

She could tell she had caught him off-guard.

Good afternoon, he said, finessing through a slight breakdown of his composure.

Banter decided he had a nice voice, too.

Did you, by chance, see what happened? he said.

Just sat down. Watching the show.

She nodded toward the limo.

What’s your name?

He had a way of giving her his full attention while maintaining a vigilance around himself. Banter felt a little impressed.

Depends. You married or not?

She couldn’t see his left hand to tell if he had on a ring.

Sorry. Married, he said. So now what’s your name?

People call me Banter. My mom calls me a pain in the ass. My dad calls me Annie. What’s your name?

Detective Van Baine. Anyone else around when you came?

He was working to take back control of the conversation, despite she was trying to derail him.

Nope, she said. How many dead?

Don’t know yet. Anybody you know?

She knew he had to be aware of the body count, but typical policeman behavior wasn’t giving out any information.

I can’t see from here, she said. You have any pictures?

He gave a quick smile and shook his head.

Not yet. But you think you might know?

She shrugged.

I’m not exactly a jet setter in the limo crowd. Chances are pretty slim that I’m tight with whoever is in there.

You come here a lot?

Not regularly, no. Like I said, I just sat down to watch the show.

Live around here?

Nope, just came up the walking path, she said with a shrug toward the path.

She could tell his eyes noted the path.

Here’s my card. If you do remember seeing or hearing anything, let me know, he said.

Sure thing. So, you have a good marriage? she said, taking the card.

He smiled as if he found the comment amusing and walked away.

She laughed silently to herself while she carefully watched him make his made way back to the crime scene. She typed on her phone, keying in the license plate number of the unmarked car he used.

You are one good-looking guy, she muttered while she slid his card into her back pocket.

Banter noted a few more curious bystanders gathering to gawk, but the police already had the area they needed taped off. She knew the police needed to hurry to get things wrapped up before rush hour, when there would really be a bunch of gawkers.

About time, she said to herself.

Someone had made the decision to bag the bodies. They took her target out on the side she was on, but she noted the door on the other side was also open and they were taking out another body that way. It looked like her first two shots took out her target and a man sitting next to him. Then they opened the other door on her side and took out one more body. She must have hit that man with either her third or fourth shots. The last two bodies were the driver and the man riding shotgun. Five total bodies.

What happened?

Banter turned to find a man approaching from the walking path. He looked like a jogger by his clothing. She shrugged. The man walked away to ask someone else.

The EMTs loaded the bodies into the ambulance and the doors shut. One of the unmarked cars pulled out and left. Then one of the marked police cars left. She could tell that those remaining were working quickly to clear the crime scene. A technician picked up all the orange markers, and she suspected the shells as well. A tow truck appeared and all the doors to the limo were closed.

A muffled alert dinged on her phone.

Chapter 2

Banter glanced at her phone. She recognized the alert. It was a notification that they had transferred the money for this hit into her account.

Damn, that was fast. Someone’s monitoring the police scanners.

The request for this hit had an ASAP rating, but it had taken her almost two weeks. Usually, she could complete a hit in a few days. However, with the man practically living in a bullet proof limo with a bodyguard riding shotgun, and the fact that his house was a regular fortress in a gated community, he had been a hard man to get close to unless you were a hooker. There was no way she was posing as a hooker. She had a feeling he prearranged his hookups anyway, and there was some secret password.

The good-looking detective got into his car and left. Banter rose. She had the information she needed and didn’t need to hang around anymore. More people were coming and hanging out by the walking path to see what was going on. She felt annoyed by their chatter. Banter cartwheeled over a bench and left the park.

While she jogged toward home, she thought about the job. It had been a tough one, and she knew it would be from the beginning. In fact, she had passed on it the first time she saw it. However, she saw it posted a second time. She figured the original person who took it had failed or given up. The job sat for over a week with no takers. That was unusual and presented a challenge that she found hard to pass up, so she decided to have a go at it. The job was originally a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar hit, but she noted they bumped it up to three hundred thousand. She figured someone was trying to tempt the better gun-for-hires.

She stopped at a corner to wait for the light. Rush hour traffic was now heavy. It was a long light which allowed her to take the time to access her special bank account app. She initiated a transfer of the money to a small savings and loan. That was where she liked to send her hit money because they didn’t always follow the banking rules. Once the money was in that account, she could legally move it wherever she wanted. She planned on taking some out in cash to put into a safe deposit box. That was her rainy day fund. The rest would sit, but she had a scheduled transfer set for every two weeks, going into her checking account as if she was getting paid from a job. Her checking account was at a real bank that annoyingly followed the rules, making it difficult to move large chunks of money.

I need to give myself a raise some day, she said with a chuckle to herself.

The light finally changed in her favor. She jogged across the street and kept jogging for a couple of more blocks before slowing back to a walk. This hit had been close to home, and she was now entering what she called her home court: a two-block radius around her apartment. This was where she began her approach protocol, keeping a keen eye on who was watching or possibly following her. She wouldn’t put it past the police to send an undercover after her since they has seen her at the crime scene. So her approach protocol protected her from this, even though she knew it was rare. This was key to keeping her place of residence unknown and herself safe.

Banter never kept to the same approach pattern. Today, she went through an apartment building that had two front entrances. She entered the building through one door, taking off her hoodie, revealing a blue sweatshirt. While she stuffed her hoodie beneath the sweatshirt, she exited out the door at the opposite end of the building that also functioned as a front entrance. This was her way of changing her persona. She crossed the street and ducked down an alley, heading toward her own apartment building. As always, she was watchful for people in cars or people lingering around. Today, as usual, no one was paying her any attention.

Home, sweet, home, she muttered under her breath when she entered a side door.

Only on rare occasions did she use the front entrance. She had the options to use one of two side doors or a back door which were preferred since they were less exposed to the public view. If she saw anyone was lurking at these doors, she would continue on by. On one occasion, she came down from the roof, having jumped over from another building, testing to see if it was even possible. She added it to her many ways of entering the building, but didn’t think she would do roof jumping that often.

Banter enjoyed the quiet of her building while she trotted up the stairs to her second-floor apartment.

Finally. That was a pain in the rear hit, she said to no one after she shut the door.

Her words almost echoed in her apartment. She hung up the hoodie on a hook by the door, then pulled off the blue sweatshirt to hang that up beside the hoodie.

She normally didn’t carry any keys since she had changed out her apartment door handle with a keypad unit. A couple of small hooks by her door contained keys. One was for her storage locker in the basement that she never used. The other was for her car, which she only used for personal trips, not hits. If she needed a car for a hit, then she would borrow one.

Although, I think the police might consider that stealing, even though I always bring them back before anyone realizes they had gone missing.

She also removed her wrist wrap that held her tools for picking locks. The wrap was custom made with leather stitching, making it look like a wide bracelet that the younger punks were wearing these days.

She unstrapped her gun holster, putting it on her kitchen table.

I’m finally done with you, she said to the gun, sliding it out of the holster.

It was rare that she used the same gun on more than one job.

I’ll put you in the box to await cleaning.

She removed the magazine and cocked the gun to remove the bullet in the chamber, which she slid back into the magazine. Then, she dropped the gun into the box, which was in a kitchen cabinet. In the box was a towel. She unwrapped it to reveal