Dead and Buried: Trunk, #2

By Steve Marshall

It started as a twisted contest.

It gave birth to a serial killer.

 

Online Delores Hutchinson is known as His Hot Ex.

 

She is Holly Pepper's best friend in the adult online business.

Last week Delores missed the monthly girl's night out.

Her body was found naked and strangled in a dumpster at Disney in Orlando.
 

Lauren Dufrene is known online as Milf Monica.

 

She was murdered in Savannah, Georgia.
 

The cops haven't connected the cases yet.

But Delores Hutchinson has a friend she never knew about...

...a friend with benefits....

Dennis Trunk.

When Holly Pepper asks Trunk to find the killer....

...the damage gets extensive.

Holly's name is on the kill list.

 

If you want to catch a psychotic killer...

...it helps if you are one.

 

When you can't call the cops…

Call Trunk

• Language: English
• Publisher: Foxtail Media
• Release date: Nov 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393830177

Book preview

Dead and Buried

Trunk #2

By Steve M

Yeah, I wrote this. Blame no one else.

2019 - Destination Unknown

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

WHO IS STEVE M?

Chapter One

White Walls

Some days it’s good to be a psychopath. This was one of them.

I sat down in one of only two chairs in the sparsely filled room. The other was occupied by Sammie Erlanger, but he wouldn't be using it for long. In a few minutes I would deliver him to my customer.

White walls. I love rooms with white walls. Even dingy white walls like these. Cinder block walls and nothing in the room but the chairs, not even a picture on the wall.

Sammie wasn't that smart, he kept treating me as if I was 'one of the boys' and 'it's all a club that we're members of.' A club that forgives and forgets.

I don't belong to any clubs.

The exit interview commenced.

Trunk, come on man, you know how they are, don't you? Sammie asked me, still using the cockiness he had shown the entire time.

Even with a gun pointed at him, he hadn't flinched. He was so sure of the fraternity we belong to.

I didn't respond.

You've seen them, it's disgusting how they are. You agree with me, don't you? he said.

He requires round the clock care because of you, Sammie, I said.

Sammie knows me through his brother, Skynyrd. Yeah, people get stupid names the world over. This is one of our regional dumb ones. Parents were fans of redneck rock and roll. I helped Skynyrd get out of trouble a few years ago when he kidnapped a judge's daughter. Took me four hours to convince him to just walk away. She hadn't seen his face, we could purge all of the evidence, and he had a completely clean escape, something to never be ignored. He could walk away.

In the end, he did.

And I got paid ... nothing. The judge stiffed me on the money because I let Skynyrd go and refused to give up his name. Motherfucker got his daughter back and that wasn’t good enough for him. Some people, huh?

But Sammie Erlanger? Just a nineteen-year-old punk with some serious homophobia issues.

Little son of a bitch is lucky to be alive if you ask me. Fuck those faggots, Sammie spat out his words.

Those words sealed his fate. Listening in the next room was Larry Reinwald. Larry is married to Paul Dawes. Paul requires round-the-clock care thanks to Sammie and his friends. Sammie was the leader of a small crew of six pretend gangsters. I've been around them just once. They play with their guns too much.

Sammie, do you even know who hired me?

What do you mean hired? Sammie asked with a confused look.

Someone hired me to find you, I replied.

Now a look of fear hit Sammie's face at long last. All this time he had been arrogant and casual.

Wait, I thought you just wanted to scare me a little. Get me to stop, tell me I did something wrong, act like my dad or something, said Sammie, now beginning to realize the circumstance he was in.

No, Sammie. It's a job, I replied.

But what kind of no-good son of a bitch would pay you to find me?

How about the man's husband? Ever think he might not like having to change shit diapers for the rest of his husband's life? Did it even cross your mind? I seriously wanted to know.

My services are offered to those who are smart enough to realize that leaving the body of a victim lying around is a bad idea. As for leaving them alive and breathing, it doesn't get much dumber than that.

Sammie was tense now. He tried to get out of the chair but I raised my gun and insisted he remain seated.

Come on, man. You're not one of them. They're disgusting. You ever seen them kiss? It makes me sick, I tell you, two men shouldn't ever be doing that, Sammie insisted.

You ever wonder what they think when they see us kiss? I shot back at him.

It's wrong – and immoral – and I can't believe you're on the side of those faggots, he blurted out angrily.

Their money is as green as yours, I retorted.

But you've got no soul if you side with them. They are all going to burn in hell forever and you're going to join them. You know this. Hell, everybody knows this. It says so in the Bible. It's fucking unnatural.

Ding, ding, ding. I research all of my jobs and this was one of the facts I unexpectedly uncovered while prepping for this one. Gotta tell you I was pretty damned surprised when I learned it.

There are over four hundred species that exhibit homosexual behavior. So I don't know where you learned it was unnatural, cuz it ain't, I countered.

Which ones? he demanded to know.

Birds, dolphins, monkeys, beetles, sheep, and fruit bats to name a few, according to National Geographic, I replied.

That still don't make it right, Sammie insisted.

What you believe is right and wrong is what got you into this mess, I explained.

You can look down on me for being a psychopath. But allow me to make one minor point if I may.

I would never consider hurting someone because of who and how they fuck. That's right. The thought just wouldn't cross my mind, ever. It is too illogical by my reasoning. So if this clown is the poster boy for your morality, I might just be better off.

There was a long pause. My part in this was almost over for now.

So what does he want? asked Sammie.

You, I replied.

An apology? Money? I tell you I don't have that much. Maybe I could scrape up ten grand if I had to. It'd take me a couple of days.

That's not the sort of payment he's after, I replied.

The look on Sammie's face went from scared to grim.

What, he wants to beat the crap out of me? Sammie asked.

I really don't know, I lied.

What does he want? Sammie asked now with worried eyes.

Listen, I got paid to find you, bring you here, and facilitate a meeting between the two of you, I said.

My crew is going to make you pay, Trunk. When they find out, you're gonna pay, motherfucker, Sammie furiously spit out.

They won't find out, I replied. They think you are heading down to Key West to scope out a high-end burglary.

Hey, you remember that cool tech I told you that I was going to get that will permit me to send text messages as if I am you and they are coming from your phone? I bought it and it's great. I've been doing limited experiments with it until Sammie. He's a prime example of the best use of the product. I'm a spoof pro now.

Key West? What are you talking about? he asked, his forehead now looking like one of those dogs made out of wrinkles. What are they called? Shar Pei, that's it. A wrinkly Shar Pei forehead.

You sent a text message about an hour ago to your crew.

No I didn't, Sammie protested.

I didn't respond. Why bother.

There was a brief silence.

So, what does he want? Sammie asked, his voice rose an octave.

I don't know, I re-lied.

What if he wants to kill me? What if he wants to do that? You gonna let him? Sammie asked me, total desperation in his voice.

I didn't answer. A non-answer is a rather definitive answer. It took five seconds before Sammie completed his calculations. I could almost read his forehead. I quickly stood up and pointed my gun at his face.

You're not going anywhere, I said.

But Trunk, what if he wants to kill me? Sammie pleaded.

I didn't respond.

You faggot-loving libtard. You're going to burn in hell, Trunk. You and all your faggot friends, Sammie spat out his words from a hatred deep inside of him.

I recognized that level of hatred. Normally I don't hate things. It is wasteful and results in a lack of control. But for mental health professionals, I make an exception. They robbed me of my mother. I recognized Sammie's hatred as a kind of loathing, one so strong and has been a part of him for so long that it had melded into the DNA of his personality.

If there is ever a serial killer of psychiatrists and psychologists, I expect to be questioned.

I've got to go now, I said. Time for your meeting.

The desperate look on Sammie's face ballooned.

No, Trunk. Don't leave me. Tell me, what do I need to do? I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die. For god's sake, I don't wanna die. Not because of some faggots. For Christ's sake.

I don't know what to tell you, Sammie. Maybe you should apologize and offer to suck his dick, I said.

Fuck you, Trunk. Fuck you, Sammie yelled at me.

I got up and moved over towards the door while keeping my gun aimed at Sammie.

Trunk, don't leave. Please. Do you think it will work? If I suck his dick, will he let me go?

I don't know. Why don't you ask him, I answered.

Trunk, I've got 150 thousand. You can have it all. Every dime of it, Sammie pleaded.

I opened the door and Larry Reinwald entered. Larry is only about five foot eight inches tall but he's at least three hundred and fifty pounds, probably more. Morbidly obese is what I believe it's called. He looked at me with his blue-green eyes and didn't smile. Morbid indeed.

In Larry's right hand was an aluminum baseball bat.

I'll be right outside, I said. You've got plenty of time if you need it.

Thanks, said Larry with a stern tone.

I didn't finish cleaning the scene until almost 3 AM.

Larry made a mess.

Still, his money was good and a threat to the LGBTQ community had been stopped.

Yeah, it was one of those times. I am the evil that stops the larger evil.

I felt good.

The feeling would be short-lived.

Chapter Two

Delores Anastasia Hutchinson from Orlando

I got back to our new boat after my job for Larry was finished. The boat isn't brand new. It's a 2006 Island Packet 44. Yeah, the same make as Archie's boat but smaller. Archie calls it 'little brother.' I bought it in South Florida and had it brought up to Jacksonville. Paid a couple of professional sailors to bring it up for me. I took the journey with them to learn a little more about sailing.

The first thing I learned is that Island Packets are great boats, and great boats come at greater prices. Almost twice as much as I could have gotten a high production boat of the same age. But it's beautiful on the inside and can take me anywhere.

After a shower, I slept for a while. I didn't know what time it was when I woke up.

Holly was at work in the front cabin. I could hear her words of encouragement. 

I turned on the local news.

Another guy arrested trying to burn down a mosque. This one was a member of something called TCA.

Bored, I changed the channel.

Local residents are complaining that the new runway at the airport is hurting their property values because of the noise levels. Investigative reporters have discovered that the feasibility study for the new runway was authored by a representative of the company that was hired to build the new runway. Questions about the objectivity of the study are coming two years too late. A spokesperson for Dubcek Construction Company said 'those who build the nation's infrastructure are uniquely positioned to see and suggest where human needs can be met.'

Blah, blah, blah. Ever wonder if we're all playing in a game called life, and the game is rigged? A tiny number of people have the cheat codes, and the rest of us are screwed.

Ah, basketball highlights. While I am not a player of team sports or much of a fan, I make one exception. Basketball. More specifically, the highlights. I enjoy them. Graceful movement or deadly aim and accuracy, take your pick. Sometimes it's sheer doggedness, going up for the ball the third time before putting it in the hoop.

Thank you, Mr. Fo, Holly said. I'll see you tomorrow, dear man.

Holly Pepper still did what she did before. Just less of it since she no longer had a school loan and was living rent-free on the boat with me. Half schedule now, only three shows a day and of course her high end customers that demand private shows.

Oh trust me, she more than pays her way. Considering local prices for sexual services, having Holly live onboard with me was saving me a ton of money. Not that I usually pay for sex but that's not the point. I was getting thousands of dollars in services monthly. Over ten thousand at retail prices I calculated. Holly has an appetite.

Holly used the loss of all of her stuff in the hurricane as a chance to re-prioritize her life.

I used the loss of all my stuff in the hurricane as a chance to upgrade my stuff.

But I make lists. That's how I get things done.

Let me tell you something I've found surprising.

The community in the online adult entertainment business isn't that different from any other. There are thousands of performers around the world. They come together at the commercial sites. They have no technical reason to connect with each other. They each set up their cameras and chat room, put out their live feed and wait.

If you show it, they will come. 

But many of them do connect with other performers.

In fact, there are several of them nearby.

Delores Hutchinson is Holly's best friend in the business. Delores lives down in Orlando, a couple of hours by car. I met her in person. She's blond, mid-thirties, and very pretty if you like blond hair and blue eyes. Not really my preference but I had to admit she could turn heads. I've seen her online too. I was curious so I watched. You can too. Go take a look, I'll wait. She is known as His Hot Ex. Any of the major live porn show sites. She's been doing it for just over two years now since her husband decided he was in love with a 24-year-old singer named Cherie. Delores was the trophy wife that was pushed off the mantle.

There are two other performers in Orlando but only one of them has any contact. Broadly Brenda is a very pleasant African-American woman with a big butt. I mean booty. But even better than her gorgeous butt, which I can assure you is enough for any man, is her sense of humor. Girl knows every dirty joke ever told and knows how to deliver a punchline. I don't laugh very much due to my condition. So when Brenda made me laugh I noticed. I really enjoy her company.

Bea Fontaine lives in Palatka, out in the boondocks of Florida. Ain't much there, and anyone that can move away does. If you want to get old and die sitting beside a Florida lake, Palatka is your kind of place.  Lots of lakes, lots of old farts. Not much else. Bea was living with her grandmother when the old lady died. The family agreed to let her have the place, erm, uh, trailer.

Bea is one of the most normal women I have ever seen. If I had to pick the most average face out of a lineup, it would be hers. Bea has a couple of local young men that she uses for her shows. Sometimes she uses both of them at the same time. If you're into two men and one woman, it's definitely worth watching. She gives it her all. Her online name is Back Door Surprise. I think you can figure out how she distinguishes herself from other performers.

Every day they come together using WhatsApp or Skype or you name it. When they aren't performing Delores and Holly like to video chat for hours and smoke weed. They sound like they are in the same room together and are just going on about their days. I came in the other night and Holly was folding clothes in the forward cabin while talking about boring god-damned politics with Delores. Holly is a libtard and Delores is a conservative. They can really go at it sometimes, then a moment later be laughing about something else.

Me, I don't have any politics. When I was married I had Emmie's politics which can be best described as Black Liberation. Looking in the mirror, that' don't really fit well no more. I supported everything Emmie supported. Whether I cared about it or not and usually I didn't. It was just easier.

Whenever I asked her why she supported or opposed something she would explain it to me and it made sense. Even if I disagreed, I always deferred to her opinion. At least in politics, that is.

I hate politics, just talk, talk, talk, and nothing ever changes. New boss wears a different tie from the old boss, that's all.

None of Holly's friends know the kind work I do. You don't find out until you need to. That works best for me and for you. Cuz if you really fuck things up, I will kill you, and