Alpha & Omega

By Robin Buckallew

Detective Sullivan knew murder when he saw it. Even after signing the report listing the death as suicide, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Perhaps it was the grotesque figure of the deceased sprawled on the pavement. Perhaps it was the eerie message on the computer in his hotel room. Something didn't feel right. Now he was headed into the unknown with a delusional old man who called himself Paul of Tarsus. Was Paul leading Rudy to Becca? Or was he leading him into a trap? It seemed the answer could threaten to shake apart the universe itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9780359052431

Book preview

Alpha & Omega

Alpha and Omega

Robin Buckallew

Saffron Books

2018

Other books by this author:

The Diary of Mrs. Noah

The Transformation

Yesterday and Tomorrow

Everywhere and Nowhere: Book II of the Godmaker Trilogy

I Am: Book III of the Godmaker Trilogy

Blood Ready

The Ocean Wore Red

It Is What it Isn’t

Leafy Tom

Copyright © 2018 by Robin Buckallew

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Saffron Books

First Printing: 2012

ISBN 978-0-359-05243-1

Cover design by Mat Jones

Dedicated to Christopher R. Lowery whose assistance proved crucial in more ways than he realizes..

1

The old playwright died as he had lived – flamboyantly and publicly. The frail yet comical body sprawled grotesquely on the pavement four stories below the hotel window. The room he so recently vacated was characteristically tidy, the only evidence of its late occupant the laptop computer with its screensaver scrolling the words Christ died on the cross for you in an endless loop. As curious spectators gathered around the body being loaded into the morgue van below, Detective Rudy Sullivan sighed and touched the pad. The screen saver disappeared and the laptop sprang to life. A document flashed onscreen, then disappeared, leaving behind an eerie desktop image of a glowing cross bearing a bloody Christ. The detective shivered as he realized the face on the image had been replaced with the face of the newly deceased playwright.

The image stayed with him as he filed the report. He couldn’t shake the vision. It plagued his sleep, leaving him spent and cranky when he arrived at work the next morning. Stevie, the new rookie, laid a small box on his desk and flashed him a smile as she swished out of the room. He cursed the headache which refused to respond to either his morning coffee or a triple dose of aspirin, and turned his attention to examining the old playwright’s effects.

Pretty skimpy estate for a famous writer, huh, Rudy?

Adam settled on the edge of the desk, coffee in hand, and poked through the half empty box. Rudy slapped his hand away, angry at the amount of attention this particular case was directing his way. This was not his idea of a great way to begin any day, even when he was in the best of spirits, poking through the pathetic effects of a lonely dead man. It was made worse by the leering curiosity of celebrity-hungry colleagues.

Leave it alone, Adam. The old guy lived alone in a hotel room, and he didn’t need a lot. Some people don’t judge success by material goods.

The younger man smirked.

Yeah, right. Only those who don’t have any material goods, you mean, and need people to think that’s by choice. C’mon, Rudy, fess up. Isn’t this the best case we’ve seen in a while? Flaming old pervert wrote trashy plays for elite snobs, dies in a spectacular swoop that ends on the pavement. Too bad it’s probably dullsville stuff, like DTs or something. But you’ll still get lots of news time…maybe the pretty anchor on Channel 7?

Rudy didn’t answer and turned his attention away from the leering officer. There was some truth to what he said; there was a message on his phone from Channel 7…and several other channels…when he got to work. He was to be on the evening news, as well as the noon show tomorrow. He hated doing news shows but it was part of his duty to the city, so he agreed.

Haven’t you got anything better to do?

His querulous inquiry was more a statement than a question, subtly accusing the young police officer of shirking his duty. Adam just grinned and shook his head.

Nope, this is the best show in town. I’m desk-bound today, and I’d rather watch you squirm through press interviews than anything else on my duty roster.

Rudy waved away the attentions of the younger man and sighed with relief when Stevie came back through the office with the mail. On cue, Adam jumped off the desk and followed her like a love-struck puppy. Rudy turned his attention to inventorying the unremarkable items in the box. Watch, wallet, toothbrush, fountain pen, and a couple of tattered old theatre programs.

He riffled through the wallet but saw no evidence anything had been stolen. The old man’s ID and credit cards were intact, along with a wrinkled old fifty dollar bill. With a heavy heart, he set the box aside and filled out a report listing the death as a suicide, as a note on his desk yesterday afternoon had instructed him to do

He couldn’t get the thought of the glowing crucifix out of his head. He resolved to ask his priest on Sunday what it might mean, and forced himself to move the case to the back of his mind.

The funeral was scheduled for Wednesday afternoon; Rudy made a note on his calendar to attend. He knew his obligation to the case ended when the case was closed as a suicide. The coroner’s report hadn’t found anything unusual, just the normal injuries expected in a fall from such a height, so no one was going to press the cause of death. There were thousands of other cases demanding their attention and closing one so quickly and easily was always welcome, but there was something about it that bothered him.

It wasn’t just the strange computer symbols or the tone of the note on his desk instructing him to say suicide. There was something about the effects…or the lack of effects…that bothered him. Even a lonely old man should have more to show for a long and fruitful life, and somehow the two playbills stuck out. His plays were still showing all over town; why would those two particular programs be special? No, Rudy thought, I was hasty in accepting the official story. I should have left the case open. He resolved to go to the funeral to gain closure.

The crowd at the graveside was sparse. A small knot of professional theatre folks were dressed in dramatic black, with a news photographer obediently trailing behind. Besides the theatre group, there was only Rudy and a couple of elderly men who bowed their heads respectfully as the minister intoned the familiar Lord’s Prayer. The theatre crowd looked bored and made a quick departure.

Rudy turned to leave but decided to take one more look at the coffin. To his surprise, the area had not totally cleared. A young woman in a large black hat knelt by the side of the grave clutching a bouquet of large yellow flowers. Rudy stepped into the shadow of a large tree and watched, feeling guilty about trespassing on a private moment.

The young woman rose, placed her bouquet on the coffin, and laid a gentle kiss on the black box. She turned and headed straight toward the detective. He shrank further into the shadows and was able to get a good look at her face as she passed. He watched her closely, memorizing her face, but didn’t step out to confront her. He wasn’t here on official business and she wasn’t suspected of anything. He thought it best to let her grieve in peace. He’d try to find her later and see if he could get more information. As soon as her car was out of sight, he headed to his own nondescript black Honda and went back to the office.

Stevie was waiting for him when he got back. Her air of excitement was palpable and he tensed instinctively. That sort of excitement was rarely good news, in his experience.

Guess what I received today? she greeted him.

A wedding proposal from Adam, he grumped as he settled into his chair.

No, silly, that would be gross. No, it’s something…great!

Whirling and darting out of the office, she zipped in again almost instantaneously carrying a laptop computer.

Guess whose?

Stevie was young still, and prone to playing silly games. Rudy reflected on how refreshing that could be…on a good day…but she’d get jaded soon enough, and she’d grow cynical and hard like the rest of them. Nothing would excite her once she earned her armor.

I don’t know…Chief Foster’s?

No, of course not.

Stevie paused to ponder the implications of having access to the chief’s computer. A smile darted over her face but she squelched it. Leaning close enough that Rudy could smell a delicate trace of perfume, she whispered in a conspiratorial whisper loud enough to be heard in New Jersey.

It’s…HIS!

Rudy stared at her, unable to comprehend what she was talking about. His who, he wondered, then realized he hadn’t asked out loud.

His? Which his?

His question sounded stupid even to his own ears, and he could hear his grandmother chide him about his terrible grammar. He shook off her nagging memory and tried to focus.

His! Aaron Smiley!

Rudy sat up straight, jolted to awareness. Of course! That was what was missing from the box of effects! The computer. He reached across the desk, eager to lay his hands on the sleek black machine his colleague thrust in his direction. Teasing him, she snatched it away, then grinned and laid it on the desk. Turning with a toss of her hair, she fairly skipped out of the room as though proud of herself for delivering such a wonderful toy.

Carefully, almost reverently, he opened the computer and switched it on. Nothing. He thought someone had done something to disable it, but then he remembered.

Stevie!

He knew he shouldn’t bellow across the office but he was tired and out of sorts, and he didn’t want to get up and trudge to the outer office. Stevie popped her head in the door with a tiny smile that made him wish he were twenty years younger.

You want this?

She dangled a black cord just inside the door, teasing him. That brat! She was going to make him get up and fetch it, but he wasn’t playing today. He made a rude gesture and she got the message. Darting across the office, she dropped the cord on his desk and dashed back out before he could say a word. Just as she danced out the door, she gave a little swish of her shapely bottom which spoke louder than any epithets she could