Wicked Stories Number Two

By Douglas G. Barnett

These stories are suspense thrillers with a touch of black humor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514413432

Douglas G. Barnett

Douglas G. Barnett is an Anglo-American born and raised in Peru who one day literally decided to make his dreams come true. His stories are recollections of constant nightmares, therefore deciding to make it a habit writing them down at any given hour of the night. After seeing the amount of stories, he was animated then to give them a twist of black humor. Then masterminding these, he also got familiarized to write them when awake in the day.

Book preview

HOOK

What’s your big interest in this case, Captain Bartello?

The fact that this victim’s wife claims that he was not important, say even a poor man, but that a couple of days ago, he had been frightened by the fact that he had blown his horn on a man while parked, with his door wide open, and that he had only gotten to see his very elegant watch, shoes, and slacks as he never showed his face, and that after this man had left, her husband had stayed in the car when he noticed this man’s car was now in front of him, eyeing him terribly, but he could not see him properly as the strong sunrays of the day were against him.

The car was a silver Camry, some years old but extremely well-kept actually, as if it had just come out of the shop. This exact description fits another crime but in another state, this time happening to a policeman I happened to have known.

So if these tie up, you’re thinking of a serial. Could also be a coincidence.

Could be, but I don’t want to find out later that in fact it wasn’t a coincidence.

That type of car, Captain, was sold by the hundreds of thousands.

I know. It’s a very good car. I happen to own one.

That makes two of us, and mine is silver colored too.

Not much to go on, Captain.

There is a way that I’ve been thinking of, and that’s to kind of fish him out, but not with a hook but with a net. You see, what we’ll do is to provoke him. If it’s true, he takes this route where there’s this plaza where this last victim saw him. I’ll go west, and you come east toward the sea, and we’ll cut into every nice-looking silver Camry and see if he’ll bite coming after us with an address where we’ll be waiting for him.

Brilliant plan indeed, Captain.

Let’s start right away then because, Lieutenant, we don’t know how many people he’s actually killed, given the fact that there’s this car that’s been seen, but what about the other times it hasn’t?

Now we’ll wait here at these two addresses.

How many did you do, Lieutenant?

Oh, three hundred.

Well, you did better than me then. I’ve done about two hundred.

Does this mean I’m a worse driver? says the lieutenant jokingly.

Mockingly, Bartello answers, No, it means you drive like a Latino—you cut in more.

Yeah, yeah. You think that we drive like that in our own countries.

Well, you’re world famous for it.

The lieutenant nods, not approving or disapproving but just moving his head one way to another, and says, It’s that we haven’t got the proper roads, so we have to do whatever we can.

* * *

"Bartello’s been what?"

Murdered, sir.

How did this happen? Very strange indeed.

He didn’t follow strict proceedings set up.

Who planned this?

I did, Commissioner, but the plan was good.

How good?

The lieutenant explains the exact plan Bartello had made but now using his name.

And again, where did it fail?

Bartello wasn’t supposed to leave the apartment until the appropriate moment when the serial would either look for him or for me, depending on whose group of license plates the killer would have written down to be able to find one of us. Excuse me, sir, but it was just his bad luck that was from his lot of plates. I wish it would have been mine.

Yes, why so?

Well, sir, I wouldn’t have left the apartment.

Correct, and it goes to show how sometimes the older ones forget to do their job right. As the commissioner is as young as he is, they kind of bow to this. Lieutenant, I’m promoting you to captain. You’re taking Bartello’s place.

I don’t know what to say, Commissioner. I’m sad for having got to where I am due to the circumstances but also deeply honored.

* * *

Oh, let me see you, Captain. It’s a dream come true.

Yes, dear, and all thanks to you, my beloved wife, so smart and clever.

No, no. You, my love, having made the decision.

Yes, Marla, but I just wasn’t that strong. But thanks to you, the plan was conceived. And as he says this, he happens to see the large ice pick with which Marla, his wife, had struck it into the back of Bartello’s neck.

Could we remove this please, dear? It’s very upsetting for me, he says.

Why sure, darling. And she just picks it up very casually and takes it to the kitchen, martini in the other hand and dressed in her baby doll outfit.

As she comes back, she says to him, Well, you won’t need to worry anymore about it, dear. In fact, the next one we’ll get will be a silver one. Hum … Good idea to start changing everything around here, and it has to start with the ice pick. She laughs.

The pay is more, but not that much more.

Why, darling, she says, being a captain is a small gold mine. Look at all the payoffs.

Well, yes, that will come in handy. And he embraces her.

He kisses her feverishly, saying, You, you did. You’re a genius. Oh, Marla, my love, we’ll get to the top in no time.

To the top he does get to because that is where they’ll find him, hanging from the ceiling lamp once they’ve driven the lamp’s rod through his throat and left him there with his eyes wide open like a fish. He really must have cut into him, for the serial killer had followed him from that fake apartment to his own house, where he’s now alone with him.

So the only one fishing, and a more selective one at that, is the serial killer, who is now admiring his work, towing with a fishing line around his finger, where at the end of it there is a HOOK.

DOGS LIFE

When will you ever be on time? I swear you’ll be late for your own funeral. And don’t give me this Sans this and Sans that. You’re late.

Mr. Farias Luyo and Mr. Sans Farro?

Yes, that is us, now and complete.

You may come in then. Mr. Kipp will see you now.

Oh, finally arrived, eh.

We’re sorry about this, says Sans, Farias looking sideways at Sans like saying, You don’t have to say you’re sorry for me.

How can we be of service to you, Mr. Kipp?

I’ll go straight to the point. We don’t want the police involved, but if they have to come in, well, we’re not going to get in the way of justice. This is our problem, gentlemen. You see, we’re an insurance company that is having a big toll in losses because we have to pay out huge amounts on behalf of our customers being killed. I don’t know if this is an epidemic of trained dogs going around killing people.

We’ve read the papers, Mr. Kipp.

Well, let’s not waste any more time. Let’s get them. What is your number?

Five million each, Mr. Kipp.

You will get them?

Oh, but that’s our business, Mr. Kipp. Don’t worry anymore.

The police haven’t a clue as to what is happening. We don’t know why we haven’t contacted people like you earlier.

Do you have more people contacted, Mr. Kipp?

To be honest, yes, about half a dozen.

Why you were called in last was because we couldn’t get ahold of you.

We were busy on a case that concluded very satisfactorily, Mr. Kipp.

Mr. Kipp notices, and it gives him the creeps how much these two look and sound so much like psychopaths.

Mr. Kipp, those people who have been killed and, on top of that, robbed were they mostly your clients?

All of them were our clients.

Well, that’s good to know, Mr. Kipp. Surely then, there must be someone inside this company giving out this information.

We’ve got thousands of employees, Mr. Farro.

Take too long, Mr. Kipp.

It is the way he keeps saying Mr. Kipp the whole time that has Mr. Kipp on edge, but Kipp, at the back of his mind, knows that this is the type of person who gets things done.

Does your friend ever talk?

His friend just grins.

"I take it then, Mr. Kipp, that what the newspaper is saying is also what you know, three to four dogs chewing up these people.

Kipp shudders at the way he says it.

This is going to be the easiest five million we will ever get, says Sans as Farias is saying the exact same thing.

Let’s call off the dogs then, they both say while they’re doing a little victory dance.

All right, back to business, says Sans.

As usual, says Farias.

Sans then says to Farias, We’ll tell them that due to the fact that some of these crimes had been committed in faraway states, small aircraft was used as the use of commercial airports would have been a giveaway to the getting of dogs on and off planes.

The use of clandestine airports also has its risks, one of them having an accident. Then all we had to do was follow the pilot when he came for help or parts or both. This we did, being successful, thanks to all the contacts we’ve made in places where they sell these spares all over the States, as most of our clients own their own aircraft and helped us zoom in on any strange sales.

What more could we say? says Farias, opening his two hands and twinkling his ugly eyes.

Before giving this explanation, they’ve decided to get rid of the whole crew, the dog trainers and pilot.

Kipp never receives