The Demon Client

By C. L. Parker

Presented from deep within the Heart of Texas, a new face of horror emerges out of the darkness with a little romantic TWIST, as you begin the journey into the sweetest of nightmares.

Curtis Lee Parker presents,
The Demon Client!
Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Apr 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665704366

C. L. Parker

If you enjoyed my story and desire more of this wonderfully horrifying adventure, please join me on X @C_L_Parker_HoT, Heart of Texas! Maybe we can create more stories together as we emerge from the darkness, and migrate towards a brighter future with the mystique of a flock of Ravens and the BEAUTY which IS the Heart of Texas! Together, we can create hope where hope is not welcomed and shine light in the deepest of darkness. Dragoste. Love. Forevermore.

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Copyright © 2021 C. L. Parker.

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case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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.

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ISBN: 978-1-6657-0435-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-0436-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021905147

Archway Publishing rev. date: 03/22/2021

"Sometimes we get lost in our thoughts. Sometimes they destroy us, but then sometimes they save us. My thoughts are filled with golden wavy locks. With golden sunshine, and with the most beautiful creation in the universe.

Now I know in my thoughts and in my heart that everything will be okay because forever looks so beautiful and forever never ends. Now I know that when God created her. That this was His greatest creation."

~C.L. Parker

The Appetizer

From Russell’s Thoughts:

Sitting at my computer desk on that cold, rainy Sunday afternoon, my life was taking a turn for the better and the worst at the same time.

There were two women in my life, and I knew for certain that one of them wanted to gently insert a razor sharp butcher knife into my chest, slicing my heart right down the middle.

Just 48 hours prior to that Sunday afternoon, the existence of life beyond what I could see with my own two eyes had made it’s acquaintance, and it was a very disturbing reality to cope with.

I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t real, but it felt as though I was lying to myself. There was no denying that it was real, but I could not understand exactly what it was. Other than pure evil.

The thought of a demon infiltrating my life was a horrifying thought, nonetheless, a reality that I could not easily escape.

Who could I turn to for help? And who would believe me? All I could do was wait and suffer the weekend until Monday morning finally made its presence felt.

The two women were so beautiful, and wonderfully unique in their own ways, but I needed to discover which one of them was holding the knife behind their back, and which one truly loved me.

In the depths of the horror that was awaiting me, I still could not help but to think about how much I began to hate that creaky, uncomfortable old desk chair… The agony begins.

CONTENTS

ACT 1

CHAPTER 1                      February 6th; 1996, A Tuesday

CHAPTER 2                      February 7th, A Wednesday

CHAPTER 3                      Still, a freaky Wednesday

CHAPTER 4                      February 8th, A Thursday

CHAPTER 5                      February 9th, A Friday

ACT 2

CHAPTER 6                      Valentine’s Day, A Wednesday

CHAPTER 7                      February 15th, A Thursday

CHAPTER 8                      February 16th, A Friday

CHAPTER 9                      February 17th, A Saturday

ACT 3

CHAPTER 10                    February 19th, A Monday

STILL CHAPTER 10        February 20th, A Tuesday

CHAPTER 11                    February 29th, A Leap Day

CHAPTER 12                    March 16th, Unforgettable

FINAL CHAPTER             First Day of Spring

THE CONCLUSION         As The Dust Settles, Alice

ACT 1

Chapter 1

February 6th; 1996, A Tuesday

The 1990’s was an interesting decade in my life, but mostly in my career, which was about 90 percent of my life back then. I graduated law school in the class of 91 as an honor student. The doors of law firms all over the country would soon be opening up for me, but I had my sights set on one city in particular.

Dallas, Tx. Which was in an uproar at the time, after the Dallas Cowboys had just won their third Super Bowl in four years, that could have easily been four in a row, but the painful memory of a lost championship had finally faded with a Super Bowl XXX victory.

I was born and raised in Central Texas, and I had the opportunity to visit Dallas on a few occasions. The Grassy Knoll, The Hard Rock Cafe, and Deep Ellum to name a few places, but it was the city life that really interested me. Upbeat and fancy seemed like a puzzle piece that was always missing in my life. It felt more sophisticated and classy than what I was used to while growing up in a small town where everyone was so laid back and completely out of their minds. It’s a small town thang I guess.

When I visited the city however, everyone seemed to be walking a different beat and the diversity between the people was tremendous. It felt more like harmony to me, and I loved walking that same beat with everyone else, which made me feel like I was at home.

Soon after graduation I found a law firm that took me in, right off of I-30, just southwest of downtown Dallas. Every morning for the first month or so, I would park my 81 El Camino that I bought during law school, where I had an excellent view of downtown.

I would make sure that I had plenty of time to admire the image of downtown from the seat of my car before I had to go in for work. It gave me a great sense of accomplishment and motivation. I loved the view of all the skyscrapers along with the many smaller buildings surrounding them. I was living a dream. I had finally made it to Dallas, Tx. Where I belonged.

Starting out was more difficult than I had anticipated, and I found myself paying those tough dues early on to get where I really wanted to be, which was starting my own law firm. Even though I learned quickly in law school that it was better to join an already well established law firm and then try to work my way up to partner. I still dreamed of being my own boss, and creating my own firm that would grow into the most ethical and honorable law firm in the entire country. Or maybe even the world.

Being a rookie attorney while paying those horrendous due’s meant that I was only allowed to handle court appointed cases which occured when a client did not possess the financial means necessary to acquire the services of an attorney. So in most cases, they were people in jail or who just got out of jail, and these were cases that did not generate a profit. Dead Cases are what we used to call them. Soon as I received one of these Dead Cases, I knew it was going to be a loser case, because even the victories felt like a loss. They might as well have classified them LOSER cases. In bold letters and all caps. LOSER.

I had no choice but to take the cases assigned to me. The law firm that gave me my first opportunity was strict about allowing a green attorney, or a rookie attorney, to handle client paid cases. We had to work our way up to that. So in the courtroom, I would always put on the best performance I could for the Judge, and demonstrate my knowledge and passion I had for being an attorney. It was the attorney’s stage for an Oscar performance and I loved every moment of it.

*2*

There was one client in particular that I will never forget for the rest of my life. I could trip, slam my head on the sidewalk pavement and develop amnesia, but I would still remember her. Her name was Alice.

Bright and early the day before I first met Alice, that Monday morning in February of 1996, I received a new case file at my desk from Carol, our secretary. Who had been born and raised in England before finally moving to the United States, and she was the most lovely lady anyone could ever meet

I have a charming gift for you Russell, I hope you had your morning coffee dear, you’re going to need a bit of caffeine today lad. Sir. Morning chose you personally for this one.

Sounds like opportunity knockiiing, sang Carol as she handed me the manila folder containing my new case to solve.

Thank you sooo much, I sang back.

Carol was middle aged, but still very beautiful and always full of life. Anytime someone was having a bad day, she was always there to help lift our spirits, even during the darkest of days. The English accent probably had a lot to do with that as well. Everyone absolutely loved it. We found it charming, as Carol would always say.

Mr. Morning was the main man in charge of the law firm, Morning~2~Morning, and he built the law firm from the ground up through hard work and many hours in the courtroom. Mr. Morning came from a well established and wealthy family consisting of many attorneys, a senator, and his great grandfather, a legendary Judge who served on the Supreme Court for many years and through several presidential administrations. I felt lucky to have him as a boss, and I thought he was a good man to work for as a young and ignorant attorney, and he was my mentor and role model as I began my legal journey in life and my career.

So what is my objective? I asked Carol.

Carol replied back, he wants you to review the case, go in tomorrow to meet with huh, and report back with some good news. You think you can deliver on this one dear? Carol continued, and almost putting me to sleep. By the way, this is a paying client. We made a deal with the brother of the defendant, and she will be waiting for you down at the station tomorrow afternoon. Good luck with this one Russell, her voice sounding that of a mother singing a child to sleep with a lullaby.

Thank you Carol, but you should know by now that I don’t need luck, I explained with the wink of an eye.

I know you don’t, Sir. Bigshot, replied Carol with a smile on her face and a wink of her own.

Outstanding! I thought to myself. My first paying client, and I had another opportunity to go back to the station for this one as well, which I had not been to in a long time. Most of my client interactions were at the office, over the phone, or the occasional trip to juvie hall. I actually enjoyed those cases when I had the opportunity to work with kids who got into trouble. I felt that I was making a difference if I helped them to stay out of trouble in the future.

I was overly excited about going back to the station, which was short for Police Station, for only one reason. I would have the privilege of seeing and talking to the beautiful young woman again who worked at the front desk. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen, her name was Ashley.

I was always trying to initiate casual conversation with her, but something always seemed to get stuck in my throat, and the best I could do was give off a goofy smile that she never returned back.

This time around however, I planned on at least getting a smile from her, and it was a smile that I had not yet seen. Other than in my dreams that was.

Judging from the series of events that were set to take place, that Tuesday by my estimation, was going to not only be a great start to the week and a great start to the new year, but it was going to be the beginning of my greatly anticipated destiny.

I had not developed a specific New Year’s Resolution, but I was on the edge of some kind of resolution of attempting to climb up the corporate ladder to the top of the legal atmosphere.

Opening the Alice file for the first time provided me with my first real thrill as an attorney. The charge was first degree murder and the victim was her husband, and I almost fell out of my chair when I read that section of the case file. Carol had been absolutely right, and more coffee was exactly what I needed!

Examining the case file further, I noticed that it said Alice was only 33 years old, but in the mugshot she looked to be very well into her fifties, if not older. So I started to wonder if she may have been suffering from drug addiction.

There was no indication of any testing done for drug use, or any evidence of drug use found at the scene of the crime, but she appeared to be under the influence of something by the looks of the mugshot. I could not exactly tell what was wrong with her, but my attorney instincts told me that something out of the normal was affecting this woman. Something was not right. What could have possibly possessed a woman to butcher her own husband in such a horrifying fashion?

I spent the rest of the day studying the case file and conducting research on murder trials with the excitement and anticipation of possibly performing in front of a jury for the first time. The stage would be set, and I would become the brightest young attorney in the country. Or at least Dallas, Tx.

By the end of the day, there was also this lingering sensation of Deja Vu being created that I could not quite figure out at the time, and it stayed with me all the way through the night and well into that Tuesday morning.

I could not help but to feel that I knew this woman from somewhere. Was it an ex-girlfriend? As if I could not remember all the girlfriends I had ever had. One of my mom’s friends from work when I was growing up? Or could it have been an instructor from law school? Most of the information about this woman was still left for me to discover, other than the crime scene of course, which was left a bloody mess by the hands of this seemingly harmless young lady.

There were so many questions floating around in my thoughts, and sleep that night was almost impossible to achieve, but all I can remember is that I was way too excited to even think about being tired.

*3*

Sitting in front of my client Alice for the first time on that Tuesday afternoon was a mind altering experience. Considering the circumstances, she was not being allowed the privilege to come out of her cell, and I was not authorized to go inside of the cell with her. Which was perfectly fine with me. Better safe than dead I thought.

After doing some research the day before, along with the fine education I gained from law school, the goal of this case would be to get her off on an insanity plea. Of course I would have to be certain, and I would need proof, but most importantly, I would need my client to actually plead insanity. If she did not know she was crazy yet. I was going to make damn sure she would feel that way before we went in front of the judge. The insanity plea is the attorney’s Royal Flush for murder trials. Avoiding prison time was always the main objective and anything else was considered a success.

Alice’s brother, who was the paying client in the case, did not believe she committed the murder, but the evidence was heavily leaning the other direction. Being caught red handed with the murder weapon was going to be tough to argue in a court of law, but I had to try.

Seeing Alice for the first time, as I gazed at her through the jail cell bars, the most creepy sensation covered my skin like an itchy blanket. It was so dark inside the station, inside Cell Block 3, and so very cold. I hated the cold and it was almost unbearable, but I had a job to do. I had a corporate ladder to climb which began with a cold stare through even colder jail cell bars.

I continued to examine Alice for a long time before I finally realized why the Deja Vu from the day before had been so strong. Looking at this woman, for me, was like seeing a ghost. My skin was crawling, and a tiny bell was going off just on the inside parts of my ear canals. She was a mirror image of my grandma who was also named Alice. I had not thought about her in a very long time considering she had died when I was just a small boy about 6 or 7 years of age. I could not remember exactly, but it had been a very long time since I had even thought about my grandmother.

I could not remember much about my grandmother, except that she was an alcoholic, and a socially distant member of the family. The best memory I retained of her other than the night before she died. Relaxed in a reclined position on her hospital bed while playing a game of solitary. Was sitting with her at the kitchen table, with only a 12 oz. can of budweiser, a salt shaker, and a cut up lemon to accompany us. I never figured out if that was one visit to grandma’s house, or the combination of several mirror image visits mushed together, but one thing was certain. Booze had become her life. Her addiction.

It was a tragedy really, with the alcohol basically taking over her life when she was the owner of a bar at such a young age. My mother would tell me stories about growing up as a child in the bar scene. Everyday after school for a lengthy portion of her childhood, she would go straight from the school bus to the bar grandma owned, The Candlelight Lounge. She even had a cot in the back room to sleep on when it got late, and grandma would always have to carry her to the car, and carry her into the house to her real bed when the night was over.

The Candlelight Lounge, from the stories my mother used to me, was actually a very nice establishment, and my grandmother worked extra hard to maintain a classy image of the place. At that moment I began to suspect that I possibly inherited these classy, sophisticated traits from my grandmother, or maybe it was just my English heritage. Which was difficult to determine because I only knew my grandmother at an old age. Long after the alcohol had consumed her soul.

The failure my grandmother experienced in life motivated me to grow into a successful adult and to avoid falling victim of alcoholism. Of course I would go out and party on occasions, but remaining career focused and goal oriented had kept me on a right path, and I finally had my first real opportunity as a young hotshot attorney. Or Sir. Bigshot as Carol would always say.

It was a murder case, a first degree, premeditated slashing of a horror case right out of a Stephen King novel and it was my moment to cease, or destroy, but failure was simply not an option for my younger and fashionably determined self.

After drifting off into a daydream about my late grandmother, combined with the excitement of my opportunity, I was not sure how long I had been sitting in the chair provided to me and rudely staring at Alice through the cell bars. Had I even said anything to her? If I had, I knew that she never said anything back to me, and it seemed as though I did not even exist to her.

The inspirational feeling during that moment was sadly interrupted when I noticed how terrible she must have felt stuck in that jail sail, and I had no idea why she did what she did, but for all I knew he might have actually deserved it. From the very first moment I opened the Alice file, there was one thing that kept putting a kink in my thought process, which turned out to be the greatest mystery I had to solve.

I could not quite comprehend how a 33 year old successful woman, a Doctor, and a surgeon who spent her days saving lives, happened to go completely insane one day for no particular reason, but I knew there had to be some kind of explanation. Somewhere there had to be some form of evidence as to what must have caused this temporary insanity. This……, murder.

One of my favorite topics to study while I was attending law school was about the crime of passion. A crime committed in which love was the ultimate trigger pulling device. Or a broken heart to illustrate it more accurately.

So love was not too far up on my priority list, and I did not plan for it to be any time soon, unless I could get Ashley to speak to me that was. I guess it would have been honest to say that I was scared of love, because love caused people to do the craziest things, horrible things, and in this case, it was a horrible thing with a razor sharp butcher knife. Or was it love?

This was first degree, premeditated murder, and the victim was her own husband. Maybe there was another woman? Her husband could have been having an affair, and even though there was no evidence found at the crime scene to suggest such a thing, that did not completely rule out the possibility of adultery in this situation. Nothing else made any more sense to me at the time, but I did not have a single trace of evidence to support my theory.

Alice was literally caught red handed, with her husband’s blood beginning to stain her tiny little hands, and I was always surprised by the things tiny hands could do. Tiny hands seemed like a symbol of innocence to me, but I had learned to not let this cloud my instincts or manipulate my judgement. Tiny hands could be deceiving. Tiny hands could be deadly.

Robert Joseph Rosedale, the murder victim, was a successful businessman in the Dallas area, a sales representative for a multinational corporation. He would often go on business trips that could last up to a couple of weeks. His specialty was gaining new clients which created more revenue for the company, and he would often go on business trips that could last up to a couple of weeks at a time. Add this to the equation along with the hours Alice put in at the hospital as a Doctor, and there was definitely reasonable doubt that Robert was being unfaithful throughout the marriage.

I could not imagine being a successful businessman traveling to all the wonderful cities of our great country, such as New York City, Miami, San Francisco, and Las Vegas, just to name a few, and the temptation of being surrounded by endless beautiful women around every corner. Then when he finally did make it back home, he was just in time to greet Alice as she was on her way to a double shift, and the only comfort he would find would be that of an old recliner and a newspaper. Or whatever the man fancied.

*4*

During the Alice case, I developed an obsession, an addiction, just like grandma being addicted to the alcohol, but instead, I needed a crime of passion to get my fix. Days when all I recieved was cases from people wanting to sue other people, or people needing a divorce, or requesting reduced sentences because they couldn’t seem to quit breaking the law, became so unbelievably boring.

No. I wanted blood. The more sinister the crime the better, and I didn’t particularly care if I was the prosecutor or not. I simply needed the blood of the murder to satisfy my obsession. Honestly, I remember similar cases in which I wanted to see them get away with murder. I felt like with Alice, that somehow they were the victim and that justice was somehow being served. Eventually I would work so many different Alice cases that I was living in Deja Vu. In some sort of dream come true limbo.

However, that was not so on this day while studying Alice through the cell bars, I was still figuring things out. I was a world changer, but I had not yet been tested by life’s brutality, and I had just been handed my first lesson. This was a LOSER case, in bold capital letters. Murder in the first, no witnesses, only one suspect, and she was literally caught bloody handed. Her name was Alice Jane Rosedale.

*5*

Being trapped inside that small cell must have been a terrifying experience, and I could not imagine what it was like being locked up like that. Everything seemed so dark and uncomfortable. The toilet was exposed, just lingering out in the open, which meant that there wasn’t very much privacy. If my mind was not deceiving me at the time, there was actually a spout on the top of the toilet used for drinking water, and this was very disturbing to me. I could feel a nauseous sensation start to overwhelm me, and all I knew is that I was happy to be on the good side of the bars, on the freedom side.

My attention quickly focused back to Alice as she sat on her bed and leaned up against the wall, who appeared to be focused on the floor of the jail cell, and seeming almost at peace. Then suddenly I had the urge to reach out and grasp one of the cell bars. After gaining a firm grip on one of the bars, the cold metal sent a severe chill throughout my entire body, snapping me out of my fixation of the jail cell and the woman sitting on the bed. Reality was beginning to sink back in and I needed to get to work.

Hello Alice, my name is Russell Morgan and I’m going to be your attorney. If you don’t mind? I would like to ask you a few questions.

Alice refused to speak with me at first, and I wasn’t positive, but I believe there was a low, forceful exhale that escaped her lips, which created goosebumps along my neck and down my arms. Then shortly after that I noticed her doing something with her hands.

She was gently caressing each of her fingers. Stroking them one at a time. Had she been doing that the whole time I was sitting there? Or ever since she had been locked in there? Maybe she was still thinking about the blood that covered her tiny fingers just a few days ago. Replaying in her imagination how she used a large, razor sharp kitchen knife to carve her husband up like a pumpkin on Halloween.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been sitting there by then, examining my new client in her incarcerated environment, but it was long enough to make me feel like I was trapped in there with her. Almost like I was starting to become HER prisoner.

It was difficult to believe that those tiny hands could commit such a horrifying act of violence. Hands that were slender and thin, but not bony. I couldn’t even identify an outline of where her nuckles were supposed to be, and with the naked eye, they appeared to be made