Karma Killer ... a sequel to Mindmaze

By Vincent Roberts

In Mindmaze, Mike Vaughn was a young man who had it all, a good job, a wife and two kids. But, beneath the facade, he was a serial killer whose bloody crimes were finally revealed to him by his alternate personality, Dylan. Together, they committed and concealed crimes across the United States for years. But all good things must come to an end and they were captured and locked away in an institution for the criminally insane.

Now, twenty-five years later, Mike's/Dylan's children go home to Reading to start new lives. Rachel has a new boyfriend who is helping her overcome her traumatic past. Ricky, a police officer, is investigating a series of murders that are beginning to look all too familiar ... too close to home. Ricky is frustrated by the crimes he cannot seem to solve, and the past he cannot seem to shake. Could this be karma?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vincent Roberts
• Release date: Apr 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201442804

Book preview

Introduction

You ever wonder what it would be like to just let all your worries disappear? I do. I’ve written a book that needed to be written. It weighed heavy on me for a while, but then, I realized, this book is the book I was meant to write, the book I was born to write.

And I have an important story to tell, a story you might not believe, but that’s your prerogative. It’s quite a complicated story and you have to pay attention or you’ll miss the whole point. Just kidding.

The story is about people, those people who are entangled in a web of lies and deceit. People who hide things, who they are, what they’ve done, who they love and what they’re capable of.

I’ve changed the names of people and places to protect the one I love. I would never want to hurt them or darken their name in any way.

The story deals with the good and the bad, the pure of heart and the sins of the father. It tells about love and hate, crime and punishment, life and death.

Some of the characters are lovable, and then others will have a way of getting under your skin. Every person in the book is an important and intricate part of the story that has to be told.

I wish I could go back to the one I love. I want to be there again, but I can’t. Now that the book has been written and published, I can never find a way to face them again. Never again.

1

Officer Ricky Vaughn stood in the second-floor bathroom with his partner, Officer Howard Moody. They watched and waited as members of the forensics team gathered evidence and took pictures at the scene of the suicide. Moody commented, Really? Doesn’t that beat all? A toaster in the bathtub? I didn’t know people still did that kind of stuff.

Trying to wrap his head around all the paperwork the suicide would require, Ricky raised his eyebrows and said, Apparently, they do.

Moody made the joke, I thought toasters and blow dryers went out in the nineties.

Ignoring Moody’s suicide humor, Ricky walked cautiously around the bathroom, looking up, searching for anything unusual on the floor and walls, checking the sink and the toilet. Moody did the same.

Moody commented, So, we’re going to rule this as a suicide? Right, Ricky?

Ricky didn’t like to be rushed through any crime scene. He was making a thorough investigation of the site. Snappishly, he replied, Jesus Christ, what’s your hurry, Moody?

Calmly, Moody said, No hurry.

For God’s sake, the woman’s dead. She’s not going anywhere.

Moody, who was also quite thorough, took no offense. I know that, but you know how Sutherland can get when we spend more time on a case than he thinks is necessary.

I know how Sutherland works.

Ricky was a thirty-two-year-old detective who was considered to be an up-and-comer in police circles. He had earned a Master’s Degree in Criminal Psychology and was working towards his PHD in the same field. He seemed to have an innate understanding of the criminal mind and, based on his criminal profile work, had solved several cases during his short career.

He’d carved out a great life back in San Diego, until the shooting. He and his partner had been shot in a drug raid. His partner had died. His injuries had healed with no lasting physical effects but he had developed PTSD and survivor’s guilt. His work and mental health suffered and his long-term relationship with his girlfriend was ruined.

After therapy with the police psychiatrist and some soul searching, he decided to come back to his hometown of Reading, Pennsylvania. It felt familiar to him and didn’t trigger him like San Diego did. He was a good enough cop that the whole episode was not a black mark on his record. These kinds of things were not unusual in police life, and he was sent on his way with his professional standing still intact.

He’d landed the detective position with the Reading Police Department quite easily and had been there about two years. Ricky was quick witted and charming but he had a take charge attitude that could be acerbic. He sometimes rubbed coworkers the wrong way. But thus far, his talent had overridden the objections to his aggressive tendencies.

Howard Moody was promoted about the same time that Ricky returned to Reading. They’d become partners almost immediately. Whereas Ricky was a little bit of a temperamental hothead, Moody tended to remain a lot more low-key and calm. They were the yin and yang of the police detectives.

Moody was an easy-going average type of guy. He didn’t stand out in a crowd, nor did he want to. He was oblivious to office politics and didn’t seem to care about making a name for himself. Quiet and unassuming, he was methodical in his approach. His greatest strength as a police detective was his acute talent for absorbing and assembling the facts.

At the station, he was considered to be a very good officer, although his peers wouldn’t have awarded him any prizes for overt brilliance. With a perpetually bemused look on his face, Moody gave the impression that he was in the midst of solving some perplexing case, or that he had just solved one.

But, through keen analytical work, he actually had solved a very respectable number of cases. His fellow officers sometimes shook their heads in wonderment and referred to him as the puzzle man.

Moody said, I’m going to find Campanili and see what she’s come up with.

Just then, Officer Campanili walked into the bathroom. You guys want to come with me? Nikki Campanili was a short, sturdy forty-year-old woman who had been born and raised in The Bronx. She displayed a sarcastic wit and a sharp intelligence. She had devoted half her life to law enforcement exclusively and had no time for office bullshit. She was the perfect complement for the other two detectives.

Ricky immediately followed Campanili out of the bathroom. Moody followed behind and listened carefully to the conversation. In the hallway, Nikki said, I have some info for the two of you.

Ricky glanced around and questioned, Where are the kids?

They’re downstairs in the living room waiting for their father to get here. He has to drive all the way up from Lancaster.

Ricky scratched his head with his pen. Our victim was separated from her husband?

Campanili seemed stressed and tired, but continued to feed Ricky and Moody information. No, the couple has been divorced for about a year now. And, by the way, our victim does have a name. It’s Andrea Meriwether. I know those poor kids have been traumatized beyond belief. Imagine, finding your own mother in a tub, full of water, electrocuted.

Ricky thought back to his own mother’s suicide. She too was discovered in the bathtub with both her arms sliced wrist to elbow. Yes, Ricky was quite capable of imagining how his own sister had felt when she found the body floating in a tub of bloody water. He said, I want to talk to those kids before their father gets here. And once he gets here, I want to talk to him.

Nikki nodded. Sure thing, Ricky. Anything that might close this case quicker. Ricky looked at Nikki sharply, but decided not to say anything regarding the speed at which the case would be closed.

Ricky turned to his partner and said, Moody, why don’t you give Sutherland a call and give him an update, let him know what we got so far. I’m going downstairs to question the kids.

As Ricky and Nikki went down the stairs to talk to the children, Moody, still observing the surroundings, took out his cell phone to call Chief Sutherland.

Once in the living room, Ricky saw two frightened children sitting on the sofa, waiting for someone to tell them what to do. There was a scared ten-year-old boy named David Lee and a trembling twelve-year-old girl named Jessica Lynn.

Nikki handed Ricky a sheet of paper with the children’s information and a list of questions that had already been asked of them. He sat down next to them and slumped low in the chair so he wouldn’t intimidate them with his size. Hello, David. Hello, Jessica. I’m very sorry this terrible thing has happened to the two of you. I’m Officer Vaughn but I’d like it if you call me Ricky. I know this is hard for you but I have to ask you a few more questions. Is that okay?

The terrified children nodded their heads to show him that they understood. I understand that the two of you came home from school today and discovered your mother.

Jessica nodded again, speaking for herself and her brother as if she was trying to protect him. We found her. I was the one who found her first. I screamed and David came in and saw her.

Then what did you do?

"Then I called 911 and made David sit down here with me until the police came.

I’m proud of both of you for being so brave today. The children looked quietly at each other and scooted up higher in their seats. Now, I’m going to ask you a question about your mom and I want you to answer honestly. Do you remember her ever being troubled or angry about anything recently?

Jessica shook her head. No. Mommy was always in a good mood. Jessica glanced at her brother and he shakily nodded his head in agreement.

Ricky looked Jessica in the eye and said gently, I want you to think really hard. Did your mom maybe have an argument with anyone?

Again, Jessica shook her head. "Mommy didn’t argue with anybody ... except ...

Except what?

Well, except with Daddy when they were getting divorced.

Ricky, digging a little deeper, asked, Your mom and dad didn’t get along too well?

Jessica began to speak more. They haven’t argued in a long time, except ...

Except what, Jessica?

Jessica began to tear up. Ricky handed her a tissue from the box that was sitting near them on the side table. He waited patiently while she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Except for yesterday, I heard them talking on the phone. I know I’m not supposed to be listening in on Mommy’s phone calls but she sounded upset. She wiped her cheek as tears appeared again.

Ricky inquired gently, Do you know what the argument was about, Jessica?

It was about me and David. Whenever they used to argue, it was always about us.

Ricky smiled at David when he noticed that the little boy was shivering. He asked, David, you’re shaking like a leaf. Are you cold?

He lowered his head and whispered, No. Just a little scared.

Campanili sat down on the sofa next to David, and interrupted Ricky, I think that maybe they’ve had enough questions for today. Don’t you think so?

Looking into little David’s eyes, Ricky agreed with Campanili’s assessment. For a moment, he felt the little boy’s shock and grief and a profound feeling of despair overtook him. He struggled to regain his equilibrium and do the job, just focus on the case. You’re right, Nikki. I think I’ve talked enough for one day. Thank you for all your help, kids.

When Ricky got up and walked out to the front porch, Nikki walked out right behind him. Ricky smiled tightly at Nikki and looked at his notes. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable and hoped his little lapse in the living room had gone unnoticed. Ricky, are you alright? I know this can’t be easy for you.

Oh sure, I’m alright. Just reviewing my notes. I need a minute.

Do you really need to be here right now? Moody and I can handle the rest of this if you want to get back to the station.

He insisted, I’m fine, Nikki. This case just brings up a lot of the old memories.

She nodded. I know. I can only imagine what you and your poor sister went through back then. That’s why I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here. Come on, Ricky, it’s a cut and dry suicide. All three of us don’t need to be in there.

Ricky, though slightly embarrassed, finally nodded and agreed to leave for the station. Then, you’re alright to finish up here?

When the ex-husband gets here, I can interview him. The kids told me that their dad’s name is Ron. Maybe he has some kind of insight as to why Andrea would have killed herself like that, knowing her children would be the ones to find her body.

Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense to me either. Find out where he was when this happened. Get as much information as you can out of this guy. I want to know everything that I can before we close the book and rule it a suicide.

Nikki was quite familiar with police procedure, but allowed Ricky to talk. I’ll do that, Ricky.

Moody came out to the front porch and inquired, How’s it going, Ricky? Are you okay?

Ricky knew that Moody was going to suggest that he go to the station too. Both Moody and Campanili were aware of Ricky’s terrifying childhood and the unexpected death of his mother. And they knew why he had returned to Reading. It bothered him that they knew, but he could do nothing about it. Briskly, he said, It’s going just fine, Moody. Did you talk with Sutherland?

I did.

And what did he have to say?

He wants us both down at the station, pronto. He said that Nikki can stay here and tie up all the loose ends with this case.

Nikki grinned. See, I told you I can handle it.

Ricky, hating to leave an investigation early, asked one more time. Are you sure, Nikki?

She joked as she smacked him on the ass and said, Now, you’re starting to get on my nerves, Vaughn. Would you get the hell out of here?

Both Ricky and Moody chuckled as they trotted down the steps of the house. They always found Nikki’s humor to be a great stress reliever and they knew she was a top-notch cop.

Ricky looked back one more time and saw Nikki on the front porch giving him a thumbs up and a wave. He shook his head and chuckled again.

2

At seven o’clock, after another twelve-hour day, Howard Moody walked into their townhouse on South Pine Street.

The living room was empty and quiet. He entered the kitchen and saw no one. There was no dinner on the stove and no radio playing. He called out. Claudia! I’m home. Claudia!

He didn’t see his wife anywhere on the first floor. Where are you, baby?

He trudged up the stairs to the second floor, went into their bedroom and saw his petite blonde wife lying on the bed with her night mask over her eyes. Not for the first time, he marveled at how lucky he was, the average looking boy, the mediocre student and athlete, to have won the heart of the pretty little cheerleader. She was his high school sweetheart and he loved her dearly.

All of the curtains were closed and the room was dusky. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or just resting. He carefully leaned over the bed and whispered, Claudia. Claudia honey, are you awake?

After a moment, she took the face mask off, and looked up carefully at him. Hi, honey. You’re home.

He sat down on the bed next to her, held her hand and questioned, Are you having another one of those bad headaches again?

Yes, Howard. She looked as if she was about to cry.

He kicked off his shoes and gently laid down on the bed next to her and kissed her on the cheek. When did this one start?

A couple hours ago.

He studied her. Do you want me to take you to see Dr. Snyder?

She kept her eyes closed as she waved her hand in the air. No, that’s too much trouble. Besides, it’s getting a little better. I should be fine in no time.

Moody quietly argued. Why don’t you want to go to the doctor to get checked, Claudia? It could be serious this time.

He could see that Claudia was in pain every time she spoke. I already took the medication that he gave me last time we were there. There’s nothing else he can do for me, Howard. It’s just a migraine.

Howard continued to press her gently. I worry about you, Claudia. I come home once a week, sometimes twice a week, and you’re here in this dark bedroom with that eye mask on.

I’m sorry, Howard. I wish I could just make the headaches go away.

But it’s been over three months that you’ve been getting them.

Dr. Snyder said that they’re just migraines. A lot of people get them.

He kissed her on the cheek again. She smiled. I don’t want to argue with you about this, Claudia. I just want you well.

I don’t know what to tell you, Howard. It is what it is. I can’t change that.

He nodded. I know you can’t, baby.

She made a pouty face and said, I’m sorry this is happening to us.

He squeezed her hand. Honey, none of this is your fault. Don’t ever think like that.

She nestled her head on his chest. He could smell the sweet fragrance of her lavender shampoo. He loved the smell of her hair.

They both paused for a moment before Moody asked, What do you want me to do about dinner? Take out okay with you?

Sure, Howard. Anything that you decide on is fine with me.

I’ll go by the Greek restaurant.

Which one?

Pappas Place. I know how much you like their food. What do you want?

She pondered for a minute. Maybe a Greek salad. I love their Greek salads.

Are you sure you can eat a Greek salad with the way you’re feeling?

I’ll try to eat some of it.

Okay. You stay here and feel better. I’ll go down and order the food.

Before he left, she said, Howard.

Moody stopped at the door and turned around, Yes, Claudia?

She sat up a little. Thank you for being the man you are. You’re a wonderful man and a good husband. I love you.

3

Exactly one week after the first suicide happened, Ricky and Moody were standing in the living room of a row house that was located in the lower end of Greenwich Street. Several members of the forensics team were also there doing their usual work of collecting key samples and taking photos.

In the middle of the living room, hanging from a rafter, with a rope around her neck, was the late Marjorie Houck. Ricky shook his head, then frowned and inquired, What is this, an epidemic? That’s the second suicide in eight days’ time.

Nikki Campanili was standing nearby with a lot of information she had already collected. Ricky walked over