The blood dripped from the cracked head; the dead body was on the floor as I sat on the armchair waiting for the sirens to come. The face of the dead body was brilliant: the scare eyes without a life, the arms were next to the abdomen, meaning that the person wasn't ready for the fall. A smile appeared on my face as I drank my tea. This was the perfect life, oh so perfect life.
When the sirens came into my hearing and I stood up placing the cup on the side table; walked towards the door, making sure that everything was in it's place.
I closed the door behind and went over to my car, hidden behind the woods. I climbed, taking off the gloves and starting the car so that I could leave and plan the next person I was going to visit. I took my wig off and let my hair fall down to my back; placed my dark sunglasses over my eyes and finally made my way to the main road.
‘Hey, Oliver,’ said Michael. ‘C’mere for a second.’
‘Yes, sir?’ I asked.
‘I want you to come with me to a crime scene.’
‘Walk with me, I’ll fill you in.’ he answered.
Michael Grant was the Executive Assistant Director for the FBI’s Criminal Investigation Division. My boss, to be precise. As we walked towards the car, he told me about the case.
‘Not a big one,’ he said, ‘woman shot twice to the head in her home.’
‘What’s the deal with it then?’ I asked
‘Well, I know you fancy serial killings, son, and this murder seems to be the start of one.’
‘Whoever this fucker is, left a message in a cup of tea,’ he explained, ‘it says “catch me” and a smiling face at the end.’
‘Still doesn’t sound like a serial killing to me.’ I said.
‘Look, Oliver, serial killing or not, <State> State Police requested help on this case and you’re going to be the helping hand. Got it?’
‘Got it, sir.’
Back at my desk was an envelope with murder’s report. The photos were not particularly disturbing and instead were more of a disappointment as most of them were useless. The pictures indicated that Mrs. Flower crawled away desperately from the killer, leaving a track of blood in the floor before being hit and shot in the head. And then, the last photo:
“Catch me :)”
What does the Director want me to do with this? I thought. The reports said there were neither fingerprints nor anything useful for analysis found in the crime scene and, apparently, the killer had used a muffled gun, which meant no one had a single clue that she had been killed. There were no witnesses that saw anyone entering the Flower’s residence.
‘Sup,’ partner?’ said Clint, my dear partner. Clint and I had been partners for a good three years now, all of which we spent dealing with the cases the state police of <Place>. In those three years, we had only run into a serial killer: Ronald Romero, a guy who selected victims that had previously tried to kill themselves. We had a similar case before that one, Beck Davis. However, he was only an amateur and was caught before his killing career even started. Somehow, he thought warning the police before he committed the murder was smart.
‘Hey, man. Got a new case.’ I replied as I handed him the envelope.
‘What is it?’ he asked as he looked at the pictures.
‘The murder of Mrs. Flowers. Boss thinks he’s unto a serial killing.’
‘Is this real? Are you telling me the killer drank from this cup and forensics found shit?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Now get ready, we got some useless neighbors to interview.’
‘Didn’t the report said they heard and saw nothing?’
‘What else can we do? It seems will be stuck in square one for a big fucking while.’