String of Murder Read online

  “Let’s eat and then get some sleep. You look about as tired as I feel. You can stay as long as you don’t try to steal from me or abuse my hospitality, is that clear?”

  She nodded, and she gave a tiny ghost of a smile, but it was like vapor, gone in the next second. I nodded at her and I gently squeezed her right shoulder and guided her back to the kitchen. She looked at the meal with wide eyes and she looked back to me almost as if asking, without verbalizing the question, “Is this really for me?” I smirked and her and rolled my eyes.

  “Just don’t eat too fast, honey or you might make yourself sick. I remember having that happen to me a few times when I was your age.”

  She looked at me with a new level of calculation in her gaze. She nodded, and she mumbled a tiny “Thank you,” as we were seated. She closed her eyes in a silent Britannia prayer. I raised my plate and said a few words in Cherokee to thank the Great Spirit for my dinner. The girl eyed me curiously, clearly, the gesture was lost to her.

  “That’s how the Native Nation thanks the Great Spirit for the meal they have.”

  I told her, and she seemed to be brimming with unasked questions. Not that she was much of a conversationalist as things were right now. Hells, for all I knew, she was once a very chatty girl.

  “I’m working nights this week. If you can keep the laundry clean and the house in a decent condition, then I will consider that your rent payment, deal?”

  She nodded, and she lanced a large chunk of ham and she bit into it like a large canine ravenous with hunger. I wonder what it said about me that I found this savage-like behavior to be amusing and nostalgic? Then again, she was an adorable child and I had been an only child, so I had never once had much in the way of company growing up. Assuming she did not steal from me or trying to cut my throat in my sleep, maybe she would make a decent house-mate?

  We did not speak again during our meal and the little girl, whose name I still did not know, tore through the food like a large predator in the wild. She was a young teenager by my guess, so she had the appetite to match the age-range. I remembered how ravenous I was at that age and growing up on the streets did not help matters at all!

  After we finished eating, I tucked her into the small spare room and moved all my loose paperwork into my bedroom. The little girl was out as were the lights in my building as the morning turned to afternoon. I passed out and I remembered my last wakeful thoughts as I feel to sleep. I remember seeing the long pale-blonde hair and crimson flying in all directions. I remember scream as the gun-blade turned on me and the explosion nearly blinded me. I passed out before I could relive any more of that memory.

  Three:

  I was woken from my fitful rest all to soon by the sound of the ringing telephone. The damnable device had been installed in every officer’s residence in the past five years, so the department could call us in in case of emergency. My line was more commonly used when a new murder is committed, or a body is found.

  I swore in Cherokee and I scrambled free from my comforter and I practically staggered like a drunkard to the damnable black device. I picked up the large black earphone receiver and I heard a cheerful voice of the phone operator.

  “Hello, a Detective Bobby Richards of Colonial Independent Law Enforcement for a Detective Julia Mullers.”

  I cleared my throat and said, “Yes, this is she, please put him through.”

  No sense in being mean to the call operator!

  I thought to myself, my momma had taught me to be kind to people trying to do their jobs. My momma, that thought hit home with a vengeance this evening, with the lingering ripples of my new housemate surging through my nerves.

  A moment later I heard a clicking sound and then I heard the bustling and shouting as Bobby, my partner, was connected.

  “Hey, Julia, we have a fresh one down here. Headed out to the Lake View apartments on the skyline.”

  The skyline was the area of high-rise apartments for the rich and wealthy. Someone had been murdered there? This was going to bite buffalo hide!

  “Bobby, give me the address and I will meet you there soon. Pick me up a coffee with some cream and I’ll cover you once I get there.”

  Bobby’s lightly accented voice was peppered mildly with his mother’s southern origins. Bobby was one of the only negro detectives. Only a few decades ago, the Colonies had abolished the savage practice of slavery. Bobby’s mother had been born a slave and he was just young enough to have been born a free man. He was twenty-nine and he had recently married, so he was doing very well for himself. Even with the changing times, being the only man of color with a black badge did not make him any friends—besides me. We were placed together like a joke, the African-Colonial, and the female Detective. Bobby was also the most tolerable man on the force, so the joke was on them!

  “Sure thing sugar, but you cover mine too and it’s a deal.”

  I gave a loud snort into the phone.

  “Sure Bobby, I’m feeling magnanimous this morning.”

  “You do realize it’s early evening, right Julia?”

  Bobby’s tone was thick with sarcasm and I snorted again.

  “Well, morning for me Bobby, you know the drill!”

  “Yes, I suppose I do. How long shall I tell the Captain?”

  I looked over at the large wooden grandfather clock on the other side of the room. Five-twenty-three pm.

  “Tell him fifteen minutes. I will try to be fast, Bobby.”

  “I gotcha, just don’t cause any fuss getting her that fast sugar!”

  “Bobby, I drive a steam engine better than you do!”

  I chided him lightly and he chuckled into the line.

  “Okay, sugar, I’ll see you in twenty or so, but I’ll tell the Cap fifteen.”

  Bobby was a saint among men! He always kept the Captain off my back whenever possible. Our Captain hated me. He did not like that he was burdened with a female detective on his police force. He was always inclined to give me the riper homicides when bodies show up on the shorelines. That man really did have an ax to grind with me, so I was not being paranoid when I said as much!

  “Thank you, Bobby, I’ll see you shortly.”

  I hung up the phone and I rushed off to my bathroom to take a cold bath before I dressed and headed out the door. I would also have to leave some coin with my little apartment-mate to ensure she had something for dinner.

  I was shivering once I was out of the bath, but at least I smelled of fresh bar soap and lavender, not day-old sweat and body odor! The other plus side was I could survive without my coffee until I managed to meet up with Bobby.

  I found a pair of leather trousers and a dark grey shirt in my closet. I put on my matching leather jacket and I fastened my black badge to the side of my shirt. I ran my belt through my pants and I fastened my long barreled .357 caliber handgun. I had an ammo pouch on the opposite side to reload the large revolver as needed. A lady never knows when she will need more large caliber bullets on these streets!

  I put on my black boots and laced them up tightly. I fished out my coin purse from where I kept it hidden inside a false floor-panel. I pulled out three silver coins and I stuffed the sack into my jacket pocket and zipped it shut. Then, I walked in gingerly sitting the coins next to the bed and my sleepy ward popped up like she had been hit with lightning. She looked over alert, if slightly groggy. I held up my hands showing them empty.

  “I left you some money for dinner, I’ll be back late tonight. As I said, do some chores and don’t steal and we are fine. Just make sure you get some food and no criminal activities in my apartment.”

  Hells I sound like my damn mother!

  I thought to myself and I cringed slightly at the thought. She eyed me drowsily and bobbed her head slowly.

  “Don’t get hurt…”

  I grinned at her and pointed to myself.

  “I’m Julia, Julia Mullers.”

  She mumbled shyly, “Avery.”

  She curled back up and was snoozing soundl
y once her little brunette head was on the pillow. I felt my heart-strings tug at the sight of the little teen girl curled up. I was not inclined towards men—save for one—but I had all the same maternal urges of any sane and healthy young woman. Avery seemed to tug at these instincts. I didn’t much like leaving Avery alone, but she was safe here. I would have to stop off and pay my respects to String later, see what he knew about her. Hopefully, he could help me piece together the mystery that was the little teen girl.

  “I’ll see you later Avery, you are safe here.”

  I promised her, and I left after stopping off at my landlady’s door to let have know about Avery. She was an aging widow with two boys now grown, she promised to keep an eye on Avery for me and to help her get some dinner. There is something about orphans that causes every decent woman to close ranks and circle our metaphorical wagons to keep a keen watchful eye on our youthful charges. Without these maternal instincts, I suspect the human species would have destroyed itself long ago in the never-ending pursuits of men to conquer and prove their phallic size.

  ***

  We have a small sub-level garage for steam engines of different shapes and sizes. I was a relatively poor detective, but I had managed to pay off a nice coal-grey steam bike last year, thanks in part to a case that I landed. The owner of a bike shop’s wife had been murdered in an attempted robbery and I found the killer and brought him to justice. The grieving widower had given me a sizeable discount as a thank you for my service. I did not often accept discounts or deals, they often came with expectations and favors attached. In this case, the owner had already received the payment he most desired, the swinging and rotting corpse of the robber.

  My steam-bike was a model-two and it was less than five-years-old. It ran on a very mild coal mixture that was readily available. Thankfully, being a detective, the department received discounted rates on all fuel sources. I might not make much, but I was able to afford to keep a lightly used steam-bike on the road most the time without worry. The new model-threes had rolled out just over a year ago and they were slightly faster, but mine burned less coal per-day. Being the frugal girl, I am, I preferred the economic model. Besides, even the type-two is fast as any horse and it can chase down any urban criminal on the run from the law!

  I mounted my mechanical steed and I kicked down on the kick-starter and the engine rumbled to life and I felt the heat as it began to slowly devour my reservoir of coal. I turned the bike at a sharp angle and I gave it just enough fuel to amble forward out the garage level doors and onto the side-street.

  I put on my large black goggles and I leaned in as I fed the accelerator more power. My bike roared and began to pick up speed steadily. I was off to a nice mechanical trot of twenty-five miles-per-hour in several short moments!

  The breeze rushed through my drying blonde hair and I could nearly close my eyes at the pleasant sensation of the open-air travel of the bike. I navigated the early evening traffic and darted around much larger steam engine cars. I passed several young men riding sleeker dark model-threes. They seemed to consider the temptation to challenge me to a race, but then thought better of this once spotting my black badge.

  The heat of day was lingering, but the humidity was not so bad tonight. Nexus City was situated right between the south and the north of the eastern coast of the Colonial continent. Our summers were hot and our winters frigid. We had four perfectly well-rounded seasons, but the air was thick and humid most of the year. The city had been built on the backs of many generations of immigrants flocking to the new western shores like bees to honey.

  I zipped past several blue-clad bobbies from the British Armed Forces. I even spotted a pair of them beating on a man who looked like a helpless middle-aged vendor of some sort. I wanted so badly to help him, but one look at the pair and the gawking crowd gave me pause. I could best them, but I would be easily identified since I am on these streets every day and I live only a hand-full of blocks from this market street.

  Fresh fish assaulted my nose as I passed through the heart of the market. Coal and oil tickled my senses as well as I passed several more steam-engines. My bike roared on and I watched in awe as a massive zep-liner zoomed over my head with a massive white balloon and several steel propeller engines mounted to each side of its wings. Several smaller balloon and steam-driven fliers passed overhead just behind the larger airship. This was likely a convoy from the west carrying people and goods from the frontier lands. Possibly, they were even returning from Westwood City.

  As I dove deeper into the heart of Nexus City, the buildings began to grow in height and width. Small zep-cabs floated above the streets ferrying charges to the upper levels of the city. The rich lived in the clouds of Nexus and seldom saw fit to grace the ground with their presence. Servants and workers moved on the ground levels of these sections of the inner-city like drones going about a thousand different tasks.

  The riches of the Britannia over-lords would rule from on high as we all struggled to eke out our existence down below. Only twenty minutes after the call, I had arrived at the massive skyline district and I parked my bike next to a Colonial Independent Law Enforcement steam engine cab.

  I pulled off my goggles and I let them hang on my hairline like a bandana of sorts. I nodded to the two younger uniform officers charged with keeping an eye on the street level.

  “Hey fellas, do you mind making sure no one mucks about me bike?”

  I smiled my brightest smile, the one that young men could not refuse. I am not a vain woman, but I am very attractive when my scars are hidden. The pair nodded to me and gave a crisp salute noticing my black badge. They were rookies, so their badges were almost a silver-tinted color. They would earn a gunmetal colored badge after a year or two, then maybe a black badge if they were lucky and intelligent.

  Four:

  The most awkward part of showing up to crimes down in the rich segment of town was I knew the chances were high I would run into my most recent ex-girlfriend. Jasmine Bloom worked mainly out of the skyline district as the lead medical examiner. Jasmine was not a bad person, just a girl who strung me along and then caved to the pressure of her family to agree to marry a wealthy young surgeon.

  We call ourselves an advanced society, yet women barely have any real rights in our society. Once married, all assets owned by a woman become her husband’s. If a father does not have a male heir, his properties pass to the next closest male relative, even if he has three daughters living in his house. These daughters will more than likely be unceremoniously kicked out of their own home by the new “owner.”

  Jasmine’s family only had her, so they needed to “control” where their assets ended up being passed. I understand her plight and I empathize, but I still believe she could have chosen to fight in court. Many women are now suing the state for theft of property. This is a nasty and ongoing affair, but the assets are now frozen and left in control of the current owners, be they male or female. Colonial law has already ruled in favor of slave abolishment, so why shouldn’t women have the same rights as men?

  The point is, Jasmine must now bow to the will of this thirty-five-year old man. He is more than ten years her senior and is ill-tempered. She cannot have any other lovers, or she can be taken for all she is worth in a divorce damages settlement. If she were to be involved with a woman, then it would make matters much more damning. She and I had dated for over two years and her parents know she is a lesbian, but they refused to let that stop them from this indignity they thrust upon her. In a few months’ time, she will be forced to let him have her bodily any time he wishes. Being an attractive twenty-four-year old light-brown haired- girl with pure light-green eyes, she was stunning. Her belle curves were perfect and her impeccable taste in high-end dresses and female pants-suits makes her extraordinary to behold. Jasmine is a striking contrast me in her five-three slight stature.

  While I was still very livid with her, I could sympathize with her plight. That made our chance encounters more awkward since I cou
ldn’t truly hate her! However, seeing that man’s large diamond engagement ring on her finger never ceased to inflame me! I am a very possessive woman by nature, so I do not like other people—male or female—taking claim to what is mine! If I were to be compared to a wild wolf, I would be an alpha bitch.

  I rode the first lift to the fifteenth floor, then I had to show my badge to get up the second lift guarded by building security and several uniformed officers, too. The gunmetal badges made them a little more seasoned than the rookies securing the ground level access. The second lift took me to the fortieth floor, where my partner waited for me with a steaming mug of fresh coffee in hand and his sat-on a near-by desk in the lobby.

  Bobby was an extremely tall man of six-five and he was thickly muscle-clad. His head was cleanly shaven to a glossy dark-brown shine. He was at the very tail-end of his twenties, but his face was youthful and fresh-shaven. His dark eyes were deeply intelligent and highly observant. He handed me the large mug and I placed a silver coin in his palm.

  “Nice doing business with ye partner.”

  I said in my slightly Irish accent that Bobby and the rest of Nexus City assumed was my native speech. Being exposed to a plethora of different languages and speech patterns since birth made me highly dexterous in adapting to new linguistics. I had learned to speak like a Nexus City native by chatting up the vendors selling goods from the east. Naturally, this had made my faux-identity more easily sold to the academy officers.

  Bobby gave me an easy smile that was his way. He was born in the Carolina territory and he had moved to Nexus City at a young age, but still retained a lot of his deep southern roots. Like the West, the south had its own traditions and speech patterns. The southerners spoke with a thick drawl and slurred their words. Listening to them speak fast can make your head spin, it’s not unlike drinking with a true Scott, you barely understand them before the alcohol takes hold of their tongue!