The Art of Murder: Interval 2: The Design of Homicide
What is going through your mind? What is your motive? Your goal? Your intention? Are you just murderous for the sake of being murderous? Is there really such a thing as True, Pure Evil? Every doctor, psychologist, and philosophist has tried to diagnose such evil with a classification that only justifies. What are you?
Detective Anthony Mendez stopped in the autopsy room to see Dr. Wilkitz.
"What do you got?" Mendez asked. as he looked over the covered bodies on the table. There was a stump on one of the bodies, Mendez knew that was the girl. He thought to himself...How messed up would you have to be...
"I haven't seen anything as brutal as this." Wilkitz said, as he flipped over the first body's tarp. "Not even with the Klebbitz case. You had the girl, decapitated, her head in his arms. For her, you have blunt trauma inflicted twice on the head, leaving bruises, head severed from body, nearly drained of all blood, and bruises, possibly from hitting the ground pretty hard, across her body."
He flipped the sheet back onto her body. "As for the boy, several fractures and breaks in each arm, his right arm was broken in three spots, his left in two spots... his knees were pretty much split, when we found him, his right leg was bent the wrong way. And..." He pulled the sheet off. "Broken neck. What's strange is the marking, the carving on his forehead. Caedes. It's Latin, for-"
"-Murder." Anthony interrupted.
"Yeah. This guy's got the traditional style that serial killers have. If he planned that out..."
Dawson, the psychologist, walked in and interrupted: "Then it's more than likely he's going to strike again. We need to act fast." He turned to Mendez. "Any potential suspects?"
Mendez responded: "Not yet, we're interviewing classmates to figure that out. What were their names? Were they related?"
Wilkitz answered: "Gordon Tyrone, and Stephanie Klater. Both in a high school relationship, both Seniors."
Mendez began to walk out with Dawson when Wilkitz finally added: "If he knew them, it's possible it was a crime of emotion. Jealousy, maybe revenge. I'd find out their social circles. It seemed like they were murdered on the spot and placed. It's possible the alley was an after school meeting for them...since they were...together."
Mendez gave a nod. They both strolled down the precinct, when Dawson stopped him.
"If it's like Wilkitz said, then there's a less likely chance we'll see him again. I saw your report as well as Mizuku's. The place was clean. If it was a crime of passion, we're dealing with an inexperienced young adult. But to do that kind of job takes precision and skill. Maybe he's done it before.
If he's marked the body like that, it's possible he wants to perform a chain. He will strike again. We don't have enough evidence to find out who he is, and it's more than likely he'll strike quickly."
Mendez assured him that they would find out from the high-schoolers as much as they could.
It wouldn't be enough. There would be an inevitable victim, Mendez knew. But only if this was serial killer. He prayed it was the average murder.
Alchemy was sitting at his desk, reading the works of Machiavelli. He enjoyed Machiavelli much more than Sun Tzu, and thought of him as a better strategist. He paused reading for a moment of silent remorse...He wondered...let his mind wander around these two he had just murdered...did he feel...regret? Or maybe it was regret that he ever approached Kirsty. Or maybe regret that he ever told her. No, he'd start at the beginning. Regret that he ever met the bitch. Regret that now, they're going to die. He's too far ahead to quit. If he stops, he will still be brought down...it might take years before they link the events to him, or dig, maybe the case will be closed, but...
No. He would finish this. The ultimate thrill. On the run from the law. He realized he really wasn't even on the run. He left no evidence, only a calling card. They would have nothing to go on unless they could link the deaths to their persecution of him. And even then, all they would have was motive. It wasn't his motive, he just wanted people to kill that he could feel justified in doing so.
But he also pondered if it really was his motive. It confused him. He didn't even know what his motive was, just that he felt to do this. No need, no want, no obligation, just...to do it. But he realized thinking about it too much would start to show on his character. He would begin to think about it too much, concern himself with it too greatly, and it would become apparent...that something was off. Suspicions would increase and would only make it worse...
He just stopped thinking. He popped in his music. Some slipknot, a song titled "Iowa" popped in. The song was eerie, creepy, and the imagery, the lyrics, had described a murderer...No, he needed something else. He cycled through songs until he found Mozart. Classical music would allow him to relax, perhaps sleep. He wondered why the hell he had classical music on his mp3 player, but then remembered he hadn't used it in two years. Although, two years of isolation helped him develop a taste for it, as it was what the institution occasionally played. He laid in bed, and started to drift. He realized he would need to plan out Justin's murder, so he could commit it the following day. Thought and plan were fine to concern himself with, as they were important and efficient thinking. It was simply that worrying about his ethics or trail was inefficient and would get him nowhere but back.
He waited until Midnight when his mother was asleep, to sneak out of his house and hopefully kill them, Justin and his father, in their home.
I decided I would need to plan when I got there, because I had never been in his house. I did know that Justin had a mother and father, and I would not be killing the mother... yet. She could NOT see me if she wanted to stay around. I would only kill his father if I needed to, as my intention was to provide such a scenario that the Father would feel the need to kill himself, and I needed it to be willing. I grabbed certain tools and items that I had thought of as premeasures and general tools I would use...
Rope, Knife, Blunt Object, Handgun/Revolver (knowing Justin's father had several firearms), Plastic bottle, Gorilla and electrical tape, gloves, gasoline, matches, handcuffs (optional).
I slowly walked the mile and a half to their house, carrying a duffel bag of my tools. When I arrived, All the lights in the house were off, and there was an open window on the second floor. I climbed a tree near the window, and hopped onto the roof. The window led into a bathroom, and I decided this would be the "HQ" where I would get gear if I needed it.
I grabbed the rope, tape, and baseball bat, and slowly made my way to Justin's room. He was asleep in his bed, which made it easier. I began to place tape over his mouth, and he didn't even wake up. I began to handcuff his hands behind his bed, before he woke up. Then, I began to tie a noose around his neck, pulling it until it fit tight enough around his neck to pull him around with it.
Then I took off his sheets and duct-taped his legs, then his hands. I undid the handcuffs, and pulled the noose, along with him, onto the ground. He immediately woke up, and struggled, but couldn't move, I had literally mummified him from the elbows down. Then I began to do the same with his father. Except, his father...I kept him restrained in the bed. I then violently dragged his mother out of bed, placed duct tape on her mouth, and handcuffed her to the shower gate in their bathroom.
She struggled violently, screaming into her tape, but it was muffled...enough. she tried kicking at me, but she was only tiring herself out. I walked out, turned on the lights, and saw his father struggling. I went into the beside cabinet, and found a revolver with some ammunition. I began loading the revolver, and, carrying it with me, dragged Justin into the room. Justin was screaming into his tape, considering I did just drag him by the throat...and I began tying the rope to the ceiling fan. His father began yelling, and I spoke:
"If you want him to live any longer, you'll do exactly as I say."
I fit the plastic bottle onto the revolver with tape. I took the knife and cut loose one of his hands, and, while he proceeded to struggle free with it, I pistol whipped him twice with the revolver before placing it in his hands. I lifted his arm, and stuck my fingers around his. I then proceeded to shoot Justin in the head, but aimed carefully so to only graze him. he began whimpering and crying, and blood began to flow. I turned the gun around, left his hand on the trigger, and forced it onto his head saying:
"Nod once if you want to die. Nod twice if you'll shoot him."
The truth is, I would've let him live if he had the shot the boy. I wanted to see how far he would go, and if he proved he'd do anything to survive, I guess from a...morally black standpoint he deserved such. But instead, he wimped, and pulled the trigger on himself. I began to unstrap his body...it didn't go as I planned. I kind of forced the issue of Suicide or Murder.
I didn't want his wife to see me either, but now she was a victim of the circumstances. I began to pull the noose tighter, choking Justin, and he was in tears. I then yanked as hard as I could, and tied the rope to the bed's leg, just so his legs were just above the ground. I left the room hearing struggling feet, and grabbed my gasoline from the bathroom. I went into to the garage to grab more gasoline, and I also found some old fireworks. These would do...nicely. The big "shells" fired huge blasts in the sky, why not work as a large explosive to destroy the majority of the house before firefighters arrived?
The answer was I needed this to look accidental. But I also needed to leave my calling card. I wanted it to look accidental. I wanted the police to figure out it was me, eventually. But they'd only do so by the time I had made another victim. Back to the house, I left the fireworks in the bin, but left it open. I poured gasoline all over the house, working my way upstairs. Before I did so, I turned the gas stoves on in the kitchen, but not before placing bacon on a pan on top of the stove. I made my way upstairs, dumping the gasoline around. I made it to the master bedroom, and Justin was dead. I removed the noose and restraints, and threw them in my duffel bag. I then approached the wife, Knocked her out with the baseball bat, and undid her cuffs. I placed her in the bed as she was, and dragged the father out of bed, placing him downstairs on the couch, with the TV on. I finally placed a lit candle in the living room, grabbed my duffel bag, and left a note in the mailbox, marked "Caedes".
I made it back home at 2AM, sneaking back in through my window. That was when I heard the boom. Another bit of satisfaction, from a successful murder. I hid my duffelbag in the closet and hopped off to sleep. I would need to trash the entire thing early tomorrow morning, as that was when the garbage truck came. But I imagined people would be all set off right now, so...not a good time.
Was I rushing things? I didn't know. Considering that I figured I'd plan the next tomorrow morning, I thought...possibly. But in this case, I needed to rush things.
As I awoke, my house was silent. My mother was talking on the phone downstairs, but, being upstairs, I couldn't make out what about. It didn't take an idiot to guess it was about the murder...or should I say...fire. Honestly, I realized a great point. I burned their house with fire, and they fired my late dad. I wondered if police, after at some point possibly identifying me, would get that. After all, I wanted to get brought in, but not until I was finished. I stumbled down the stairs, and sure enough, she was talking about just that. I shut it out, and fixed myself breakfast. She told me all about the fire, that everyone within a mile and a half could hear it, and that Justin, his mother, and father had all tragically died. I played up a very convincing and innocent response, how Justin was a friend of mine and I felt terrible about him gone. After discussing how careful I needed to be around the neighborhood, that Police wanted to announce a curfew due to Stephanie and Gordon's murder for all children and young adults... that they would increase patrols, etc... she went off to work, and I got ready for school. But not before trashing the duffel bag in the garbage.
School was average, although I ran into and exchanged glances with Taylor and Kirsty, I only smiled. I played the very convincing innocent idiot. And they bought it. The fuckers. They all bought it. We were called to go the auditorium to hear an announcement from the Police. Our principal explained the same thing my mom did in the auditorium. That Justin died very early in the morning, and Stephanie and Gordon were murdered a couple days ago. The police announced that all students would need to be interviewed...but mine was very quick. I suppose they figured I didn't hang out with them or really interact with them, and while they did review my prior incidents, other students had verified that I was quite friendly with them still. I assumed I was still a suspect, but several students, including Taylor, Kirsty, Harris, and Catherine, were all interviewed much longer. I figured the police had higher suspicions of them...unless they possibly were asking questions about me... in which case...
I need to stop, I'm doing it again. At any rate, I would need to kill Harris and Catherine. Harris because I overheard him talking to the police about me, that I was a viable suspect, as well as Kate, Taylor, and some other student. He explained he had his reasons for such and would explain them to the police. They explained that after school, he would need to come down to the station. They offered him a ride, he said he would walk, that he had an after school class to go to that he didn't want to miss. Considering how essential his information would be, I'm surprised the idiots let him go. As school ended, I had my knife, razor, and gloves on me. I followed Harris from a distance. I figured I would make this one...much more casual and less planned than the rest, but considering he was closer to me than the others...and the fact that he was the one who vandalized my house with my mother inside....the fact that he would quickly do anything to raise their suspicions, I needed to act fast. He finished at his club, and by club, I mean a restaurant with his friends where they gambled. The Clavic, a restaurant/diner/arcade type place, was frequented by the highschoolers. He gambled there with friends at the sports bar. I walked inside, and took a seat. I watched for an hour, while they played cards, until Harris said he was going to the bathroom. I figured I'd follow him into the bathroom, except he walked outside into an alleyway to take a smoke. This was perfect. I opened the door, and he turned around towards me and said "Hey, who the fuck are you?"
I responded: "Hey man, cool it, I'm getting a smoke...probably just like you. Won't ratcha out."
"That's right, you won't."
He turned around and flicked the smoke into the trash. I slowly approached him, and banged his head into the trash bin. I twisted his body around, and knee'd his nose, breaking it. He grunted, and cursed... "You broke my fucking nose, fuck, FUCK, fuckin bastard!" He tried to slam his fist in my face, and I blocked and gripped his arm. I then bent it the wrong way by slamming my arm into it. He growled, and yelled out a loud "SHIT!" before I slit his wrist with my razor. he turned to look at me in surprise, but his face was bloodied and obviously in pain. I then slashed his throat, and let his blood spill out. I was surprised nobody had come out yet to check out the noise. I took my knife, and scraped out his eyes with the blade. Looking at the empty sockets made me somewhat sick, those black, hollow, empty, bloody sockets... and I placed the eyes in my pocket and carved into his head "Caedes". I then ran off.
Catherine would be different. She was evil. Full of herself, quite the... Queen. She was horrible to anyone except her friends, those who I had killed or was going to kill. She was very popular though, being the boyfriend of Monroe, a star football player. The deal was Monroe did really well, if he got sex. If Catherine provided, she got good grades. And it worked, because the school never lost because of him. Monroe was a bully, but Catherine was worse. She had actually blackmailed a girl I knew after getting guys on the team to rape her, and the girl was stuck. She couldn't bear the pressure, or her trauma. She hung herself in her backyard. But that wasn't the real reason I was going to kill Catherine. No, I wanted to give her a taste of her own sadistic torment. Actually, I had a reason. But I'm not ready to say. This would involve kidnapping and a shed. I drove out into the woods on Saturday telling my Mother I was going for a hike, but really to rent out a cabin in the woods for two days. $930 dollars down, but I got a secluded cabin with a basement. The next step was planning her kidnapping. If I kidnapped her from school, Monroe would realize she was gone, as he always picked her up and dropped her off at home...but not before...their...moments. If I did it afterwards, her parents would wonder where she was. The best time to do it would be to do it tonight. So I set the dates up for today and tomorrow. Between 9PM after curfew and 6AM on Sunday would be a time when no one would miss her, unless her parents checked on her, and they wouldn't find her until Monday when the employee would come to notify me my time was up.
So I planned that I would silently sneak into her house and use chloroform to get her asleep. I would take her back to the house and...the next steps could come into place. I didn't count on an opportunity that had become apparent until after I was finished readying.
For gear I'd load up and take back to the cabin, I needed:
Duct-Tape and Electrical Tape, Saws, power tools, razor, gloves, Gas Mask, Ball-Gag, Restraints, hammer, knife, nails, firewood and coals, tongs, Scalpel, painkillers, and jumper cables.
Gas mask was 20 bucks at a surplus store. I took the power tools, saws, tape, hammer, knife, nails, and painkillers from my house, jumper cables were in my car, restraints and the ball-gag...I had to buy them at an adult store.
I drove back to the cabin and unloaded. I needn't explain what I had in mind...yet.
After finishing up, I waited until 10PM at night and pulled up by the side of the road at their house. I hadn't counted, on seeing Monroe and her, outside in their backyard, making out. I watched from behind the fence in the dark, and waited till they finished, Monroe mumbling about needing to get back to his house before so & so noticed he was gone. I waited for him to leave and Catherine to start heading inside to grab her and incapacitate her. I dragged her to the car, and loaded up.
When she woke up, Catherine found herself bound to a metal chair. She had a gag in her mouth, and was starting to Gag on it. Her vision was blurred, but it looked like some kind of basement. She heard a noise from behind her, followed by a voice, morphed up, stating: "Oh. You're awake. I'll begin."
she made muffled noises with the gag. Alchemy grabbed it and undid it. and immediately she started screaming. He slapped her, hard. She looked up at him. He was a black shady figure, wearing a tinted gas mask. It morphed his voice.
"Listen." He said.
"What's going on?" She asked.
"Your sins have caught up with you. Mine I left in the dust."
"I don't understand!"
"I imagine you heard about Stephanie and Gordon."
Her eyes widened. No... she thought.
"I'm the murderer. I also killed Justin and his family. I also killed Harris. They've probably just removed his body from the scene."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because they need to take it back to the autopsy room, you dumbfuck."
"Why are you doing this?!?!?"
"No reason. I gain simple pleasure from it." he said.
"You're fucking insane!"
"No. You all tortured me throughout my teen years. You got me isolated, you told everyone you knew. I worried, at first, what people thought of me. Then my rage boiled up. All I could think about, No, Really, ALL I COULD think about, was you, Taylor, Kirsty, and the rest of you. Imagine that. Being locked in a room by evil people who won't listen, losing all your friends, your father, and having your better friends treat you like shit when you come back, convincing everyone to treat you like shit."
Alchemy gripped his razor and began to slice off her left ear...slowly. Blood was flowing, and he imagined the pain she felt as it was slowly and surely cut off. She was screaming, but the basement was in the ground and the door soundproof. No one would hear it. He focused on sliding this bloody blade down her ear.
"You tortured a girl. Do you know who she was?"
She was still screaming while the blade slowly fell through.
"She...was...my friend A good friend. She helped my mother get back up on her feet when I was brought in and my father killed himself."
The screaming stopped and the ear fell off.
Alchemy stopped for a moment, and grabbed a saw. He lined up her fingers, and began slicing.
"No, Not them! No! NOOOOOOOoooo!"
She was screaming again, and Alchemy could feel the saw rubbing against bone. all four fingers on her right hand were cut off, blood spraying from them, and he immediately worked on the other ones. But he stopped halfway through. He grabbed a beatbox, and started playing Four Seasons while sawing off her other fingers. She was screaming even louder then before.
"Okay, music doesn't help." Alchemy said, as he turned the music off. "I'll be back. I've got another surprise."
Catherine flashed her eyes around and looked at her restraints. Duct tape and electrical tape. her arms were wrapped in them and bound to the chair. So were her legs.
He stepped down the steps with a smoking pot. It was full of red hot nails.
"No...No..." she mumbled.
He grabbed the tongs, grabbed nailed and lined them up with his hammer.
"I've seen this before. In like a sick perverted story I've read." He said. "Had something to do with ponies. Oh well."
He nailed the first redhot in. The pain was so excruciating, so hot, so terrible that Catherine couldn't utter a sound...and He pounded another nail in. The nails were making her blood, literally boil. He stuck the ball-gag back in her mouth, and grabbed the jumper cables. "This next one will come as a bit of a shock." He said, "but first!" He took the power drill and began screwing the nails in deeper, so much that they penetrated the metal chair and the heads of the nails were driven deep into her hands. The burning was intense, and she couldn't do a single thing.
"Now for the sudden shock." He put on a pair of rubber gloves, and grabbed cables, jamming them into an outlet...then slowly and suspenseful attaching them to the nails. he then completed the circuit and turned the lights on.
End of Interval 2.
Alchemy grabbed the body, still alive, but near death, which was in a pile of her own piss. He then said "I'll end it here." And slit her throat, carving "caedes" into her forehead. He then took a power saw and began cutting off her limbs, one by one.
He suspended the arms and legs on chains from the ceiling, placed the torso and head on a stand, the fingers into a bucket of her blood, and he walked out. He then realized one mistake. He'd have to explain to his mom why he was gone on his hike until 5AM and didn't call her. He realized this made things....very difficult, but the best thing to do was to hurry back very quickly.
Monroe was next.