Minot Hacker: Mystery Series (My Murder Mysteries #1) (10 page)

The group got the drinks ordered and sat down in view of Barry.

"We can't let him get to us!" cried Miranda.

"How is that possible?" Tammy asked her, trying to resist the temptation to look in Barry's direction, to see if he was looking.

"Well, we’ll just show him that we’re happy. That might make him upset."

Tammy gave in to temptation. She turned around and, just as she felt, Barry was standing there, looking at her, as if he was waiting for her to turn round, knowing that she would. He winked at her for a second time, making her feel even more angry.

"So, anything interesting happen to anyone lately?" said Pam, trying to start the conversation.

Tammy turned her head slightly, but not in Barry's direction. Instead, she was looking at a woman in red clothing who stood sipping on a glass of red wine. She was eyeing Barry, and it was clear she was flirting with him, even though she did not speak a word to him. Tammy just felt like getting up and screaming, "Don't do it! Your life is at risk!" but she didn't. She knew that she could not accuse Barry Scott of murder because there was no official evidence implicating him, even though she knew for a fact that it was him.

Then, Tammy remembered the last thing that Barry had said to her: "Do you like to hunt?"

She then started to have sinister thoughts. Perhaps he was planning on killing her next? She knew that she could not think about it, because she just wanted to get out of there.

Then she felt a sudden urge to go to the toilet. It came on her suddenly, so she was not expecting the need to go. She started to look for the bathroom, and unfortunately, the door was right next to Barry Scott.

"Can you look after my keys?" she said.

Knowing there was no escaping it, she got up to walk to the toilets. She knew that she needed to think fast about how to approach Barry Scott. Perhaps she would ignore him, but she knew he would talk to her, making some sort of smug comment about how she failed to solve the murders.

She was right. As Tammy walked past Barry and toward the restroom door, he said to her, "So, we still ready for that hunting trip?"

Tammy plainly ignored him. She went into the bathroom, and when she came out again, two minutes later, Barry was still there, laughing and joking with a bunch of half-drunken men.

"Are you alright?" Pam said, as Tammy sat down again.

It took Tammy about five seconds to answer that, but she lied when she replied.

"Yeah," she said, trying to put on a brave face.

Chapter 3

Tammy looked at the table where the five people were sitting. Tammy did not know them, but they knew Tammy. She tried her best to listen to their conversations, to see if she could work out who they were.

"I wish he was dead!" cried Linda Bell, a middle-aged woman who was sitting there. She then turned around and glared at Barry, although he did not see her, not caring to notice her.

"I can't believe he murders our relatives and gets away with it!" yelled an enraged Joseph Hart, who was an elderly man. He was the father of one of the victims.

Tracy Bradley, the mother of the youngest victim, just sat there, crying again.

"I'd do anything to bring justice for my boy!" she said.

"Believe me, love, any one of us would!" cried Bethy Sanders, the young daughter of one of the victims.

"And there's that bitch detective who failed to solve the case!" cried William Sanders, the brother of Bethy, who was considerably older than his sister.

Tammy knew they were talking about her at that point, but she did not want to make it obvious. She sipped her drink, continuing to listen.

"I agree with you there," said Linda. "She deserves to be sacked!"

Tracy Bradley had had enough.

"I'm going out for some air," she said.

"I'll join you," added Joseph Hart, quickly jumping up to follow her.

Tammy thought that was rather strange. She began to think rather sinister thoughts – perhaps they were plotting to murder Barry Scott? It was certainly a possibility, and it had happened before, and given the mental state that group was in, it was certainly likely, although Tammy did not want to get involved in any way – if they were going to do it, she would let them get on with it.

Tammy then turned around and saw Miranda talking to the woman in the red clothes. She looked like a tart, in Tammy's opinion, but since Miranda was chatting with her, she must be a decent person, thought Tammy.

"Don't say anything," said the woman, whose name was Angela. "But I'm planning on getting with that man tonight!"

"Which one?" asked Miranda, dreading the inevitable answer.

Angela pointed to Barry Scott. Inside, Tammy felt sick. Could Angela be his next victim?

"He's a dangerous man!" Miranda tried to explain to her, but Angela did not listen. Angela then stopped talking to Miranda and approached Barry, who was still at the bar, and started dishing out flirtatious compliments to him.

Five minutes later, Tammy had had enough. She walked out, unable to face that man any more. Unfortunately, on her way out, she caught Barry Scott kissing Angela around the side of the pub.

"Ah, hello!" said Barry.

Tammy was so sick of it. By now, four or five other people were standing outside of the pub, smoking cigarettes.

"You make me sick," said Tammy, in a slow tone of voice.

"Do I?" he said.

"You know that you won't be free forever! You'll be behind bars sooner or later!"

By now, Miranda and Pam had also left the building.

"Really?" said Barry. "And why do you think that is?"

"Because you're a serial killer!" cried Tammy, getting excited.

"We've been through this," Barry replied. "I did not kill anybody. You have no evidence of that, and you never will find any evidence of that. I'm sorry, but you've lost on this one!"

"So, you're confessing?" said Tammy, trying to force it out of him once and for all.

"No," said Barry, "just telling you the facts. You will never catch the killer if you keep going on at me. Let's face it, even if I were the killer, you would not have been able to catch me, so that makes you a really crap detective, doesn't it?"

Tammy felt so small inside.

"I'll tell you something," she said to him quietly, going right up to him. "I'll see you get what you deserve one day, even if it's the last thing I do!"

Barry said nothing and laughed.

"I'll get you!" screamed Tammy, almost slapping him on the face. However, she was stopped by Pam.

"Come on, get back inside," said Pam.

Tammy was almost dragged back in, but she did not go back into the pub.

"I'll walk home!" she said, extremely frustrated.

Before she left, Tammy gave one last look at Barry Scott. He smiled and winked at her.

"See you soon," he said.

"Do you think Tammy will be alright?" said Pam, back inside the pub.

"She'll be fine," said Graham, more interested in drinking his beer.

About twenty seconds later, a scream was heard. Everyone rushed outside, where they found Angela standing over the body of Barry Scott. She was in shock, for she could not move.

In the dark background, Tammy emerged and saw what had happened. Barry Scott had been standing in exactly the same place as he’d been when he was last seen by Tammy. Everyone gathered round the body of Barry Scott, not knowing what to think. Tammy approached him and looked deep into his eyes. They were bloodshot. It was clear that Barry had suffered a terrible, painful death.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B018KL5Z7S

***

Sample of
Wicked
by H. B. Rae

http://www.amazon.com/Romantic-Thriller-Wicked-Suspense-Mystery-ebook/dp/B016YGYTUA

Chapter 1

"How old were you when you learned there's no Santa?" Devin McGee asked while tossing long strands of silver tinsel up in the air to cover the top branches of the Christmas tree. He remembered the tree seeming to be so colossal when he was a little boy. Just like the Christmas holiday itself. It was all consuming and he loved it even now that he was nineteen years old.

"There's no Santa?" Jessica said, shocked, her hand to her throat and a grimace on her face. "Are you kidding? I still believe in Santa." she said, smiling down at the last batch of sugar cookies she was about to shovel into the oven.

"Did your parents tell you or did you find out...on the streets?" Devin looked at her through squinty eyes.

"Yeah, the word around town was hey man, this Santa dude, total figment of someone's imagination. Not even real. Every parent in the world is in on the conspiracy."

Devin began to laugh as he continued overloading the tree with the sparkling strings. He looked outside and saw the snow was still falling. It wasn't hard. Not by Alaskan standards. If they got three or four inches that would be a nice start to the holiday season and no need to put the chains on the wheels of his car just yet. All Devin wanted was the old Dodge Neon to just last one more winter. Just one more and then he'd be off to Anchorage to college. The town had everything a young man needed to survive within walking distance, even in the middle of winter. The convenience store, Laundromat, sporting goods were all two blocks away.

"I think you missed a spot." Devin's father Roland said, pointing a thick and calloused finger toward a bare spot at what would be at the tree's belly. He was laying on the couch wearing a warm flannel shirt, jeans and white socks on his feet that were propped up on the arm rest opposite his head.

Devin gasped and covered the spot.

"That was close. Thanks, dad." Devin said, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow.

"Okay, you need to hurry up with that tree," Jessica ordered, "Because these cookies are just about cooled off and we need to start adding the frosting and sprinkles on them."

"How many do we get to eat?" Roland asked loudly without lifting his head from the pillow tucked behind it.

"Well, Mr. McGee, I've allotted each of us two cookies out of the three dozen and the rest will be brought over to the Shaky Hands...

"It's Shady Sands, Jess. Shady Sands Retirement Community." Devin corrected, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

"That's what I meant." She said, laughing at herself and Devin's response. "And don't act all innocent over there. You call it shaky hands, too."

"I have never done such a rude and insensitive thing. Just stop your
lying
." Devin teased with a straight face making Jessica laugh out loud. He did that to her all the time. Ever since kindergarten where they first met, Devin had always been able to make Jessica laugh sometimes without even saying a word but just looking at her, no expression but blank on his face. She was his best audience.

The chemistry between them was a double edged sword to say the least. They were inseparable from the word go and never failed to stop and thank God or fate or the universe that they lived walking distance from each other's house. They had been together through the getting bullied phases of grade school, the awkward and puberty stricken chapters of middle school and finally the honeymoon of completing high school. But, this bond also saw them in plenty of detentions together, a few write-ups at the BrementownTheater where they both worked, and without dates to homecomings, mixers or prom.

"Invite an outsider?" Jessica would say to Devin whenever he brought up a dance that was in their future. Shaking her head as if he had just asked her to hold a live scorpion she'd look up at his handsome face with her blue eyes and tuck her brown hair behind her ears. "I'd rather eat glass."

Devin watched Jessica as she set the timer for the cookies and arranged the frosting and sprinkles in an assembly line. He wasn't sure why his eyes travelled over her smiling face so much more these days. She looked the same as she always had. At least, he tried to tell himself that. The truth was he thought she had suddenly gone from cute to beautiful.

"You waiting for the tree to finish decorating itself?" Roland asked, again the only thing moving on him being his jaw.

"No. I'm trying to figure out my motivation. What I want this year's tree to
say
. What
emotions
I want to stir." He said sarcastically looking down at his dad who had caught him watching Jessica. He felt his cheeks redden just a little so he turned quickly and grabbed a couple of the red and green glass balls to start hanging.

The McGee family was not into the expensive, heirloom type of Christmas. Even though they lived in a modest little house Devin liked to call it trailer park chic, when his mother wasn't around, of course, which was most of the time. She worked as a nurse on the three to eleven shift and two nights a week she managed the convenience store over on Moose Road and Main Street working the graveyard shift. Devin was sure he hadn't seen her in the evening since he was in diapers.

They had a few gaudy plastic lawn ornaments that were put out every year and the Christmas tree looked like dozens of dark green pipe cleaners all wound together. The only thing that his mother had paid good money for and insisted it be displayed prominently was the simple Nativity scene. They weren't very religious. But Devin's mother, having seen her share of heartbreak and miracles working for so many years at the hospital, was a believer.

"How would you feel if everyone forgot it was your birthday?" she asked Devin one year when he asked her why the little ceramic statues had to be placed on the coffee table where he liked to park his feet sometimes. "We do it so we don't forget."

"You're making a Rembrandt." his father teased, knowing he had embarrassed his boy just a little.

"Don't you have to work today, dad?"

Roland moved his arm so he could see his wrist and then tucked it back behind his head.

"I don't have to leave for two hours. Aren't you glad?"

"I'm glad!" Jessica piped up from the kitchen. "I'm just thrilled to my very foundation."

"Hey, Jess. No one likes a suck-up. Besides, you're not getting anything in the will. He's leaving this entire dynasty to me. Me!" Devin said pointing into his own chest.