Tag: crime

Star Goth Techno Raver

Posted on by Andrew Mark Watkins

21, yrs old. 5′ 8″ Fit, smart dresser. likes box sets, going to the gym, music and my cat.

22, yrs old. 5′ 2″ Sociable, private dancer seeks master for nights out and in. NSFW.

23, yrs old. 4′ 10″ .

‘The page rips off at that point. There is some biro around an asterisk placed next to the first two entries ,’ said DC Spencer to his senior boss.

‘At what time would you put the time of death?’ asked DI Connely to the campus pathologist cum science liason officer.

‘Between breakfast and first lessons I would say. He has been in the shade under that bush all day. It’s a pity nobody here walks dogs else we would have found him earlier. Dogs always go for large flesh wounds like that,’

‘SNIFF THEM OUT Boys!’ shouted DI Connelly to the team of uniformed and non-uniformed officers armed with tablets, pens and notebooks who would canvas the 2500 strong college campus asking the usual questions whenever they sniffed more than youthful enthusiasm for the police enquiries prompts.

‘Who was acting suspiciously? asked DC Spencer

‘Idiot. He was chewing the white pen top when he was holding the blue marker pen drawing on his bag. He’s Aspie. Would never mix pen tops. strict like that he is. And he was wearing his Calvin Kleins Boxer Shorts but today is Tuesday not Wednesday. Don’t you see? He would never do that.’ said Clara.

‘Who was acting suspiciously? His name..?’ added DC Spencer helpfully

‘IDIOT!’ shouted Clara to someone behind her in the dorm.

‘His name?’ repeated DC Spencer.

The door slammed in his face. There was a scream and shouting inside the dorm then it went quiet.

The Student ambassador who was accompanying him shrugged her shoulders and pointed at her watch.’ I have to leave now’ before running off down the hall towards the double doors and the stairway.

DC Spencer shrugged. It had been that sort of day. There’s only a needle in three thousand staff and students haystack that a team of thirteen officers can get through. He would take a photo of the Dorm and make notes on his tablet. Nothing more to do. Poor kid. Had been a Grade A student like me thought DC Spencer. Time for some Joe.

tbc

The Man Who Always Gets What He Came For

Posted on by Andrew Mark Watkins

The weather was cold and damp but that did not deter James Gerald from getting what he came for this late September evening.

On the lawn, a party was happening and a barbecue was broiling pigs heads and other delicacies.

From where he was standing A piece of coral was visible on the inside window sill sitting next to a potted plant. From outside on the patio, the wooden framed window, painted white reflected the hues of the bonfire that accompanied the barbecue. There was a light drizzle in the air and the temperature was typical of this time of year. All the same, he thought the beer bottle he was holding still felt too cold in his grip.

In his other hand, he held a sorry looking hotdog in a limp bun with onions dropping over the sides along with generous helpings of mustard and tomato ketchup. He was torn between eating and drinking when an attractive brunette interrupted his reverie.

‘James! Hi! Vanessa, Vanessa Richie’ said the wife of the parties host flashing her white teeth and manicured nails. On her ring finger was a platinum band. On her wrist she wore a platinum and diamond bracelet. The light from the bonfire danced in her emerald green eyes and her dark skin gave her a wild allure in the cool night air.

‘Hi Vi,’ said James smiling as they caught up with each other.

‘Are you going to be at the reception at 11.00. There will be prizes!!’said Vanessa grinning her white teeth and pink tongue visible briefly again..

‘I’m not going to be receiving any, though,’ said James. dropping the hotdog into the plant pot in deep shade behind him on the patio.

‘I think I know where your husbands .loyalties lie,’ said James. With his hotdog hand now free he gestured to a group of flannel suited yuppies with floppy fringes who were congregated at the lawns edge.

‘Coders everyone. And non-poachable by all accounts’ said James seriously.

‘Dollar signs,’ said Vanessa with a sigh. She fingered her wedding ring and looked James in the eye.

‘James…You know I always..’ said Vanessa

‘Shhhh ..’ said James

‘Do you remember Radiohead? In Lille?’ asked James

‘Yes, James. How could I forget?

———————————

‘Two of my favourite people in town!!’ Said Greg loudly to James and Vanessa.’What are you doing over here? Come and join the party,’ he said leading them off the patio herding  them with his outstretched arm towards the packed out lawn.

‘Didn’t like the food much myself,’ said Greg to James as confidentially as you can imagine someone with his baritone  when surrounded by his friends.

A stage had been set-up on the lawn and several bottles of expensive champagne stood on the table behind. Greg made a show of getting the microphone to work.

‘Good Evening guests, friends, countrymen’ said Greg in what he imagined was his best entertaining style.

‘Tonight, tonight, tonight…’ He mimicked.

James took the device from his pocket which fitted in the palm of his hand. He pressed the trigger.

Suddenly there was a scream as the lights went out plunging the house and garden into darkness.

Then there was the sound of a large SUV skidding on the gravel outside and then the sound of a shot being fired. The sound of a megaphone next. ‘Everybody stand still. This is a robbery. Do not resist.’

Then there was a half-hour during which a team of men wearing balaclavas and night goggles walked amongst the assembled guests ripping off keys, jewellery and watches and phones putting them into bags.

Everything was quiet until there was the sound of the SUV car doors slamming and the engine starting.

‘After them’ screamed Greg

But in the pitch dark and missing their own car keys there was nothing that could be done.

After a few minutes, the lights came back on and the scene of wives sobbing into husbands arms was repeated all over the garden scene.

Greg was back behind the microphone’Look calm down everyone We are all insured Right? The police will be here soon. Everybody stay calm  please.’

Greg then walked down onto the lawn and grabbed a colleague and then walked over to James saying’ James, can you come with us, there’s something I need to do’

‘Of course’ said James, his pockets empty, the infrared switch taken by one of the masked robbers.’Whatever I can do’

Vanessa was left sobbing with a friend  in the garden minus her wedding ring and bracelet given to her as a wedding gift and watched as her two favorite men in the world left almost arm in arm walking purposefully towards the house where there was a landline.

‘I hope you catch whoever did this. And stringing them up would be too good for them’

said James to Greg after he was questioned by police.

‘Thank-you friend’ said Greg

‘I’m heading into town in a taxi’ said James to no-one in particular.’Does anyone want a lift?’

‘I need to get some things,’ said Vanessa ‘but yes, I’ll come with you’

As the taxi left the house and the two of them were sitting next to each other in the back seat a small smile passed over the lips of James Gerald, the man who always got what he came for.

 

Got It Bad

Posted on by Andrew Mark Watkins

I hope that I will grow old. I hope that someone will love me. In that car park, there was none of that. The pistol on the seat of the car parked up down the road. The other characters like crows pestering a child. A nuisance. A pest. Something to be exterminated.

I was vaguely aware that I was choking down on gabardine. Like when spitting orange pips I selected my target. I knew that it would end here on some level. The only level that I could now comprehend. But as I squeezed the trigger and took another life I was aware of the orange unravelling in my hands and of juice that would eventually turn sticky. But for now, I was shooting lemons.

I was clear to get away as far as my imagination would let me go. Which to be fair was not very far. The funeral directors up the road opposite the fire station were going to be my alamo. I could see it. I felt the knife in my hand and the unreal feeling of life taking on its own direction and watched transfixed like it was happening on tv on an old fashioned set and I was suddenly older than my mother who was serving dinner. It was somehow not as good as bland watery cabbage and lamb chops served up to me as a child. Not as reassuring anyway. I pushed my plate away and got on with the business at hand.

The police band was using my name and I heard it like through a lens. It seemed inevitable that it would end here and that my body would be transported by ambulance to some wailing planet of post-gangster celebrity where chicken drumsticks were served with salt and pepper mash and the delegates all drank the same brand of whiskey. Where I would be immortalised in the slim pages of a magazine in black and white, forever.

More pins to knock down and a rifle in my hands. Did it matter? I was sailing on grit anyway. A beige suit, a hat that fell too. A car interior that might hold a clue. Another meat hooks in my heart carrying the weight cold. Wood splinters near my head. A bright light. A blaze of glory.

I see laminate and so it wasn’t the end, just the beginning of yet another chapter.