Case of the Black Widow Ch. 05

The chronological order of my stories is as follows:

Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series, Case of the Executed Evangelist series, The Swap series, Interludes 6-10, The Murdered Football Player Series, Teresa's Christmas Story.

The Black Widow, Ch. 01-05

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Part 26 - In The Line Of Duty

"Officer down! Officer down!" came the call on the police radio. The voice belonged to Detective Cindy Ross. It was 10:05 pm on the night of February 3d.

I felt sick to my stomach as I turned on the blue lights and siren of my police SUV to rush to the address. Something beyond instinct was telling me who was dead. It is possible that I went more than a bit too fast over the steeply graded narrow road leading from my home to Town, and definitely some cars had to quickly move to get out of my way as I blasted through the streets.

I called Cindy on my cell phone. She responded within seconds. Upon my question, she told me who the dead police officer was. My hunch was right. I felt even worse.

Cindy continued. "Looks like the work of the Black Widow." She followed up with a graphic description of the crime scene. I reached for the Pepto-Bismol that I always carried, and drank several large swigs. Then I got back on the cellphone and issued instructions to Cindy.

"... those are my direct orders. How copy?" I said.

"Loud and clear. Wilco." Cindy replied.

When I got to the location in the Warehouse District on the middle-west side of town, I got out of my SUV, blue crowbar in hand. Looking around, I saw what I needed to see: Tanya Perlman and Cindy Ross were next to a police car while Crime Lab personnel took equipment inside. Tanya was boiling with anger, and Cindy had some extra help in the form of Senior Patrolman Morton to assist in restraining the smaller fireball of a woman. As I walked up to them, they looked up at me.

"Don, what in the hell is going on?" Tanya said, her voice furious with anger and accusatory. "Cindy said you've ordered her to keep me from going in. Why the hell won't you let me go in?"

"Because, Tanya..." I said, the effort of speaking being almost more than I could bear, but making sure I looked her squarely in the eyes...

"... it's Pete Feeley in there."

"What???" Tanya roared at the name of the police officer to whom she was engaged to be married. She again tried to tear off for the building, but it was an attempt only in her mind, as Ross and Morton had her well restrained. "Let me go!" Tanya screamed.

"Tanya, calm down. Tanya!" I said. Finally my voice cut through Tanya's haze. I could see in her eyes that the shock was starting to set in." I sat down beside her.

"Don..." she said, looking at me, her mind making a feeble attempt not to be affected by what I had just told her. "I've got to go in, I've got to help solve this, find out who the bastard is that did this! Why won't you let me go in?"

"Because, Tanya," I said quietly but firmly. "I don't want what's in there... to be your last memory of him."

"Oh..." Tanya said... and then it hit her fully. "Oh my God, Pete!" Her hands covered her face as she began to sob. She fell into my arms and cried as I held her.

"Tanya, we'll handle it, and I want to catch the bastard as much as you do." I said, finally prying her arms from around me. "You just sit back on this one; you're off the case. Cindy, take her home. Stay with her."

"No..." Tanya said, then added, "we should go to Pete's mother's house. I should be the one to tell her."

I just nodded to Cindy, who led the sobbing young woman away to her car. Words cannot describe the pain that I was feeling at that moment. Being shot by Ned had been less painful.

"Geez, Lieutenant." Patrolman Morton said. "I don't envy you your job in times like that. I don't think I could've handled it that well."

"Yep, that's the part of this job that absolutely sucks." I said. "Take charge of security around here, Chet. If the Press shows up, keep them out and let me know immediately." I said. Martin Nash walked up as I struggled to get ahold of my emotions. "Martin, take charge of this crime scene." I said. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Yes sir." he said solemnly as he continued walking towards the building. I took a moment to compose myself, then followed him. Once inside, I thanked God for having the foresight to keep Tanya away from the scene that filled my eyes.

It was carnage. A nearly naked man lay sideways on the floor, still tied to the chair upon which he had been sitting, his hands manacled behind the chair, his legs strapped to the legs of the chair. His head was in a pool of blood. The back of his head gave testimony to the fact that he'd received a tremendously powerful, concentrated blow with a heavy object.

His police uniform shirt was unbuttoned and pulled off his shoulders, only the sleeves on the arms keeping it in place. His pants, socks, shoes and underwear were on the floor several feet away.

The Crime Lab team was working in utter silence. The Medical Examiner, whose nickname was "CMB", was making notes and asking the Police Photographer to take pictures at certain angles. The poor photographer looked like she wanted to be sick. I knew how she felt.

It was then I saw the bucket with the trash liner... several of the battle-hardened Crime Lab personnel had not been able to hold their food down. The knowledge that the body had once been their fellow police officer contributed to their queasiness. While I began examining the crime scene, the photographer couldn't take any more, and rushed to the bucket.

Despite that, I was somewhat pleased to notice that the Crime Lab teams were becoming well-trained and were meticulous in their searches. The flip side of that coin was that they were leaving traces of where they walked, so any previous footprints were being obliterated. I hoped and fully expected that they'd made notes of anything they'd seen before walking anywhere.

Detective Diana Torres raced to the bucket a minute later. When she came back up to me, she said "Sorry, sir."

"Don't apologize." I said. "I totally understand." And I did. My own emotions were a huge jumble.

"Okay, let's see what we can discover." I said. I began looking around the warehouse for clues. "Where is Feeley's gun?" I asked.

"No one's found it yet." Martin Nash said. "The perps may have taken it. Come over here for one second."

Coming to the body, I saw CMB taking the fluoroscope out. He illuminated the groin area of the body as well as the floor in the area. Drops of liquid glowed a bright green.

"Yep." CMB said in reply to my look. "Had sex, got his rocks off before he was killed."

"And he was killed right after he came." I said. "He didn't get flaccid yet." This little anatomical tidbit was turning up in way too many of my cases, I noted with sardonic displeasure. "So yes, the woman fucked him, then somebody behind him crushed his head in. Multiple perps. Did the Black Widow leave her calling card?"

"Yep." CMB said. "Two-triangle hourglass. On the underside of his penis and his balls. Done hastily, I might add."

"Injected with poison?" I asked.

"You can see the mark on his shoulder." CMB replied, pointing it out to me.

"Alright, full blood workup, compare to the drugs used in her previouus crimes."

"Yes, Lieutenant." CMB said as he began closely examining the groin area, not giving me any grief like he often did at other crime scenes. "Maybe there's something that got caught by the paint in this hourglass drawing..."

Other technicians began shining lights, looking for anything in the area. Seeing them struggle to get it together, I did what had to be done.

"Everyone, give me your attention for a moment." I said. When they all looked at me, I said "Guys, I know how hard this is for you. This is our fellow Town & County Police Officer. For us to get Justice for Pete Feeley, I know you'll rise up and do the best job you have ever done. You are all great professionals, and I'm counting on you. I want the bitch that did this, and we are going to get her come hell or high water. Okay, let's go to work." My words worked, they all redoubled their efforts, and a semblance of energy began filling the room.

I did not examine the immediate area around the body; a set of footprints off to the right near the door where we'd entered had raised my curiosity. After glancing around with my flashlight, I called Martin Nash over.

"Okay, Martin," I said as he came up to me, "it looks like Feeley came in the door here and was ambushed. Now if he were brandishing his gun and was hit from behind, he may have slung his gun to the right, here, near these pallets. They searched for it, but may not have found it." I began looking around the pallets, lying down on my chest and flashing light beneath the pallets. A glint under one of them caught my eye.

"What do we have here?" I asked aloud as I eased my crowbar under the pallet and pulled it sideways. A second later, a firearm appeared from under the pallet.

"It's Feeley's gun." I said. "Bag it as evidence. Martin, if nothing else, it shows Feeley came in here expecting to find a crime. And that means this is an LOD investigation."

"Yes sir." Nash said, getting my meaning. 'LOD' meant 'line of duty'. There had not been a police officer killed in the line of duty in the Town or County for over 30 years.

At that time, Angela Harlan and Hugh Hewitt came to the warehouse door. "What happened here?-- oh my God!" Angela said. "Is that one of our guys?"

"Yes." I said. "Pete Feeley."

"Oh, Jesus." said Hugh, pain written on his face. "What the hell happened?"

"The Black Widow happened to him." I said. "Why don't you guys either head home or help with crowd control if the Press shows up. We've got it covered in here."

After ten more minutes of examining as much as I could, I went outside, asking the Police Photographer to walk with me. She was a Korean-American woman, not particularly pretty, but very competent, and she looked at me with almost-innocent eyes.

"I need to make myself as perfectly clear as possible." I said in a firm tone. "You are to transfer your digital pictures to a jump drive only. Your photographic film should be developed and the prints and negatives put under seal in my name. You are to give the jump drive and the photos to me and me alone. Above all else, Detective Tanya Perlman is to never see these photographs, no matter how hard she tries."

"Yes sir," said the woman, "but why not let her see the pics? She's our best crime scene investigator."

"Because the dead police officer was her fiancé." I replied.

"Oh. Ohhhhhhh..." the woman said as the shock of my words hit her. She then said with alacrity "Yes sir, I'll follow your instructions exactly."

"Thank you. Carry on." I said. At that moment, I heard the screech of tires as a KXTC news van almost hurtled through the gates of the fence and the police barricade there. As Bettina Wurtzburg and her cameraman got out and tried to rush through, they were thrown back very roughly by Chet Morton and Hugh Hewitt.

"What the hell?" said Bettina, her face showing shock.

"Don't try to come through here again." Hugh Hewitt warned, menace in his voice.

"What is going on in there, Detective? Oh Lieutenant! Don!" Bettina called out, seeing me approach. "What's happened here, Lieutenant?" She and the cameraman tried to push through to get to me, and Hugh pushed them back, literally shoving the cameraman to the ground.

"Jesus Christ, Hugh!" yelled Bettina, "Don, what is with these guys?"

"Bettina," I said, brandishing the crowbar, "now is not the time to fuck with the Town & County Police." Bettina must've sensed what had happened, or perhaps the look on my face scared her. She stopped trying to get in and became quiet.

"Hewitt, if any reporters come past the fence," I ordered, "arrest them and take them to jail. If they resist arrest, shoot them." I noticed Bettina's look of shock as I turned away.

I went back to the crime scene; I did not trust myself to remain under control at the moment. And most of that anger was directed at my own self. My failure to find and capture the Black Widow, my failure to see clues that were within my grasp had led to the death of a promising young police officer and the grief of those that had loved him.

When the EMTs came and removed him, all of the officers present stopped and saluted as the shrouded body of Police Corporal Peter Feeley was wheeled past them. It was then that Bettina Wurtzburg's eyes confirmed what she had sensed earlier: the Police had lost one of their own; the Thin Blue Line was that much thinner.

Part 27 - Seduction

On the night of February 2d, Police Corporal Pete Feeley sat at the bar, pounding down beers and shots of liquor, numb to all feeling. Chief Griswold had told him in no uncertain terms that he was to accept the honor of Corporal stripes and be the leader the Chief expected him to be. Though miserable, he followed his Chief's orders and endured the promotion ceremony and the congratulations of other uniformed officers that he had not really wanted.

Feeley had gone through his duties like an automaton, not feeling anything. That night he had barely spoken to Tanya, who had tried to make him feel better, but not even her presence was touching him.

As he drained his beer, he was about to ask for another when a black-haired woman sat down next to him. Despite his haze, he recognized her. "Buy you a drink, Pete?" the woman said.

Pete did not know how long they talked as he practically sobbed his story with the woman sympathizing. The next thing he knew, he was in her apartment and in her bed, and she was riding his cock, impaling her sopping wet vagina onto his hard cock again and again. Pete tried to wonder how he was able to stay hard, especially as drunk as he was, but he was able to work through two orgasms before finally passing out.

-------------------

"How are you feeling, Corporal?" asked Captain Leslie Charles.

"My head is killing me, sir." Feeley replied. It was the next morning, February 3d, and Feeley had barely made it on time after waking up alone in the woman's apartment. It did not dawn on him that the apartment was virtually empty except for the bed.

In spite of the pain of his hangover, he went to the Police Headquarters gym, where he showered, shaved, dressed and reported to Captain Charles for his assignment.

"It's worth it, if you got all that mental shit out of your system. Here, drink this." Captain Charles said, feeling sympathy for the kid. He told Feeley the story that he also had wanted to be a Detective and had never made it. His own desire to be a police officer overcame his disappointment, and he rose through the ranks of Uniformed leadership, realizing over time that he did not need to be a Detective to make an impact on people's lives as a policeman. He hoped Feeley would take that same course.

"Thank you, sir." said Feeley, the medicine making him feel better, but the Captain's words not assuaging him.

"I have a mission for you, Corporal." Captain Charles said. "I want you to prepare a training schedule for our new officers that just came on. The template is in the computer." He was hoping that getting Feeley into the routine of his new leadership role would get Feeley 'over the hump' and back to his old self.

Feeley was working on that task when one of his fellow policewomen came up to him. "Hi Pete," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Hello." Pete said. "Okay, I guess."

"You should've gotten a Detective slot," the policewoman said. "You're as good as any of them that were promoted or hired."

"Yeah, I know, but what can I do?" Feeley said. "It's done."

"Well, maybe not." the policewoman said, lowering her voice. "Look, they've developed a lead in Vice about a drug shipment coming in, maybe tonight. Why don't you interdict it, call in the backup, make the bust? Hell, that idiot Sharples pulls that shit all the time, and he's nowhere near as good as you. They'll see they made a mistake and get you into the Detective track immediately."

"You think so?" Pete said, feeling skeptical at the plan, but his desperation winning over his better judgment.

"Sure," she said, "just don't tell anyone until you call for backup. It'll be your bust."

--------------------

"Pete didn't come home last night." Tanya said, concern on her face. "And he had a huge hangover this morning. I tried to talk to him, but he said he had something to do and said he'd talk to me later. Then he just walked away from me."

"How was he the night before?" I asked.

"Numb." Tanya said. "I just tried to be there for him, but he was just numb to everything."

"Well, maybe he'll snap out of it soon." I said. "And when he does, he'll appreciate you being there for him. He's a damned lucky man to have you."

"I'm feeling the same way about him." Tanya said. "It's funny how it's worked out, but now I'm going to be spending the rest of my life with him, and I'm really happy about it."

"Never question the course of true love." I said, happy for Tanya's happiness. "And when it comes, embrace it."

--------------------

"This is Officer Feeley." came the voice over the police radio. "I'm observing two suspects at--" he gave the address at the warehouse. "Looks like they're about to move a shipment of drugs. Send backup, I'm going in."

Feeley crept to the door and looked in. The tip was spot-on, he was just in time to interdict a drug bust. Only two perps, he could hold them until backup arrived. He moved towards the door--

*WHAM!!!*

Pete's last memory was more like a dream. He felt himself having sex, seeing Tanya Perlman above him, riding him as she did every night in their bed. He was feeling the wet heat of her pussy, seeing her beauty as they made love, seeing her look down at him and smile, telling him she had just come. He felt his own orgasm rising, then exploding into Tanya's luscious body... and then, with a bright flash of light, it was all no more...

Part 28 - Requiem For The Fallen

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" I barely heard the reporter shout as I absently watched the 7:00am newscast. I had not slept, I was exhausted, but I was driven to carry on as I listened to Bettina's words: "Channel Two News has learned that Police Corporal Peter Feeley was killed last night while attempting to make drug arrests in the Warehouse District. Corporal Feeley was found dead at the scene by officers that he had called in for backup. Police are not confirming that he is the latest victim of the Black Widow, the serial killer who forces her victims to have sex before killing them.

"The Police are currently making a line-of-duty investigation, and if it is determined that Corporal Feeley died in the line of duty, it will be the first such death in the Town or County's Police Force in over thirty years. Corporal Feeley is survived by his mother--"

"Crowbar, how long have you been here?" It was Chief Griswold asking me that; he'd come into the MCD room.

"All night, sir." I said.

"I'm going to send you home after the morning meeting." the Chief said. "You need to get a few hours sleep."