Return of the Black Widow Ch. 03

The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

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 10 - New Crime Scene, New Black Widow

"Good morning sir, ma'am," said 2d Precinct Captain Damien Thompson as Cindy and I came up to the property that was hosting the crime scene on the morning of Wednesday, August 10th. We gave Patrolman Culver our names, ranks, and badge numbers, duly recorded, then went inside.

The property was a complex of public storage units. Three long buildings stretched back from the road, the far end of the property facing the half-creek, half-sewer that was Jefferson Creek, which emptied into the River west of this location.

In one of the empty back storage units in the left-side building was a young, fairly light-skinned black man. His hands were tied behind him and he was strapped to a metal chair with a black cushion seat. He was wearing a light brown jacket over a white t-shirt, blue jeans and athletic shoes.

The jeans were pulled down to his knees, and his penis was elongated, though not as large as Reece Patrick's cock had been. On his chest was simply the two red triangles touching at their apexes to form an hourglass, outlined in white with no black background. His head was thrown back, his sightless eyes looking at the ceiling. He'd been hit in the back of the head, as well.

"Who called this in?" I asked.

"Guy who runs this place." said PCpt. Thompson. "Name is Mike Jones. Been running this facility, called Town Public Storage, for seven years now, though the property is actually owned by T-Square's business corporation. We've had an eye on it as a place drugs or contraband might be left and picked up, but nothing solid."

Thompson continued: "Jones says that he always does a check of the property when he gets here; he goes up and down the aisles to make sure nothing happened the night before. He came to this unit and the metal door was open. When he looked inside, he saw this. He ran back to the front office and called 9-1-1."

"Well," I said, "I'm delighted to see the Crime Lab laid down a path." Indeed, the Crime Lab had checked a path to the body for footprints and other evidence, then laid down a thin strip of carpet for us to walk on. Everyone was told to not walk anywhere else until they got right to the body."

As the Crime Lab team worked on the body, I started looking around the place. Near the opening, I saw footprints to one side, as if someone had stood there to not be seen.

"Get someone to get photos and impressions of those prints in the dust." I told Cindy. She went and got Christina Cho and the Police Photographer.

"High heels." said Christina. "Not very large feet. Likely a woman, or a small man, even an underage boy. But most likely a woman."

"I'll buy that for a dollar." I said. "But why did she go there?"

"Maybe to close the door." said Cindy. "The switch is over there."

"Likely enough." I said. "Good observation." I then went up along the carpet path to the body. "Good morning, Martha." I said. "Any idea of a time of death?"

"Good morning, Commander. About seven hours ago." said Martha. "I'd say one to two o'clock in the morning."

"Not that long ago." I said. "Whaddya got, J.R.?"

"The needle where the poison was injected is in the back of the neck, just below the head." said J.R. Barnes. "Looks like a crowbar or tire iron to the back of the head, versus something wider like a baseball bat. Not as hard or damaging as previous victims' wounds, though it did damage. No black grease paint, but the white paint and red lipstick look the same as the other recent killing. Lab tests will prove or disprove that."

"Sex involved?" I asked.

"Yes sir." said J.R. "And a condom was definitely used. We got some of the lubricant from under the foreskin."

"And his manhood is not as big as Reece Patrick's was." I said.

"Our new Black Widow downsized." said Cindy, flat deadpan.

"And just destroyed the reputation of the Black Man's size... dammit." said Damien Thompson humorously.

"I wasn't gonna say it... I wasn't gonna say it..." I said jokingly. Thompson laughed and even Cindy chuckled a bit.

"Sir," said a Uniformed Patrolman, "I ran the guy's fingerprints through our app. He's not showing up in our database."

"Send that to me and I'll forward it to the FBI." I said. The Officer did so, and I did so. But the results came back negative.

Just then, the entrance to the facility darkened. There were seven men in the doorway: T-Square, his 'Regiment', and his lawyer. T-Square was the real owner and financial backing of this facility... which is one reason the Police paid attention to the place.

"Well, hello Miss Universe. You're looking fine, as always." said T-Square to Cindy, deliberately ignoring me. "Any time you're ready to work my poles... at my strip clubs... just let me know."

"I'll keep that in mind." Cindy said, not rising to the bait. "No beauty pageants here, though. Commander, you want me to keep these guys back?" It is possible that a green crowbar was being tapped in a platinum blonde's hand as she spoke.

"Naw, let 'em look." I said, then added: "So they can tell me who this dead man on T-Square's property is."

"Good thing you're a cop, I.C." said T-Square as he came up. "I heard you can't fly helicopters worth a shit. Your last passenger didn't complain, but that's because he came over all dead when you crashed."

"My last two passengers, actually." I said, remembering the final flight for Mrs. Veasley. "Probably not a good idea to book a flight with Troy Family Airlines, T-Square. By the way, I heard your 'Regiment' there did pretty well with black crowbars, though I hope they don't get ideas about making that a permanent fashion statement while in my County."

"Being associated with you is definitely not a fashion statement I want to encourage, I.C." said T-Square.

"Neither is what I'm seeing here." I said, indicating the body. "Any idea what's going on with this?" I asked, letting him and his group come up the path.

In reply, T-Square did something I had never seen him do before: he took off his shades and peered hard at the body, his eyes wide with surprise. "Jeeezzus..." he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What the fuck is that about, I.C.?" he asked.

I went to the body and took a picture of the dead man's face, then brought it back to the group and showed it to them. "Anyone recognize this guy?" I asked. They all said they did not, and I believed them.

"I'll make inquiries." said T-Square. "But he looks more like a college kid than one of my boys."

T-Square's lawyer leaned over and whispered to him, within my hearing, "Why are you helping this cracker cop?"

"I am not helping a cracker cop." said T-Square, with authority and emphasis in his voice. "I'm helping the Iron Crowbar. Do not ever forget that he is the real deal in this Town. And he is investigating a murder on my property." The lawyer just nodded.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The victim's name is Jason Marquis Solomon." said Myron Milton. "Facial recognition came up with him from his I.D. in the University database. He had no arrests, and his fingerprints are not on file anywhere. He was 20 years old. His mother is deceased and his father is in State Prison. He was raised by his maternal grandparents. His grandmother is white and his grandfather is black, if that's of relevance."

"It could be." I said. "Please, keep going."

We were meeting in the Main Conference Room, and it was 2:00pm. The Chief was presiding, me at the other end of the table, with Cindy Ross, Wes Masters, Teresa Croyle, Della Harlow, Myron Milton, and J.R. Barnes in attendance.

"He was student at the University, about to start his third year though he had Senior hours already." said Myron. "He had a 3.4 grade point average, double-majoring in African-American Studies and Management. Member of the Black Student Union, Alpha Kappa Psi Fraternity, and the Student Intercommunity Council, which my father says is theoretically a liaison between Students and Faculty, but the Faculty and School leadership could not care less about what the students say."

"Active student, leadership positions." said Cindy. "Looks like we're going to have to work with the Campus Police again on this."

"Good thing a few of us have excellent secret sources there." I said, thinking of my wife and Myron's father. "So nothing at all on him, Myron?"

"No sir." said Myron. "The J.P. Goldman Bank gives University students free checking accounts, and he had one. A little over a hundred dollars in it. The amount goes up when he gets scholarship money to deposit, then goes back down when he pays matriculation and other fees. Other than that, no financial issues or strangenesses at all."

Just then the door opened and in walked Sheriff Daniel Allgood. "I came to get a briefing on this new murder." he said, then added with some acerbity "I wasn't aware you were having a meeting, Chief.

"Sheriff, we have meetings all the time." replied the Chief. "Should we tell you about each and every one of them?"

As Daniel Allgood pulled up a chair to sit between the Chief and Myron, he said "If it gets to the point I have to ask you to do that, then maybe so. Is this latest case the work of our Copycat Black Widow?" I saw the Chief glance at me; he was getting angry that Sheriff Allgood had usurped his meeting.

"J.R., what's the Crime Lab report?" I asked, ignoring Sheriff Allgood and keeping the meeting going.

"Grease paint and lipstick appear to be identical to those substances found at the Reece Patrick crime scene. We're running the tests to confirm that. Early blood tests also suggest the injected poisons are the same as the Patrick scene, though we'll need the tests for confirmation. Martha the M.E. did make one other observation; apparently an air bubble was injected with the drugs, and it got to his heart and expanded. That, and not the drugs nor the blow to the back of the head, is what killed him."

I nodded. "Interesting. The blow to the head, it wasn't that severe, was it?"

"No sir." said Barnes. "Martha says it did damage, but the blow delivered to Reece Patrick as well as Harlan's victims were much worse."

"Any connections with the first crime?" asked Sheriff Allgood.

"Too early to tell, Sheriff." I said. "We're working with the Campus Police to get as much information on the victim Solomon. Only then will we be able to see if any patterns or correlations show up."

"Have you discussed this latest crime with Dr. Karpathian?" asked Sheriff Allgood.

"No." I said. "And we are not going to. The fewer people that we talk to about this, the better."

"Commander," Allgood said, formality in his voice, "Dr. Karpathian is an expert on serial killers, and the copycats of them. She is also a professor at the University, where this kid was a student, no? We should avail ourselves of her expertise."

"Sheriff," I said, looking Daniel squarely in the eye, "We've got a pretty decent record of solving crimes around here, and there is nothing Dr. Karpathian can tell us that the people in this room can't figure out for ourselves. I don't want any more outsiders involved here, not even Lt. Perlman."

"I think you're making a mistake not to have Dr. Karpathian consulting with us." said the Sheriff.

I stood up, my back screaming in pain. "Chief, apparently the Sheriff thinks he and Dr. Karpathian can do a better job of solving crimes than I can. So I'll leave them to it. Have a good day." With that, I walked out of the meeting.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Winning friends and influencing people, as Chief Griswold would say." said Cindy Ross as she came into my office less than one minute behind me. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. But I don't need that shit." I said, the calm in my voice contrasting with my inner anger.

"I don't blame you a bit." said Cindy. "I don't care if he's Sheriff, the President, or the Queen of England, that was just uncalled for by him. By the way, Chief Moynahan ended the meeting, threw everyone but Commander Harlow and the Sheriff out, and I suspect that they are having a 'philosophical discussion' about this right now."

"I'm sure they are." I said. "And don't you dare tell me I should've run for Sheriff myself." I added, knowing my cousin's thoughts.

"Obviously I don't need to." Cindy shot right back. After a second we started chuckling, which turned into outright laughter for a minute.

"Good grief." I said, composing myself. "All right, until my suspension becomes formal, go ahead and have 'Coldiron' send the troops out to interview people that knew this Solomon kid. And see if we can establish a timeline of his movements, and when he might have disappeared."

"Think there might be a racial issue behind his death?" Cindy said. "I know I'm speculating here, but we know that Reece's fraternity, the Alphas, favor the White race, while Solomon was involved with Black issues on Campus."

"Yes, that's true." I said. "But don't bring that up with anyone interviewing people. I don't want their questions to be colored, pun not intended, with preconceived notions. By the way, is Callie Carrington still in Town?"

"Yes." Cindy said. "You think she's a suspect?"

I smiled, a brief, mirthless smile. "She and about 5000 other people."

Cindy got up. "Anything you want me to tell the Sheriff before I beat him down with my new crowbar?"

"Yeah... he's also one of the 5000." I replied.

Part 11 - Secrets and Government

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the Federal Building, correlating some more Westboro Syndicate stuff with the FBI. I met with several U.S. Attorneys as they began putting together legal cases, and got them up to speed with the tremendous amounts of data they were having to deal with.

"Bring a seat cushion to Federal Court." one of them said. "You are going to be on the witness stand for a long, long time."

After dealing with that, I went into the Plexiglass 'Cube' with Jack Muscone. I had told him and his boss about the man I'd never seen before in my 'dream state' during Casey B. Walker's torture of me, and wondered who he was. The DepDirector said he'd see if he could find out.

"No progress on that." said Jack Muscone. "And we might not get very far with it, either. Washington wants to bury 'Operation BEEKEEPER' as fast as they can. They've even reached out to your personal lawyers and offered a settlement for five million dollars. Your lawyers said twenty million plus legal fees on top of that, and the CIA's lawyers didn't bat an eyelash agreeing to it. So congratulations, you're a millionaire now."

"Yes, Ms. Gillem told me... and her firm netted six million out of it." I said. "Anyway, I can understand why they want to get all that behind them. But there was something about that guy..."

"Perhaps I can help you with that." a female voice said. An older female voice. To my shock, the woman whose name cannot be mentioned, whom Laura named our daughter 'Diana' after, came into the room.

"Please, stay seated." she said as I attempted to stand up out of courtesy. "Your back is still hurting you, I perceive."

"You perceive correctly." I said. The woman asked Jack for a moment alone with me, and he quickly exited the room.

"I just wanted to tell you, Commander Troy," she said, "that I personally was as upset as your wife when I heard what that bastard Walker did to you. And I had no problem with your wife's order to terminate him. I would like to have carried that order out myself."

"Thank you." I said. "So how may I be of service to you today?"

"I am here to be of service to you." said the woman as she sat down. "Please sign this paper that you will not divulge what I am about to tell you... not even to your wife." I signed the paper.

"I have been briefed on what you've told your wife and the FBI." she said. "Let me first give you some background. There are a number of people like myself within various branches of the Federal Government. Our names, positions, ranks, and job descriptions are classified and compartmentalized at the very highest levels." I nodded.

She continued: "We, meaning the FBI, your wife, and myself, believe the man you saw while under that enhanced interrogation was one of those people, someone so deep in the shadows that even I don't know a thing about him. And I will tell you this, Commander... you should never speak of him again. If he knew you saw him, and could identify him by sight... he might try to finish what Walker started. You are a wise and careful man, Commander, but we are not talking about politicians at the County level, here."

"I understand, ma'am." I said. "Any ideas what he's about?"

"You have been working with the FBI Deputy Director on white supremacy issues, and a group known as 'Superior Bloodlines'. He may be involved with that. He may be on the Deputy Director's side, or Superior Bloodlines's side. I don't know. Certainly if I find out anything, and especially anything that is a threat to you or your family, I will let you know, or I'll tell Laura and she'll tell you."

"Thank you." I said, then asked suddenly: "Ma'am, what is Melina Allgood's role in all this? And in the CIA?"

"I believe you know just about everything about your former wife." the woman replied. "And I'm not dodging your question; there simply is nothing to tell, there."

Uh huh, I thought to myself, but let it go. Instead I hit the woman with the bombshell: "Ma'am, how are you feeling today?"

My capacity to surprise this woman was long since gone, but she understood. "Not much gets by you, Commander, as I've had previous occasion to understand. To answer you: this entire conversation is classified and under that document just signed. You had better not speak even one word of my health to anyone, and especially not your wife."

"Ma'am," I said, "my wife loves you as if you were her own mother. Please... do right by her and let her know."

"I'll consider your suggestion." she said. "But it is my decision to make." I nodded, unable to argue with that. She then said "If you'll excuse me, I will go surprise your wife in her office. Please don't call her; let me surprise her."

I nodded, not saying out loud that this woman was chock full of surprises at every turn...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At 5:45pm I walked back into Police Headquarters. My I.D. card allowed me in, and no one tried to take my badge from me. As I was about to go into the anteroom of my office, Helena said "Don't even cross the threshold, Commander. The Chief wants to see you in the Main Conference Room."

"Thanks, Helena." I said. "Well, if worst comes to worst, thank you for all you've done for me."

"It's not that bad, sir." Helena said with a smile. "At least that's what Captain Ross said." I nodded and told Helena she could go home... and that she could consider that an order to do so.

The Main Conference Room was occupied by the Chief, Captain Ross, Commander Harlow, and the Three Mouseketeers: Detective David Krueger, Supervisor Myron Milton, and Master Technician Mary Mahoney Milton.

"Welcome back, Commander." said the Chief as I sat down... slowly. "How was your day with our friends of the FBI?"

"Enlightening." I said.

"That's a good word." said the Chief. "Our County Sheriff received some enlightenment today, as well. He has agreed to let us do our jobs, and will stay out of your wayyyy."