Murder is more than my hobby; it is my nemesis. Years of my life have been dedicated to analyzing and understanding the crime of murder. Because of my attention to detail, I am one of the highest paid criminologist consultants in the USA. Local police and even the FBI confer with me for my skills. Today, for the first time in my career, though, I am hesitant to reveal the guilty party. Perhaps this shall become one of the most mysterious unsolved cases of all time.
My chauffeur screeches the Beemer to a halt and I step out onto damp Pennsylvania grass. I deeply breathe-in the crisp spring air and stroll over to the yellow taped-off zone. I show my badge and an agent waves me through.
A somber agent with the FBI shakes my hand and says, “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“No problem.” I have worked with him before. His name is John Sully and he rarely needs anyone’s help when it comes to solving murder. It is unlikely this expert actually needs my help, but perhaps he has asked for me because I have worked similar types of cases.
John clears his throat and says, “You’ve read the briefing?” I nod. The pictures were gory and the details unusual.
He escorts me down a muddy embankment and into the woods. I hope my wingtips and suit-pants are not ruined. He hands me a pair of latex gloves, which I slide on.
The crime scene is indeed bizarre and nightmarish. The wrinkled body of a nun was clearly tortured before being dismembered. She has been reassembled in a pyramid, with the heart lying on top. Some of the other officers look queasy.
A dismembered hand holds a list of confessions written in the victim’s handwriting. The list itself is quirky and she has been made to apologize for seemingly normal behaviors. The other hand clutches a brown object. I stoop down and unfold the rigid fingers.
My personal cherry-wood pipe! But how can it be here? It wasn’t here earlier.
I look around and nobody is watching. I snatch the pipe and put it in my pocket.
John turns back and approaches me. He kneels and whispers, “You’re probably wondering why I requested your presence.” I look at him warily and he continues. “This crime scene is a collection of the most horrific unsolved mysteries I’ve ever encountered. There’s a red rose bud in the mouth and circular burns on the feet. The perp even cellophaned the tongue. Few people are privy to the details of those cases.” He snorts and glares at me with steely eyes. “I contacted your relatives, and discovered a tenuous link between you and this woman. This nun was your homeroom teacher in seventh grade at Bayside Catholic Middle School. Years of reports of her cruelty went unheeded by the school administration. I needed to confirm my suspicions, so I purchased a pipe that I knew looked identical to yours and I placed it in her hand. I also planted a video camera in that tree,” He pointed, “and you took the bait!”
“That proves nothing,” I whisper harshly. I should never have doubted my ability to craft the perfect crime scene. I’m shaking now and wondering how to leverage my way out of this predicament when John shocks me with his words.
“I’m giving you a way out. After years of dedicated service, it would be a shame for a witch-hunt to erupt. It would further destabilize the public’s trust in us.” John walked over to a nearby tree and removed a small hidden camera. He handed it to me. “For five-hundred-thousand dollars you can keep the pipe and camera and then this all goes away. Otherwise, the public will have to endure watching such a respected criminologist go to the electric chair.”
I cleared my throat, “Give me a week and you’ll have your money.”
He pressed his finger to my chest. “You have two days!” I nodded and we shook on it.
From that moment, I began plotting my revenge against John.
I brought the money and a gun late at night to a secluded parking garage for our rendezvous. I didn’t count on him bringing backup, so when I pulled my gun on him; his partner snuck behind me and put a gun to my head. He took the bag of money and my gun and walked over to stand next to his friend.
John laughed sardonically, “Before we shoot you and take your money, we just wanted to let you know that the world will learn of your recent murder. I hid a second video camera at the crime scene. I will also pin many other unsolved murders on you as well, that you had nothing to do with.” He and his friend chuckled. “Today, you will make us rich as well as heroes.”
My primary plan to shoot John had fallen through, but my backup plan was still intact. Hidden in the moneybag was dynamite and a remote detonator. He and his partner would surely die, but it was debatable as to whether the explosion would end my life. I turned around and pressed the button.