Gule Has the Wedding Bell Blues

Tags

comedy, fantasy, fiction, history, short story

The vampire peered at his reflection in the beveled glass of the mirror in his opulent living room.  Contrary to the Medieval myth that vampires don’t have reflections, Niles Gule certainly did.  The myth had arisen because vampires tended to avoid mirrors due to the silver used in their manufacture.  Niles was fortunate.  He found silver only mildly toxic and could tolerate its presence in his home.

His brilliant blue eyes drifted over his appearance to ensure he was properly formal.  His corn-colored locks were neatly shorn.  His specially tailored black Italian suit snugged his narrow waist.  The tie he’d chosen was another Gerry Garcia special, Liquid Torso #3, in muted swaths of teal.  He looked damned fine, if he did say so himself.

Someone pounded on his door. 

With a final sweep of his hands to smooth his jacket, Niles snatched up his apartment keys and answered the door.

His partner in life and in business, Mariella Cruz, waited in the hallway.   Like him, she was dolled up, in her case in a pretty cotton frock of pale pink, no sleeves, and a splash of hand painted roses decorating the puffy skirt.  She’d pulled her mane of thick, black hair atop her head in a French twist.  Pearls dripped from both ears and encircled her throat.

Her dark eyes flicked over him.  “Looking mighty fine, Mr. Gule!”

Niles dipped his head to accept the compliment.  He knew he always looked mighty fine but do admit that aloud would be a bit egotistical.   All vampires were egotistical.  He just chose to hide that aspect of his species as best he could. 

Cruz continued to block his escape from his apartment.  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked.

Niles hesitated with a frown.

Cruz pointed down the hallway to the elevator bank.  Two large windows allowed glorious golden sunlight to pour into the building. “It’s daylight.  Put on a hat and some sunscreen.”

Niles started, then laughed.  He retreated into his apartment.  Cruz followed.

Because he kept the windows covered with blackout drapes, he’d forgotten this trip would occur during daylight.  He hastily rubbed SPF  75 over his neck, face, and hands.  Then he snagged a black Trilby hat from a collection of hats in his hall closet, tapped it onto his head, and spread his hands in an unspoken question.

Cruz nodded approval.  “Nice choice.  Let’s go!”

Together, they sauntered to the elevator banks.  Niles immediately tucked a pair of wrap-around sunglasses to protect his sensitive eyes from the deadly day star.

As they rode down to the first floor, Cruz said, “I appreciate you agreeing to come to the wedding, Niles, especially since it’s an afternoon wedding on a sunny day.”

“I couldn’t let you go alone,” Niles answered.  

He stepped out of the elevator and allowed her to proceed him across the building’s lobby and into the street.  He winced when sunlight grazed his cheek.  Even with the sunglasses, he squinted.

“How would your family view me if I stood you up at your cousin’s wedding?”

“Not very well!” Cruz chirped.  She turned left along the sidewalk and headed west along Lombard Street.  A turn north took them to where she’d parked her tiny car, Fifi the Fiat.

Mariella Cruz drove as if Baltimore was Le Mans.  She tore through afternoon traffic at blazing speed, whipping around trucks and cutting off motorcycles.  She got them to the church on time.

The church was actually a small chapel in some woods belonging to a Catholic monastery.  Cruz parked in the lot near the main buildings.  Then she and Niles walked hand in hand along a curving brick path surrounded by flowerbeds of riotous color that led first into the woods and then to the glade where the small chapel awaited the festivities.

A good chunk of the Cruz clan had arrived before them.  Niles nodded greetings to Cruz’s collection of older brothers: German, Xavier, Miguel, and Manolo, all looking uncomfortable in their formal wear.  Niles also recognized Tia Juanita and cousin Lupe chatting with some people he didn’t know, but decided were probably related to the groom given their blond, Anglo looks.  Momma Josephina Cruz had also come.  She wafted across the grass with her multicolored muumuu fluttering like butterfly wings, her large arms outstretched to engage her daughter and Niles in a hug.

“Always a pleasure to see you,” she said in her sing-song voice that had never lost its trace of a Spanish accent.  “You are looking good, Senor Gule!”

Niles politely smiled and gritted his teeth through the assault.

Josephina’s eyes gleamed with sly pleasure.  “Weddings are wonderful things, no?  Makes you want to pair off with someone, yes?”

“Yes… I mean no…”  Niles stammered to an embarrassed halt.

Josephina leaned into him.  “Some day you must make an honest woman of my Mari.”

Niles jerked.  In horror, Cruz grabbed him by the arm and hauled him away from her mother.

“Sorry about that,” she muttered.

Niles managed to chuckle once his alarm faded.  “She means well.”

“Hmmmph,” Cruz snorted.

The flash of white in the midst of the trees signaled the bride approaching.  Cruz danced happily when her cousin Estafania raced towards her with arms outstretched.  The two women embraced, then Cruz set Estafania away from her to study her dress.

The wedding gown was a Victorian confection with a belled skirt of silk charmeuse and lace.  Given this was a summer wedding, the dress was sleeveless.  A princess neckline revealed the plump upper portion of a generous bosom.  A golden cross rested in the cleavage.  Small diamonds winked from her ears.

The two women prattled in Spanish for a few minutes while Niles stood aside and politely waited.

When Estafania’s face soured, Niles stepped forward, wondering what his lady might have said to upset the bride.

“She’s not upset with me,” Cruz explained after Niles whispered worriedly in her ear.  “It’s Bryan.”  She stepped aside to allow Estafania to waft into the grove where her father waited to walk her down the aisle.

“Who’s Bryan?” Niles asked.

Cruz rose onto her toes to gaze at the gathering as people slowly moved to take their seats in the array of white chairs fronting the chapel.  “That guy over there.  He’s the groom’s best friend, and the best man for today.”

Niles studied the man in question.  He stood beside the nervous groom, looking strangely smug given the event really had nothing to do with him.  He was merely playing a part in it. 

“What’s the problem?” Niles asked.

Cruz scoffed and waved a hand dismissively.  “Esta and I can’t stand him.  He hits on all the women he meets even when his girl is around.  That’s her over there…”

Niles turned his gaze towards a plump woman in canary yellow who was flitting amongst the crowd.  From the expressions on the faces of most of the Cruz contingent, she wasn’t welcome.

“She’s too brassy for my taste,” Cruz snipped cattily.   “I don’t see what Bryan sees in her or what she sees in Bryan.  For that matter, I don’t know what Charlie sees in either of them.  He’s the groom.”

“Ah!”  Niles pretended to understand the currents ebbing through the gathering, but human foibles still confounded him.  He smiled down at his lady and took her arm in his.  “Let us leave the gossipy undercurrents where they belong and just enjoy the day.  It is beautiful.”

Cruz twitched her nose as if she would respond, but she didn’t.  She allowed Niles to lead her to chairs on the bride’s side of the aisle, but as far from Momma Josephina as he could manage.  They ended up in the last row of chairs.  Niles was fine with that.

The priest appeared from within the chapel and motioned with his hands for everyone to take their seats.  The rumble of conversation faded away as people sat down and looked expectantly at the priest.  From the shadow of trees beside the chapel, a guitar player and a harpist plucked gentle tunes befitting the day and the ceremony.

And thus did Estafania marry Charlie in a service that took about an hour. 

Niles got lost in most of the rituals.  He didn’t understand when he should stand or sit or hold his head down.  Cruz was forced to whisper commands the entire way through. But in the end, the wedding came to its close with the standard kissing of the bride.  The two joined families rose from their chairs and cheered the happy, beaming couple.  Niles had managed to not make a fool of himself.

The reception was held in the monastery’s small vineyard.  Master gardeners had espalied huge grape vines to drape over a metal framework, creating a shadowy, cool space that was outdoors and yet had the feel of an indoor space.  Crystal chandeliers hung at intervals, providing extra glitter.  The wedding party’s table spanned one length of the espalier with the guests’ tables facing it in rows under the chandeliers. 

Having never attended a human wedding, Niles absorbed the traditions with a sense of confusion, not understanding half of them.  Bryan, as best man, (whatever that meant, thought Niles) gave a toast to the groom.  Estafania’s older sister, the matron of honor, gave a toast to the bride.  Niles indulged in the Champagne.  Not the best he’d ever drunk, but passable.  Then came the waiters bringing out the salad course.  Meanwhile, the mike was passed around for guests to offer their congratulations to the couple.  Niles pretended to eat the salad, but when no one at the table was looking, shoveled the mess of wilting greens onto Cruz’s plate.  She scowled at him, then laughed.

When the mike reached Niles’ table, both he and Cruz waved off making comments.  It continued down the table with aunts and uncles, cousins, and good friends, all wishing the happy couple a life of prosperity and happiness.

Niles thought they would all escape the event unscathed.  Until he felt a strange shift in the mood of people at his table.  Frowning, he turned to Cruz for an explanation.  She jerked her head towards the head table.

Bryan had taken back the mike.  He rounded the table and stood in front of Estafania and Charlie and cleared his throat.

“What does that bozo have to say now?” Crus whispered.  “He already gave the standard speech.”

Niles, having no idea how wedding receptions worked, shrugged.

“Hello, everyone,” Bryan said, his voice ringing loudly from the speakers ringing the espalier.  “I have something important I want to say.”  He surveyed the gathering until he found the person he needed.   “Amanda, would you come up here?”

The plump girl in the canary dress yipped in surprise, then popped from her chair and sashayed to Bryan’s side.

Feeling the unease rippling through the guests, Niles leaned into Cruz to whisper, “Is this normal?  Why do I feel like something’s wrong?”

“Because it is,” Cruz muttered.

Looking at Amanda, Bryan began to speak.  “Amanda, you know how much I love you.  I fell for you the minute you took my hand when I helped you out of Uncle Don’s bass boat.  I knew at that moment we were meant for each other.”

Amanda’s smile was tremulous.  She didn’t reply.

Bryan dropped to one knee.  In his free hand, he held a jewel box.

“Oh no!” Cruz groaned.  “Not here.  Not now.”

Bryan opened the box to reveal a small ring with a diamond.  “Amanda, will you marry me?”

Niles glanced around at the suddenly silent gathering.  He saw looks of appalled horror on most of the faces.  But not on Amanda.  Her face glowed.  Her eyes sparkled.  She said yes gleefully and popped the ring onto her finger herself.  She hugged Bryan, then whirling to face the guests, thrust her finger in the air like a champion scoring a winning ace in tennis, and danced with glee.

Cruz had shrunk into her seat as if embarrassed by the display.

Niles glanced at Estafania.  The bride’s happy countenance had crashed.  She looked seconds away from bursting into tears.  An icy faced Charlie glared at his best man while he tried to soothe his new bride.  Meanwhile, Bryan and Amanda were charging between the tables, showing off the ring and babbling about their happiness to anyone who would listen.  Most of the guests sat in stunned, stoic silence as the ridiculous couple worked their way through the tables.

Finally, Momma Josephina had had enough.  She stood up and thumped her considerable fist on her table, causing stemware and silverware to clink in alarm.

“Stop that this instant!” she shouted.  “This is Estafania and Charlie’s wedding.  It’s totally inappropriate to be celebrating another couple’s engagement during their event.  You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Silence crashed over the reception.  Estafania’s sniffles were the only sound for several seconds.

Then came a scream like a banshee.  Amanda stood crying and wailing in the middle of the tables.

“You just had to ruin my special day, didn’t you!” she yelled at Josephina.

Bryan came to her defense.   He started to yell at Josephina, claiming he’d done nothing wrong.  He had a right to ask Amanda to marry him.

“Si,” Josephina hissed.  “But not at my niece’s wedding!”

Bryan whirled on Charlie for backup, but Charlie wasn’t having it.  With a hand shaking with suppressed anger, he ordered Bryan and Amanda to leave the wedding.

Bryan’s mouth dropped open.  He protested.  That’s when three of the groomsmen jumped to their feet, grabbed the recalcitrant guest, and muscled him from the reception area.  Amanda, sobbing about how unfair everyone was being and how they’d ruined her day, followed.

After several minutes the sounds of fighting and wailing faded away, leaving the party to go on without them.

Cruz sat with her hand over her forehead as she gazed at what was left of her dinner, as if too ashamed of her family to look up.

“I take it, that’s not a normal ritual at a wedding reception,” Niles commented.

Cruz swatted him.  Hard.

As Niles rubbed his arm and watched the party gather itself together again, he murmured, “And that is why I’ll probably never marry.”

© 2023 Newmin

Gule and the Disappearing House

The torrent of Spanish had started off staccato and hurried, but as the conversation continued, the tone rose an octave and frantic gestures began to fly.

Niles Gule, a vampire working the nightshift for the Baltimore Police, sat at his desk and watched with first amusement and then consternation as his partner grew ever more animated.  He wondered what had put a hornet in her shorts this time.

Mariella Cruz was talking on the phone in rapid fire Spanish.  Although he couldn’t understand most of what she said, Niles discerned the call was of a personal nature rather than pertaining to her job as a detective.  He therefore turned his blue gaze back to his computer screen and the report he was typing up about the latest arrest of Johnny Hop Hop Rabbitowitz, car thief extraordinaire.  

The crash of the phone into its cradle drew his eyes back to his partner.

“Problems?” he asked in a mild tone.  Niles, being a vampire, seldom suffered from hornets in his shorts.  He was the most urbane and easy-going of the five detectives in their working group.

Cruz puffed black bangs off her forehead.  “We’ve just caught ourselves a new case.”

The vampire’s brows rose.  “Indeed?”  He waved a pale, taloned hand at the white board on the far wall that listed all the active cases for the department.  No one had added anything to their caseload just yet.

“This one is special,” Cruz answered.  She pulled her purse out of a drawer and dug for her keys.  “Care to join me?”

With a pursing of his lips, Niles decided a trip away from headquarters would be nice.  He’d been stuck typing up notes for the past two nights.  Getting out and doing some genuine investigating would make for a change. 

“What’s the case?” he asked as he drew his suit jacket over his shoulders.

Cruz waited impatiently for her partner to get a move on.  “Tia Juanita was robbed.”

Niles hesitated before he locked his computer screen and gestured for his little partner to lead forth.  “We don’t normally handle burglaries.”

Two dark brown eyes bore into him in reprimand.  “She’s my aunt, Niles!  I’m not tossing her case off onto someone else.”

“Point noted.”  Niles proffered a wan smile.  “Let us proceed.”

Twenty minutes of crazed nighttime driving with Cruz behind the wheel brought the pair to East Baltimore, a neighborhood Niles knew well.  The area was a gridwork of narrow streets crowded by two-story buildings.  Streetlights were few so shadows filled most corners and niches, promising perfect hiding places for predators on the prowl.  At that time of night, around ten pm, most of the honest citizens had gone to ground, leaving the streets to the more daring or desperate folks.

Cruz drove slowly around the block, seeking a parking space near her aunt’s townhome but the best they could do was park at a closed autobody shop.  Cruz propped her police placard on the dash to warn away any would-be tow trucks scouting for prey then popped out of the Fiat.  Niles unwound himself more slowly and shook out the kinks in his legs before striding after his partner who was already in a mad dash for her aunt’s house.

Being almost a foot taller than Cruz, Niles caught up with her easily, and together they faced the night.  A drug dealer peeled himself from a dark slot between houses, noted the determination of the mismatched pair, and melted away again.  He’d find better prospects elsewhere.

Two turns brought them to North Belmont Ave, a street so narrow, people parked their cars partially on the sidewalk.

“We should call the Parking Police,” Niles commented as he shimmied past a Dodge with two wheels on the sidewalk.  “Half these people are parked illegally.”

“Half these people don’t give a damn,” Cruz replied tartly. 

Niles frowned, but he didn’t have a counter argument.  Half of Baltimore didn’t give a damn about much of anything, given the sad state of economics in the Crab Cake Capital of the World.

Through the darkness ahead, Niles spotted a familiar shape sitting on a stoop.  Tia Juanita Gomez, Cruz’s sixty-something aunt, sat staring morosely at the street.  She jumped when they marched up, then a brilliant smile filled her face.  She leaped to her feet and swallowed her niece in a bear hug.

More Spanish erupted. 

Niles waited patiently.

Cruz turned to Niles.  “I scolded her for sitting out here alone at this time of night.  She could have been mugged.”

Tia Juanita scoffed.  “What can anyone steal from me?” she demanded, her throaty voice reminiscent of soul singers of the forties.  “They’ve taken it all.”

Cruz patted her shoulder.  “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Tia Juanita gave her a condemning look.  “Go see.”

With a shrug towards Niles, Cruz jaunted up the five concrete steps and entered her aunt’s townhome.  She halted abruptly in the foyer, Niles plowing into her back at the unexpected stop.

“What in the world…?”  Cruz’s voice was breathless.

She moved into the first room to the left, a parlor beyond which stood a tiny dining room.  Niles followed her.

His eyes swept the darkness because no lights burned in the parlor or the dining room.  The only light came from the kitchen further to the back of the house.  Even in the dim light, both he and Cruz could see the extent of the devastation.

The parlor was bare.  Meaning totally without anything.  No couches or chairs.  No ottomans.  No coffee table or lamps.  Even the floor was bare wood.  When Niles considered the dining room, he found it equally devoid of furnishings. 

“Kitchen,” Cruz said through tight lips.

The pair ventured into the kitchen, the only room with light because of the ugly 1970s style florescent fixtures bolted to the ceiling.  All the cabinet drawers were open.  Some still held food items, mostly canned goods, some pasta and a big bag of rice.  But a lot of the food had been dragged from its lair and tossed around as if a tornado was blown through the kitchen.

“Tia Juanita always keeps such a clean house,” Cruz moaned.  She bent to pick up some Goya black beans and set them on the counter.

Niles tread carefully through the room because the floor was littered with boxes and cans he suspected had been swept from the cabinets.

“Can you tell what’s missing?” he asked.

Cruz planted her hands on her hips with a you’ve got to be kidding me look on her face.  “Um… gee… let me take a stab at it.  The microwave?  The toaster?  The KitchenAid stand mixer?” She drew a shaky breath.  “Even the damned refrigerator!  Niles, whoever did this, literally wiped my aunt out!”

Not waiting to see what her partner had to say about that, Cruz raced to the tiny den Juanita used as a game room.

“Television’s gone,” she reported from the darkness of that room.  “PlayStation console gone.  All the furniture.”

She returned and gazed at Niles in bewilderment.  “I’m scared to see upstairs.”

Juanita had returned and stood just inside the front door.  “They took all my jewelry, even the costume stuff.  And my dresser and side tables.  They even took the bed and the mattress!”

Cruz’s brow scrunched while she considered the extent of the disaster.  “How could anyone have managed a theft this thorough without you catching them?” she asked her aunt.  “To move this much stuff had to take a day, assuming a crew of thieves did the deed.”

Juanita’s face was a tableau of woe.  “They had all week, Mari,” she explained.  “I took off to see Abril’s new baby.”  She straightened and some pride returned to her face.  “Abril named me Estafania’s godmother.”

“When did you leave?” Cruz asked, mutating from worried and loving relative to detective on a case.

“Last Sunday.  I only returned today.”  Juanita gestured to the mess.  “I came home to find this!”

Cruz studied the house with a careful eye.  “So whoever did this had plenty of time.”

“Si.”  Juanita’s voice was plaintive.

Cruz snatched up her cellphone.  “I’ll call for a crime scene tech.  With a pillage this massive, someone must have left fingerprints somewhere.”

“I didn’t touch anything!” Juanita insisted.  “Nothing!”

Cruz patted her shoulder.  “It’s all right.  We’ll figure this out.”

While Cruz negotiated with the crime scene techs, Niles took a careful look around.  He studied the front door and found no sign of forced entry.  He checked the front ground floor windows, but they were securely locked.  He ventured to the back of the house but found no signs of burglary there either.  That left the roof.  Up he went to the second floor, as empty as the first, and then up into the attic.  Yet once again, he found no sign anyone had broken in via the attic or the roof.  He returned to the first floor, slapping his hands together to clear them of dust.

“I don’t see how they broke in,” he said.  “The entire perimeter appears in good shape.”

Cruz scratched her cheek.  “Then how in heck did they do this?  I mean, we’re talking about the contents of an entire house!”

“I’ll canvass the neighborhood,” Niles offered.  “Someone must have seen something.”

Cruz shot him a disparaging look.  “You’ll get nowhere, Niles.”  Her grim face managed to crack a smile.  “You scream Da Man with or without a uniform.  Plus, most of the folks on this street only speak Spanish.  I’ll handle the canvass.”

Niles knew when to argue and when not.

He turned to Juanita.  “Do you have somewhere to stay while we work this out?  You can’t stay here.”

Juanita nodded morosely.  “Josephina will let me sleep on her sofa.”  She beamed a weak, shaking smile at the vampire, not that she knew what he was.  “I just can’t believe someone would do this to me.”

Niles continued to study the disaster.  “I wonder if someone in the neighborhood was moving out and contracted a moving company.  Could be they moved the wrong house.”

Juanita blinked unhappily at her ravaged kitchen.  “This whole trip has been so strange.”

Her words pricked the vampire’s ears.  “Strange?  In what way?”

Juanita gestured vaguely.  “It’s just that I flew to Chicago.  I know I parked my car on the third level on the parking garage, but when I returned home, I couldn’t find it.”

“You lost your car too?” Cruz bleated.

“No, carina,” Juanita chided.  “They did not steal my car.  I found it on level five.”

“Are you sure you parked on level three?” Niles asked.  “I find those garages confusing.  Maybe you forgot you parked on five.”

Juanita shook her head violently.  “No!  No!  I remember.  I found a space right beside the elevators on three.  Very convenient.  I was so happy.  But when I returned, I looked all over the place.  I found it on five, at the far side of the garage, not near the doors.  I wouldn’t forget something like that.”  Her words and her look were condemning.

Niles frowned while he considered that information.  “So you think someone moved your car?  Why would they do that?”

Up went a pair of blue veined arms.  “How should I know!  Crazy gringos always up to something.”

“We don’t know it was a gringo,” Cruz reproved. 

Niles continued to tumble the problem in his mind.  Finally, he said, “I think I’ll head to the airport.  Check out the security footage.  Maybe what happened to Senorita Gomez’s car ties in with what happened here.”

Cruz nodded absently.  “Yes.  Good idea.  I’ll hold the fort until the crime scene tech can work the house.”

With a nod, Niles headed out.  He called for an Uber to take him to the airport, but instead of dropping him off at Departures, he asked the driver to take him to the midterm, purple parking garage.  The Uber driver gave him strange looks as his tall, silent rider stepped out of the car, then he drove off.

Niles checked the garage quickly but found nothing out of place.  He noted how the elevators were located at intervals on the outer wall of one side of the garage.  Assuming Juanita’s memory was good, she would absolutely have noticed if her car was on one side of the garage or the other.  Niles looked up to find the ubiquitous eye of surveillance boring down on him from above.  Security video.

He found himself in the parking authority’s office about an hour later.  After flashing his badge, Niles demanded to see the security videos for the purple parking garage for the past week.  While he waited, he called Cruz and asked what make and model of car Juanita drove.

“Easy,” Cruz replied.  “A black 1999 Honda Civic.  Should be easy to spot on surveillance.  She spray painted it with glitter paint.  It looks a little like a My Pretty Pony.”

Niles chuckled.  But he was glad the car was unique.  He could speed through most of the footage.

Sitting in the parking authority office, Niles watched as video from the entrance to the purple garage sped past.  He ran the tape at double speed.  Cars raced in and out of the garage.  At exactly 8:15 and 20 seconds, he spotted the glitzy Honda appear at the garage entrance.  He saw Juanita’s arm extend to take the ticket discharged by a kiosk.  He switched to one of the internal cameras, queued up 8:15 and watched Juanita prowl for a space on the first level.  He switched again, this time to the third level.  There she came, driving slowly, checking each aisle for space.  She got lucky, as she’d said, finding a spot right beside the central elevator bank.  Niles watched her park, pull her wheelie bag from the trunk, lock the car with her key fob, then trundle for the elevator.

Now let’s see what happens to the car, he thought.

He ran the video as fast as it would go.  People appeared to blink into existence and disappear.  Cars raced around like Hot Wheels on a kid’s track.  Juanita’s car stood still in its space.  A beam of sunlight arced across the garage as morning turned into day and day into night.  Still the car sat undisturbed.

Niles moved to day two.  More flashing of people and cars.  No movement of the Honda.

Day three.  Niles had been watching video for over an hour by that point.  His mind was drifting.  He almost missed seeing the man dart up to Juanita’s car.  He shook himself awake, backed up the tape, and watched at normal speed.

A tall, thin, white male of approximately thirty years of age approached the Honda.  He glanced around, taking stock of the area.  Checking for witnesses, Niles assumed.  The man bent down at the driver’s side door.  At that point, the Honda hid him from view.  But after a minute or so, he straightened, opened the door, and climbed in.

Niles presumed he’d picked the car’s lock.

The Honda backed out of its space, drove along the aisle, and left the level.

Niles followed its journey through the garage, not figuring that information would tell him very much.  The car arrived at the exit.  A white hand handed over a credit card to pay for the parking.  Then the car was gone.

“Let’s see when he comes back,” Niles said to the woman helping him with the videos.

She brought up more and he was back to staring at cars and people flickering across the black and white screen.  Day four: no sign of the car.  Day five: no sign.  Day six:  it reappeared, driving in through the entrance, twisting through the building, and finally landing at a parking space on the fifth level on the far side of the garage from the elevators.

So Juanita had not been mistaken.  Her car had indeed been moved.

Niles took screen grabs of the perpetrator, thanked the attendant who’d helped him, and returned to the precinct as the sun was beginning to paint the eastern sky pink.

Cruz had beaten him back to the office.  She sat at her desk drinking coffee and pecking at her computer.

“Any luck?” she asked hopefully.

Niles waved the thumb drive with the videos.  “Your aunt was not lying.  A Caucasian man stole her car, took it for a joyride for five days and returned it just before Juanita’s return.”

Cruz planted her chin on her fist.  “Go figure.  Wonder why he did it?”

Niles gestured for Cruz to pull out her cellphone.  “Call your aunt.  I have a theory.”

Gazing at him quizzically, Cruz retrieved her phone and dialed her aunt.  They spoke for a minute in Spanish, calmly this time, then Cruz handed the phone to Niles.

“Senorita Gomez,” he said politely.  He was always terribly polite when talking to victims.  “Someone stole your car from the airport.”

“Si,” came the reply.  “Mari just told me.”

Niles carefully modulated his tone.  He didn’t want to upset Juanita anymore than he had to.  “Senorita, did you leave anything in your car while it was at the garage?”

“Like what?”  Juanita’s confusion came through clearly.

“Like anything,” Niles replied.  “Papers.  Mail.  Anything like that?”

Silence indicated Juanita was considering.  “No papers or mail,” she finally replied.

“What do you keep in the glove compartment?”

Another pause.  Then: “An umbrella in case it rains.  The manual for the car.  Aspirin.”

“What about the car’s registration?”

“Si!  Si!  Of course.  I was told to keep the registration in the car.  That way it’s there in case I’m ever pulled over.”

Now Niles was getting somewhere, right where he thought he’d end up.  “What about keys, Senorita?”

“Keys?”  Surprise.  Then a moment of silence.  “Si.  Yes.  I keep a spare key to…” her voice faded.

“To your house?” Niles asked gently.

“Si.”  The word was a painful breath.  “Yes.  I keep a spare set in the glove box in case I lose my purse.”

Niles nodded knowingly.  “Gracias, Senorita.”

“De nada,” Juanita whispered.

As he handed the phone back to Cruz, Niles explained.  “She left her house keys in the car along with the registration.”

Cruz’s brow puckered.  “And?”

“The registration contains her address.  Address, keys.  Easy burglary.”

Cruz slapped her hand against her forehead.  “No way!  No wonder it went down the way it did.  With her car, keys, and address, and knowing she’d traveled out of town on a plane, the burglar had all the time in the world to raid Juanita’s home.”

“And clear her out.”  Niles rubbed his neck wearily.  “We’ve got an excellent shot of the perp.  We can put a BOLO out for it.  Someone knows this dude.  We’ll catch him.”

“Too late for poor Juanita,” Cruz moaned.  “She’s been wiped out.”

“I have a suggestion,” Niles said.

Cruz lifted a brow.

“How about a Go Fund Me page?”

Disheartened as she was, Cruz still managed to laugh.

© Newmin 2023

Niles comments:  Another true story, sad to say.  And a cautionary tale for everyone.  If you leave your car anywhere for a long period, remove anything that could provide your address.  Juanita was just lucky the thief wanted her stuff.  If he’d been a rapist or a murderer, the situation could have become extremely ugly.  Don’t keep your registration in the car.

Gule Meets a Fellow Meat Eater

The vampire, Niles Gule, stood aching from his slide down a hillside, the back of his head smarting from a blow against a rock, his clothing smeared with mud.  He raged as he leaned over the fencing that protected the world from the traffic whizzing by on Route 83 on its way into downtown Baltimore.  At that hour of the night, trending towards ten in the evening, only a handful of vehicles raced past, their tires hissing on the roadway while the vampire cursed.

A serial killer the police only knew as Master Chef Carver had captured Niles’ partner and carried her off, probably in a car he’d parked on an on ramp that twisted past Druid Hill Park.  Niles could have searched along the fence line to determine where Carver had cut the chain link to grant himself quick access into and out of the park, but Niles didn’t see the point.  However he’d done it, Carver was gone, taking Mariella Cruz with him.

Niles spun around and charged back up the wooded hillside.

The park was alive with lights and vehicles.  A drone buzzed in the dark night sky, its winking lights battling with the stars.  The police department had attempted to encircle the park in hopes of capturing Carver, using Cruz as bait.  The trick hadn’t worked.  Now police were buzzing here, there, and everywhere, trying to locate Carver’s escape route.

As he struggled up the incline, Niles gasped into his radio mike.  “He’s gone.  Taken Cruz with him.”

“Where?  How?” chirped the voice of his boss, Sergeant Tan Lo, head of the nightshift.

“He must have parked a car on the ramp to Falls Road,” Niles reported, grasping tree trunks to pull himself up the hill he’d just recently slid down.  “Punched a hole in the fencing somewhere along here.  He must have realized this was a set up.”

Cursing reverberated through the radio.  “How the hell did he find out?” Lo yelled.

“Dunno.”  Niles hauled himself up another steep incline. 

As he worked his way up the hill, weaving between trees, he heard Lo on the radio screaming for patrol vehicles to head for 83.  Not that they knew what they were looking for, Niles grumbled to himself.  He hadn’t seen the vehicle.  For all the police knew, Carver had dragged Cruz onto a Greyhound bus to make his escape.

Panting and out of breath, the vampire attained level ground.  The beams of flashlights careened wildly through the woods and playing fields as police officers bolted from hiding places and raced to their cars.  Niles pelted across the rough grass of a soccer field, heading for the closest set of lights.

He reached the car just as uniformed office Jonas Williams was getting ready to pull out.  Niles threw himself across the hood.

“Hang on,” he rasped at Williams through the windshield.  “I’m riding with you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Williams gestured, get in.

As he flopped into the passenger seat, Niles said, “Punch it, Jonas.  We’ve got to catch him.”

Williams was just as pleased as any other officer to hit his lights and slam on the gas.  Wheels spun on the grass before finding purchase.  The patrol car shot off.

“Where are we going?” Williams grunted as he swung wide around several other patrol cars parked along the park road.

“Catoctin.”

Williams made a face.  “Okay.  A bit of a drive.  How do you know this creep is taking Cruz there?”

Niles clicked the seat belt as Williams burned around a sharp turn.  “He owns a cabin up there.  Where he kills and eats his victims.  Cruz and I found it two weeks ago.”

Williams radioed that he’d taken Niles as a passenger, and they were headed for Catoctin.  Lo complained they should wait for backup, but Niles switched the radio off.

“We aren’t waiting,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Damned straight we ain’t waiting!” Williams belched.  He tore onto 83 heading south.  “Best route?”

“Take 70 west and don’t spare the horses.”

Williams nodded grimly.  “We’ll catch the bastard.  Before he murders Cruz.”

“We’d better,” Niles replied, equally grim.  “I’ll never forgive Lo or myself if he harms her.”

“Get in line,” Williams grumbled.  He stared steely eyed at the road unwinding before him, his jaw set, his knuckles white.

With his lights flashing, Williams made good time through the city to 70.  Meanwhile, Niles conferred via his cellphone with other officers who were calling, wanting to know how they could assist.  He told all of them to head for Catoctin.  At one point, he called Lo, but before his boss could chew him out for disobeying orders, he barked at Lo to radio ahead to whatever police department handled the mountain.

As he thumbed off the call, Niles fretted.  “That cabin is damned hard to find.  I don’t have an address, so the locals probably won’t locate it, at least not right away.”

Williams nodded.  His fingers tightened on the wheel.  “But our dude isn’t that far ahead of us, and he can’t dare to drive as fast as I am.  So we could catch him.”

Niles froze.  He stared at the cars pulling aside as the police car raced along with lights flashing. 

“Ditch the lights.”

Williams started.  “What?  The blue and whites clear the way for us.”

“Yeah, but one of these cars may hold Carver and Cruz.  If he sees police lights, he might turn off somewhere.  Let’s not reveal we know his hiding place.”

“Good point.”  Williams switched off the lights and siren.

In silence, the two men rode into the night.  Williams kept his pedal to the floor.  The engine throbbed, disliking the 100 mph.  Baltimore and its suburbs disappeared behind them.  A carpet of rolling hills and farmland spread out around them as they drove through horse country.  Near midnight, the glow of Frederick filled the sky.

“Just past Frederick, go north on 15,” Niles directed.

Williams didn’t respond.  He watched for the exit and made the transition north.

The road was two lanes, forcing him to slow down, but Williams still pressed on as fast as he could through what little traffic they encountered.  A blotch of darkness filled the world ahead of them.  Catoctin Mountain.

The mountain was primarily state forest and parkland.  Somewhere in its depth lurked the presidential playground of Camp David.  Rumors said that the presidential bunker was located somewhere on the mountain as well.

Having traveled this way before, Niles guided Williams to the south end of Gambril Park where they turned onto its access road.  That carried them up along the ridge of the low mountain with its thick carpet of forest.

As the ribbon of black asphalt scrolled out before them, Williams muttered, “This is one remote backwater.”

“Where else would a serial killer hide?” Niles replied.  His eyes remained focused on the trees whirring by.  He strained to locate the mailbox painted with a fish that marked Carver’s driveway.

“Decent serial killers should work in cities where we can find them,” Williams groused.

Niles fell silent.  He stared hard ahead, seeking that mailbox.

“There!”  He shoved his pale white finger towards the windshield.  “Slow down.  Take it easy.  We don’t know if we beat him here.”

“Given how fast we were driving, I suspect we did.”  Williams allowed the patrol car to roll to a stop a few feet away from the driveway.  He twisted around in his seat, the fabric complaining as his bulk shifted.  “No place to hide the car,” he said.  The woods crouched right up against the road, leaving nowhere to hide a conspicuous police car.

“Drive ahead,” Niles said.  “Up around that turn.  Assuming he’s coming the same way we did, he won’t pass his own driveway.”

“Good thinking.”  Williams turned off his headlights and eased the vehicle ahead about one hundred yards.  When some bushes hid it from the mailbox with the fish, he sidled against the brush that encroached on the road and turned off the engine.  He thumped his hands on the wheel.  “Now what?”

Niles was already shoving the door open, fighting against the jungle that pressed against his door.  “Now we find that cabin and await our prey.”

Williams heaved himself out of his seat, closed, and locked the door with a beep of his keys.  He chugged after the vampire who was already trotting towards the driveway.

Since Niles could see so clearly even in the near perfect darkness, he gained on Williams.  He reached the mailbox then moved more cautiously.  Williams chugged up behind him.

Niles lowered his voice.  “We never determined if Carver has any surveillance on his property.  We didn’t see any but that doesn’t mean it’s not hiding somewhere.”

Williams huffed as he came to a stop beside his coworker.  His eyes scanned the dense foliage.  “Could hide anything in these trees.  We might already be stars on his Ring camera.”

Niles nodded grimly.  Nevertheless, he was proceeding.

“Lo’s gonna kill us,” the big officer grumbled as he and Niles crept along the poorly maintained gravel drive that wove into the trees.

“Don’t care,” Niles snapped.  He drew his silver vampire hunting knife, the only weapon he possessed, and continued forward slowly. 

All his predatory senses scanned the terrain.  His night loving eyes probed the forest, finding nothing.  His ears strained for sounds of human activity but heard only the song of cicadas.  He scented the air for the smell of humans and there he hit paydirt.

He touched Williams on the shoulder, stopping the officer.  “Vehicle exhaust,” he said, sniffing the air.  “The bastard beat us here.”

Williams nodded.  He drew his sidearm.

Now creeping, but moving as quickly as they could, the pair stole along the driveway that curved through the woods.  After five hundred yards further on, the black canopy overhead gave way to a clearing within which stood a decrepit cabin.

The pair stopped just at the brush line to survey the property.  A white van stood in front of the cabin, its engine still ticking as it cooled.  Niles’ olfactory sense was overwhelmed by the stink of exhaust from the hot vehicle.  Beyond that, lights gleamed from the cabin’s two front windows.

“How do we tackle this?” Williams asked.

“I suggest a bold frontal assault,” Niles replied.  “No point in being delicate.”

Williams nodded with a grunt.  His fingers tightened on his service weapon.  “Let’s do this.”

Together, the two men crept towards the cabin, now working solely with hand signals and gestures.

Niles found himself holding his breath.  Each step on the thick grass crunched.  When he stepped on a small twig and it snapped, he froze, his eyes adhered to the cabin.  Williams at his side moved like a buffalo through the grass.  Niles felt as if they were stomping like a herd of cattle through the clearing.  Surely Carver could hear them!

And yet nothing moved in the cabin that they could see.

Niles reached the front porch.  He signaled for Williams to move around to the side to watch for any escape out the back for the woods.  He stepped carefully onto the first step.  The board creaked beneath his weight.  Niles froze again, his heart in his throat.  Silence from the cabin. 

He took another step, his knife leading the way.  Still no movement.

Williams yelped.

Niles whirled and dashed from the porch.  He saw William’s bulky form disappearing down the narrow trail that led into the woods behind the cabin.  He swallowed in terror.  The barbeque pit!

Panic gave his feet wings.  He raced to the trail and ran along it, swatting away branches that swayed in his face.  Williams galumped ahead of him, making no attempt to be quiet.

Niles charged directly into his broad, black back.  Williams had stopped directly in front of him.

“What the hell?” the big man blurted.

Niles slipped around him.  He halted, as stunned as Williams.

The barbeque pit stood just as it had the last time Niles had visited the cabin.  The pit was a rectangle about the size of a human, made of blackened concrete block topped by rusted, charred grating.  Atop that lay Mariella Cruz.  But she wasn’t taking getting barbequed lying down.  She’d somehow torn off the binds that Carver had tied around her wrists and ankles.  She was wrestling with the man as she tried to roll off the grating.

Carver huffed as he struggled to force her back down.  He was a huge man, at least as big as Williams.  Caucasian.  Totally bald.  His white dome gleamed in the fickle moonlight.

He was grunting and swearing as he tangled with a determined Cruz.  She twisted her legs under the brute and shoved with considerable strength.  She sent Carver flying backwards.  He stumbled, arms pinwheeling, until he planted his back into a tree.  Cruz leapt from the grill and lunged at him, fingernails out to rend and destroy.

“Stop!” Williams bellowed.  “Police!”

Carver froze.  Cruz took a stutter step before she came to a halt.  Carver’s blue eyes and Cruz’s black eyes blinked at the pair of police officers glaring at them with knife and pistol in hand.

Carver’s piglike eyes turned this way and that, calculating fight or flight.  And if flight, where to.

Cruz gave him no chance.  With the wail of a banshee, she threw herself at him.

Niles watched in surprise as the little five-foot-ten spitfire launched herself at a serial killer cannibal.  Poor Carver didn’t stand a chance.  She was on him, slashing him with her nails, punching him in the gut.  He folded like a cheap suit.

“Don’t hurt me!” he wailed, his voice higher pitched than his size would indicate.  “Please don’t”

“You sonofabitch!” Cruz swore.  She kicked him in the balls. 

When he collapsed, sobbing like a child, she kicked him in the head.  She would have stomped him had Williams not raced forwards to pull her off of him.

“Jonas, don’t!” Niles warned.

But he was too late.

Cruz grasped the big officer by the arm and flung him aside.  Williams spun and face planted into the grass.

Cruz returned her fury at Carver.  She pummeled him some more as he lay in the fetal position at her feet.

More carefully than Williams, Niles approached her.  He sheathed his knife and grabbed her with two hands.  When she tried to punch him, he hauled her into the air.  She struggled, feet kicking but he was strong enough to control her.

“Calm down,” Niles commanded, giving her a little shake as she hung from his hands in the air.  “We’ve got him.”

She glared at him, fire in her eyes nearly turning them yellow.

Niles flinched in surprise.  For a moment she almost looked like a furious vampiress.

Her rage gradually diminished, and her eyes returned to their normal, luxurious black.  She puffed curls of black hair from her eyes as she scowled at her partner.

“Put me down!” she demanded.

“Do you promise not to kill all of us?” Niles asked.

She hesitated, considering.  “You I promise not to kill.”

“Good enough.”  Niles set her down.

She whirled on Carver only to find Williams had bagged the cretin.  He’d forced Carver onto his stomach and was cuffing the dude.  Once he had the man detained, he rolled him over.

“Name?” Williams spit.

Carver blinked panic-stricken eyes at the officer.  “Don’t let her hurt me.”

Williams scoffed.  “I should, you bastard.  Name!”

“Brunton,” Carver sighed.  “John Brunton.”

“Well, Mr. Brunton,” Williams said, dragging the man to his feet.  “Congratulations.  You have just won yourself an all-expense paid trip back to Baltimore to face charges of triple murder.”

Brunton gulped but all his courage, such as it was, had vanished with Cruz’s attack on him.

“You knew this was a set up,” Niles said.

Brunton shrugged.  “Yeah.  You tipped your hand in one of our chats.  I pegged you for a dude not a woman.  Figured when she turned up at the meeting, something wasn’t right.  Then I spotted the wire and knew.  Bastards.”  He spit the last word.

“Better a bastard than a serial killer cannibal,” Niles replied.  He brushed some of the charcoal from Cruz’s suit.

“Did you really eat those people?” Cruz mewed.  “Jared Heine?  Gonzaga?”

Brunton shrugged.  “Yeah.  They asked for it.”  He gazed at the police officers.  “Means you can’t charge me.  Not if they volunteered for it.  Those were mercy killings.”

“Nice try!” Williams growled, roughing up the man a bit.  “Assisting in a suicide is against the law.  As for eating the remains… well… that falls under a completely different set of laws.  Laws against God and nature, you freak.”

“You’re lucky Maryland’s not a death penalty state,” Cruz shot back.  She was pulling leaves from her hair.

Brunton stared at her.  “What the fuck are you?  Wonder Woman?  How’d you break those zip ties?”

Cruz grinned at him, flashing white teeth in the moonlight.  Niles froze.  Were her canines growing longer?

Williams must have seen it too because he shot a worried glance at Niles.  “You been biting people again, Ghoul?  Turning them into ghouls like you?”

Niles scowled.  “No.”  He thought about the fight.  About Cruz’s incredible strength.  And her eyes turning yellow.  Oh shit.  He’d infused her with his own blood when she was losing the battle against five gunshot wounds.  Not knowing how else to save her, he’d hoped the unusual curative ability of vampires could be transfused.  The trick had worked.  But had he created a monster?

Cruz grinned and tossed her dark ponytail.  She grasped Niles by the arm to lead him away from the barbeque pit.

“Let’s get this sonofabitch back to Baltimore,” she said.  “Then find us a steak house.  I’m hungry!”

Niles and Williams shot each other looks.

“Oh shit!”  Williams murmured.

“Yeah,” Niles muttered.  “Oh shit.”

© 2023 Newmin

Niles comments:  This was a long story to tell, but all of it was true.  Honest.  You can watch the documentary of it on Netflix’s Catching Killers.  Of course, Netflix couldn’t air a story about vampires, because who would believe that?  So, they adjusted the story a bit.  Moved it to Canada.  Removed my part in it.  But that’s okay.  I don’t need the publicity.  Read more about it here.

https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/netflixs-catching-killers-shows-cannibalism-190558891.html

Gule’s Cannibal Finds Cruz

Tags

africa, short story, travel, writing

Niles Gule stared hard at his boss, his normally brilliant blue eyes shading to yellow as anger suffused the vampire.

“Not a good idea,” he growled.

Sergeant Tan Lo, head of Baltimore’s police department nightshift, glared just as hard back, unafraid of his vampire coworker.  “We don’t have a choice.”  He turned his attention to Niles’ partner, Mariella Cruz, who watched the exchange with a shifting of her gaze back and forth.  “Can you handle this?”

Cruz lifted her chin, black ponytail flopping against her shoulder.  “Absolutely.”

“There you have it, Gule.”  Lo closed the debate.  He clapped his hands once as he considered his team of uniformed officers and plainclothes detectives.  “Ok, team.  We’re a go.  For those of you who don’t know, we’ve finally contacted Master Chef Carver via that freaky website.  Gule here set up a fake account as a woman, hoping to bait Carver into an interaction.”

Giant, gray-eyed officer Jonas Williams plugged Niles with an elbow.  “Finally admitting you’re trans, huh, Ghoul?”

Niles lasered his fellow policeman with a baleful gaze that might have sent someone else back a step.  But not Williams.  He grinned white teeth at the vampire.

Lo refused to accept any horseplay.  “Knock it off.  The situation is serious.”  He glared at his team, silently ordering them to come to attention.  “We’ve been chasing this dude Carver for two months.  We suspect he’s murdered and possibly eaten three people at the least, with the potential to have killed countless more.  Right now, we’re blaming on him the three partial bodies we found out at Frankford’s Towing.  We believe he finds his victims on this creepy website, Zambian Meats, where cannibals and their victims meet up.”

Lo drew a breath while he gathered his thoughts.  The team waited in silence.

“Gule and Carver have developed a… what shall we call it?… a relationship on the website.  Carver believes Niles to be a thirty-something single Latina woman, a perfect fit for Detective Cruz.  Cruz will play the role of bait.”

Niles shot his partner a worried glance.  He hated that he’d set her up for this, but Lo had insisted.  Cruz gazed back at him with more confidence than she should have.

“They’ve agreed to a meeting in Druid Hill Park,” Lo continued.  “So we’re blanketing that park, people.  Those of you in street clothes will be in the park as ordinary citizens enjoying an evening out.  Uniforms will encircle the park, on foot, on horse, and in cars.  We’ll have a drone available, but we won’t launch it unless necessary since the damned thing makes so much noise.”

“Why not have one of us ‘tourists’ pretend to be playing with a drone?” Detective Krewelski suggested.  “Lots of folks goof around with those things.”

“I’d rather not,” Lo replied.  “We want to keep this as quiet as possible until Carver is in custody.”  He gestured to a map of the park he’d laid out on the conference table.  “Your assignments are marked.  Listen, people.  We need to catch this guy.”

“And make sure he doesn’t hurt Cruz,” Niles added, resting an arm around her shoulder.

Cruz gave him a quick, nervous smile.

Lo clapped his hands again.   “Let’s go!  Move out.  I want everyone in position well before Cruz or Carver enter the park.”

With a rumble of discussion, the meeting broke up.  Teams headed out to change clothing, obtain equipment, or drive to the park.  Niles hovered over his partner worriedly.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” he asked.

Now Cruz plugged him with an elbow.  “Piece of cake.”

“That’s what I don’t want you to become,” the vampire muttered.

She grinned with too much confidence and beelined for the elevators.

Niles rode to the park in Lo’s vehicle.  He would play an important role in the take down given his exquisite night vision.  Lo was depending on him to spot any trouble in the darkness.

Baltimore had settled in for the night as the various units moved into position around the huge park.  Traffic had eased, allowing everyone to arrive at the park in good order.  Carver had arranged the meetup for the soccer fields on the southeastern end of the park, far from the zoo that took up the northern end.  Lo parked behind the Susquehannock Pavilion, using the tables as cover.  From there, they could watch the soccer field about fifty yards away.  Although, given the darkness, Niles assumed Lo couldn’t see a damned thing.  He was leaning on his vampire to do most of the watching.

Which Niles did.  Intently.

At that late hour, nothing moved amongst the ball fields, hiking trails, and roads that twisted through rolling hills and woodland.  Niles squinted to survey every tree and bush that surrounded the soccer field.  To his eyes, the world appeared in shadowy grays and blacks, like he was watching a black and white television.  He also scented the air in case Carver wore cologne or proffered a unique scent.  His nose was overwhelmed, however, by Lo’s aftershave, the stink of sweat from the little Asian, and the damp woodsy smells of the forest.  Niles turned to his predatory hearing, also more acute than a human’s.  He heard the rustle of leaves, small animals digging in the earth, and the distant hum of traffic on 83.  When he held his breath, he caught the sound of a cough from the left where Krewelski and Jackson were hiding, and the subtle jingle of someone’s handcuffs from the right where he suspected uniformed officers lurked.

“Anything?” Lo whispered.

“Not yet.”

Cruz’s car appeared as a set of headlights below and to their left.  The car wended around the turns until it passed Niles and Lo’s hiding place.  Cruz pulled alongside the soccer field and climbed out.

Lo murmured into his radio.  “Cruz is in position.  Eyes sharp, everyone.  Let’s bag this bastard.”

Quickly whispered checks answered him from around the perimeter.

Niles kept his eyes glued to his partner’s small, dark form.  She waited beside her car, humming as if to bolster her courage.  Then, she started and walked forward into the soccer field.

“Someone’s beckoning me,” her voice murmured into the wire they’d planted on her.  “Far side of the field.”

“Don’t go,” Lo hissed.  “Let him come to us.”

Cruz halted about ten feet from her car. 

“He’s not biting,” she said.  “Just standing across the field and waving to me.  What do you want me to do?”

“Hold where you are,” Lo commanded. 

Cruz did so.

Niles stood tensely waiting, ready to dash to his partner’s defense the moment she required it. 

“No dice,” she said.  “Still no movement.”

“Can you see him?” Lo asked.

“Roger.  Dark mass near the tree line.”

Lo relayed that information to his teams.  “Let’s encircle him.”

“Gonna try to coax him a bit,” Cruz said.  To Niles’ dismay, she strode forward into the middle of the field. 

“Stop,” he whispered.   “Two more steps and you’re out of my visual range.”

But she kept walking.  Eventually, a slight curve in the line of trees cut her off from his view.

“Shit!” Niles’ body tensed in preparation for racing after her.

Lo rested a hand on his arm.  “Take it easy.  Let’s see if she can reel him in.”

They waited in silence, hearing only the tramp of her boots through the wiry grass.  Then she stopped.

“Hello,” she greeted an unseen person.  “Are you…?”

Niles froze at the sound of a struggle over the radio.  Then it cut out.

“We’ve got contact!” Lo shouted into his radio.  “All teams move in!”

Niles shot like a bullet from the pavilion, his long strides carrying him to the soccer field in mere secondsinutes and leaving Lo behind.  Still, he couldn’t see Cruz.  He bolted across the field.  As he rounded the line of trees, he spotted two dark figures struggling.  Then the smaller collapsed.  The bigger form hefted the smaller over his shoulder.  He hesitated, apparently hearing the thud of Niles’ feet, then tore off into the trees.  Cursing, Niles gave chase.

Fleet of foot though he was, even Niles couldn’t race full bore through woods.  When he reached the trees, the terrain forced him to slow down.

“Launch that damned drone!” he yelled into his radio.

“We can track her phone,” Lo panted as he ran somewhere behind the vampire.

Niles’ feet skidded on spent leaves as the ground sloped hard towards the highway.  As his hands scrambled for purchase on tree trunks, his legs slid on mud and leaves, toppling him onto his back.  He landed hard, cracking his head against a rock.   Blinking the stars from his eyes, he shoved himself up, only to have his hand land on something cool and metallic.

“No, we can’t,” he growled into his radio.  “She’s lost her phone.”

As he stood up, he noted bits of wire also on the ground.  “Shit, Lo!  He knows she was wired.”

“All teams converge on me!” Lo screamed on the radio.  “Cut the sonofabitch off!”

Niles was trotting through the woods as best he could with long legs on unsure ground.  In his fall, he’d lost sight of his quarry.

“I’ve lost them!” he shouted.  “Lo, I’ve lost them!”

As he panicked and continued bushwacking through the forest, he heard the shouts and commands of the various teams trying to converge on his location. 

The sound of traffic on 83 grew louder as he tumbled down the hillside.  A final skid landed him against fencing.  Before him curved the Falls Road on ramp.  As he gasped for breath, Niles realized in horror Carver must have parked his car along the on ramp.  Once he’d disabled Cruz, he’d carried her to his car. 

He was long gone.

And so was Cruz.

© 2023 Newmin

Gule Wanders Internet Hell

Tags

action, egypt, history, plagues, travel

A single, luminous ray from the day star wormed past Niles Gule’s blackout drapes to stab at the floor.  Motes of dust danced in the beam.

Niles yawned.  Ordinarily, being a vampire, when morning struck, he retreated to his protective apartment on Lombard Street in Baltimore and slept away the daylight hours, only coming alive again at sunset.  On this morning, however, he remained awake, sitting at his desk in his immaculate, wood paneled office, his computer screen patiently awaiting his next command.  Niles’ brain was sluggish.  He’d been pushing himself hard to solve the case of suspected serial killer Master Chef Carver who was murdering and eating people in the Crab Cake Capital of the world.  The entire police department had focused its considerable eye on the problem.  They believed they found Carver’s cabin in the woods atop Catoctin Mountain where he butchered and ate his kills but hadn’t laid eyes on the elusive man himself just yet.  They didn’t even know his real name.  Carver was the screen name he used when he logged into the Zambian Meats website, a chatroom designed to bring cannibals and their victims together.

With the help of Trusty Rusty in IT, Niles had broken into the account of one of Carver’s victims, a college student named Jared Heine, but that was as far as they’d reached.  Carver remained a mystery.

Meanwhile, Niles had created an account on the website as a Chef, meaning someone interesting in killing and eating another person, hoping to find Carver somewhere in the morass of messages that filled the site.

Another yawn.   He slapped his face gently and commanded his brain to remain awake.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.  The feral cat Lenny who vaguely called Niles’ apartment home, wandered on silent paws into the room.  He gazed at Niles with large, green eyes.

Niles planted his chin in his palm.  “Back in the day when I still hunted humans for food, I would have loved this website, Lenny.  Just imagine.  A site where people volunteer to be killed and eaten.  Sure would have made hunting easier.”  He glanced at the list of active users on the site.  “I wonder how many of these chefs are vampires who’ve discovered the site?”

Lenny blinked at him but didn’t answer.

Knowing he’d never receive one from the alley cat, Niles shifted his blue gaze back to the screen.

An icon blinked, indicating an incoming direct message.

With a swallow of anxiety, Niles opened the message.

It was from someone who called themselves Sarah23.  He, or she, had contacted Niles when he was using Jared Heine’s account.  Since then, she’d found him under his new account, Ghoulish Vamp, and begun communicating with him.  Niles’ boss, Sergeant Tan Lo, had encouraged the communication.  The police needed to know everything they could about Zambian Meats and the people who lurked within its rooms.  Niles found the task revolting.  He didn’t relish lying to people.  He’d done that for too long as an active human-eating vampire during the first 150 years of his life.  He’d sworn off humans and now stuck to beef and pork.  He didn’t like the reminder of how evil he’d once been.

The message merely read:  Hi.

Niles’ fingers rested on the keyboard while he contemplated how to approach this person.  He had no idea if Sarah23 was a man or a woman, young or old, American or of some other nationality.  He wasn’t even sure if the person was serious about cannibalism.  Perhaps nothing about the website was real. 

He responded by typing:  Hi.  I’m Stan.  19.  SWM.  Never been married or divorced. In your profile you indicated you sought divorced men.  Do you only date divorcees?

Sarah23:  What?  

Niles:  In your profile, you requested DWMs to respond.

Sarah23:  D doesn’t mean divorced.  I don’t care if you’re married, single, or own a harem. I just want you to use my body for yours.

Niles frowned and scratched his forehead.  What the hell?

Niles:  Confused. What does D mean then?

Sarah23:  Oh, a newbie. *giggle* It means Dom, Daddy, whatever you want to call an older guy who likes to take control. If you’re only 19 then that probably isn’t you. I’m looking for someone in his 50s who has the experience, you know?

Niles: Experience in what?

Sarah23:  In cooking, of course. What did you think?

Niles:  I really don’t know. Can you tell me?

Sarah23:  I want an older man to take my body in any way he needs and then eat me.

Niles smiled thinly, thinking she meant the obvious.

Niles:  Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

Sarah23:  LOL What? No, silly. I want him to do it with me and then kill me, cook me, and then eat me.

Niles stared at the keyboard not knowing what to say next.  He struggled to believe people out there actually indulged in this fantasy.  He felt both sickened and fascinated.

Niles:  So, this is your fantasy, right? It’s all role play?

Sarah23:  *sigh* another one. What is wrong with you guys on this website? I was told there were people on here who do this and you’re just another fake.

Not a second later the chat window closed, and she was gone.  Niles headed for the dating section and found another SWF.  This time he was going to play along and not act so stupid.

He typed into the chat:  50 MWM looking for SWF.  Is that you?

Dla456:  Hi, I’m Darla.  I don’t do a lot of acronyms.  You’re married, white, and male?

Niles:  Yes, that’s me. My name is Drake.

Dla456:  Well, Drake, if you really are the man I’m looking for then I’m ready.  My parents kicked me out last night and I don’t have anywhere to go so I thought maybe I could meet a man like you who could take my body into his so I can live inside you forever.

Niles hesitated.  The conversation was growing tacky.  His snark rose to the forefront:  Doesn’t that mean you go out the other side?

Dla456:  No, it means we become one. It’s the closest we could ever be together. I’ve never had anyone else. You could have me that way first if you wanted to and then take my life into yours.

Niles:  You mean cook you and eat you?

Dla456:  Yes.  Hang on.  I’ll send a pic.

Startled, Niles waited.  After a minute, his box chimed, and a picture uploaded.  The girl was beautiful but young.  She couldn’t have been over 20.  Why she would want to waste her life like this was beyond Niles to understand.  Much as he longed to simply close the window and move on with his research, Niles was struck by Darla’s sense of hopelessness in life.  He detested the thought that this depressed, deluded girl might cross paths with Carver and become his next victim.

He decided he’d try to head this one off at the pass.

Niles:  Meet you tomorrow for breakfast? I’m anxious to meet you.

Dla456:  I would like that, Drake.

Niles typed his address into the box.  Before he could obtain any of her private information she logged out of the chat.

So now what?   Niles sat at his computer pondering the imponderable. 

Should I just wait around until tomorrow to see if she shows up?  Was she at home giggling with a bunch of friends or was she serious about wanting to meet up?  

He was somewhat surprised at himself for providing his actual address instead of suggesting some public place to meet.  He certainly wasn’t going to offer himself up for a meal or cannibalize her.  

Deciding he’d walked through enough seedy neighborhoods to slime his Italian suit, Niles logged out of the website.  He glanced at Lenny who sat twitching his tail and eyeing Niles like he was the cannibal interested in a snack.

“I’m losing it, Lenny,” he commented.  “Giving out my personal address to some freak show.  What if she’s really a man?  Some dude who kills people for a living?  Or murders and robs me?”

Lenny offered no solace.  He continued to stare.

Niles chuckled.  He was a vampire.  If some squirrely human did try to knock him off, that person would be in for a big surprise.

The next 12 hours passed slowly.  When Niles finally stumbled off to bed, he suffered from horrible dreams about being tossed into a pot containing human body parts that had been stewing for a while.  Pieces of meat were sloughing off the bones and becoming one with the soup which someone then fed to people at a lunch gathering.  From his eyes floating around in the stew, Niles gazed up at their eager faces scooping out pieces of him from the vat and declaring how delicious he was while his juices dribbled from their chins.

Niles woke gagging and choking.  After gaining his composure, he took a quick shower and dressed then waited for his guest to arrive.

He was startled when he heard someone knock, thinking the whole thing would turn out to be nothing.  He answered the door with some apprehension.  At the sight of the woman on his doorstep, Niles’ nerves calmed.  The lady in his hallway was more beautiful than he expected.  She was petite, about 5’1, and thin but curvy.  Her eyes were a deep green which complimented her painted red lips and auburn hair.  As he stood staring at her, he thought this woman couldn’t consider herself a long pig.  She had too much to offer the world to believe she would become someone’s meal.

“Hi, I’m Drake.”  Niles waved for her to step inside.

She shocked him by immediately hugging him.  She smelled of cinnamon, jasmine, and cloves.

Niles offered her some tea and she accepted, perhaps relieved.  Niles couldn’t know what she expected but hoped he fit the bill of what she considered a good fantasy role player.  He did, of course, keep his fridge stocked with steaks he could offer her if she was intent on a meaty breakfast.

“You don’t seem the type,” she said between her first sips of tea.

Niles decided to play things cool.  He was, after all, supposedly a competent cannibal.  “What do you mean?”

“The type to eat people.”  Her eyes flicked over him.  “I always thought that the men would either be really rough at the edges like criminals or some kind of secluded weirdo similar to Norman Bates, but you are neither. You’re pretty normal.  Handsome even.”

“Hey, that’s me.  Normal as ever.”

“Where do you want to start?” she said as she stood up and began taking off her clothes.

Niles almost spit out his tea as she took off her top and carefully placed it on the chair. “I thought we’d eat some steaks first before going to have some fun.”

She gave him a scathing glance.  “I’m ready to submit everything to you. All of me, sir.  You may do what you want but I came here for a good fucking first and then to be consumed into your flesh forever.  Your body into mine and then my body into yours.”

Niles couldn’t determine if this was part of the act, or she was for real, but this woman was beautiful and Niles was disturbed that he found her attractive.  He could well envision both bopping and eating her.  He was uncertain of what to do next as she stepped toward him with her gorgeous body completely uncovered.

“Ok, whoa,” Niles murmured, hating where his thoughts were taking him.  “You’d better put these back on.”  He handed back her clothes. “I wanted to take it slower.  Maybe get to know each other before we get intimate?”

She snatched her clothes, red lips pursed in a scowl.  Even in anger she was beautiful.  Niles really wanted to get to know this woman, but why?  Obviously, she was a bit of a mental case.

After putting on her clothes and grabbing her purse she headed to the door. She then turned around and spat, “All of you men are the same.  You’re all fakes.  You’re either looking for a one nighter or a relationship.”  And with that she left, slamming the door.

Niles stood bewildered, wondering what just happened.

Hours later the hate mail started.  Niles found his inbox on the Zambian Meats website filled with a flood of emails with ads of all kinds, most of them a mix of porn sites or for erectile dysfunction.  When he didn’t answer any of them, he started receiving messages that he was a loser and a liar.  Niles wondered why she was treating him that way given he’d treated her with respect.  Eventually, he opened a direct message to her and stated he was sorry he’d disappointed her but that he thought she was beautiful and refused to take advantage of her.

She responded with a really weird note.  It said that since she was still alive and hadn’t become eternal by being eaten by a human male she would be killed and would die in the dirt instead of inside a body.  Then the sound of a ring tone broke the silence of the apartment.  Niles answered the call. 

Darla’s voice came soft, yet vicious.  “If you were a real cannibal and had eaten me then you had children and taught them your ways of life, they would have done the same.  I would have essentially lived forever in the flesh of human DNA and soul along with countless others.” Darla cried into the phone, “Now I’ll be butchered and buried.”

“Why butchered and buried? Isn’t it your choice?”

“That’s the terms of the website. Didn’t you read them?  If I offer myself up and you don’t eat my flesh, then I am murdered. You really should have read the rules, Drake.  I’m afraid for you.”

Niles stood frozen with the phone to his ear.  He hadn’t read the rules.  He’d simply clicked on the Terms of Service like everyone did on every website.

“They’ll probably be at your door any minute now.  They’ll kill you and eat you.  Maybe if you escape, run out the back then they won’t find you!”

Just then she hung up and the doorbell rang.

Swallowing, Niles approached his door.  He peered through the peephole to find three large men standing outside his door.  The Zambian Meats enforcement patrol?  How could they have arrived that quickly?  Had Darla called them?

Reluctantly, he opened the door.  He steeled his talons for a fight.

The man directly in front of him flashed a badge in his face.  “FBI.  Mind if we come in?”

A rush of weird relief suffused Niles’ body.  Rather than invite them into his apartment, he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.  He was under no obligation to allow law enforcement into his private space.

“Can I help you?” he asked politely.

FBI Dude One scowled, not liking he’d been locked out of the apartment.  “We’re with the FBI.”

“Yes,” Niles replied urbanely.  “I can read a badge.”  He carefully drew his own badge out of his pocket.  “Just as I am Baltimore Police.”

FBI Dude One started.  He blinked in confusion before regaining his wits.  “We’re tracking predators on the internet.  Our informant led us to you.  We’d like to speak with you.  Can we go inside please?”

Niles folded his arms and leaned his back against the door.  “I’m perfectly comfortable speaking to you here.  Apparently, you and I are on the same hunt.  My department is trying to locate someone we think is a serial killer using the Zambian Meat website to locate his victims.  My supervisor, Sergeant Tan Lo, asked me to set up an account on the site and see what I could discover.”  He paused.  “Ah.  Darla.  She’s one of you.”

FBI Dude’s expression darkened.  “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

“Of course not.”  Now Niles smiled.  “You’re on the wrong trail, gentlemen.  I am not a cannibal, nor am I interested in killing anyone.  Darla should have explained that to you.”

“She did,” FBI Dude grated between clenched teeth.

Niles’ smile broadened almost into a grin.  “Then we have nothing more to discuss, do we?”

FBI Dude seemed poised to respond negatively, but at that moment, a form appeared from the stairwell.  It trundled towards them, whistling as it walked.

The person was tiny and bent over.  Long white hair nearly brushing the ground contrasted against the black suit, shirt, and tie the person wore.  He stopped when he straightened enough to see the cluster of people in the hallway.  That revealed his grotesquely pale face with dark, luminous eyes surrounded by what looked like bruising.  It was a ghoulish face, belonging more to a skeleton than anything alive.

FBI Dude blanched.

“Guldendal!” the new arrived chirped in a high, thin voice.  In doing so, he revealed two long, gleaming fangs.

All three FBI agents backed up a step.  Hands shot to weapons.

“It’s… it’s a vampire!” one of them blurted.

“His name’s Marrenstan,” Niles explained.  Then he grinned widely, revealing his own pair of fangs.  “He’s a friend.  Works here in the building keeping the rat population under control.”

Marrenstan frowned.  “Do not!” he complained.  “Rats only if nothing else.”

“Shit!  It’s one too!”  All three agents had gone as white as Marrenstan and looked around themselves as if wondering if this was real.

“Very observant of you,” Niles replied.  He didn’t move from leaning against his door.

Marrenstan danced around, never comfortable in the presence of humans.  “Got guns!” he shrieked.  “Humans got guns!” 

He whirled to run away but Niles grasped his arm and tugged him back.  Terrified, he fought Niles madly, shrieking all the while.

As the FBI agents backpedaled, a door down the hallway opened at all the noise.  A tall, thin woman with jet black hair in a blunt cut, unnaturally pale face, and black eyes glared at the commotion.  When she saw Niles, her pale lips parted into a smile, revealing another set of fangs.

“Jesus!” complained FBI Dude Three.  “Another one.”  All three agents were backing away.

Niles continued to grin.  “Didn’t know you’d stumbled into a vampire nest, did you?”  He gestured at the hallway.  “Be careful!  This building is thirteen stories with hundreds of apartments.  How many vampires could it hold?”

That did it for the agents.  Faces white, they bolted for the elevator.

Marrenstan stopped fighting Niles to watch them run.  Once they’d disappeared behind the elevator doors, he scowled at Niles.  “Not a rat catcher,” he insisted.

“No,” Niles chuckled, throwing his arm around the tiny vampire’s shoulders.  “But you make a good pest control product.”

© 2023 Newmin

Gule is Dead Meat

Tags

cannibal, fantasy, horror, writing

“Any luck?” Baltimore Police Detective Mariella Cruz asked her boss, Sergeant Tan Lo, when he approached her desk in the detective’s bullpen.
Lo’s dark, angular face was twisted with anger. Bruised patches beneath each eye revealed his exhaustion. “No. We’ve covered that damned cabin twenty-four seven for a week straight. Nothing moving except some squirrels.”
“Maybe instead of physical surveillance, we should install cameras. Watch from afar,” Cruz suggested.
Lo grunted. “I’ll ask for money to cover that in the next budget proposal.”
Cruz’s partner, the vampire Niles Gule, rested his chin on his hand. “I’m not surprised we haven’t seen our quarry. Master Chef Carver doesn’t kill every day. He takes months to groom his victims and entice them to his cabin.” Niles glanced at the date on his computer screen. “Only ten days since the last victim turned up. He’s got time.”
“We don’t!” huffed Lo. “I’m getting crucified by the Mayor, the Chief of Police, and half the citizenry of this fine city.” He thumped a finger on Niles’ desk. “We’ve gotta find this guy!” His eyes narrowed when he noted the website on Niles’ screen. “Having any luck with the Zambian Meats site?”
Niles flicked a glance at the screen. Zambian Meats was a site that could only be found on the dark web. A person needed to know where it lurked to find it. A simple Google search wouldn’t suffice.
The site’s color scheme didn’t evoke a sense of comfort. The background was black while most of the typeface was a sinister, bloody red. It was more of a chatroom than a website. Individuals who deemed themselves cannibals paid for membership. Meanwhile, troubled souls who thought being killed and eaten would resolve their woes, could create accounts for free. Then cannibal and would-be meal danced the same dance as singles folks on a dating site. Days or weeks or months of chatting would either lead to a meeting or the relationship would drift away.
Niles could not determine if the people on the site spoke of genuine activity. Master Chef Carver, the serial killer the police were seeking, claimed he’d murdered and eaten numerous people, thus earning himself the title Master Chef. He even owned a remote cabin in the woods with a barbeque pit big enough to roast a human. To a telephone pole overlooking the cabin, he’d nailed a dozen shoes of various types, possibly advertising his kills.
But Niles couldn’t be certain any of it was real. People developed wild fantasies and with the internet now could find places to indulge those fantasies with other like-minded people.
He said as much to Cruz and Lo.
“Not helpful, Gule!” Lo complained.
Niles clicked his mouse, paging through the website. “I suspect ninety percent of the chatter on the site is just sick people amusing themselves. Some of the proposed victims had been posting for up to a year, which means they haven’t been eaten.”
Lo planted a fist on his hip. “So, now you’re thinking this was a wild goose chase? No cannibals on Zambian Meats?”
“I’m not saying that at all,” Niles demurred. He flipped to a different browser tab. “I dug into some of the names, dates, and locations to determine if anyone on this site was telling the truth. I found this.” He gestured to his screen.
Both Cruz and Lo scuttled behind him to peer at what he’d found.
Niles translated the page, which was written in German. “In 2013, police in Dresden, Germany, arrested a 55-year-old police officer on suspicion of murdering and butchering a man he met on Zambian Meats, a chat forum where people discuss their sexual and cannibalistic fantasies. Text messages and online chats revealed the 59-year-old victim from Hanover asked to be killed.”
“You’re fluent in German?” Cruz sputtered.
Niles shot her a hard look from his blue eyes. “Ja. I took a crash course back in 1943. Wanted to help with the war effort. The folks in Army Intelligence took one look at me and declared I’d make the perfect Nazi. Good for infiltrating the enemy.”
Startled, Lo studied the long, lanky vampire with his pale face, blond hair, and brilliant blue gaze. “Yeah. I can see that.”
Cruz leaned in, eyes shining. “Were you a spy?”
A smile tried to curl his lips, but Niles fought it down. “If I revealed that, I’d have to kill you.”
Cruz laughed.
Lo growled, “Business people. Business.” He tapped the screen.
Niles returned to reading the article. “Dresden Police Chief Dieter Kroll said at a news conference: ‘The victim had been fantasizing about being killed and eaten since his youth.’
“After having been in contact for months through chat, e-mail, telephone and text, the men agreed to meet on November 4. They met at Dresden’s main train station, then went to a guesthouse in the Ore Mountains that belongs to the alleged killer. The police officer is believed to then have tortured, killed, and dismembered the man, and buried his body parts on the land around his guesthouse.
“The victim was reported missing in November. The police officer gave a partial confession by admitting that he killed the man from Hanover. He did not reveal his motive.
“The police officer was arrested two days ago while on duty. ‘It is an utterly extraordinary case. It will take a while to find out the truth about what really happened and why he did it,’ Kroll said.”
When Niles finished translating, Lo drew a heavy breath.
“So, some of it is real,” he muttered.
Niles nodded. He pointed to a second Google result. “He’s not the only one. In 2001, Armin Meiwes was arrested for killing and eating a voluntary victim he met on the Internet. Meiwes posted an advertisement on the Cannibal Cafe website, looking for a young man for ‘slaughter and consumption.’ His victim, Bernd Brandes, reportedly agreed to be butchered alive before being killed and eaten.”
Cruz shuddered. She returned to her seat. “This is even sicker than I thought.”
Lo folded his arms. “I’m inclined to believe Carver has used this site to lure and murder his victims. Given the evidence outside his cabin, I’d also say he probably roasted and ate portions of his kills. We’ve got the barbeque pit and we’ve got three bodies missing large parts of themselves.”
Cruz tilted her head. “Did forensics find human DNA on the bits of meat in the pit?”
A scowl. “No. The material we removed from the pit was too badly scorched to determine source. Could have been human. Or it could have been a side of ham.” Lo, already a short man, seemed to shrink further as exhaustion weighed on his shoulders.
Niles wished he possessed the words to comfort his weary boss. But chasing Carver was like chasing a shadow. He seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time.
He frowned. A popup window chirped on his screen.
Niles didn’t recognize it or know where it had come from. The box contained a link in the middle of a blank 400×400 pixel window that read “Find Like Minded People” with a generic link to a domain Niles didn’t know. It was just a bunch of numbers and letters followed by a dot and some random domain suffix. Very faintly in the background of the window was a picture of the words “LONG PIG” and a torso of what could either be a human or an animal hanging on a hook.
“What’s a long pig?” he asked no one.
Lo leaned in. “What?”
Niles gestured to the link.
“Click it,” Lo commanded.
With trepidation, Niles did so.
The screen shifted to a new website. The opening picture was of a couple sitting at a dining table, her hand in his and looking lovingly into his eyes. On their plates were pictures of what appeared to be roasted human body parts. Her plate held what looked like a roasted hand and his a severed head with no eyes, cooked to almost burnt with what might have been a reddish BBQ sauce covering where the hair should be.
“This can’t be real, can it?” Lo mewed.
“A website for online fake cannibalistic daters to meet and greet and then talk about their fantasies?” Niles queried. “I don’t know.”
Cruz stared with wide, shocked eyes. “These are just actors with props, right? How could something like this be real and so easily available?”
Niles lifted his hands in surrender.
The site offered two links: Enter and Get Lost. Under the word “enter” in very small print, it added that by entering the website the user does so at their own risk. The owners of the website cannot be held responsible for whatever happens to people once they log in.
“Log in, Gule,” Lo said quietly.
With a nod, almost holding his breath, Niles did so.
The website looked like a regular phpBB forum, the typical format for most online chat fora. It didn’t have any special graphics or anything weird. Niles noted a few general topics about everyday stuff like work and family. Then, when he scrolled down to a group that said “Are you sure you want this? 18+ only” he clicked on it.
“Anyone can access this site,” he breathed in surprise. “No pathetic attempt to even try to block minors.”
Immediately the look of the forum changed. It went from the standard blue and white generic forum page to a black background with red print. The topics were Meetups, Dating, Recipes, Beginner Chefs, D/s, and Hunting. In each of the four corners it offered pictures of what looked like steaks and bodies hung upside down.
Niles reluctantly clicked on recipes.
Most links and pictures looked pretty normal. He found recipes for stews, roasts, broiled steaks, salads, and drinks. As he scrolled further, he noticed the more unusual recipe topics included sweetbreads, brains, liver, kidneys, and heart. Next to each topic was a picture of the human body with a diagram to where these body organs could be found. Niles hesitated, feeling sick, even as a vampire who’d once killed humans for a living.
After he regained his composure, he clicked out of that section and went to dating. He wanted to know what kind of people were into this disgusting fantasy world. He was surprised to find over 250,000 messages in the dating section alone. Most appeared to be hungry singles and whatever else might be looking for a date. Lines of phrases like “44, SWM, looking for dating the right woman”, “GBM looking for GWM who can cook,” “DM is hungry,” “SWF, first time,” and one that caught his attention: “Young SWF ready to submit.”
As he sat staring at the screen, a new posting appeared, addressed to Jared Heine, the account Niles was using to access the site.
“SWF, just turned 18, looking for DWM. I am ready to commit. Take me, I’m yours. I want you to eat me.”
Niles swallowed. He turned questioning eyes towards his boss. “What do you want me to do?”
Lo’s face contorted as he attempted to assimilate the concept of this site.
“Answer her,” he finally said.
So Niles did.

© 2023 Newmin

Gule and Cruz Head Deeper into the Woods

Tags

fantasy, featured, travel

A heavy darkness hung over the Crab Cake Capital of the World as Baltimore police detectives Mariella Cruz and her vampire partner Niles Gule drove away from the city.  The population remained on edge because a serial killer prowled the streets.  The police suspected a person they called Master Chef Carver had murdered three people.  And then eaten them.  Well, parts of them.  Mostly legs and a few internal organs.  The idea that a cannibalistic serial killer roved Baltimore sent shock waves of panic through the city.  Those folks who could escape–retirees, vagrants, and other mobile people–had fled, leaving behind those with jobs, the poor, and the immobile.  People hunkered down in their homes, refusing to venture out at night.  The mayor, the press, and a million phone calls from citizens demanded action from the police.

Which was why Niles and Cruz were driving west.  They’d caught a lead and were determined to bring it to ground.

As she peered into the darkness through the windshield, Cruz munched on chicken nuggets and fretted about their errand.

“A piece of me hopes we don’t find Mr. Carver,” she said between bites.  “I’m not sure how I’ll feel facing a cannibal.”

“We don’t know he’s really a cannibal,” Niles replied, his blue eyes gazing out at the rumpled hills that slid past the whizzing car.  “The Zambian Meats website could be someone’s sick fantasy.”

“We’ve got three dead people missing big parts of their bodies.  Sounds like more than a fantasy to me.”  She signaled and changed lanes before asking, “Any activity on Master Chef Carver’s account?”

Niles tapped his talons against the dashboard.  “Not that I can determine.  Of course, Rusty only hacked into Jared Heine’s account which gave me access to Carver’s chats with him.  Rusty hasn’t had any luck breaking into Carver’s account yet.  And since Carver would know Heine is now dead, given that he probably murdered and ate the poor kid, he would have no reason to continue to post comments to Heine.  I’m sure Carver’s picked up on the press coverage as well.  Most killers monitor the news to glean information about the police on their trail.  Carver must know we’ve broken into Zambian Meats.”

Cruz started.  “I thought we’d held back the name of the website.  No one should be reporting on it.”

Niles nodded.  “True.  But today’s headline in the Sun was Cannibals Loose in Baltimore!  Carver must realize we’ve found his disposal site and excavated his prior kills.  He must also know that we’ve tied the three deaths together and linked them in some way to cannibalistic behavior.  It doesn’t take a genius to leap to the conclusion we’ve found Zambian Meats.”

“True.”

“We can’t have too many cannibals in Baltimore.  Ergo, he’ll know we’re tracking him.”

“Let’s hope he’s the only one!”  Cruz shook her head to clear it of unpleasant thoughts.

Niles didn’t respond, but he did agree with her.  A single cannibal in a city was one cannibal too many.

Flying at almost one hundred miles an hour along Interstate 70, the pair made good time given the light traffic of early morning.  Frederick flashed by as a blur of lights surrounding the highway before it, too, passed behind them.

“Slow down,” Niles murmured.  “Exit at 40.”

Cruz buzzed off the highway and followed Niles’ directions.  Numerous turns brought them finally to Gambril Park Road, where Niles suspected Carver’s hidden cabin might be.  He was working off instinct as much as logic.  According to Carver’s postings, his cabin was nestled deep in woods with lots of empty space around it.  Since Maryland held only so much raw, forested land, Niles had sent them to the closest patch, Catoctin Mountain.  They were looking for a needle in a haystack and yet Niles felt certain they were on the right track.

A pale, pink dawn, promising a cloudless day, spread misty light across the landscape as Niles and Cruz drove through heavy woods up the ridge of South Mountain.  The mountain was really a series of high, rolling hills covered with forest.  Most of it was federal or state parkland but some of it was privately owned.  Buried somewhere within its thousands of acres were the secret bunkers developed to protect members of the US government in the event of a nuclear war.  Camp David, the vacation home of presidents, also called Catoctin home.  Niles hoped they wouldn’t need to drive that far.

Cruz slowed so that they could scan for side roads.  Fortunately, for their scavenger hunt, side roads were few and far between.  When they approached one, Cruz stopped while Niles studied the two mailboxes.

“Carver told Heine he’d painted a fish on his mailbox,” Niles said.   “That’s how Heine would find the right place.”

“Not seeing fish,” Cruz replied.  She put the car back in gear and continued up the road.

Two more side roads passed.  One didn’t have mailboxes, the other did but none with a fish.  Up the mountain the pair chugged, both hopeful they’d find their fish and yet dreading it.

Another road.  No fishy mailbox.

“I think we’re on the wrong road,” Cruz sighed.

Niles shrugged.  “Probably.  But let’s keep looking.”

Gambril Park Road took them to a lookout which granted them a panoramic view of Frederick a thousand feet below them.  The small city shimmered with lights as the world began to awaken and life returned to millions of homes.  Another twist in the road carried them past a Tibetan meditation center.

“Our dude could use some meditation,” Cruz commented, driving on.  “Might help with his eating disorder.”

Niles grunted a laugh.  “Eating disorder,” he repeated.

After another handful of miles, they approached yet another side road to the left.  Cruz slowed.  Then she stopped.  And gulped.  A blue trout was flaking away from the sole mailbox marking the road.

“Jesus,” she whispered.  “Could it really be the place?”

Niles swallowed.  “Fits the description.”  He twisted around to peer out the various car windows.  Total darkness and woods enveloped them.  Not a light to be seen in either direction of the road.  Carver had wanted an out-of-the-way location to butcher his victims.  This place fit the bill.

“Ideas?”  Cruz gazed at her partner with luminous, spooked dark eyes.

“If we charge in there with guns blazing, Carver could duck into the woods and run.  We’d never catch him in this terrain.”  Niles considered.  “Park here.  Let’s walk in.  See if we can catch him unawares.”

With a nod, Cruz shut off the engine and exited the vehicle.  Niles followed more slowly, unpeeling himself from the small car.   Once he was upright, he nodded to his partner and set off down the gravel road. 

The lane didn’t see much use.  Weeds were growing in patches in the center of it as it twisted deeper into the woods.  By now the sun had topped the horizon and spread tendrils of light through the thick leaf cover.  Wisps of mist drifted silently through the bracken.  A cloudless sky promised a beautiful day ahead.

As they walked, their feet crunching on the stones, both Niles and Cruz grew steadily more wary.  The location was indeed perfect for a serial murderer to hide from the world.  Nothing of human origin revealed itself in the dense undergrowth.  With the day just beginning, songbirds began their morning chorus, filling the vast tract with fluting tunes.  Small animals in search of breakfast shuffled through last year’s spent leaves.  The cloying scent of honeysuckle perfumed the air.  The walk should have been relaxing, and yet Niles felt tension building between his shoulder blades.  What would they find in the cabin ahead?  How foolish were they to have attempted this approach without backup? 

Niles tugged his cellphone from his pocket and swallowed.  “No bars,” he murmured, waving the phone at Cruz.

Her face tightened.  She was clenching her jaw.  She nodded but didn’t respond.

They’d walked about a half a mile down the forlorn track. 

Crack!

A gunshot.

Niles ducked.  Cruz nearly face-planted into the dirt.

Instantly, she pulled her service pistol.  Niles drew the only weapon he possessed, his silver vampire hunting knife. 

Using hand gestures, Cruz suggested they spread apart to make themselves harder targets.  Niles wordlessly nodded and edged to the right side of the trail while Cruz took the left.  Half crouching, they continued forward, hearts pounding, blood rushing in their ears, all senses on high alert.

A trembling filled Niles’ body as he considered what easy marks they made.  If Carver was home and had somehow learned of their approach, he could hide in the woods and shoot them at his leisure.  Niles hadn’t seen a tripwire that might have triggered an alarm in the cabin, but that didn’t mean Carver hadn’t set up some sort of electronic surveillance to warn him that someone was walking on his driveway.  Niles’ eyes swept right and left, staring hard into the underbrush in search of his quarry.  Daylight filled the woods now, granting Cruz clearer vision but reducing Niles’.  He squinted, cursing he’d left his sunglasses in the car.

They continued forward, bodies tense, every inch of them ready for an attack.

But it never came.

The track opened onto a small clearing little larger than the cabin that stood within it.  Niles and Cruz halted.  With gestures, they communicated to kneel and wait.  Holding his breath, Niles scanned the cabin for signs of activity.

The building was rustic, little more than an unpainted shed.  Vines scrambled around one of the windows which was black with dirt.  The roof sagged beneath a fall of rotting leaves and pine needles.  Small trees and shrubs had taken root and were struggling to survive seven feet in the air.  The cabin looked forlorn, abandoned.  And yet someone had mowed enough of the bracken to keep the little clearing open.  Niles scented the air for human odors.  He picked up the smell of a spent fire, days old but nothing else.  His sharp, predatory hearing caught only the sounds of the forest.

“Anything?” Cruz whispered.  She knew her partner could pick up sounds and smells she could not.

Wordlessly, he shook his head.

They continued to wait, crouching, but nothing moved in the cabin or of substance in the surrounding woods.

“Gunshot might have been hunters,” Cruz offered, still in a whisper.

Niles shrugged.  He didn’t want to bet her life on it.

So they held position as the sun mounted the sky.

Finally, Cruz’s knees could take holding that position no longer.  She stood up but kept her pistol ready.  Following her lead, Niles also stood.  Cautiously, they approached the cabin.

Nothing moved inside it.

Niles drifted left while Cruz moved right.  With careful steps, they worked a pattern around the cabin, forever ready to be ambushed.  But nothing happened.

Finally, when they met at the back of the cabin, they both eased their stance.

“Looks like no one’s home,” Cruz said.  She holstered her weapon.

Niles shoved his knife into his sheath.  “Let’s check it out.”

Together, they returned to the front yard.  Cruz plugged Niles with an elbow and pointed.  There, just within the trees, stood a telephone pole, weathered by time.  No lines ran to it.  Instead, it was decorated by an array of shoes nailed to it.  Sneakers.  Boots.  Sandals.  Men’s and women’s.  Niles counted twelve, all unique as if the person who’d nailed them there chose to only hang one of each pair.

“Holy shit!” Cruz breathed.  “Do you suppose those belong to his victims?”

Niles shook his head.  “No idea.” 

He followed a small trail into the woods a few feet.  It brought them to a large pit.  The pit was surrounded by a wall of neatly stacked cinder block over top of which lay steel grating blackened by numerous fires.  The belly of the pit was filled with ash and char.  Niles drew in through his nose.

“Three days old,” he said.

Cruz lifted a brow.  “About the time of Heine’s murder.”  She shuddered as she gazed at the barbeque pit, for it could be nothing else.  “Do you suppose Carver roasted him on this?”

“Maybe.”  Niles leaned close and smelled the tiny bits of charred meat stuck to the grating.  “Could be human.  Hard to tell.  The smell of the forest and the ashes overwhelms the scent.”

Swallowing, Cruz gestured to the cabin.  They approached it with caution, not willing to assume Carver wasn’t home.  They tried the door.  It opened easily. 

“No warrant,” Cruz murmured.

With a chagrined nod, Niles peered into the cabin to catch what he could from the doorway.  The space was Spartan.  A scuffled, wooden floor lay bare without any rugs or carpet.  A single dinette table and two chairs took up the center of the space.  To the left was a primitive kitchen with a dry sink.  No bedrooms.  No bathrooms.  The space was as ascetic as they came.

“Not seeing anything we can declare evidence,” he said.  “Can’t enter.”

Cruz huffed.  She backed up and closed the door.

Retreating to the middle of the clearing, she stood with her hands on her hips while she glared at the hateful little cabin.

“This has to be it,” she said.  “Carver’s getaway.”

Niles nodded.  “Indeed.”

“What do we do?” 

“Not much we can do at the moment,” Niles replied.  “Let’s get back to civilization where we can call this in.  See what Lo wants us to do.”

Cruz gazed at the woods now rustling with a breeze.  The sun was rising, endangering her partner.  “Times up for you.  We need to get you under cover.”  She tromped for the road.

With his long legs, Niles quickly caught up with her, glad to duck back under the protection of the woods.  The shadows would keep the worst of the wicked day star from burning him.

“Ideas?” Cruz asked as she huffed along.

“Set up surveillance,” Niles suggested.  “Wait for our suspect to return.”

“With another victim?” Cruz mewed.  “What if he kills them before he brings them here?”

“Doubtful.”  Niles waited while she unlocked the car.  “He told Heine to come here.  So he entices his victims to this remote spot where he can murder them at his leisure.  What we don’t know is his timing.  Judging by the bodies we’ve found, he strikes about once a month.”

Cruz settled behind the driver’s wheel.  She started the car.  “So that means we’ve got three weeks to find him.  Before he kills again.”

Niles nodded grimly.  “Assuming he keeps to schedule.”

“Holy Mary,” Cruz breathed.  She turned the car around and headed down the mountain.  “We’ve got us a big problem.”

“Indeed we do, Mari,” Niles sighed.  “Indeed we do!”

© 2023 Newmin

Gule and Cruz Venture Into the Woods

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blog, books, fantasy, history, travel

Niles Gule blinked bleary, bloodshot eyes as he rubbed his temple to ease a headache.  At the desk that abutted his face-to-face sat his partner, Mariella Cruz, looking equally weary.  The pair of Baltimore detectives were on the hunt for a serial killer who called himself Master Chef Carver on a website designed to bring cannibals and their victims together.   The police suspected Carver of murdering and partially consuming three people found dumped beside a tow yard out by the Pulaski Highway in East Baltimore.  Niles and Cruz had drawn the original case when it had consisted of a single body.  Once two more were added, a taskforce gathered to attack the problem.  Both detectives now worked on the taskforce exclusively.  All other cases had been temporarily shuffled off to other departments.

“Getting anywhere?” Cruz asked, her voice soft and tired.  She scrubbed her face with her palms to liven herself up.

Niles gazed balefully at his computer screen.  “After three days of hopelessly pounding my head against a wall, I was about to give up trying to crack this damned website.”

“But?” his partner asked hopefully.

A grim smile curled the vampire’s pale lips.  “Trusty Rusty in IT came through.”

“Gotta love Rusty,” Cruz replied.

Niles’ smile deepened.  Rusty had never hidden his puppy love for Cruz.  The lad would gaze at the Latina with swooning eyes every time he visited the detective’s bullpen.  Unfortunately, the thin, freckle-faced genius held no allure for Cruz.  His not-so-subtle attempts to woo her had bounced off her like bullets off Superman.

He was, however, brilliant in cracking cases via his computer.  He’d hacked the Zambian Meats website enough to give Niles control of Jared Heine’s account.  Heine was one of the victims Niles suspected had been murdered by Master Chef Carver.  Niles was convinced Heine had encountered Carver on the Zambian Meats website, and the pair had struck up a friendship which had led to Carver murdering and possibly eating Heine.

“I’m in as Heine,” he explained, returning his long, slender fingers to his keyboard.  He brought up Heine’s chat history.  Planting his chin in his cupped palm, Niles read the sordid conversation between Heine and Carver.

“They hooked up in late winter,” he said.  “Heine was depressed about failing all his college classes.  He was basically venting to the universe on this site.”

“Why would anyone choose a cannibals’ website for venting?” Cruz asked.  She sipped coffee while she gazed at her partner.

“Sometimes a man just needs someone to listen to him,” Niles replied.  He knew much about loneliness and depression, being the sole vampire in Baltimore living amongst humans who didn’t completely understand him.  “Heine must have fallen into this site somehow and began wailing about how miserable his life was.”  Niles rubbed his brow.  “Painful reading.  Heine was floundering, looking for support and comfort and this is what he got.”

“Why not turn to family or friends?” Cruz mused, not expecting an answer.

“According to Heine’s postings, he didn’t feel like they were supporting him.  He claims his mom was disappointed in his performance and was riding on him to bring up his grades.  Friends brushed it all off as not important.  Just a get a job at a garage.  Work at Walmart.  Those sorts of comments.”

Cruz eased back in her chair.  “I’ll bet that’s not really what they said.”

“Probably not,” Niles agreed.  “But the boy was depressed.  His perception of the world was skewed.  He took their encouragement as criticism which just depressed him that much more.  Meanwhile, here in La La Land, Carver was telling him everything he wanted to hear.  You’re special.  No one understands just how unique you are.  Your talents are being wasted on that stupid schoolwork.  You can be so much more!”

Cruz pretended to stick a finger down her throat.  “Sickening.  A predator grooming his prey.”

“Exactly.”

Niles continued reading the postings.  “Took about two months for Carver to nudge Heine towards suicide.  I’ll give the creep credit; he’s good at what he does.  He subtly hinted that Heine would be better off somewhere else.  That somewhere else eventually became death.  Heine appears to have shifted from merely feeling sorry for himself to actively considering suicide about a month ago.  That’s when Carver twisted and brought up the whole cannibal thing.”

“One wonders why Heine didn’t just run shrieking,” Cruz commented.  She nibbled on a cracker.

“He was too deeply into it by then.  Carver was really working him.  Always online every time Heine logged in.  Always ready with a metaphysical shoulder to cry on.  By the time they spoke about suicide and being eaten, Heine was one confused boy.  Carver convinced him that being eaten by another human was the ultimate experience.  He’d become one with Carver, literally incorporated into his tissues.  Heine responded to that.”

Cruz screwed her face up in disgust.  “I can’t imagine it.  He must have been one messed up pup.”

“Apparently, he was.” Niles drew a heavy sigh.  “Two weeks ago, Carver started discussing logistics.  He claims he owns a cabin in the woods somewhere in Maryland.  He describes it in detail.  Rustic, but with electricity and water.  On three acres of woodland.  Secluded.  He says he furnished it with a table and two chairs.  A bedroom.  No kitchen.  He says he does his barbequing outside in a pit.”

Cruz swallowed.  “Disturbing.  Does he give an address?”

“No.”  Niles almost spat the word.  “I’m not sure how he conveyed that to Heine, but he must have at some point because Heine agreed to meet him there.  Carver told him he’d know he’d found the right cabin if a pole with shoes nailed to it stood near the front door.”  Niles paused in his reading.  “Shoes nailed to a pole?”

“I wonder if they belong to his prior victims.”  Cruz shuddered.

Niles spread his hands.  “Don’t know.  The postings stopped at that point, presumably because Heine went to the cabin where Carver killed and ate part of him.”

Cruz pretended to dance in her chair as if she could wave away the slime of their case.  “How do we find this cabin?”

Niles switched to a generic map website and honed in on Maryland.  “Let’s assume Carver was telling the truth.  He has a cabin somewhere in the woods of Maryland on enough land that his gourmet indulgences aren’t discovered.  Based on Carver’s description, I’m guessing it’s west of the city.”  He studied the map.  “Maryland doesn’t have a ton of deep woodlands on to the east or down the Delmarva peninsula, so those places are out.  The closest stretch of extensive woodlands west of here is Catoctin.”

“Yeah, but the whole panhandle is nothing but woods and mountains,” Cruz said as she rounded the desk to peer at the maps.  “I always called it West Virginialand, because the culture is more like that of West Virginia than Maryland.  How are we going to find one cabin in thousands of acres of woods?”

Niles considered the map.  He traced the border between Virginia and Maryland with a talon.  “Hancock is three hours travel from here.  Add in the mountains west and any trip would take up to five hours.  Would Carver really entice his victims all the way out there, murder and eat them, then transport them back to Baltimore to bury them?  Doesn’t make sense.”

Cruz peered at the map.  “What are you thinking then?”

Niles tapped the dark green of Catoctin.  “I’m thinking he’s got a place around here.  It’s only an hour’s drive.”

“But why bring the bodies back here?” Cruz demanded.  “Why not just bury them in the woods?”

Niles pondered that question.  “I’m thinking like a predator now.”  He shot her a look from his brilliant blue eyes.  “Don’t hold it against me.”

Cruz grinned.  She squeezed his shoulder.  “Never.  Your unique perspective is useful.  What are you thinking, as a predator?”

“We don’t foul our nests.  So he wouldn’t bury them on his own land.  Too dangerous.  But he can’t bury them nearby either.”  Niles finger tapped the screen.  “A national park.  A state park.  Camp David, home of the presidential vacation.  Means a lot of people coming and going.  If Carver’s cabin borders on popular public land, he’d be nervous someone would discover his cache.  Better to dump them here in Baltimore.  Lots of people to confuse the situation.”

Cruz planted a fist on her hip.  “What’s our plan?”

Niles considered the map.  “How about we wander out there and take a look around?  Might get lucky.”

Cruz shuddered.  “I’m not sure meeting Carver face to face would be lucky.”

Niles considered the hour.  Morning would be dawning in about three hours.  They could search the area during early light before the sun became too bright for him.

“Are you game?” he asked.

Cruz’s luscious red mouth curved into a grin.  “When am I not?”

Niles mirrored her smile.  He shut down his computer, threw his jacket around his shoulders, and headed for the door.

Snatching up her car keys, Cruz shot after him.

The pair of detectives steeled themselves.

They didn’t know what they’d find deep in the woods.  They both just knew that as much as they wanted to find something, they were really hoping they wouldn’t.

© 2023 Newmin

Gule Discovers a New Butcher Shop

The Baltimore Police Department now operated in crisis mode because a suspected serial killer walked its streets.  A seemingly minor call from a security guard at Frankford’s Towing had exploded into an investigation into multiple murders.  Someone was stabbing people, dismembering them, then burying them in a forest that edged the tow yard.  So far, the police had uncovered three victims, one having been dead for several months, the second perhaps a month old, and the latest only dead two days.  The police were on the hunt for anyone who’d made contact with the third victim, Jared Heine, in hopes they could follow leads towards his killer.

While teams scoured the forest near the tow yard for additional disposal sites, the captain gathered a task force to tackle the investigation which had veered down a very dark turn.

Niles Gule and his partner, Mariella Cruz, took seats at the front of the conference room for the next meeting of the taskforce.  Given they’d been assigned the original case for Victim One, they were automatically added to the overall investigation. 

Sergeant Tan Lo, head of the night shift, stood at the front of the room along with the captain, the head of day shift, and several members of the mayor’s administration, there to ensure nothing cast a bad light on their boss.  At the back of the room, a single reporter from the Sun had been granted access to the meetings so long as all he did was take notes.  No recordings or photographs allowed.  The scratching of his pen on a pad of paper tickled Niles’ predatory hearing.

Lo gestured to a television screen on which the photo of a man in his early forties appeared. 

“Based on dental records,” the sergeant explained, “we’ve identified Victim One as Jorge Venzaga, forty-two years old, Hispanic, from Dundalk.  His family declared him missing three months ago after he failed to return from a camping trip.  The medical examiner estimates he was killed approximately three months ago which fits with his disappearance.  Dr Sheridan suspects he died of a stabbing, but given the state of decomposition, she cannot be sure.  She can state that the bones indicate a knife was used on them at some point before, at, or shortly after death.”

“Let’s hope it was after,” uniformed Officer Jonas Williams murmured in Niles’ ear.

“Amen,” whispered the vampire.

Lo continued.  “Virtually all the soft tissue has decomposed, so we can’t know how he died.  However, the skeleton showed signs of butchery.  The man’s legs were missing.”

Silence met this announcement.  The reporter’s pen scratched furiously.

Lo asked for the next picture to be projected.  A perky, blond woman gazed out at them with soft blue eyes.

“Candy Lynn Radcliff, Caucasian, twenty-one years old.  She’s our second victim.  Murdered approximately a month ago.  She was a runaway throughout her teen years so when she disappeared yet again, her family didn’t start to panic until two weeks passed.  Only then did they realize she wasn’t calling begging for money or to come home like she usually did.  Her drug of choice is heroin, but she’ll take anything she can get.”

Detective Krewelski raised a hand.  “Any indication she was involved in prostitution?”

“Not that we know of,” Lo replied.  “Although her family won’t rule it out.  They said she could get pretty desperate for her next fix.  Ordinarily, she’d rob her family of objects she could pawn.  But as we all know, drug addicts will do whatever it takes to grab that next hit.”

“How about Venzaga?” Niles asked.  “Any drug use with him?  Any links to prostitution?”

“Yes and no,” the sergeant replied.  “Yes, Venzaga used drugs, although he seems to have stuck to prescription narcotics.  He was a doctor shopper and obtained his vice legally.  No known links to prostitution.”

Krewelski’s face fell.  He shot Niles a look.  “Was hoping for a connection there.”

The photo shifted again, this time to a young Black man with a dark goatee.

“Our last victim, Jared Heine,” Lo explained.  “Twenty-two, dark complexioned Black man.  Was a college student at UMBC, but he was failing all his classes and didn’t expect to return in the fall.  His family reported him missing one day after he disappeared.  Tight group, that one.  According to his social media accounts, he was deeply depressed about his failure at college.”

Cruz lifted her hand.  “Same question: links to drugs?”

“None that we know of,” Lo answered.  “His mother rode him like a cowboy on a bronco.  She insists Jared didn’t do any drugs or anything illegal.  He was just depressed.”

Niles flipped through files on his lap, one for each victim while Lo continued through the predetermined briefing, repeating information Niles already knew.  He was after a connection.  Something must have brought these three individuals into the orbit of a serial killer.  But one came from Dundalk on the south end of the city, the second from Midtown, and the last from the western suburbs.  Only Venzaga had a job, in a meat packing plant.  Candy was a stray while Jared was nominally a college student.  So what had brought these three people together?

His finger landed on a sentence in Candy’s file.  He lifted his head.

“Depression,” he blurted.

Lo paused.  He turned his dark eyes on the only vampire on his staff.  “Excuse me?”

Niles hesitated, realizing he’d interrupted the flow of discussion.  “Depression,” he repeated.  “I was calculating what’s similar between these three people, given they are different races, ages, genders, members of varying socioeconomic communities, and so forth.  The only common denominator is that all three of them complained of depression over the past year.”

Williams twisted in his seat to gaze balefully at the vampire beside him.  “Are you suggesting our suspect seeks out depressed people?”

“Why not?” Niles asked.  “Predators seek the easy target.  The wounded.  The sick.  The defenseless.  People suffering from mental illness can be easy marks.”

“Says the vampire,” Williams muttered.

“And knowledgeable about predators,” Lo snapped in Niles’ defense.  “We should listen to him.”  He gestured to Niles.  “Let’s hear what you’ve uncovered, Gule.”

With a flick of his finger Niles requested control of the television screen be shifted to his laptop.  A website composed predominantly of black background with blood red typeface filled the screen.  A grinning pink pig cavorted in the upper left corner next to the site’s name Zambian Meats, the #1 site for exotic meats.

Niles rose to stand beside Lo for his report.  “While investigating the life of Jared Heine, I stumbled across this website.  Contrary to its name, which implies one can purchase exotic food from Africa, the site is basically a chatroom, like the Telegram app or Twitter, but you won’t find it with a Google search.  You have to know where it is to find it.  I found it by following Heine’s travels through cyberspace.  Heine was an enrolled member and spent a lot of time posting to the site.”

“Did you find anything useful?” Williams asked.  He loathed the internet and didn’t own a computer.

“Unfortunately, yes.”  Niles swallowed.  “This site is off the radar for a reason.  As I said, it doesn’t offer to sell you zebra meat.  Instead, it’s something of a dating site, if you will.  For cannibals.”

Drawn breaths hissed through the room.  His statement sent a rustle of consternation through the assembled crowd.  His sharp hearing caught whispers from some of the detectives and uniformed officers.  He heard swearing from the mayor’s assistant. 

“I didn’t know cannibals dated,” Williams quipped.

Cruz plugged him with an elbow.  “If anyone would know about that, you would.”

Williams scowled at her then turned his attention forward again.

Niles continued.  “This site purports to be a safe place for cannibals to gather.  It offers handy advice about how to butcher a human being and lots of recipes.”

“That’s just sick!” Krewelski complained.

Williams’ gray eyes glared hard at Niles.  “Did vampires create this site?”

Niles growled low in his throat to convey his disapproval.  “No.  Vampires eat raw meat.”

Cruz was squinting at the posting that appeared on the screen.  “Sounds like one of my mom’s pork recipes!”

Niles twitched as he noted the recipe on the screen.  “According to those in the know, humans taste a lot like pork.”  Before anyone could snipe at him, he raised a hand.  “I wouldn’t know.  I’ve never eaten cooked pork.”

He received groans as his reply.

Niles hastened on with his explanation.  “If you pay for a membership, you can become a chef, or a person looking to acquire someone to eat.  Once you’ve killed and eaten your first human, you can use the honorific of Master Chef.  People who want to get eaten don’t have to pay.”

Krewelski’s face screwed up in disgust.  “Are you seriously saying people on that site are asking to get eaten?”

Niles nodded grimly.  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.  And why I called it something of a dating site.  Chefs post what they’re looking for and victims post in response, offering themselves up.”

“Unbelievable!” Krewelski complained.

“I believe it,” Williams retorted.  “I’ve seen some sick shit in my time.  This is no different.”

Cruz gazed at her partner.  “Do you believe this stuff is real?”

Niles shrugged.  “Hard to say, really.  Some of it certainly sounds real.  But who knows with depressed people on a site like this?”

Lo motioned for his people to settle down.  “You said you found Heine was using this site.”

Niles nodded.  “He was conversing with a user by the name of Master Chef Carver.  When his friends and family said he’d hooked up with some guy on the internet named Carver, they… and I… assumed that was simply the guy’s last name.  Now it appears, it’s actually his screen name.  He claims he’s a master chef, having killed and consumed two people before he approached Heine.”

Williams waggled a finger.  “So you’re thinking this Carver dude killed and ate Heine?”

“Some of Heine,” Niles corrected.  “His right arm and leg.”

“And that’s the link to the other victims,” Lo explained.  “All of them were depressed.  All of them were murdered and dumped in the same location.  All were missing limbs or body parts.  I suspect if we dig into Radcliff and Venzaga, we’ll find they were using this site.”

Krewelski clicked a pen and began writing.  “I’ll pin that down for us.”

“We must find Carver and quick,” Cruz added.  “Who knows how many more people he’s trying to bag on this site.”

Lo gestured to Niles.  “I’ll ask you to chase that down.  Find out if Radcliff and Venzaga were enrolled in the chatroom.”  He turned his eyes to members of the cyber team.  “You folks dig into Master Carver.  See if you can excavate a real name behind the screen persona.”

Heads nodded.  Pencils jotted.

“That’s all I’ve got for today,” Lo said to finish the meeting.  “It’s more than we had yesterday.  But folks…”  He paused to glare in turn at everyone in the room.  “We have got to find this guy before he kills another deluded person.  The fact that his victims may offer themselves up to be murdered doesn’t make this any less of a crime.  If anything, it makes it worse.  Preying on the weak, depressed, and defenseless.”

With that the meeting broke up.  Niles closed his laptop with its foul vision of a chatroom.  He was the last to leave the room.

Lo stopped him with a quick comment.  “Find this guy, Gule.  Fast.”

Niles nodded.  “I’m on it.”

“I need the answer yesterday.”

Niles gave him a thumbs up.

But he wasn’t feeling that triumphant.  Much as he needed to bring Master Carver to ground, he didn’t want to face such a disgusting human being.  But that was his job.  And he would succeed. 

Lives depended on it.

© 2023 Newmin