Plumber Prequel (2 page)

"Sorry Max. I’ll get Mrs.
Harris, next door, to watch you guys tonight."

"When are you coming back
Dad?"

"In a few
hours."

I felt guilty when I
hugged Max goodbye. I thought about my wife, Cassandra. I wish she
was still here.

I drove to the condo
building at 6892 Wilson. The street was blocked with traffic police
directing cars to a detour. Dozens of bystanders watched from the
sidewalk and through the windows from surrounding
buildings.

Paula was already at the
crime scene, inside unit 3012, a modern 2-bedroom apartment with a
sprawling city view, minimalist neutral color decorations. I walked
into the master bedroom.

"Hey Ryan," Paula greeted
me, with a simple, efficient voice that was her
trademark.

32 years old,
short-haired, and direct, Paula was the only female detective at my
unit. She was known for her bullshit detecting ability, and busted
balls of criminals and colleagues, who made the mistake of
underestimating her.

Going strong in our fifth
year together, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. She was
street-smart and tough. Rarely let people in, she counted me as one
of her few friends.

"The male victim, Gary
Michaels, 52 years old, is the city official in charge of zoning.
The woman, Lara Gibbs, was from Chicago, appeared to be his
mistress. The leasing office confirmed he’d paid her rent for the
past four months," Paula said.

Nice Midwest girl
corrupted by the big city. I sighed.

The condo
in this building started at $2500/month. A two-bedroom condo on the
30
^th
floor would cost a lot more, something a government employee
shouldn’t be able to afford.

"Victims were having sex,
when they died. We found a 3 liter sarin bag on the
floor."

"Who found the
body?"

"The maintenance crew.
Lara Gibbs submitted a request to unblock her bathroom
sink."

"Any suspects?"

"We're looking into it. On
the business side, he's in charge of zoning. There could be
disgruntled real estate developers not happy with him. On the
personal side, he's married and is seeing a young mistress on the
side, so there could be jealous lover or spouse," Paula
said.

I turned my attention to
the victims. The older man was naked, facing up, a beer belly
protruded out. His face looked tortured. It’d been a painful
death.

Next to him was a naked,
young woman. Her limp arms bent down at the edge of the bed. There
were several sex toys; a vibrator, and two dildos next to the
pillows. Her face was beaten up beyond recognition. Her breasts and
thighs were pinched and punched with bruises. The killer had been
here, when she died. She was either his target or he hated
women.

Someone would have to call
her parents to inform them that their daughter was dead, next to
her married lover. That had to be every parent's worst nightmare;
to get a call that your perfect daughter was dead.

My daughter Poppy was only
two years old, but I could already feel my overprotective father's
side worrying about her. Men were dangerous. It’d only get worse as
she got older.

I watched the dead woman.
A young life ended tragically.

Choices.

Making choices.

Sometimes a wrong choice
could kill you.

I was standing in line at
Starbucks five blocks from the building where I killed Gary and
Lara. I could still feel the intoxicating thrill of beating Lara to
death, as she was paralyzed by the nerve gas.

I punched her. She took
them.

The beating aroused me
beyond belief, as I recalled the crunching sound as her cartilage
broke under my fists. But I couldn’t fuck Lara and risk leaving my
DNA.

The impulse to strike
again took over me. I needed to do this again, soon. Next time I’d
go all the way with the girl.

This was my favorite
coffee shop. It was near a college campus in West LA, and filled
with fresh, beautiful, college girls.

For example, the pretty
brunette standing right in front of me. She was wearing a black
blouse and white shorts, showing off her beautiful runner’s legs -
long, lean, with incredibly sexy calves. Her pink toe nails looked
so cute.

I watched her getting her
vanilla latte with soymilk. As she fuddled to get out of her credit
card, I noted her name on the visa card.

Jennifer
Butterfield.

Yummy name. Just like her.
She was definitely my type. I would love to see her naked in my
bed.

***

I followed Jennifer from
Starbucks, keeping my distance. Slowly sipping on her latte, she
wandered around the shops on Westwood Blvd, going inside a
Victoria’s Secret store, then came out 30 mins later with a pink
bag.

My imagination ran wild
about what she bought in there. Lacy panties? Push up bras?
Lotions?

The thrill of following
her made me feel alive. It always did. The precious time before the
attack, when the victim lived their simple life, unaware of the
danger leaking behind them, was the second most exciting time for
me.

The first was when I beat
them up, then had sex with them, as they cried and
begged.

Jennifer couldn’t be more
perfect for such moments.

She stopped in front of
the Nail Salon, thinking about if she’d indulge herself with a
manicure. She examined her nails closely. After a short
deliberation, she walked into the nail salon.

Self-indulgent, aren’t
we?

I stood across the street,
watching the cute Jennifer, getting her manicure done with an Asian
nail technician. I’d make sure I kissed those pretty nails of hers
later.

Half an hour later, she
left the nail salon, staring at her newly painted nails with a
satisfied smile

It’d been an hour since
I’d first laid my eyes on her. I couldn’t wait any
longer.

I followed her and watched
as she headed towards a residential area, off campus.

Yes, finally.

She stopped in front of an
apartment building, took the keys out of her pocket with the tips
of two fingers, careful not to ruin the new polish.

I waited until she got
inside and made my move.

My car was parked a few
blocks away. I raced back to my parking spot, put on a hooded
sweatshirt, and took my heavy toolbox. I put more money into the
parking meter, for another two hours. That’d give me plenty of time
to get to know Jennifer.

Jennifer Butterfield, nice
to meet you...

I found Jennifer's
apartment from the mailbox. Unit 208. Inside the building, the
hallway was decorated by cheap gray carpet and smelled like pizza,
beer, and marijuana. No security camera. I pulled up the hood on my
sweatshirt and climbed the stars.

The front of Jennifer’s
door had a neat "Welcome" mat placed on the ground, which looked
thoughtful and incompatible with her building.

Knock. Knock.
Knock.

No answer.

Knock. Knock.
Knock.

I waited for a minute,
then heard a shuffling sound and gentle footsteps approaching the
door.

What was Jennifer
doing?

"Who is it?" Her voice
sounded just like her; innocent, fresh, with a well-bred tone to
it.

"Building maintenance."
The peephole on the door darkened, and through the door, I could
feel her eyes on me, watching.

"I didn’t call for
maintenance," she said. Her voice sounded suspicious.

Smart cookie.

"Your neighbor downstairs
called to tell us that water is leaking into her apartment through
her ceiling. Do you mind if I take a look at your
bathroom?"

Through the door, I could
feel her mind working, thinking and deciding if she should let me
in.

Let the right one in,
Jennifer.

She opened the door,
wearing a pale pink bathrobe, her hair wet, and feet
bare.

"Come in," her big eyes
fixed on me, full of curiosity. "I don’t understand this. I’ve
never had a problem with this before."

"It never hurts to check,
doesn’t it?” I smiled at her, hoping my face looked harmless enough
until I could get her alone. I was cautious. I needed to make sure
she was alone first, before striking.

My god, she’s beautiful!
If she was pretty at the coffee shop, she looked sensational now.
The thought that she was completely naked under her bathrobe fueled
my fantasy.

She looked a bit shy and
self-conscious, “Okay, please make it quick. I have an afternoon
babysitting job. I have to leave soon.”

“
It shouldn’t take long.”
I walked into the apartment, a two bedroom unit.

Lara Gibbs’ condo was also
a two-bedroom unit, but the difference was dramatic. While Lara’s
unit was filled with bright, natural light, Jennifer’s apartment
looked dim and depressing, with a view looking directly into
another building. Just two bedrooms, one of them looked like it was
converted from a living room. A small kitchen with a narrow path
that could barely fit one person at a time and a bathroom that
looked the size of Lara’s closet.

What a
difference between a lady and a whore? One lived like a maid, the
other like a queen
.

“
Cozy,” I said, then
pointed to bedroom. “You have a roommate?”

“
Um…” Jennifer seemed
nervous, “No, it was just my cousin visiting. I’m the only tenant
here. I mean my name is the only one on the lease and
everything.”

“
Ah,” I said, taking in
the full bed, desk, and books in the room her cousin was supposed
to be staying in temporarily.

Jennifer
is a rule breaker
. She probably sublet her
room out without letting the landlord know. In this off campus
area, one had to pay more if a unit was used by two people, instead
of one.

“
Don’t worry. Your secret
is safe with me.” I smiled at her. My fingers lightly brushed her
chin.

She stepped back, her face
blushed all the way down to her neck. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about. Please make it quick. I need to run soon,” she
repeated.

“
Would you show me the
bathroom?” I asked, thinking how great it’d be to remove her
bathrobe soon.

“
Yes, this
way.”

I passed by her bedroom.
The door was open, and I saw the pink Victoria Secret bag sitting
on her tidy bed.

On the computer desk next
to her bed, half a dozen books, with the big bold letters “MCAT”
piled up.

I pointed to those books.
"Are you studying MCAT to get into medical school?"

Her eyes brighten up. "How
do you know? Most people don't know what MCAT is for?"

"My sister is a doctor, so
I know a lot about getting into medical school." I lied. I said
that to form an emotional bonding with my victim. It was always
more interesting that way, when they watched someone they trusted
turn into a dangerous enemy. My sister never went to medical
school. In fact, if she knew where my sister was right now, she
would be horrified.

"That's amazing! I’ve
wanted to be a pediatrician since I was six years old."

"How's the studying coming
along?"

"It's very hard. I’ve been
trying to study on my own for the MCAT, but it's difficult to keep
going."

"Don't worry. You'll get
there. You look smart." I complimented her. I’d learned that pretty
girls liked you more if you complimented them about anything except
their beauty. In fact, if you did the opposite and pointed out
beautiful women’s physical flaws, they liked you even
more.

Jennifer tried hard to
hide a proud smile. She led me into the bathroom. The small space
made it impossible to fit two people at the same time. My body was
inches away from hers, and I could smell the fruity scent of her
recently shampoo washed hair. She turned around, her wet hair
brushed against my cheeks. I resisted the temptation to grab it. I
had one more thing to check. “Your cousin, when is he coming
back?”

“
It is a SHE,” she said
quickly. “She is in class… um… I mean she’s out and won’t be back
until this evening.”

Perfect.

She pointed to the
bathtub. “It looked fine to me.” I set down my heavy
toolbox.

She watched me curiously.
"You don't really look like a plumber."

"Why is that?"

"You look..."

"I look what?" I asked,
watching a cloud of blush climb up her cheeks. Was Jennifer
flirting with me?