The Face-Off Killer #4

Nobody saw the dark van pull at the mouth of an alley on the corner of Wilson Street and Twine Street. It was already dark, and people were rushing about, rushing home from work or last-minute shopping. Nobody saw a figure clad totally in a black jumpsuit get out of the van. Nobody saw the person open the rear door and drag out a dark plastic bag, then throw it on the ground.
From behind the ski-mask on his face, he looked about checking for any curious eyes fixated on him. Not finding any, he proceeded with his job. Dragging the plastic bag behind him, he stepped into the alley. He realized he could've come at a later time, eliminating the need for discretion. Next dump-site wouldn't be an alleyway, he decided.
He dragged the bag deeper into the alleyway, and stopped when he'd reached the dead end. Undoing the knot at the top, he let the bag fall and watched as a hand slid out of the bag. He proceeded to drag more than half of the body attached to the bag- he didn't feel like taking the garbage bag with him that night.
He positioned the body a certain way, stopped for only a few seconds to check out his handiwork. He fished out a can from his trouser pocket, and sprayed it over the Dumpster behind the body. Smiling at the perfect tableaux he had managed to create, he walked back to his car. He needed a nice dinner and cold beer before his night shift at the hospital.
Nobody saw him get back into the van and drive away.

2 hours later

The man stood at the mouth of the alley, considering his options. The street was empty, except for a few cars  on the road. This was the right time to do what he wanted to do, away from the judgmental eyes of other people.
He stepped into the alley, when, only a few steps later, the smell hit him. It was different than the usual smell of urine and garbage characteristic of such places.
"Holy shit! A rat die here or what?" he exclaimed, scrunching his nose and taking out the roll of cocaine from his pocket. Smell or no smell,  he had to get his high here.
He walked towards the huge Dumpster which he planned to use as a support, when suddenly his foot hit something solid and he fell down.
"What the hell!" he muttered, as the smell of something rotting hit him so strongly it made him gag. He moved his hands about, trying to get his bearings in the pitch dark surrounding him. And touched something both smooth and solid. First it felt like a hand, then a neck.
He quickly withdrew his hands, somehow managed to sit up straight and fished out his phone from his pocket. He unlocked it, and by the light it emitted, he tried to see what it was that he had fallen on.
Bit by bit, he made out legs, a torso, hands and then he made out a face. Which is when he screamed his guts out.

Fifteen minutes later

"You get any sleep before you came?" Detective Carter asked his partner Ansen Cole as he arrived in his car.
"Nah! Just hit the sack when I got the news. So, is it our missing woman from the mall?" Ansen replied, holding a Styrofoam cup in his hand.
"Don't know. Face missing but it's a woman all right. Will know more when Dr. Styles is done with her," Lance Carter replied.
"Great. So we basically have nothing to go on right now," Cole said warily, taking a sip from his cup.
"No. So we'll just hang out at the station all night, waiting for any other crimes on our watch," Carter replied.
Cole looked at the stretcher being carried into the coroner's van by the people in blue overalls. He wondered  who was killing these women, and how many will have to die in this manner before they could catch him.
"Oh, the message from the last time was here this time too. Same damn message," Carter said.
"Great. At least we know this is the same guy who killed Ashley Browne," Ansen observed.
"Yeah, and he's probably on the look-out for his next while we chase our tails here," Carter commented.

The Face-Off Killer #3

Detectives Ansen Cole and Lance Carter stood in the cold, sterile autopsy room in the basement of the CSI headquarters. In front of them, on a gurney, lay the body of Ashley Browne, the first victim of a bizarre murder involving slashing of vital arteries and peeling off the facial skin. Across from them stood the portly coroner, Dr. Styles, explaining the autopsy details.
"The death resulted from slashing of the radial and carotid arteries, and the resulting exfoliation. The facial skin was peeled off postmortem. It has been done perfectly, with a surgical precision, so the killer has done this before. The victim had been tortured before she was killed, as is evident by the numerous lacerations on the body. There is evidence of repeated sexual assault. Also, she was bound with something like aluminium cords, as evidenced by the ligature marks on the hands and feet," the doctor spoke without pause.
"If the face was peeled off perfectly, it means that our killer is a professional. Might be a medical professional- like a surgeon?" Ansen asked.
"Yes, it is possible, Detective," Dr.Styles replied.
Lance felt his pager vibrating, and immediately took it out of the small pouch attached to the waistband of his trousers.
"Oh God!" he exclaimed, looking at the text on the small blue screen.
"What happened?" Ansen asked his partner.
"Another woman has gone missing from a mall. Her family just reported her disappearance," Lance replied.
"Let's go. Thank you, Dr.Styles," said Ansen Cole, and both men rushed out of the autopsy room.
"Most welcome, Detective," Dr. Styles said to their retreating backs.


**********
"Please...leave me alone. Please..." the woman spoke in between tears, as she struggled to set herself free from the ropes binding her tightly to the bed.
"You see, my darling Azalea, I can't do that! I can't let you go again!" he replied, walking about his workshop, collecting his 'tools', the ones he would use on 'Azalea'.
"I'm not Azalea...I'm Danna. Danna McBride. puhleessss...let me go. I promise not to tell anyone," the woman spoke, crying even more copiously as the adrenaline rushed in her blood, and she felt fear and panic surge within her.
"Shut up! Shut up, bitch! You're Azalea, you lie to me! I know you lie to me! Everybody lies to me!" he shouted.
The woman continued to cry.
Not being able to take it anymore, he sealed Danna's mouth shut with duct tape.
She still continued to make noises through the tape.
"Feisty one, aren't you, Azalea darling! Let me take away some of that aggression," he said, gleefully, as he walked towards the bed with a metal pick in his hand.
He felt a strange rush of ecstasy as he saw the woman's eyes widen in fear.

The Face-Off Killer- #2

Somewhere in Boston, at a shopping mall
He lingered about near the fountain near the entrance of the mall, holding a bag in his hand and pretending to wait for someone. The mall was crowded with women- there was a sale on at one of the outlets on the ground floor, and women were thronging the area to grab their share of branded clothes in cheap and save money. It was nearly six in the evening, and the sale wasn't getting over soon. Evening was also the perfect time to kidnap victims, after all.
Which was very good for him in two ways. One, he had hundreds of women, especially young nubile ones, to choose from. Two, the crowd meant the mall security guard wouldn't pay much attention to him.
The crowd of women swelled by the minute. He suddenly felt hungry- he hadn't eaten anything since he had left work two hours ago. Not wanting to lose sight of his prospective victim pool, but not wanting to collapse from hypoglycemia either, he rushed towards the cafe on the same floor, and decided to have a burger.
He was back within ten minutes, in his earlier position near the fountain. The whole of the ground floor was a sea of people, both because of the people who had come for other purposes, and the ladies who had visited for the sales especially.
But he didn't lose sight. He knew where to look, how to look, when to look and how to choose his next prey. That's why he considered himself the perfect hunter.
Time passed as the process of influx-efflux of customers in the mall continued. Finally, it was nine p.m., and the mall was about to close. Almost everybody had left, except the mall staff, and the women still at the sale, haggling over the few remaining items of clothing.
It was among these stragglers that he had found his next 'Azalea'. She was a petite, luscious blonde, who had been here since early evening and had taken a lot of time to pick her dresses. Finally she was paying her bill at the counter, and had four plastic bags brimming with clothes to carry.
He smiled at his luck- women having a tonne of shopping to carry without anyone to help, were easier to corner in a deserted parking lot under the cover of darkness.
The blonde, having paid her bill, picked up her shopping bags and walked out of the outlet, towards the elevators. He subtly followed ten feet behind, knowing she was going to her car parked in the basement lot. He smiled again as he felt so lucky. Basement parking lots afforded a lot of privacy, especially at this time of the evening.
Anticipation bubbling inside, he followed his quarry as she stepped into one of the elevators. He stepped into the other elevator, and they both were the only ones going down.
He couldn't believe his luck. Azalea was going to be so happy.

Excerpt- The Mumbai Marauder

25^th January, The Feminista Office

11.30 a.m.

Mia was in one of the stalls in the ladies’ washroom, taking a piss, when she heard loud footsteps come inside. Seconds later she saw four pairs of feet, two of them in blue high heels and the other in pink flat heels.

“Can you believe it, Pia? Mr. Nagaraj  complimented me on my dress ya!” one of the women spoke.

“Really? OMG, Priya! When did this happen? What did he say exactly? Tell me, tell me na!” the one called Pia asked excitedly, her voice high-pitched.

Mia’s ears pricked up at the mention of Dev’s name and she listened to the conversation outside with rapt attention. Pia was the illustrator for The Feminista, while Priya was technical editor.

“This morning, when he came to the office to meet Mia Ma’m. He said that the color of my dress brings out my skin tone very well! Nice, no!” Priya replied, sounding like a teenage girl whose crush had just spoken to her for the first time.

“Yeah! Yeah! Very nice. Do you think he likes you?” Pia asked, in a conspiratorial tone. Mia could hear the laughter in her voice; she could also hear her own heart thumping against her rib cage.

“I don’t know ya. But, you know what…I think I…well…” Priya said, and started giggling like a schoolgirl.

“What? Tell me na!” Pia said, also giggling.

“I think he was staring at my boobs while he was talking to me ya. He probably thought I didn’t notice…but I did,” Priya replied, giggling.

“Haaaawwwww! Really? Nice that you’re wearing this low-neck thingy. But isn’t Mr. Nagaraj going out with Leena Bansal? Aren’t they living together now?” Pia asked her friend, her tone caught between conspiratorial and curious.

Mia didn’t even breathe for fear of missing a word in the conversation.

“Ha! Like that matters at all! I honestly don’t understand what he sees in that ugly bitch! I mean, she has those extra large boobs…and that ugly brown hair! And have you see those cigarette stained teeth? She looks like a beggar, for all I know!” Priya said, in a mocking tone.

“You’re right, honey! His relationship with Leena’s not gonna stop him from savoring other delights. Especially not with all that cellulite on her thighs. I mean, he wasn’t exactly celibate when he was with Mia Ma’m…” Pia replied, laughing.

“Ya, I know. He played around like the playboy he is. I don’t think our Mia Ma’m has any idea what her beloved ex-boyfriend was up to while she was gone on her numerous foreign trips!” Priya replied, mockingly.

Mia felt a possible cardiac arrhythmia coming on.

“Oh ya! While she was busy providing social service to the world’s women, Mr. Nagaraj was banging people here- day in and day out. Not anyone from our office though. Only those girls from other magazines and news channels. How I would’ve loved to have a piece of that perfect ass!” Pia sighed.

“Really? Dear lord! How I would’ve loved having a piece of him too! But I guess he was too afraid of his girlfriend. How she would’ve emasculated him had he screwed anyone from her own employees! Maybe that’s why he chose a PR girl like Leena,” Priya said, in the same mocking tone.

“Yeah! I wonder if that’s the reason he dumped her. The stuck-up bitch Mia Ma’m is, he would’ve felt so suffocated ya! She is too much of a  fire-brand feminist to keep a gorgeous boyfriend like Dev Nagaraj. I do think he has more degree of freedom with Leena,” Pia replied.

“You’re right, sweety. How can anyone tolerate that jumped-up self-righteous feminist ideologue? Besides, she’s so ugly. What with all that fat, and that chocolate brown skin! How could a hunk like Dev Nagaraj bear to sleep with such a hag beside him?” Priya replied. Both women burst out laughing. Mia sat on the toilet, stunned out of her wits.

“You know what, Pia? You’re right about Dev’s degree of freedom, now that he’s free from Mia’s clutches. Now no one can stop him from mingling with people in this office. I say we try our luck?” Priya spoke again, her voice full of anticipation and excitement.

“Really? What do you mean ya?” Pia asked, mirroring her friend’s tone.

“We try impressing him at that party tomorrow night! You wear that purple chiffon dress, while I’ll be in that black strapless dress you got for me! Party’s the perfect place to get him to jump us!” Priya said, her excitement levels increasing.

“You clever girl! That black dress accentuates your breasts perfectly!” Pai replied, amused, and both women laughed loudly.

“I know. Let’s go the parlor today evening! Do you have that Loreal lady’s number? I lost it when my phone got lost last week!” Priya said, her voice a screech.

“Preparing for the battleground, eh? I’ll book an appointment for this evening right now! Come on!” Pia replied, giggling. Both women exited the bathroom, with Priya joining her friend in the ridiculous fit of giggles.

Mia rested her elbows on her knees, put her face in her hands, and wept silently.