Murder at 5th Avenue: Epilogue

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The Revelation

Inspector Buckworth dropped the file he had been scanning for last half an hour and ran towards the door at the sight of Hudson. Hudson looked very exahusted, he had not shaved for days and his overcoat was covered in black soot.

Boy he smells like rotten egg, Inspector Buckworth thought. Nevertheless, Hudson wore a smile on his face and Buckworth knew very well what the smile denoted.

Hudson flung his overcoat towards the stand, it missed and fell on the floor. Inspector Garrison joined with a cup of coffee, “So?” he asked looking at Hudson.

Detective Hudson pushed the file he had retrieved from Yorkshire towards Buckworth and Garrison. They both scrolled excitedly through the papers and at the end of it, were visibly disappointed. They threw a glance of dejection at Hudson, who immediately pulled out a paper and a photograph from his pocket.

“This is her address and her photograph,” explained Hudson.

“How can you be so sure about her? What about the other two?” Garrisson was quick to counter attack.

“Its a long story. Let’s rewind back to the time I disappeared.

After visiting the Escort Services and Techco Softwares, I found nothing to base this case on. So I decided to reopen the Samantha Cross file from 3 years back. With Commissioner’s permission and appropriate warrants, I went back to Yorkshire. I questioned Marc’s family and close friends but nobody had ever heard of Samantha Cross. So I decided to check the High School record where Marc studied. There too, I was met with rejection. I had made up my mind that there was no Samantha Cross until my eyes caught hold of something unusual.

The records had the name of Mary Capal and her signature as you can see in the file, has the same style of writing “M” as in the letters.” Hudson pointed out to the signature on the paper, Mary Capal.

“That is when it struck me hard. With my doubts, I visited the address mentioned in the High School directory. And the Mary Capal story goes something like this.

Mary’s father was a low ranking soldier in the army, a very dominating and crude man by nature and a heavy drinker. He had absolutely no empathy for his wife or his daughter. Every time he came home, Mary’s mother, and Mary herself would be exploited to his months of secluded frustrations. He would beat them both and at times lock them in a room for days without food or water.

Mary grew up to be a fine looking teenager and she regretted every bit of it. At an early age, her father for his own sadist needs constantly exposed Mary. With every passing phase, the man’s physical needs entered a higher level.

Mary’s only solace was in her best friend, Samantha Cross. The only problem was that Mary was Samantha Cross. Due to her father’s exploitations, Mary had developed a Multiple Personality Syndrome. She stayed secluded of her social life and interacted with none other than Samantha. Her mental condition worsened and her temper was at the peak of exploding.

Fortunately, her father died of an accidental gunshot back at the army base before Samantha could kill him. The frustration of not having killed her father stayed rooted in her head.

After her father’s death, Mary’s condition began to improve and she began interacting with people again. After joining High School, she met Marc Scot with whom she was deeply in love with. Their relation paced from one-step to the next when one day, Marc and Mary got intimate, and one thing led to another. At that point, Samantha jumped back in Mary’s head and she began to see her father in Marc. Although Marc meant no harm, all Mary could see was her father on top of her.

That night, Marc disappeared never to be found again. Fearing for her daughter’s safety, Mary’s mother asked her to run away to an unknown place. Before leaving, Mary wrote a letter to the Yorkshire police accusing Samantha of the murder. Only thing is, Mary dint know she was Samantha and all the while thinking that she had betrayed her best friend.

Mary came to Bastalia. Being a lone girl, she took up a job as a waitress in the day and an escort in the night as Martha Cox. Things were once again looking normal for Mary, until one day, Victor called for escort services. Martha Cox volunteered for the job and on the day of the murder, she reached Victor’s house.

The Murder day

Little did Mary know that the intentions of Victor were what devils desire for. When she reached his apartment, Victor offered her drugged whiskey. When she opened her eyes, she found herself naked in the bedroom, Victor by her side. She had once again been  exploited to somebody’s desperate needs. The past nightmares came gushing back in and Mary was Samantha again. The murder was committed by Samantha to which Mary will confess to be a witness.

When she was done, Samantha needed to find a way out of this mess. So she drafted a letter blaming Mary for the murder and thus revenging Mary’s past betrayal. Samantha left the apartment to secretly deliver the letter to the PD. Shortly after that, the gatekeeper left for lunch. When she came back, she registered herself as Samantha Cox. She went back into Victor’s apartment and seeing him again lying on the bed, she went mad with rage. For the second time, she stabbed him over and over again. When she was done with her brutality, she went to the bar and unknowingly drank from the drugged whiskey.

When she woke up, Samantha was gone and Mary had seen what she wanted to see. She wrote a letter to the Bastalia PD blaming everything on Samantha once again. When she reached half way towards home, she realized having registered as Martha Cox. In order to cause utter confusion, she drafted a third letter to the PD blaming Martha for everything. Since there was no record of Martha Cox anywhere, this was probably the safest thing she thought she had done.

And your case is solved.

Hudson walked out of his apartment lift, tossing the keys up and down. Lucy was waiting outside his apartment. With one hand, she held a travel mirror while with the other, she moved the lipstick softly over her lips. She wore a skirt that refused to flow below knees and low cut top-revealing most of her assets.

Just what I needed to rip apart, thought Hudson. Nothing is going to come between us baby. Absolutely Nothing.

Murder at 5th Avenue: Chapter 3

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Inspector Buckworth had been trying to call Hudson for quiet sometime now. But every time he did, Hudson was unreachable. He wondered what Hudson was up to. He always wondered what Hudson was up to.

He wanted to know what kept him going so strong. What he ate, where he slept, where he worked out and how he thought. Buckworth wanted to be like Hudson, at times, he wanted to be Hudson.

While Buckworth dreamed about being Hudson, the Detective sat at the Yorkshire Police Department.

“We have already given all the details to the Bastalia PD,” shouted the officer at Yorkshire PD.

“Yes they told me,” agreed Hudson. “But that is not why I am here. I need a copy of the file concerning Samantha Cross and the incident that took place here 3 years back.” The officer did as asked in a bid to get rid of Detective Hudson. When Hudson had the file, he left peacefully.

Marc Scot, 20 year old teenager, had suddenly disappeared from Yorkshire on the night of 25th August 2007. No trace of him was ever found. In the file was the letter that the Yorkshire PD had received just after Marc’s disappearance. When Hudson pulled out the letter to read, he was not surprised.

Samantha Cross is responsible for Marc’s disappearance – XXX

The same letter “M” again.

I am getting closer to you. Hudson thought.

He had little time to waste. His first task was to visit Marc’s family, although he knew there was nothing substantial he could dig in from them. After a brief inquiry, Hudson came to know of Marc’s High School and some of his close friends. One after the other, he inquired about Marc with all of his friends, but no one had ever heard of any Samantha Cross. Hudson decided to dig in the High School records for any information he could get. He bribed the record keeper and gained access to the confidential records. He walked straight to the record section “C” and began searching for Cross, Samantha. A long search later, he had found what he was looking for. In a flash, he tore off the page that contained the details of address and phone number and walked out of the library.

From the High School campus, he dialled a number, “Detective Hudson here.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” yelled Inspector Buckworth at the other end.

“I have been busy Bucky. I have good news for you,” said Hudson excitedly.

“You have her?” asked Buckworth.

“I have her Bucky. I have her,” said Hudson with a sigh of relief.

Detective Hudson took a final look at the Samantha Cross file in his hand. He had one last thing to do before he left the Yorkshire. A short drive later. he found himself staring in the face of what looked like a decent row house. With an air of confidence, he stepped in front of the door and rang the bell, once, twice and then thrice. The door was answered by a woman in her early fifties.

“Detective Hudson from Basatlia Police Department,” introduced Hudson.

The woman gave Hudson a look of surprise mixed with fear. “What is this regarding Detective?” stammered the woman.

“This concerns your daughter ma’am. She is wanted by Bastalia PD for a third degree murder.”

To Be Continued…….

Murder at 5th Avenue: Chapter 2

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Inspector Buckworth and Garrison were discussing Victor Costa’s forensic report when Hudson arrived at the Bastalia Police Department.

“Looks like your deductions were mostly right about yesterday’s murder,” said Garrison in a disappointed tone as Hudson approached. “They found a deep wound in Victor’s head with some fragments of the vase still rooted in his skull. There was no alcohol in his body and his semen count was low which indicates that he just had had sex just before he died. Crazy son of a bitch. What a way to die?”

Inspector Buckworth took over, “We ran a check on his cell phone. The last call he made was to the Upton Escort Services. He had booked an escort for the night. Her name was Martha Cox. My men are on her already.

One strange thing though. Forensic reports suggest that Victor was stabbed 67 times and not all at the same time. The wounds on his body suggest he was stabbed 38 times, precisely at 1300 hrs, the time he died, and 29 times at about 1430 hrs. Does this mean anything to you Hudson?”

Detective Hudson pulled a chair and sipping from his cup of coffee, he said, “Two women registered with the gatekeeper at 5th Avenue for a visit with Victor Costa, the day he died. His first visitor was from Martha Cox, the escort from Upton Services. The gatekeeper left for lunch a while later while another resumed duty. At about 1415hrs, another woman signed in to visit Victor. That woman was Samantha Cross.”

“So you are saying that Martha stabbed Victor to death? Then shortly after that, Samantha payed him a visit and stabbed an already dead Victor? This doesn’t sound right Hudson. Some link is missing in the story,” said Buckworth scratching his beard and trying to come to the terms with the mystery.

“What about the third one Bucky?” interrupted Garrison, “Mary Capal?”

Inspector Buckworth pulled out a file and banged it on the table. “I ran a check on all three women. Mary Capal is clean of any police record. There was so police record of Martha Cox either. But we have enough evidence to question her right now. Samantha Cross, though, has a police record that dates back to 3 years. Her name came out in a crime incident that took place in Yorkshire. A high school boy, 22, had disappeared suddenly. Yorkshire PD received a similar letter 4 days into investigation, accusing Samantha Cross of being involved. When I called Yorkshire PD, they told me the case is still open because they did not find the boy. And what is more surprising is that they claim, there was no record of Samantha Cross’s existence anywhere.”

Detective Hudson finished his coffee and got up to leave. He pulled out the 3 letters from his pocket and flung it on the table. “Whoever wrote these letters, knows the real murderer.”

“What do you mean?” asked Inspector Buckworth. “Three letters from three anonymous people accusing three different women. How can they all know the real murderer and how can they all be possibly right?”

“The letters were all written by the same person,” explained Hudson pulling out each letter and placing them on table. “Although the hand writing is different, the “M” written in upper case is the same in all 3 letters. Rarely can three different people use the same style of writing “M” as in the letters.”

Inspector Buckworth and Garrison looked into the letters and then at each other. They knew Hudson was right.

Hudson went to the Upton Escort services to inquire about Martha Cox. Somehow he knew this would be futile as most escorts use a surrogate name to conceal their identity. At the Escort Services, he was refused of any vital information by the employees for he had no warrant.

His next stop was Techco Softwares, the company where Victor Costa worked. There was something about this man that Hudson felt he had to know.  Upon questioning, Hudson comprehended that Victor was infamous for his bad attitude and bullish manners, especially with woman.

Miss Lana Frinn had joined Techco Softwares six months ago and worked as a direct assistant under Victor Costa. She was the only one who agreed to come forth and provide Hudson with some insights into Victor’s life, but only off the record. Hudson waited outside Techco Softwares for Miss Lana Frinn to finish her daily work. Four hours later, they were talking about Victor over the coffee, “I feel sorry that he had to die like this.” She told Hudson. “But somehow I am glad he won’t be around anymore.”

“Why is that so?” questioned Hudson.

“For one that he abused his female colleagues, both verbally and physically. In the beginning, he sounded like a gentleman. He was always nice to me and treated me with utter respect. I had recently joined here; hence, I refused to believe any of the infamous rumours that surrounded him. Moreover; I was single; he was young, handsome and rich. We got together a lot too many times, often for dinner or so.

One day, after dinner we went back to his apartment. A couple of drinks later, we moved things into the bedroom and that is when real Victor Costa was unleashed. He might look like a harmless man, but when he is charged even demons will look like goats in front of him. He forcefully  tied me up and punched me in the face one too many times. Pleasure for him was not just physical intimacy. Pain satisfied him even more. I cried and begged for mercy but it all went unheard. I was a victim of his sadist needs for over two hours until he let me go, but not until he had threatened me of my job.”

Detective Hudson pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to Miss Lane whose eyes were visibly wet by now.

To Be Continued…….

Murder at 5th Avenue: Chapter 1

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Detective Hudson walked towards the bedroom where the victim lay dead. With every step, Hudson felt his heart beating harder against his ribs. Nobody had told Hudson to be careful. He had a reputation of being a diehard cop. Yet, he could not get the final words of Inspector Buckworth out of his head.  The body is too mangled even for you to look at. The words just kept ringing in his ears.

He turned the knob and slowly pushed the bedroom door. The blood had dripped down towards the edge of the room. He stepped on the blood making an impression of his boot prints. And then, his eyes fell on the naked body that lay still on the bed.

Hudson wanted to throw up right there. He pushed his palm harder against his mouth to stop himself from vomiting. For minutes, he just stood there, ignoring what lay on the bed. Gathering his strength back, he walked towards the body, this time looking into the dead body’s eyes.

The man, Victor Costa, was in his mid thirties and worked for Bastalia’s most reputed software company, Techco Softwares. Even when dead, it looked as if Victor was begging for mercy.

What happened here? Hudson murmured, wondering how easy it would be if dead bodies could talk. Then he mocked at his own foolishness. A sharp knife lay at the edge of the bed. The man had been stabbed several times. Pieces of broken vase lay scattered on the other side of the bed. Hudson walked to the other side and bent down to pick up a piece. He had not finished scrutinizing the piece when his eyes fell on something under the bed. He crawled to get a closer look and when he noticed the unusual thing, he could not help but throw up.

He sat with his back resting against the edge of the bed, looking away from the dead body.

What did you do Victor? What did you do to have met such an end?

Hudson pulled himself up and walked out of the bedroom with the knife in his hands. It was the only thing that could direct him towards the murderer.

Inspector Buckworth’s men from PD entered the room.

“Not your best night Detective Hudson,” said one mockingly.

“I have an old acquaintance with dead bodies, Inspector,” replied Hudson. “The body’s in the next room. I have the knife. Send the body to forensics; I want the reports by morning. I will have a look around.”

Hudson walked towards the bar, pulling out a clean glass, he poured himself a drink.

“Oh, and Inspector one more thing. Under the bed, you will find the body’s genitals. They were amputated from the body by the murderer. Don’t forget to take those; they will be needed back at the forensics.”

When Hudson got back to pouring a second round, he noticed two used glasses at the bar. He picked up one and smelled it. Then he picked up another and smelled it. Several times he smelled the two glasses, sometimes in sequence, and sometimes he blindly shuffled and picked a glass randomly and smelled again.

He finished his glass of whisky and went into the kitchen. His eyes fell on an incomplete set of knives decently hung in a shelf above the sink.

Damn. He thought. He pulled out the knife picked up at the murder scene and replaced it in the shelf to complete the set of knives.

Inspector Buckworth’s men were on their way to the forensic lab. Detective Hudson drove towards the PD. All the way while he focused on his drive, Victor’s dead body kept flashing in his head.

At the Police Department, Inspector Garrison had resumed duty for the night. At the sight of Detective Hudson, Garrison greeted him with an unwelcoming smile. He pulled out a bottle from the nearest shelf and asked, “Scotch?”

“No thank you. I will take the letters,” answered Hudson. Garrison opened the drawer and pulling out three envelops, he tossed them towards Hudson.

“Any evidence back at the crime scene?” asked Garrison picking up his glass of scotch.

“No fingerprints, a knife, a broken vase, two empty glasses and genitals,” answered Hudson replacing the letters in his overcoat pocket.

“Tell me all about it.”

“The murderer was known to Victor. My guess is that the murderer was a woman.”

“That is obvious from the letter,” interrupted Garrison. “All the names mentioned in the letters are women, nothing brainy about that.”

“The body was naked when the murder took place. Victor and one of the women mentioned in the letter were in the middle of physical intimacy. An argument must have taken place during the sex. In a fit of rage, the woman picked up the vase and hit Victor on his head and he fell unconscious. She went into the kitchen and came back with the knife. He was stabbed repeatedly in the chest and the stomach.”

“Why cut the genitals if the man was dead already?” questioned Garisson.

“I have no answer to that yet,” replied Hudson.

“What about the empty glasses?”

“The murderer stayed in the apartment for very long after the murder. She drank whisky from the two glasses in long intervals. One glass had a strong odour while the other had a meek one. Anybody could differentiate between the two glasses. The lip marks were cleared.”

“Victor could have had whisky from the two glasses or either one of them.”

“Let’s wait for the forensic reports to discuss that further.” Hudson got up from his chair and left Inspector Garrison back in his room.

Detective Hudson was back in his apartment. His sleep had deserted him. He looked at the three envelops on his desk. Each was marked according to their arrival. He picked up the first envelop and pulled out the letter. It read:

Murder at 5th Avenue by Mary Capal – XXX

Then he opened the second letter that read:

Murder at 5th Avenue by Samantha Cross – XXX

And finally the last one that read:

Murder at 5th Avenue by Martha Cox – XXX

Hudson placed all letters on the desk, juxtaposing them in the event they arrived. Then carefully, he replaced his glance from one letter to another looking for that one evidence. And then he had found it, right there.

Murder At 5th Avenue : Prologue

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Detective Hudson stepped on the accelerator as his car zoomed on a deserted street towards his apartment. All he wanted to do was go home and throw himself on the bed. He had just made the police department of Bastalia proud by cracking one of the most complicated cases. His colleagues could not stop bragging about him.

Ugly bastards just need a reason to down some booze. He thought.

He threw his overcoat, which missed the stand and fell on the floor. He smelled as though he had swum across the city gutters. His eyes wanted to give up for he had not slept in 5 days.

And they deserve to rest, he thought to himself again. This case had taken the most out of him. He wondered how the Bastalia police department would fair without him.

He hurled the keys on the work desk and walked in the bathroom for a hot shower. A while later he found himself staring at his naked body. Drops of water dripped down his bulging muscles as they found their way to wet the floor. He needed someone to warm him, someone who could hold him for the night and caress his Greek body all along. His thoughts began to waver when he thought of his last rendezvous with Lucy. His muscles were tightening when his eyes caught the attention of his vibrating mobile on the desk. Quickly, he reached for it, “Detective Hudson, who is this?”

“Detective!! I am calling from 5th Avenue. You are needed here. Believe me; you have got to see this.”

Detective Hudson found himself stepping on the accelerator again, zooming towards the 5th Avenue.

Fucking city rats. They just cant keep it quiet in this city.

Inspector Buckworth was strolling up and down in front of the lift when Hudson arrived. Buckworth had been working at Bastalia for 15 years, without a promotion or a raise. When asked, he would say he loved his job. But the guys back at PD thought, Buckworth was not Worth the Buck. Although Buckworth knew of this back teasing that went about him, he decided to keep his temper to himself. Everytime Hudson saw him, he thought, where the fuck does he take out his frustration? And then he smiled to himself. Buckworth had a beautiful wife.

“Hey Bucky!!” called Hudson, “Looks like this city will never sleep peacefully.What’s it this time? Murder, rape, homicide?”

“Worse,” answered Buckworth wiping the sweat of his half bald scalp. “Follow me.”

Inspector Buckworth called for lift. Hudson followed him to the seventh floor.

“Back at the PD, we received a letter,” Buckworth began to explain as he slowly walked down the long corridor. “The letter was marked anonymous, and it read that a certain Mary Capal had committed a murder at 5th Avenue. We did what we usually do when we receive an anonymous letter. We ignored it, thinking some college kids were playing prank.”

Buckworth stopped short for a moment, putting his hand in the pocket of his overcoat, he pulled out a cigarette. “Care for one Hudson?” Hudson took the offer and lit the cigarette for both. A puff later, Buckworth began walking slowly again.

“You were saying, Bucky.” Hudson reminded Buckworth of their conversation.

“Oh yes, so we ignored the letter. Two hours later, we received another letter from an anonymous person. It read that Samantha Cross had committed a murder at the 5th Avenue. This time I got suspicious. I decided to drop by here and I found out that the letter was not lying. Although the strangest part is, while I was here, back at PD, a third letter had arrived, again from an anonymous writer. And it read that a certain Martha Cox had committed a murder at the 5th Avenue.”

Inspector Buckworth stopped again, he dropped his cigarette on the floor and stepping on it, crushed thrice. “So here we are. You are about to witness the most gruesome murder ever witnessed by Bastalia.” Saying so, he pulled out the keys, directed them in the keyhole on the door and turned them right, twice. A strong stench filled up Hudson’s nose and with instincts his hands flashed to cover his mouth.

As if I did not reek already, thought Hudson putting on the nose mask offered by Inspector Buckworth.

Hudson threw a glance around. The apartment covered a large area and looked very spacious. Hudson could see his reflection against the Plasma TV that hung proudly on the wall. On the right corner was a small bar with different brands of whisky bottles nicely arranged.

He took few steps back and walked towards the entrance door. Moving his fingers on the rim and then on the lock he said, “No sign of forced entrance. Has anything been stolen from the apartment?”

“We had the entire apartment checked. No fingerprints, no forced entries. Nothing’s been stolen from the apartment. We found ten thousand dollars in cash, in the cupboard over there.” Said Buckworth pointed towards an exquisite antique cupboard in the corner. “The cupboard was not locked. There is no way the murderer could have missed that cash. From our investigation, this is as far as we go. It is a clear case of third degree murder and whoever it was, the person knew the victim. From here on, you are on your own Hudson.”

Buckworth walked towards the door and turned back, “I am off for the day Detective. My men will be here any minute to assist you.”

Hudson threw his hands in the air flashing a casual good bye and a tired smile across his face.

“The letters are back at the PD in case you must have a look at them,” continued Buckworth. “And Hudson, be careful. The body is too mangled even for you to look at.” Buckworth tossed the apartment keys at Hudson and closed the door behind him.

Hudson was all alone in the room. The air in the room was filled with a sudden silence as Hudson danced his eyes around. He could hear the tick-tock of the clock in the next room. He pulled out a bottle of Anxiolytic and tossed two pills in his mouth.

Where are you? Thought Hudson, as his eyes began to search for the victim.

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