Planet Visiting

A visit to space before the holiday season.

I had not astral traveled for a time, my visit had to be just right for all the planets to align. 

The holiday season was a special time not just here on earth but on all the planetary places where my friends spent their time.

My energy had to be very elevated to able me to ascend soaring to all the levels of outer space. They did not believe in gift giving at Christmas, they showed their love in many other ways.

Visiting stars and planets were their way of showing their kindness of love for each other often traveling from planet to planet helping all that needed it at the time. The stars lit their way when the moon or sun was not bright enough.

I had been honored to be included on my friends travels many time, I one of the very few who were allowed passage to some of the unknown planets that had yet to be discovered by our scientists. Without them saying, it was a privilege and I never discuss our secret when I returned to earth. Some planets they wanted to keep for themselves.

As I prepared for bed, leaving my light on, they would know that I was coming tonight.

How I never asked.

As I reached, my dream state voices excitedly jabbered and then I was soaring through the sky faster than any plane I had ever witnessed. Laughing, smiling faces greeted me as we were followed through space.

The holiday season was celebrated with food, song and dance. The stars were the decorations, and the moon shone brightly to light the way for all. As I neared the sound of music reverberated in my ears, the smell of delicious morsels filled my nostrils.

The food floated through the area on beautiful clouds everyone nibbled as it passed, if you missed in the first time around you never had to worry as it would certainly reappear filling all those happy hungry faces. The liquid had a treacly taste flowing from fountains of stars that hovered above the food.

Friends waved as they passed by dancing and singing, some sat on clouds with musical instruments posed as if it was a full orchestra waiting to perform. Looking around so many welcoming friends happy to see that I had joined them for this special night.

As the night progressed, more people that I had not seen for so many years joined the crowd. Some faces that had passed on earth through the years gone by, waving hello some came up with huge hugs and kisses, with stories of what they had done since being here, looking genuinely contented to celebrate this holiday season here. I was sorry to have to leave them, but so happy that I had had an opportunity to visit promising I would return.

My heart lightened as I descended to earth.

I awoke Christmas morning hearing Christmas carols from my window.

Another year was soon to be over, but I was able to enjoy two festivities.

Knifes and Swords

There had been a rash of knifing in my area the last year. They thought it was a serial killer but could not find the individual who was slashing the victims across their faces. There had been nine  woman and five men in the last year. The women had been disfigured beyond recognition. The men always mutilated in the lower part of their bodies.

When the slasher had started, I enrolled in a class for self-defense learning everything I could about fighting with knives. I was proficient in guns and kickboxing, never professing that I knew how to handle sword or knives. I always was eager to learn any way towards becoming self sufficient in looking after my self. Guns, were my first love, knives had always interested me, when seeing any that took my interest I would buy it and add it to my collection.

I had taken many courses in psychology in school and university and at one time in my life, was going into that field. Other interests took over but I retained all my books on the subject. I had talked on the subject at many seminars over the years. I did some work with the police. One officer had taken an interest in me, from our first meeting, my views on the human brain interested him. We had remained friends after he retired.

My take on the slasher was from being abused by both parents and was reliving his child hood by killing both male and females. Killing them repeatedly. My guess, he or she was in their late thirties early forties.

Most women had black hair the men either a touch of grey interspersed with dark strand of dark throughout their head.

So the police should be looking for a dark haired killer, they had said in the newspaper that strands of dark hair had been found at the scene of two of the woman. That told me that they had tried to fight for their life. No clues on the men, which made me, think that either the perpetrator knew the person or it was a woman killer that the men had felt comfortable in their company. The police had never told the newspapers of the sex of who they thought did the crimes. They themselves really were at a loss of who was the killer.

Everyone that I talked to seemed to think it was a male saying no women could be that savage. I just laughed, as I knew women could be as brutal as a man.

Writing an article in the local paper I said as much and had gotten many replies to the article, one stood out for me in particular. It was signed repeat offender. I took it to my friend Jim Grey we had worked occasionally on some weird cases after he retired. He agreed we should look into who the writer was, unofficially of course.

Meeting for a coffee, we hatched a plan for me to write another letter enticing the person into trap. Jim still had connections from his days with the department, he would talk to the editor of the paper. Composing it with Jims help, he would take it with him to the paper and let the editor know what we had in mind.

Three weeks went by without any killings and no answer to our advertisement. Then a body of a man found in his car half-undressed his pants pulled down to his ankles His genitals severed with blood soaking the car seat where he lay. Forensics did find hair fibers on the passenger’s seat. Jim found out that they were black. Police did not release that information to the public.

Repeat offender, sent a reply to my home address, how they got this Jim and I had no idea. My phone and address were not in the phone book. Jim got one as well to his home. This killer was playing with us telling us they knew where we lived and that we had been exposed. Either someone at the newspaper or the police had let our whereabouts be known.

Jim suggested we back off and let the police handle this crazy person. I understood as Jim was getting on in age suffering from a weak heart. I agreed with him, leaving him to finish his drink at the local bar. I had no intention; of giving up, I would precede on my own.

Letting myself into my house I noticed a chair off kilter as I turned down the hall a light reflected the television was on with no sound.

Someone had been here. Passing through to the kitchen right away, I noticed one of my knives was missing. Grabbing for the butcher knife I scanned the other rooms. Every thing else was in its proper place. Dialing Jim his answering machine picked up, he should have been home by now, maybe he had had a second drink.

Pouring a glass of wine, I looked over my notes along with Jim’s friend who had downloaded the file from the police computer. Trying Jim again still no answer it was odd, as Jim had said he was heading home. Putting on my jacket, I started the car heading over to his place. His house was in darkness as I went up the stairs of his porch when I noticed his front door was ajar.

My first thought was why I had not brought my gun, or even the butcher knife. Slowly I went inside grabbing the bat where he always left it inside his door. Jim lay covered in blood with his genitals laying beside his body. A note saying he just got to close and needed to be, taught a lesson. I ran outside throwing up on the plants beside the porch and dialed 911.

Sitting on his porch, crying, finally hearing the sirens in the distance

Questions came the same ones more than once until I was exhausted. They would finish here and I should go home for some sleep. They would come to my house tomorrow if they needed any more answers.

I was at  fault that Jim was dead, I should never have gotten him mixed up in these grizzly murders. Driving home, I realized I had not told the police about someone in my house earlier. I would mention it in the morning.

Parking my car, I entered the house from the back door, had I left it unlocked.  

Silently I crept into the kitchen, standing there was a woman with long black hair about forty drinking my wine. She smiled saying it was time we met. She complimented me on my knowledge of her background, she had obviously read my notes. Admitting her parents abused her, she killed them both, and their bodies had never been discovered.

 

I went at her with a kick knocking the glass from her hand, and then she came at me with a long bone handle knife.  

Swinging it, she circled like a caged animal thrusting back and forth. I kept her moving and off balance trying to kick the knife from her hand. Circling to get closer to my knives, I faked a turn grabbing a knife as I passed. The surprise look on her face showed contempt and hatred.

She tried to get near the back door, her body showed she was tiring and wanted to flee and finish me off another time. Turning she went for the door handle throwing my knife I hit her in the back, but it fell to the floor without even penetrating her jacket.

She came back at me slashing for my throat just missing my jugular artery, Kicking I hit her mid section sending her backwards. Pulling open my drawer finding the gun I had cleaned a few days ago. I unloaded two bullets in succession. One hit her in her arm, the second in her left shoulder, she slumped to the floor as I stood over her.

  

I told her this last one was for my friend aiming for her face.

Knives are for cooking.

Guns always win out. 

 

A Perfect Murder

Murderers think that they can commit the perfect murder but rarely do.

Always leaving some clue after they have done the deed.

I have thought long and hard on how to do mine without a trace of why or how I committed them. Yes, I did say them as I plan to do a few. I have already picked out five to start with, very easy to select bad men and women that have been in the newspaper. Either having done some crime and getting away with it leaving broken families never to be the same mentally or physically again. Parents losing a child from a drunk driver.  A man who harms or kills a girlfriend’s child just because she loved her child and he felt threaten by this.

I could go on and on but will start with the man who preyed on old people. I call it subliminal crime, as he actually didn’t kill anyone physically just broke their spirit and left them bankrupt by taking their life savings.

I will call this man Mike. My first victim, he is forty-five years old and has swindled more than one elderly couple of their savings. One husband died from a heart attack just after he found out that all his money was gone. Mike was never charged. There was apparently not enough evidence, he was very cleaver at covering his tracks. He is still working as an investment banker.

I started following him six weeks ago and could tell he would be an easy target. He met secretly with his secretary girlfriend who was involved in his wrong doings. They met for drinks after work before he went home to a big house and a stay-at-home wife. They were living off the money of the people they bilked. His girlfriend also had a beautiful condominium all paid for.

He would meet with her every second weekend at a motel ten miles from the city. He was smart, it was a rundown place set back from the highway, cars were hidden in the dark parking area. Their meetings were like clockwork, three hours and she was gone.

She always left first, him about fifteen minutes later. That was when I would take him. I had my own car parked two blocks away, walking slowly to make sure no one was around the area. I always wore black clothing, gloves, a hair net over a blond wig, shoes a size too small. Achy feet later would be worth the effort.

I had unlicensed guns that could never be traced. An uncle of mine had been a dealer many years ago and taught me everything I needed to know about hand guns, I had many different ones in my collection. He was long gone now.

I waited behind a large fir tree, right on schedule the door opened a silhouette of two bodies kissing and then she headed to her car. I let her drive away, then sprinted to the door and knocked, he looked surprised as he must of thought his girlfriend had come back. I called him by name, his face showed surprise, telling him I was a private detective that his wife had hired, but if he wanted to up the ante offered by his wife I would be willing to fudge my report. His mistake. He asked me to come in. An empty bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the nightstand, one had some left in it. The bed sheets half on the floor.  He asked me how much money I wanted. Then the pleading started, his wife would take him for everything he had worked for, the house, bank accounts, their summer place, boat, leaving him bankrupt.

I started to laugh thinking of all the people he had left just like that. That was when I took out my gun, he jumped from where he had been sitting spilling the wine, pointing my gun, telling him to sit down. He grabbed for his wallet on the side table, telling me to take it all as the hundred dollar bills flowed out on the bed. I stared down at him and named the list of people that he had stolen from over the years, so he, his girlfriend and wife could live the high life. His face fell, he now realized that he was in trouble, as he watched me screw on the silencer to my gun.

He pleaded with me on his knees not to kill him.

Two shots to the heart. I left him slumped over the messy bed. Taking the money, I would send it to his victims.

I stopped at a bridge on my way home, tying the gun inside my shoes, I threw it in.

One down!  

My next perpetrator, I watched from a distance, he was a politician whose public image was wide spread and covered by newspapers around the country. A family man, he claimed with two children at Yale, his perfect wife involved in charity work and from a family with money and stature. He was a rapist and had never been caught. I will call him Senator. He preyed on young girls trying to learn the trade of political life. I had been dating a man that was a rising star in politics, went to a few functions with him where I met the senator. My friend and I only had a few dates and we both had moved on.

As I poured myself a glass of wine, I scanned an old yellowed newspaper, from three years ago. A young girl was murdered and raped while working on the senator’s campaign. His wife gave him an alibi. No one had ever been charged with her murder. I knew it was him, as I knew the girl and she had told me he had approached her to meet with him. She had turned him down but it had gotten ugly. He had warned her that nobody said no to him.

It would be hard to get him alone, but a plan was forming and I would get him to notice me then the next step would be easy. A charity event was next week and he would be there with his wife.

 I prepared for the night.

Dressing in a low cut tight dress and blond wig, makeup perfect, I drove to the hotel where the event was in full swing. Entering the room our eyes met as he scanned the crowd and I knew he was hooked. As soon as his wife was involved in the auction he made his move towards me. I had made sure that I stood at the back of the room and as he approached, I went out to the hall. He certainly had his lingo prepared for any circumstance that came his way. Flirting he asked if we could catch a drink, telling me he would be free in about an hour where could we meet? Telling him about a small bar on the waterfront, I would wait for him there. I knew the bar closed at nine.

He was there within the hour. As he drove up I was standing out on the wharf and waved for him to join me. It was a cold night with not a soul around as he headed towards me with a large grin on his face. When he got close, I pulled out my revolver and he looked shocked, starting to back away. Telling him not to move I aimed right for his crotch

‘Why’ was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

Then I told him that I had a beautiful sister that he murdered and raped and got away with it, now he was going to pay for what he had done to her. I shot him once in the crotch the second shot to his heart, blood spurted down over his body, stumbling going over the edge of the wharf, he was dead before he hit the water. 

Stopping on the way home at my favorite bridge, in went the gun with the wig wrapped around it with a rubber band and another pair of shoes gone. I had bought many wigs and shoes from a movie prop sale. I hated to throw the wig away as it was a favorite, but someone might remember the women the Senator had been talking to.

Two down.

The newspaper headline read.

Senator Wilkinson’s body found floating in the river this morning with two bullet holes. An alert went out when he did not come home last night after a fundraiser his wife was hosting. He told her something had come up and he would meet her at home. A family friend had seen him talking to a woman with blond hair at the hotel before he left. Police are asking the women to contact them. The family posted a large sum of money for information about his killing.

On the second page, a small article about another woman questioned and charged for the murder of an investment banker, apparently a love quarrel in a motel room his wallet found empty.

My next challenge was a man in prison who only got six months and a year’s probation for killing a small child crossing in a crosswalk on her way home from school. Nine-year-old Cindy lived for a week before dying from her injuries. The driver, a repeat offender with a suspended drivers license had fled the scene. His lawyer defending him in court saying his childhood had been full of abuse with only a mother raising him. I had to make a choice who to go after first, the lawyer or the killer. Shakespeare once quoted; ‘kill all the lawyers.’

The attorney’s name was well known in our community, for getting the guilty off or light sentencing for his clients. He was a widower, living alone in a huge mansion gated with a high electric fence. He stopped at his club on Friday night having dinner and drinks with his old cronies. A valet brought his car around always at ten o’clock from the underground parking lot. I would be in his trunk next Friday.

I would wear a black wig this time, a shoe size larger, and two pairs of heavy socks, way more comfy than the teeny shoes, gloves and a plastic sheet for the occasion. Jimmying, the lock I spread the plastic and lying down. I had fastened the trunk closed so it would not be noticeable to anyone, feeling confined I relaxed and waited.

The ride was smooth with just a few bumps until I heard the gate open and close. I was inside the gate. Waiting until I heard the garage close and Mr. Lawyer get out I slowly opened the trunk, stretching my cramped legs. At the inside door, I stood listening, lights switching on then off footsteps fading. The kitchen looked like it had little use, pots hanging from a bar above the stove, a small light illuminated the tile floor. Sitting waiting until no noise came from upstairs, I attached the silencer to my Glock.

Half an hour passed, I was being cautious as most lawyers have a gun in their homes. I listened at the bottom of the stairs until I could hear snoring erupt from a room near the top of the stairs. Quietly I climbed until the snores became obvious what room he was sleeping in.

Opening the door, I moved towards the bed switching on the bedside lamp. Waking him with a punch with my gun to his shoulder, he woke startled, trying to sit up, looking around then seeing me sitting on his bed with a gun aimed at him. He found his menacing lawyers voice finally yelling what I thought I was doing in his house. Telling him, I was here to rob him and if he did not open his safe, I would kill him. His arrogance emerged as he said hell would freeze over before he would do that. He wanted to know how I had gotten into his home.

He tried to move towards me, his eyes racing around the room wondering I am sure what he could do. I shot him in his foot a smell hit my nostrils. He was shocked. Motioning him towards his safe, I could see where the smell was coming from as the dark stains showed on his pajamas. Big time lawyer shit his pants.

He opened the safe swearing as he turned the knob, blood was covering the white carpet as he hobbled to sit on his bed. Then I said I was here to kill him for helping the guilty go free for so many years. Telling him I was savoring this moment for so many families that had suffered from his wrong doings. That is when my second bullet hit him in his heart. Slumping over, his body hit the floor, and more blood flooded the carpet.

Leaving through the garage taking my plastic with me I jogged to where I had left my car three blocks away. A man was walking his dog as I neared my car so kept on down the street until he had turned into a driveway a block away from my car.

Three down

I pondered driving to the bridge getting rid of all the evidence once again. Should I wait until the child killer was released from jail or have an inmate with a life sentence with his family given a fund to be paid to them if he committed the killing in jail. I would think on that. The lawyer’s money would certainly cover it. But it would require logistics.

Drinking my morning coffee two interesting stories appeared in the morning paper.

Well known lawyer found in bed. Murdered, robbery looks like the motive, his safe emptied, his associates saying he always kept large sums of money in his home. No clues so far found in his house.

A man fishing in the river had found a gun wrapped in a blond wig tucked into woman’s running shoes. Now they where looking for the woman seen with the senator the night he disappeared. Ballistics showed that it was the same caliber of gun, which had killed the Senator.

That is how killers are caught they get sloppy. They would be looking for a shoe size that was not mine, my hair was always covered, nobody would recognize me with all the makeup that I had worn that night.  I had stuffed the burnt cloths in a dumpster, it was long gone to the city dump.

Fourth on my list was a nurse who had stolen from old people that she looked after in an old folk’s home. Her abuse came out when an old man had run away from the home after complaining many times to the woman that ran the place. Not aware that the nurse was a co-owner with the woman he had complained to. He had been found wondering a block away from his daughters home only in pajamas with bruising over his body.

The story went that they had tried to get him to sign over his bank account to them and when he refused, they would come into his room at night abusing him, then telling his family he had fallen. Looking into the home it had come out that many patients had passed and all their money had been transferred to the home. They lost their license, only to start up again under a different name. Apparently, this was very common.

The women were in their fifties living in a house beside the new care facility that they had opened only three months ago. After some checking, I found that they were right back at bilking the elderly. I watched the nurse taking a women for a walk in the nearby park. They sat on a bench as I strolled past catching a few words from the patient she sounded agitated as the nurse grabbed at her arm-twisting it, looking around to see if anyone saw her. She pulled away as she noticed me staring at her and asking if there was a problem to the patient. The old woman was afraid looking at the nurse. The nurse told me there was no problem just the elderly acting up. The nurse abruptly getting to her feet starting to push the old women along the pathway.

I watched from a distance for the next week the owner always doing the banking on a Friday at two in the afternoon. She drove a new Mercedes stopping at the bank then to shop for groceries and liquor. The drive home was on to a two-lane highway for about twenty miles through farmland. That is when I would stop her. This predator would be the next one on my list. I waited at the side of the road seeing her car coming I had my blinking lights on and was standing beside my rented car as she approached I stepped out in to her way. She had no choice she had to stop.

Telling her, I had car trouble, asking if she had jumper cables I could use. She looked annoyed, but heading to the back of her car opening her trunk. That is when I told her why she was going to die. She came at me swiftly with the cables swinging, ducking I shot her once to the head backing away as her head exploded.

Now it was the nurse’s turn.

I waited until two days after the funeral, making a visit to the nurses home, I knocked twice she answered dressed in her housecoat hair not done I must have woken her. She had a liquor breath. Telling her I was an old school friend of her boss and not been able to make the funeral. Opening the door for me to enter, I had chosen a red wig, shoes my size, a black suit that I had hated, entering I looked like a schoolteacher, or businessperson.

She asked if I would like a coffee as she had just made a pot, I followed her into the kitchen. That is when she told me her and her partner had been lovers for ten years. I could have cared less but now knew why she was feeling her friend’s loss more than just a business partner was.

Sitting back in the living room, I could see many pictures of them both on holidays at tropical spas, probably from their patient’s money. She started to speak about her lover dying on their anniversary coming home to make a dinner for them both to celebrate.

That is when I asked about their business dealing with the elderly. A light seemed to go on in her head and she went to get up as I pulled out my gun. She sat back down asking what I wanted with her. Gloating I told her, I was the one who killed her lover, she came out of the chair faster than what I had anticipated she was on me pushing the gun towards me. I hit her hard stunning her but she was up rapidly reaching for my face going for my eyes, I could feel blood running down my face. Her nails had dug into my skin

She was strong, I kicked her in the ribs, she bent over but still came at me in a frenzy of fear, anger and panic. This woman was going to give me a fight for her life. She grabbed for the gun and suddenly had a hold of it and I raised it towards her, that did not stop her. She was strong but I finally had control and shot. She looked directly into my eyes as she slowly slid to the floor.

What a mess.

I methodically went through the house cleaning everywhere I had been and anything I might have touched. Then putting her hands in a bowl soaking them in bleach that I had found in the laundry room to remove any sign of my skin or blood. Then I decided to run the bath dragging her and dumping her in, filling the tub, while adding the rest of the bleach bottle just to be sure all traces were gone .

This bitch was the hardest one to kill.

I needed a holiday.

Missions accomplished for now.

I will wait for the drunk driver to be released.

Leaving the newspapers until morning to review.