Authors: Len Norman
“What’s going on Reg? Is he gonna hurt us?” Kyle was openly blubbering and began stomping his feet. “I don’t want to be here!”
“For fuck sakes; don’t you think it’s high time to man up? This is what it is... I was dead when the dispatcher gave me this call and you were dead the moment you walked in the door. I knew that much when I sweet-talked you in here. Everyone hates your stinking guts and you will NOT be missed. You like apples, Kyle? What do you make of them apples?”
“I don’t want to die. Please do something, Reg.”
“You really don’t get it do you? All these years you’ve been acting like a big shot and taking credit for things you never came close to doing. At some juncture, along the timeline of human development, you became a spineless prick. Then again, you may have been born like this. You never once put yourself in harm’s way. What kind of an idiot are you? Can’t you see you’re already dead? Hell, we’re both dead. The only good news about all of this is the rest of the cops won’t have to put up with your sorry ass ever again. I’m happy for them at least.”
Harley said, “This is great! You two seem to be working out your issues. So Kyle, have you been a coward your entire life? Do you have any friends? Does everybody hate you, or is it just this guy?”
Kyle looked at Harley and stamped his feet again. He was sobbing and snot was flowing down his nose. The smell of urine was unmistakable. “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. I’m sorry! Whatever it is that I did, I’ll stop. PLEASE JUST LET ME GO. OKAY?”
“For Christ sakes…would you just kill him first? I’m actually getting a headache from just listening to him. Just shoot him first so I can watch. Would you do at least that much?” Reg asked.
Harley turned toward Reg and pointed the gun at his chest. “So tell me, Kyle, what do the bad guys shoot at when they know the cops are wearing bulletproof vests? If you answer truthfully, I’ll let you go.”
“They aim for their heads.”
“Indeed.” Harley quickly turned and shot Kyle in the forehead. He was dead before his brain could register any pain. Reg made his move and charged at Harley. It was a longshot at best but better than nothing.
Reg rushed the madman and when Harley looked up Reg head-butted him. Reg shattered Harley’s nose and cheek bone. Reg would’ve preferred a hands-free upward jab with the possibility of cartilage driven into the lunatic’s brain. He’d given his best but the angle of his head on Harley’s nose was all wrong. Had it knocked him out or even down to the floor briefly, Reg would’ve stomped him to death.
It was the angriest Harley had ever been in a life full of fury. His wicked brain was nothing more than a swarm of livid hornets and each sting was full of vengeful poison.
He roared, “YOU SON OF A WHORE! HOW COULD YOU? NOBODY TOUCHES ME. YOU
ARE
THE ACE OF SPADES!”
Harley emptied his gun into Reg and the third bullet finished him off. He was dead before he even hit the floor.
Harley took the Ace of Spades out of his back pocket and dropped it next to the thing that was once Reg Thorne.
Winner Takes All
1988
H
arley was in no hurry to leave, and why would he be? At long last he was the only REAL person on God’s green earth. The search was finally over and all fifty-two were gone. He sat down and looked at both cops. One of those things was not like the other, he thought. He actually pitied Reg for having to work with Kyle. Reg had been right; the rest of the cops wouldn’t have to put up with his sorry ass ever again.
Harley had just finished grabbing his suitcase and was headed for the Corvette parked in the attached garage. The front door swung open and two new officers were inside the house. Harley looked up, “Howdy boys.”
Frank had the drop on Harley and pointed the gun at his chest. “Find them, Quentin. This guy isn’t going anywhere.” Within seconds Quentin let out a blood-curdling scream.
“What is it?” Frank yelled.
Quentin stormed back into the room. “Both of them are dead. Cocksucker killed Reg and Kyle. He killed Reg.” Quentin was screaming at Harley, “You dirty son of a bitch. Why? Why did you kill them?”
Harley told them why. It was the thirty-second version but that’s all it took. When he finished, Frank pointed his weapon at Harley and cocked the hammer. Harley laughed and fearlessly looked at Frank, “Go ahead and shoot me. You can’t kill me. Weren’t you even listening? The last person in the world that could accomplish that is dead in the other room.”
“Don’t shoot him, Frank. I got a better idea.”
Quentin walked up to Harley and knocked him to the floor. He laid there and laughed at both of them.
Quentin said, “You know something, Frank? This guy is probably right. We can’t kill him, because we’re not real.” He knelt to the floor and placed his gun in Harley’s hand while maintaining control of the weapon with both of his hands.
Harley was giddy. “You can’t kill me. Go ahead and try.”
“Of course, I can’t stupid. But I bet you can commit suicide. This has all been a bad dream, just go back to sleep.” Quentin forced Harley’s finger in the trigger guard and the rest was easy. He was so full of grief. This wasn’t even a death penalty state. Hell, what was he even thinking? This guy was crazier than a shithouse rat. He wouldn’t even spend time in prison. Quentin heard sirens in the distance. It was now or never.
Innocence Lost
1988
T
he funerals were over but the investigation continued with all manner of assistance from Federal and State agencies. The actual homicide scrutiny was straightforward. Harley somehow managed to handcuff both officers and then killed Kyle first.
Autopsy results indicated Reg had trauma to the top of his head that was consistent with a very strong head butt to Harley’s face and the result of all that was a broken nose and cheekbone fracture. Investigators surmised correctly—Reg probably went after Harley as soon he was distracted with the shooting of Kyle.
The circumstances surrounding the death of Harley were clear. Both officers told the same exact story. He was plainly out of his mind, having bragged about killing Kyle and Reg. He even boasted of being invincible, and as they attempted to take him into custody a struggle ensued. Quentin was trying to subdue him and Harley grabbed his duty weapon. They grappled briefly and Harley had his finger inside the trigger guard and soon managed to squeeze the trigger. Fortunately for Quentin, while all of that was going on, both of his hands controlled the gun and the barrel was pointed directly at Harley’s head.
Frank did all that he could to help Quentin. As he tried to hold Harley’s arm down the gun discharged. Blood, skull fragments, and brain matter decorated the walls. It all happened so quickly, as things like that always do. Investigators concluded the shooting was accidental and the prosecuting attorney concurred.
An entire police department was in a state of shock for days to come and they operated on autopilot with regard to the usual day-to-day business. The loss of an officer to a line-of-duty death was devastating to any agency, but the loss of two officers in a single day was traumatizing and crippling, because the numbness was twofold.
Calvin would later tell a newspaper reporter when asked what he thought, “The tragic incident was our admittance into really bad times. It was the day Riverside lost its innocence.” That quote soon appeared in newspapers and was repeated on national televised news reports.
It didn’t take long for the FBI and countless state investigating agencies as well as larger police departments to get into the act. There were plenty of unsolved murders with a playing card left at the crime scene, the same kind of card that was found lying next to Reg. The first agency to come forward was the Shawnee City Police Department. The Queen of Spades had been mailed to them along with a note…
I waited until she finished cutting the grass
.
Harley had taken hundreds of lives. He had so many aliases, so much money and time. He traveled freely and murdered—not just the fifty-two who were of paramount importance to him. He killed another three hundred people or so as well: men, women, and children. He had no bias as to gender, age, and race. For some they were simply too close to his intended target and for others they were simply practice: He needed to keep his killing skills refined. He was, in the final analysis, inherently evil.
Epilogue
1999
M
aggie Kagel Summers was in labor and it was much worse than the others had been. Her husband Adam was at her side. She wished her mother could’ve seen both of the girls. Ginny Kagel died in 1983 when Maggie was fifteen. They were so close and Maggie still thought of her every day. She had no desire to know who her father was, and Ginny never bothered her with those details. A summer fling in Bar Harbor, Maine, with someone she never saw again. When she found out she was pregnant she never even thought about trying to find him. She raised Maggie on her own.
When Ginny was killed in a traffic accident, Maggie was crushed. She was only fifteen and her grandmother took her in.
For sure Ginny would’ve loved the girls. Samantha was seven and Susanna was three. Maggie said to Adam, “My mother should be here with us.”
“She probably is up there looking at you and waiting for her brand-new grandson. You think she’d like the name we picked out?”
“Harrison is a great name. Mom would have loved the idea of us naming him after her father. He’ll be a wonderful boy, as loving as my mother and as wonderful as his father.” Adam smiled and a wave of nausea struck Maggie. It was an experience she’d never had with either of the girls.
******
Harrison was born just before midnight on July 14, 1999. The doctor felt strange the moment the baby arrived. Wouldn’t it be a magnificent idea to fly his Cessna into a residential area on the way to Santa Ana tomorrow afternoon? A couple of loops and then a great big old nose dive in the center of someone’s house? He could hardly wait. Dr. Strickland would be dead in less than twenty-four hours and the dreadful event would be televised on the Nightly News. Seven others on the ground would die as well. Dr. Strickland understood too late —it was that baby!
Maggie held the newborn for a short time and felt the nausea again. She handed the baby to Adam and rolled away from both of them. “Just have the nurse take him back to the nursery, honey. You should probably go home and get some rest.”
As soon as Adam held his son his head began to throb. He couldn’t wait to leave. Adam was in the Modesto General Hospital parking lot. There were a few dead rats, cats, and stray dogs between the hospital front door and his car. As he left the parking lot his headache began to go away.
About the Author
Len Norman is a retired police officer. He lives in Michigan with his family and their Yellow Lab Sam.