The Legend (11 page)

In the center of the room is a chalk outline of the victim.  It appears to be of a small lady.  This wasn't warranted.  It was a cowardly act.  She probably couldn't even put up a worthy fight. 
While surveying the scene I suddenly noticed something that would've been overlooked by the canniest detective: a button.  I kneeled down for a closer look.  I've seen it before.  It was a distinct button with a gold star on it.  A routine patron named Bailey used to bring in his Italian-made silk shirts to the dry cleaners when I worked there.  I only remembered them because Bailey was extremely bullheaded about his shirts.  Many of his shirts had this same button stitched into them.

I was betting on Bailey still living in the apartment building a few blocks from the dry cleaners.  I've picked up and delivered his dry cleaning to him every so often.  Unfortunately, his cherry red '76 Stingray isn't parked out front.  However,
from the rooftop on an adjacent building, I did notice the silhouette of a busty female pacing back and forth by a back window inside his apartment.

While delivering dry cleaning to patrons one afternoon, I
bumped into Bailey in the lobby of his building.  He was retrieving his mail.  Instead of taking his dry cleaning from me there, he made me follow him upstairs to his apartment.  He retrieved a key from the top of his door frame and unlocked his door with it.  I felt for the key on the door frame.  It's still there. 

His apartment is immaculate.  The hardwood flooring in his living room and hallway is
pristine.  The colors of his modern-style furniture go well with the oil paintings hung on his walls.  It’s showroom worthy.  I'd expect this from Bailey.  He comes off as an obsessive-compulsive person.

There
was a racy pink tie-back halter top and a white mini-skirt on the floor in the bedroom.  The shower was running and I overheard the mellow voice of a female singing from within.  I went into Bailey's closet and sifted through his gold ancient tile patterned silk shirts.  There were several and I was hoping to find the one with the missing button.

Suddenly I
got an earful of the grating squeal from the shower knob being turned and the water stopped running.  The female is going to come out any second.  There was no time to dawdle.  I had to move with haste.  Just as I finished going through his shirts, I noticed a stuffed black garbage bag sticking out from underneath Bailey's bed.  I fetched the bag out and sifted through it.  There was a pair of jeans with a good amount of blood staining it.  There was also a silk Italian-made shirt inside and a white knitted ski mask that also had blood splatter.  Black buttons with a painted gold star was stitched into the shirt.  A button, right on the chest, was missing.  Bailey has adulation for his Italian-made shirts.  I didn't think he'd wear one to commit this heinous homicide.  He probably didn't have much time to prepare for the brutal murder he committed. 

Just then, a
cellphone began to chime inside the bathroom.  The female answered it:

"Hello... Hey how's it goin'?... Nah, I just too
k a shower... Yeah, I'm gonna be dancing tonight at Lacy's... No, Bailey isn't here… I can talk to you... No, he went to Sterling's Pool Hall with two of his buddies..."

The bathroom door knob began to turn.  I set the bag back underneath the bed then scaled out of the bedroom window just as she stepped out.  I descended down the fire escape, made my way into the alley and fled into the night.

Sterling's Pool Hall is located on the top floor of a narrow three story brick building on
Ninth Street.  There is a vertical neon sign fixed to the side of the building with its name illuminated in red.  Bailey parked his Stingray in an alleyway besides the pool hall.  For the past hour I've been watching him down six beers.  He's accompanied by two other companions.  They too have been drinking liquor. 

Another hour has past and the owner just informed the fellas the hall is closing.  Bailey and his friends finished their last round of pool and beers then headed towards the exit.  The three stood out front and engaged in a brief befuddling co
nversation.  Then the guys high-five’d each other and parted ways.  Bailey staggered to his car parked in the alleyway.

"Bailey, we need to talk." 
I growled as he stood by his car fumbling his keys.

"What the... Who... D
a fucks are you?" 
He stammered.  He's highly inebriated.

"Why'd you set him up?"

"Set him up?  I dunno whatcha talkin'bout."

"Ludlow."

"Ludlow?" 
He inquired.

"Yeah Ludlow.  Why'd you set him up?

"I dunno know whatcha talkin'bout.  Who da fucks Ludlow?" 
He muttered then turned back towards his car. 

He's not in any condition to interrogate nor is he in any condition to drive.  I have to coerce him to confess.  Just as he retrieved his keys
off the ground, I clenched the back of his neck and hammered his head into his car roof.  Bailey faltered onto the concrete. 
"Hey man, whatchu doin'?" 
He cried while aggressively stroking his forehead. 
"Ludlow!  Why'd you set him up?" 
I barked.  Bailey ignored my inquiries and began to crawl away.  I pelted his right rib with a vigorous kick.  He belted out an agonizing moan then began to hurl. 

"Gee
zus man, I'm drunk.  Please... Don't hit me..." 
Bailey pleaded while rolling onto his back and wiping the vomit from his mouth.  His cries fell on deaf ears.  I snatched him up by his shirt then slammed him against the rear fender of his Stingray.  I then began pelting him in the left cheek with several right hooks.

"Please stop... P
lease...!" 
Bailey persisted to plea.  He hoisted up his arms to cushion the blows.

"Why'd you set up Ludlow?" 
I growled.

"I... I... I..." 
He stammered.  I continued whaling on him. 
"Okay... Okay... I was told to... By the boss..."

"What boss?"

"My boss... Quinnclay.  He called me and told me to beat this lady.  He said 'Kill her and hurry!'  I don't ask questions, I did what I was told.  I heard later on Quinnclay set up Ludlow to take da fall for it." 
He cried.

“Why Ludlow?”

“Cause man, he’s soft.  Why not him?”

“Why the lady?” 
I inquired.

“I dunno.  Quinnclay said she owed him some money but she didn’t look like a junkie
to me.  She was too clean.  She was probably some girlfriend two-timing him.”

"A detective will be here shortly.  Tell her exactly what you just told me."

"I… C'mon... I can't go back to jail!" 
Bailey blurted.  He then slumped his head over his chest.

Minutes later a
maroon colored Crown Victoria raced into the alley.  It sent a puddle of water into the air.  The red dashboard strobe light announced the detective's arrival.  Detective Wu pulled in front of Bailey's '76 Stingray.  She bustled out of the car and rushed towards us.

"What did you do to him?" 
Detective Wu inquired while squirming at his bruises.

"Tell her!" 
I growled.  Bailey glanced at me for a second then reluctantly confessed to the homicide.  I also informed her about the distinct button left on the crime scene and how it came back to Bailey's Italian-made silk shirts.  The detective jotted down the inkling then radioed for an ambulance and a transport wagon to respond.

“Geezus Legend, did you really have to rough him up like that?” 
She inquired.

“He wouldn’t talk.”

“Well next time just give me the lead.  I have ways of making people like him talk.  Legally!  Get out of here before my back up arrives.  I’ll come up with a story to explain this.”
 

Detective Wu placed Bailey on a forty eight hour hold.  She returned to the crime scene with forensic officers and recovered the button.  It was then taken to the analysis lab.  Remarkably, they were able to recover contact trace DNA
belonging to Bailey.  It gave the detective enough probable cause to get an emergency search warrant signed off by the Superior Court judge.  The Capitol City SWAT team raided Bailey's apartment and the black garbage bag was found underneath Bailey's bed.  The blood on Bailey's Italian-made silk shirt came back to the victim.  Bailey was charged with the homicide and Ludlow was released from jail.

A vintage ‘80s yellow Checker Cab pulled up to Ludlow's apartment.  A middle-aged male wearing a green knitted beanie and matching sweater paid his fare then stepped out of the rear passenger side door.  It's approaching the midnight hour and the rain has begun to fall.  He treaded towards the front door to the building. 

"Ludlow!" 
I growled as he made his way up the front steps.

"Oh... It's... Y
ou!" 
He stammered after pivoting around and noticing the dark caped figure with flaming red eyes standing before him. 
"I... I heard what you did..."

"You were just given a second chance at life.  Make it count!"

"Yessir... Yessir I will." 
He replied.  I turned around and began to head down the street. 
"Legend... Before you go... Can I ask you a question?" 
Ludlow barked.

"What?" 
I growled while slightly pivoting back towards him.

"Wh
y... Why'd you help me?"

"It was your wife Ludlow.  She
’s suffered enough already."
  I growled then sprinted towards an alley across the street and disappeared into the night.

The headline on the morning's paper stunned the city;
"Harlot Murderer STRIKES AGAIN!"
  The article read:
"...The victim was only nineteen.  Her body was found in the same alley a previous victim was left in. Sources told us she had contusions on the left side of her face...  One of her molars was knocked loose...  Defensive wounds were found on her forearms… A single gunshot wound was found to the chest… Abrasions consistent with a sexual assault… All signs leading to one thing; Albert's back!"

A note found on the scene was published in the article:

"It's been a long time since I had the urge to meet with you again.  I know you missed me.  Don't worry, I plan on sticking around for a long time.  Remember this alley?  Lightning can strike in the same place twice.  But don't you see, it's fate.  I'm supposed to turn society into a madhouse.  If I wasn't I would've been caught by now.  See you at the next one."

Albert's wood paneled station wagon was found in an alley behind a condemned downtown high-rise apartment building.  Officers
and the fire department responded to a call for a burning car.  When the fire was put out, officers realized it was Albert's 1982 Ford Country Squire.  The entire city was on the lookout for his distinct vehicle.  It seems Albert decided to get rid of it.

For several nights I watched the ladies of the evening post up on the city blocks at dusk.  I watched them bustle in and out of cars.  I watch them get compensated for performing sexual acts on complete strangers.  Some were as young as sixteen.  I couldn't help but to think,
"What could possible make someone adopt this lifestyle?"

It wasn't just the usual Tom and Jake that pulled these ladies
either.  Politicians, lawyers, doctors, judges and off-duty police officers also steered into the block.  Albert, however, was the objective.  There were no leads and the clock was ticking before another lady was going to lose her life.

Suddenly, just when I thought I hit a dead end, a familiar face escorted two prostitutes into an alley; the clerk from the Meridian Motel.  It was a shot in the dark but I had to give it a try.  The judge put a stay away order on me.  I can't be within a hundred feet of him or I'll be violating my probation.  I'm
betting on him not being able to recognize me with my cloak and mask.

His head rested against a brick wall while the ladies were unclothing him with their teeth.
  He had a broad grin on his face.  They were both fondling his groin area while his hands rested around their waists. 
"Mindy and Cindy, my favorite twins..." 
He moaned.

"We need to talk." 
I growled while revealing myself from the dark alley.

"Woah!  Who... Wh... W
ho are you?" 
The clerk stammered.  The twins were startled.  They briskly spun around and caught sight of the dark caped figure with flaming red eyes standing before them.  They nonchalantly backed away from the clerk. 

"Ladies, you mind leaving us alone." 
I growled.

"Shh.
.. Sure!" 
One of the twins stammered.
  "Hey sweetie... We'll catcha later, all right hun.  You seem to have your hands full right now."
 

"No... N
o wait!" 
He begged.  They ignored his pleas and trotted into the alley in their high heeled stilettos.