Crasher: Mind Of A Killer

Chapter Three

    Authorities have been left in a mixture of shock and confusion after the body of entrepreneur and Socialite, Fred Norton was found in his apartment. Mr. Norton was found in his bed, with a nail stuck in his neck; this is believed to be one of two murder weapons used to kill Mr. Norton. The police are yet to get any leads as concerns which could be the perpetrator of this heinous act, especially as Navroj Artsec, the man believed to be The Crasher, has been in police custody for the last month. It raises questions, of who could be the possible killer, could the police have nabbed the wrong guy? Or do we have a copycat killer on our hands?

   Zach turned off the television, fully satisfied with all he had heard from the news stations. Every news channel in Miami was covering the story relating to the death of Fred Norton. They had criminologists analyzing the murder; they invited detectives, retired police officers, everyone was getting interviewed from his wife to his high school teachers.

  This was the frenzy he had expected. Just watching the news helped him relive the high he had been on from that night. Of course, hearing detailed analysis on the murder was nothing compared to being there while it happened, but it at least allowed him to hear different perspectives and he was taking down tips. Some of the analysts that had come on the shows were intelligent men; well-read in the art of crime. He had a jotter, writing down anything he thought could be useful with his next victim.

  He had already found a potential target and was looking into him. He would allow the media frenzy to die down a little and then would return to the field by the end of the week. 

   A knock at his door pulled him away from his thoughts. He looked toward the door, who could be at the door? His rent wasn’t due till two months, so, it couldn’t be the landlord, and he hadn’t made any calls, so, that certainly wasn’t a delivery person at the door. 

    He moved toward the door slowly as the knock came again. There was no aggression to it; it was quite light, so, whoever was at the door, wasn’t here for a fight. That canceled out the cops to him.

  Mindy? Maybe it was Emily, coming over to apologize and beg him to return to the blog. Wouldn’t that be a sight? The arrogant Emily Nuneck, at his door, begging him to take his job back. She probably realized there were only so many articles you could steal on a topic before you had to return to the source. 

   “Who’s there?” he asked as he got to the door.

   “Mr. Wylan? This is Ryn Lonsdale; I work for ThisIndulge, your former employers, I believe.” 

   Ryn what? Who the hell was that? Since when did she work for the blog? He had never heard that name in his life. She had to be new. He knew everyone at the office. 

  He unlocked the door but kept the chain locks as he opened the door to peer through the narrow space at the person on the other side. She c****d her head to the side as she noticed him, “Hi” she said and waved lightly. 

   She looked like a tiny little thing. A lot of people looked small to Wylan; he was a little over 6'2", but this lady was indeed small. She couldn’t be taller than 5'3", she had her hair in a tight ponytail, no jewelry aside from a wristwatch, no makeup on…maybe lip balm. She wore a pair of faded jeans and a black top underneath a purple leather jacket….who wore purple leather jackets?

   “How can I help you?” 

   “Can I….can I come in?” she asked.

  No. Aside from the fact that his house was a mess, he didn’t like strangers in his space, especially strangers whose missions he couldn’t figure out just yet.

   “How can I help you?” he repeated the question in response to hers. 

  She noticed he wasn’t about to let her into the house, and he could sense her demeanor change. That aggression had surfaced, “Well, I just got this job at ThisIndulge and my boss, Emily Nuneck, a woman I assume you must be familiar with, suggested I come to you concerning the news about The Crasher. She thinks your perspective could be useful in the article I plan to write on him” 

   Emily Nuneck was indeed a shameless woman. She had no remorse whatsoever, rather than a call to apologize for her actions against him, she was rubbing salt in his wound by sending her little protégé to pick his brain for more Intel so that they could write an article without giving him due credits. She really thought she could fire him, and still have access to his mind. Her arrogance knew no end. She seemed like someone who would have to be cut down to size at some point. 

   “What’s your name again, young lady?” 

   She c****d her brows, obviously unable to understand why he would ask her name again, “Ryn.”

   He unlocked the chains and opened the door wider, “Ryn, if you have any sense, you should take my advice. Emily Nuneck is a two-timing, double-crossing witch, who will crucify you and your career on an altar of her self glorification, so, I would advise you to do your thing at your own pace and don’t bother trying to satisfy her little whims, because you never will.”

   “Is that what she did to you?” Ryn fired at him.

  Zach scowled. He had been a journalist long enough to know the beginnings of an interview, and this girl was trying to get into his head, “Tell Emily to go f**k herself” he stated. 

   He turned around and walked back into his house, slamming the door behind him and locking it as she tried to say something. 

  She knocked once again, “Mr. Wylan, I just need a little help, please. This is my first job, and I need assistance.” 

  Too bad. He wasn’t the man to put her through anything. If she had any luck, Emily would fire her before she invested her time and intellectual property on the blog.

   ****

  What a d**k!

   Emily had told her he would probably be a bit difficult, but she hadn’t said he’d be an outright jerk. He had slammed the door in her face, after giving unsolicited advice. That was one crazy motherfucker.

  Ryn grunted in frustration. It would make sense that the day she arrived for her first day on the job, there would be some breaking news about a serial killer on the prowl, and she would be thrown headfirst into it. She always managed to draw the shitty luck. This one time, with this job, she had thought she had hit major gold for the first time in her life; it was turning out to be fool’s gold. She was trying hard to swim through this tide and just when she thought Emily had thrown her a life jacket by recommending that nutjob; it turned out to be useless.

   She stomped her foot in anger as she walked down the hall, she ought to go back to that house and give him a piece of her mind. She hadn’t traveled down to Miami to have another door slammed in her face. 

  Why was he so sensitive anyway? It was easy to tell he didn’t hold Emily Nunick in high esteem, so she must have done a number on him. She sincerely didn’t like the woman the moment she met her, something about her rubbed her the wrong way, and then it had only gotten worse. She was rude, testy, and extremely bossy. She hadn’t even allowed her to get her seat warm before she was sending her off to cover some killer guy.

   The Crasher.

  Ryn looked down at the empty paper in her hand. She had thought it would at least have had some information on it before mid-afternoon, so much for that. She rolled her eyes dramatically at the thought. Now, what would she do? Emily had told her point-blank that she would have to drop something on her desk by morning.

   She thought of going back to the man to beg him….Zach Wylan. She had heard a few words about him after being in the office for about ten minutes. The major thing she took away was that she was his replacement, and he was awesome. She had only been two years into her career as a journalist; she didn’t think she could compete with awesome. All of the talks led her to wonder why he had lost his job though, and all of that animosity he bore for Emily made her think whatever it was that led to him losing his job must have been shady.

   Whatever. She didn’t have to worry herself about whatever frosty relationship Zach Wylan had with Emily; she just had to make sure she didn’t end up as Zach Wylan soon. To do that though, she had to get something about this crasher dude. 

   The serial killer whisperer had denied her his help, and she was new in this city, who would she call?

  No one

   The answer seemed clear enough. She had no one to go to, but she had a piece due by morning. Ryn sighed; this looked like one of those all-night research works. Zach Wylan would soon learn that he wasn’t the only one who could think like a serial killer and the next time he saw her at his door, he wouldn’t be slamming it in her face.

   ****

   He laid the six-inch nail on the table, right next to the file on his next victim. 

  He would be going for his next kill in the next couple of nights. The media frenzy had died down reasonably. Norton was a Grade-A jerk anyway, a lot of people wouldn’t miss him, and he had a lot of people who couldn’t stand his shady ass, so, the police had quickly ruled out the possibility of a serial killer lurking in the city and assumed his death was from a business deal gone wrong.

  Zach figured that was probably the authorities’ way of diverting the attention and ensuring the public felt a sense of safety. They could handle the shady business partner, but the possibility of a serial killer was too much to handle. Zach was going to show them he wasn’t going to let his glory pass to some nameless, aggrieved business partner. His second kill was sure to jar the entire city to reality, they would know he was real, he existed, and he was coming for them. 

  There was no better person to make a statement with, than Flynn McIntyre, the most prestigious lawyer in the entire city. To attain that position though, one couldn’t be fighting on the side of good. Oh no, Flynn had made a name by representing the scum of the earth, the grimiest criminals the streets had to offer. They came with dirty plans and even dirtier money, but f**k if Flynn cared. 

  The man was damn good at his job as well. Wylan wouldn’t lie, he used to be quite envious of Flynn. He was everything any man would want to be; rich, successful, charismatic, charming, all of this wrapped in a tall and handsome package. Flynn could talk his way out of anything and could charm his way into anywhere. He was indeed a gifted man. Zach didn’t feel jealousy towards him anymore; he thought he was a chill guy. He had gotten the opportunity to interview him once, and even though he seemed like he had his head stuck up his ass most of the time- which was understandable considering his achievements- he came off as friendly.

   Flynn’s murder wasn’t going to be like Norton’s. Flynn had friends and associates that cared about him and didn’t think him an opportunist. Zach harbored no ill will toward him, but killing him was simply to make a statement. It was sad he would have to go, but the game was the game.

   His eyes drifted to his laptop as a notification came in. ThisIndulge has posted something new. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why he was still subscribed to them; it was like he was a sucker for torture. Nevertheless, he went ahead to click on their latest upload. It was an article on the recent killing….on him. 

  The first thing that caught his eye was the title. It was odd, but incredibly witty and brilliant, even if he said so himself.

   Guess Who? (Crasher Edition)

  At least someone had come up with a catchy title. Even more, it was the first title he had seen since the news outlets began to cover Norton’s murder that suggested that the crasher could be multiple people. This time, rather than hurrying to the body, he looked at the writer’s name first. 

  Ryn Lonsdale

  The name sounded incredibly familiar….her.

   It was the annoying girl Emily had sent to badger him. So, she did get the scoop in good time after all. He was impressed; not many people worked well under pressure. He settled into his seat and began reading the article. By the end of the first paragraph, Zach was sitting up.

   This Ryn lady was one smart sleuth, how had she come up with such brilliance in less than twenty-four hours? She had come to his door acting like she had no lifeline whatsoever and he was going to be her ticket to writing a piece, so, who had bailed her out? It felt like she could see beyond the average person like she was him. All of the questions she asked and the facts she had gathered were impressive, considering she had only been in the city a few days. 

   She managed to juxtapose all of the recorded killings, from Navroj’s victims to the latest victim; she analyzed the styles with deep precision, particularly, the fact that while Navroj prepared to use knives and make a mess, the latest killing had no such modus operandi. There was no mess; it was clean, precise, and well calculated. She had called it murder, right out of an Agatha Christie novel. Flattering. She had concluded with the belief that the latest crasher was potentially far more deadly than Navroj, especially as he didn’t seem to have personal animosity towards his victim. 

   Zach was marveled by the time he was done. He was certain she couldn’t have gotten in his head after spending less than five minutes in his presence, but her write-up felt personal like she was talking to him. Particularly, the line where she clearly stated that she believed that the latest killer was making a statement, most likely to one person, or an organization. She didn’t think this was a one-off thing; she thought it would happen again. Quite gutsy, considering she barely knew anything of this city. 

  He liked this girl and liked how she wrote. She reminded him a lot of himself; there was so much conviction in her words, even if she were selling bollocks, people would definitely pay good cash to buy it. One thing was certain though; he was going to give her a lot to write about while she worked at ThisIndulge, hopefully, she would be able to keep up with him. 

    ***

    Navroj Artsec lay on the bed, in the comfort of his cell, tossing a ball at the wall, and catching it when it would bounce back to him.

  This was what he did for fun most of the time since he had been arrested weeks back. He had only been out a couple of times, mostly because he wasn’t trying to socialize with the rest of the inmates. He was aware plans were being made to move him to a prison with higher security than this one.

  If he knew his brother, there was no way Daven would allow that. If he got moved to a higher security prison, that would mean something to his case; they needed it to retain some level of unseriousness, it needed to look like a soft case, and the idea was to sell a story to the court that made him a victim of his actions.

   He had a feeling he’d be pleading insanity. 

   Navroj didn’t think of himself as a psychopath. He didn’t even like to kill that much….sure, he got a thrill out of it occasionally, but it wasn’t like he woke up every morning with thoughts of killing people. He was just a guy who happened to have a few enemies in the city and wanted to clean the house. As long as they weren’t in his way, then they were pretty safe. He wasn’t remorseful for what he had done; if he were given another chance, he would do it all over again.

   There was another guy though. 

  He had heard the rumors in prison. Someone had killed Fred Norton. He had been shocked to hear the news, Fred was one incredibly cautious motherfucker, he knew because he had tried to kill him a couple of times and always came up short. So, for anyone to successfully murder Fred, it took a great deal of planning and dedication. He had barely been in here for two weeks, and someone had already picked up from where he left off, it was like they were waiting for him to get off the scene, and then take over.

  While he wasn’t particularly pleased that some dude was out there stealing his glory, he couldn’t help but wonder if Daven was in on it if Daven had called someone else to do the job, it was a question that had been gnawing at him, and he couldn’t wait to ask it.

   The sound of a horn tore him away from his thoughts, just as a warden hit his baton on his cell, “Artsec…” the man called.

   Navroj sat up, was he here for his transfer? No, they would send two wardens at least for such, one man was not a transfer, “Yeah.”

   “Your lawyer’s here to see you” the warden stated.

  Navroj nodded, just the man he had been waiting for. 

  He was escorted to the waiting room, where Reginald sat, dressed in his usual expensive, designer suit that fits as if it was inspired by him, and the shiniest shoes in his closet. Reginald was a snazzy motherfucker; he cleaned up nicely every single time. He always looked like he knew what the hell he was talking about, and sometimes, to be honest, Navroj thought he was clueless, but as long as he could convince the other guys, it was always fine by him. 

  Reginald gave him a curt nod once he noticed he was there, “Navroj.”

   “Reggie, just the man I wanted to see,” Navroj said as he lowered himself onto a seat across from Reginald. 

  Reginald’s expression tightened, and Navroj couldn’t help his smile, this man was too easy. He would never understand what triggered him whenever he called him Reggie. He just seemed to really despise the short form of his name. 

   “Good day, Mr. Artsec, how have you been coping?” Reginald asked formally.

    Navroj smiled, “We both know you don’t care about me, Reginald.”

  Reginald sighed, “Be that as it may, your brother cares about you, so he expects feedback from me on how you’re coping. So, how are you coping?”

   Navroj shrugged, “I suppose I’m good. What did you get for me?”

   And just like that, the fake formalities were done, and Reginald was in business mode, he opened his suitcase and took out a document, “As you know, we were going to plead insanity for you….”

   “Where?” Navroj asked as he c****d a brow. He was convinced insanity was the only thing they could plead. 

   Reginald raised a stern gaze to him as if telling him to be quiet, “….as I was saying, we were going to plead insanity for you. However, new developments have caused us to look at other avenues.”

   Navroj folded his hands on the table and leaned closer, “Okay, what you got?”

   “Well, you may or may not have heard, but there’s a new guy who just emerged recently, and we were thinking we could pin it all on him, send the authorities on a wild goose chase while securing your freedom.”

  If Reginald expected him to be impressed, he had another thing coming. That sounded like pure bullshit to him, did he really expect him to just shove all of his hard work to some faceless dude? He didn’t roll like that, he was proud of all he had done, and he wouldn’t pass on the glory to someone else so that he could regain his freedom. The whole world would think he was a joke, a f*****g poser. Daven would be back to calling him useless; he would lose whatever little respect he had gotten on the streets to a guy he couldn’t identify.

   “You expect me to just hand over my work to some other fellow?” he asked, then shook his head, “Nah, that ain’t happening” he replied.

   Reginald sighed like he knew he wouldn’t be able to sell the idea even before he came, “Listen Navroj, this is the only thing we have.”

   “I’ll rather tell the world I was crazy than tell them I didn’t do it, and some other dude did it.”

   “If we plead insanity, you’ll end up at an asylum; you won’t get your freedom.”

   Navroj shrugged as he leaned back into his seat, “I don’t want the freedom then.”

   “I already ran this idea by your brother, and he thinks it’s good.”

   Navroj scoffed. Of course, he would think it was good, Daven knew damn well he wouldn’t like this idea, but still, he sanctioned it. Sometimes, he wondered the kind of brother he had, he hadn’t even bothered to visit him since he was arrested, it would probably not do any good for his reputation, he always wanted to stay away from the negative drama, never willing to do what needed to be done, but ready to take the spoils when it was over. 

   “Well, I think it’s a s**t idea.” He stated as he rose to his feet, “You can go back and tell him that” he walked away from Reginald. Getting moved to a higher security facility was probably what was best for him. He would stay in this prison as long as he had to, but he wouldn’t let another man take his credit.