Crime Components

Prologue

PROLOGUE

The April evening is in its final minutes before sunset. The cloud formations over the mountains south of Phoenix, Arizona are fantastic. Big and soft, with the rays of the setting sun making colored patterns against the white background.

The slopes are covered with cactus in full bloom and the soft breezes play through the mesquite and chaparral, whispering that, in a few hours, Easter will arrive.

For a while, the only sounds are those of nature. At first faint, then growing louder, voices mingle with, then override, the natural sounds of the area. The first voice is soft, but speaks with great urgency.

“I can't do this. The wire’s cutting into his wrists.”

“I'm tired of your complaining,” a forceful voice replies.

“Take another full wrap around his wrists, then bend it. That's it. You've got it. Now, down on your knees, Mama's boy. Get your hands behind your back. Don't try anything funny, or I’ll kill you before you can even start to turn around.”

The soft voice let out a sob. “Please, don't hurt us. We promise not to identify you. Please, my mother needs me. She’s an invalid and I take care of her. Please, for her sake.”

A husky voice mixed with tears and emotion enters the conversation.

“Please, fella’, we didn’t do anything to you. Please listen to me. I want to live. I want to live! Please, Please!”

The owner of that husky voice breaks into a long burst of crying. The soft voice interjects.

“Look, you have your whole life in front of you. Don't hurt us. If you do, the law will track you down and …”

The forceful voice breaks into laughter. “You're wrong, pal. There won't be any law after me. You see, there's no motive.

This is the perfect crime. You know, you’re lucky. Your part in this will make you famous in legal history. You'll be remembered as a key part of the perfect crime.”

There is a rustling in the underbrush and the husky voice screams. “Get that g*n away from my head! I want to live, damn it. Don't you understand? I want to live—”

The explosion of a .45 caliber automatic destroys the solitude of the mountains as the air momentarily fills with a gory display of blood, brains, and shattered bone.

When the echoes of the gunfire subside, the soft voice cries out in halted speech, “Mother, I'm so sorry, and Ruth, I love you with all my heart. The Lord is my shepherd. He makes—”

The .45 explodes. Once again blood, flesh, and bone fill the desert air. The echo of the shot bounces off the canyon walls. Then, it’s silent. From afar the birds resume their singing, and the soft breezes continue to whisper.

Feet grind into the rocks. A car door opens and shuts. The engine turns over and is gunned. The air is filled with sand and gravel as the wheels spin. The car rockets away. The sound of the powerful engine grows fainter and fainter, until it is gone.

Dark shadows fall over the walls of the canyon as the sun sets. The moment before it slips behind the mountain, its rays strike the white of the clouds, creating a palette of colors. In the final seconds before vanishing, a blood red ray illuminates the bodies of two men in business suits laying face down in a shallow arroyo. Their hands are wired behind them. The backs of their heads have been destroyed.

Here in this lonely place where only the dead kept watch, and an act had been committed that later sets in motion a crime story like no other.

But, for now, the canyon is dark. Across the mountains, the lights of the city twinkle. Easter is just hours away. Soon, many lives will change by what has happened on this beautiful April evening.