Friday, June 27, 2014

Vices: A Race **Chapter 012**










“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” Macmillan resisted the urge to shut his eyes as he drove, “Look, it’s this simple. If Scotts doesn’t give it by the end of the week, sack the piece of shit. He’s literally doing nothing to help work. God. I need a cigarette,” he grumbled, driving to his own workplace. “…mm? The case? Oh – yeah, it’s okay. Squad’s a little off edge. Can’t blame them. Asshole seems hard to catch–”

He rubbed his eyes and slowed down, swearing softly at the sight of building traffic. “It’s a mess down here. Did something happen? No? Damn it. Okay. I’ll just get there soon.” Without another word, he ended the call and tossed his phone into the other seat, leaning back and setting the gear to neutral as he waited for the cars to move once more.

The past days had been a blur. Aside from helping out Squad A with the case, he had handled others as well. Piles of glass, paper and whatnot had been studied endlessly, folders containing detailed files stacked on his desk, ready to be sent out. Mack had nearly downed a pot of coffee on his third day without sleep, and crashed back home with his eyes shut and without heating up the leftovers he had in the fridge.

Peters had been contacting him back and forth with endless theories, Mack trying to refute each one that seemed impossible. He clearly went against his suggestion on letting the next murder happen, but stopped to think when he finally brought the idea about the crime being just like the one in the movie.

“That movie with Brad Pitt back in the nineties or something. I watched it with my dad.”

He sort of remembered watching that one, but it had been so long.

So Macmillan decided to download the movie off torrent one free night, and spent the next three hours watching and analyzing, cooped in his bedroom.

And he couldn’t believe it, but Peters seemed right for once.

So he called the American back, he answering on the third ring.

At the end of the call, he agreed to tell the rest of Squad A about it the next morning.

He stepped on the gas immediately when the flow of traffic stopped, opening the roads. Mack drove on, tapping his finger to the beat of the song on the radio which played on that cold morning. As he drove, he passed by the casino A had visited a few days back.

It was open once more, but he noticed that the parking wasn’t as filled as it usually was. Granted, it was only the mornings, but business might have gone weak ever since the murder that occurred…

“–eh?”

He did a double take.

Right by the side of the casino where dumpsters sat, a brick wall greeted him.

And on that brick wall, he saw something flash blue.



“I honestly can’t believe the case is taking this long,” Olsen said. “What the bloody hell is this guy? He’s not leaving any kind of clue!”

“That’s what’s frustrating us,” A replied. Her long black hair was in a bun once more that morning. “There’s nothing else to investigate. We’ve got interviews, the pictures, the glass shards…no other leads. We even have the CCTV footage of the casino, but aside from that, the man is unidentifiable.”

Dee frowned, her brunette curls bouncing as she moved her head. “How unidentifiable?”

“His face wasn’t seen.” Peters said from the back, “And we can’t exactly zoom in without having the footage look like utter shit. He was just wearing a long coat, a hat – fucking fedora – and there he was.”

“Then why don’t you start with that?”

“It’s not that easy, Dee.” Olsen took a sip from his tea, “He can’t find a stranger in a fedora and coat then arrest him on the spot. This guy is smart. He’ll change his clothes from area to area. I’m guessing that he won’t even risk wearing them ever again.” while Olsen and Dee debated on this, A leaned back, feeling her head pound and Touta’s glance wavering from the ongoing debate.

It was ten in the morning, and she already wanted to go back home.

“We had something like that in Jersey,” Dee finally said. “Unidentifiable. We were only able to catch him when he committed an error that led us to apprehend him.” she sent the other woman an apologetic glance, “Our last hope is to actually hope he goes wrong with a detail or two.”

“We’re hoping for that, Dee.” Touta glanced at his watch and then at the people in the office. Dee and Olsen were sitting across each other on the chairs situated by A’s desk, and Peters was gazing out the window while tapping his fingers on his hip. A merely sat down. “How’s your own investigation going?”

Olsen shrugged. “Better than you lot, to be honest.”

“We might finish it up today,” the American added. “Don’t give up, you guys. There’s always a chance for a marginal error on him.” she stood up and clutched the paper cup, “Thanks for the coffee. Olsen and I have gotta run now, though – J might steam if she finds out we’re slacking.”

“I’m not slacking,” the Englishman defended, sending the three a concerned look before waltzing out with the younger lady. Touta turned to his co-workers, hoping to find the words that could at least give them the slightest bit of comfort…

“Where did we go wrong?”

“We’re not wrong.” Peters’ voice was steely, “He’s just too damn sly. We’re getting somewhere but he’s getting somewhere and that pisses me off. God, I need another cup before I end up throwing this out the damn window,” he ranted. A merely sighed.

“Please don’t. We might ruin someone’s attire.”

The Japanese was about to speak, but was interrupted by a peal of interrupted anger from outside. Peters immediately moved to the door while A stood, Touta reaching into his coat pocket and bracing as Peters opened the door –

And quickly, Mack swept into the room, panting and tossing his phone at A, who caught it with a look of shock on her face. “The pictures,” he panted, “Pictures. I have pictures. Spotted by the casino, the next on a fucking dumpster, and the other on the third victim’s door. Just…check them out.” The American sank onto a nearby chair and fumbled for his pockets, A staring at the screen of the man’s smart phone.

“Touta.” The man quickly walked behind her and she showed him the picture, the older man squinting as he glanced at the picture quickly.

“This is katakana,” he said slowly. “…glutton.”

The air around them seemed to change as he shakily swiped to the next picture, eyes falling on the red spray paint on the dumpster.

Desire.”

And the last picture, of a scrawled green on a dark door.

Envy.”

Mack looked up at the three members, who all had different expressions on their faces. He read excitement in Peters’, the incredulity in Touta’s and the blankness in A’s…

She had her eyes on the phone, lips set in a firm line.

What she said next confirmed their beliefs.

“He left clues.” She took a paper and pen, writing slowly. “Case number one: Taro was killed and our suspect left graffiti on the wall.  Case number two: Minoru was found. The suspect left graffiti on the dumpster. Case number three: Kazumi was murdered. The suspect left a hastily scribbled word on her door in green…as if to emphasize what was next,” she managed.

Peters picked up, “He leaves which ‘sin’ is to be ‘purified’ next. This guy wants to be found,” he told them, “Why would be leave it if he didn’t want to be caught? Why would he emphasize ‘envy’ in green if he didn’t want to be found out? We’ve been missing these clues all along.”

“Do they look the same?” Touta nodded tightly.

“The third looks like it was done in a hurry.”


“Just as I thought. Now…” she looked up at them, “Who envies the most?”

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