Midnight of Dead Roses

C. Allentini C.

Description

In Midnight of Dead Roses...a string of murders-staged as death by autoerotic asphyxiation (sexual hanging), a monster paralyzes state officials by committing a horrendous massacre. Claude Callaway, Attorney at Law, struggles to help his sister gain control of her life-threatening situation while she goes through a difficult divorce. As he consults the District Attorney's office in dissecting the profile of a serial killer, Callaway assists the Chief Investigator Renee Thomas, in a high-profile homicide. He uncovers the clever scheme and finds himself in the wrath of evil. In the meantime, his life becomes psychologically chaotic when a young, beautiful client seduces him. Wits are challenged. No one is safe. The game has begun in a city where the law has no boundaries. There's a homicidal-maniac that has a fascination in Midnight of Dead Roses.

Informations

• Publié par: First Edition Design Publishing
• Date de parution: 20 mai 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781622879212
• Langue: English

Extrait

Midnight
of
Dead Roses


“An unforgettable memoir of Investigator Renee Thomas
and Claude Callaway.”


A Novel by
C.C. Allentini
Midnight of Dead Roses
Copyright ©2015 C.C. Allentini

ISBN 978-1622-879-21-2 EBOOK

May 2015

Published and Distributed by
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com



ALL R I G H T S R E S E R V E D. No p a r t o f t h i s b oo k pub li ca t i o n m a y b e r e p r o du ce d, s t o r e d i n a r e t r i e v a l s y s t e m , o r t r a n s mit t e d i n a ny f o r m o r by a ny m e a ns ─ e l e c t r o n i c , m e c h a n i c a l , p h o t o - c o p y , r ec o r d i n g, or a ny o t h e r ─ e x ce pt b r i e f qu ot a t i o n i n r e v i e w s , w i t h o ut t h e p r i o r p e r mi ss i on o f t h e a u t h o r or publisher .
To Carlton and Julia
I think about you every day.
Midnight
Of
Dead Roses
Chapter One

At dawn, Onesia Hiden was on her usual run near Audubon Park. She ran without headsets so she would never be distracted on this lone path by the mystery. It was going to be a clear morning as the stars disappeared at glow of sunrise. The sounds of different species of birds come alive at dawn on Bird Island. Only yesterday, Onesia stopped at the end of her 5 mile run to watch a Great Egret mother attempt to keep her chicks from falling from the nest into a swampy part of the lagoon. Today wasn’t any different than any other day but that would change. For the last several weeks, she had been stalked by a stranger she bumped into at a local gas station. His name was Jonathan and he took to her, fatal love at first sight. Every morning he watched and calculated when the time would come to properly introduce himself. It was a hot-wired ego gone wrong that gave him the confidence to watch her during the day. And of course, he had done this before but not with an athlete.
He was anxious when he parked a stolen old Chevy out of sight along the route that she usually runs in the mornings even when it rained. He was lucky this morning that it was a bit chilly so he could cover his pale face without it seeming out of the ordinary. He wore a hood with dark sweats as he jogged in the opposite direction of Onesia, timing their passing each other simultaneously. He saw Onesia up ahead and she saw him. Though she wasn’t alarmed when she saw the tall, thin figure running in her direction, she’d stay to the other side of the path. Jonathan had prepared. He jogged this course a few times before where Onesia could notice him and not be alarmed.
The Great Egret mother said something to Onesia when she approached Jonathan, whom she thought was an amateur runner that jogged quite awkwardly. It gawked loudly. Onesia didn’t understand bird talk so she continued her route and as she approached Jonathan, she noticed he didn’t make eye contact. When they passed each other Onesia didn’t turn around until she heard a thump then she turned to see that Jonathan had fallen to the ground. She stopped.
“Sir, are you okay?” She asked as she approached him slowly.
Jonathan held up his long arm then brought it to his chest as if he was having a heart attack. He then rolled over on his back and appeared to have whispered “Help.”
Onesia ran over, kneeled next to the disguised monster and pulled out her cell phone. “Sir? Are you okay?”
She began to call 9-1-1. When she looked into Jonathan’s eyes she saw nothing. Nothing was there. There was no Soul. There was no Spirit in his glare. Within a split second’s time her eyes became as wide as a deer in headlights. She pulled back and began to run. Jonathan knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up with her if she had a few yards head start. Not only was she fast, Onesia could run miles without stopping. He had to catch her within yards of flight.
She turned around and Jonathan was on his feet. She saw his pale face which made her feel light-headed. She gathered herself then took a wooded path that lead to Bird Island, thinking she could out run him. She could have if he had given her a few more extra steps. But he was behind her every step of the way. On her second wind and 3 rd scream he caught her. This escalated his abilities to commit murder. Jonathan never had to chase down his victim. He quickly brought Onesia down to the ground, covering her mouth. In his earlier days, he used Chloroform to calm his victims but he didn’t this time.
Chapter Two


Early evening was cool and clear, emergency sirens echoed above the Old Mississippi Bridge while the distant sound of music thumped from the concrete walls of rave and blues’ clubs on Bourbon Street. The weather was sort of typical. At the end of winter in the south, temperatures had the tendency to fluctuate from hot to cold and cold to hot in a matter of hours especially in the Big Easy.
I met Renee at a secluded, abandoned warehouse near Canal Street, towards downtown where there was a calm sight of the orange sky that glowed but darkened the sinister evening. Singing shadows lurked between the drunken avenues bedded in Orleans Parish. The feel of this day was dim and in my state of mind, it felt like there was something prowling in a deadly silence. I couldn’t make sense of it while I drove Sheba, my antique Mustang through iron doors into a huge red, brick parking garage. Renee sat on the hood of a deep colored Crown Victoria waiting for me.
She was fearless most of the time and an extremely attractive woman. Her cheekbones were high. She was straightforward. An effective woman who was forty-one and physically fit. She stood at 5’8 and weighed one-hundred-fifteen pounds.
When I shut the car door, it echoed over the concrete. The overhang of the sky was endlessly gothic as always during this transformation of seasons from freezing nights, winds pushing back and forth over the river waters between the avenues and boulevards, ending with sweaty-hot midnights that sizzled around the streets and in dark alleyways.
“Someone’s been following you?” I asked.
Renee calmly looked around. “You know how you get that feeling? Like something’s about to happen?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“These days I’m dealing with something different, Callaway.” Renee was uneasy but appeared anxious. “Someone must really want to talk to you.”
My cell phone was ringing then it stopped then it would start again. It rang many times while I drove into the parking deck. I had an idea who was calling me. I quickly put it on silent.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Murder.” She paused as if she was taken by the Bourbon of the city but not yet drunken by its sinister Spirit. She was close and I was going to join her. “Serial murders.”
“What about Sharon Nobles’ disappearance?” The story of this young runaway was all over The Picayune for days straight. “Senator Nobles’ daughter?”
“That case is a part of it,” Renee answered. “It’s just an assumption for now that she’s dead.” She was now playing many parts in the Orleans Parish Criminal Sheriff’s Office and the Police Department. And under a tremendous amount of stress.
Both Law Enforcement Divisions were having a difficult time obtaining dedicated and honest officers. And just in the past year, they lost eighteen officers to either gun fire or something job related. In the middle of Renee’s career, everything changed. She was appointed Chief Investigator with the responsibilities of a bonified detective and she trusted no one. Superintendents, Captains, Deputies and even the Attorney General of Louisiana were corrupt.
Since I was an attorney who had consulted on many criminal cases with her and I began to help her with investigations. Our dads did this before, consulted with each other, way before Renee and I knew each other existed.
There was silence between us. I could hear the cars ride over the Mississippi Bridge. Speeding. Engines roaring, breaks suddenly stopping then horns blowing. Cling-clang. I noticed molded walls decorated with faded murals of a bizarre flower garden and Mardi Gras celebrations.
Renee’s voice echoed around the concrete. Her tone sounded like a ghost whispering when it faded. “He’s her uncle,” she answered. “Senator Nobles is her Uncle. He adopted her at birth. His brother is her father and he was in jail when Sharon was born.”
“What about her mother?” I asked.
“Just after she gave birth, she was MIA as soon as the nurse left the room. She left Sharon alone on the bed. She was just a few hours old. They never saw her mother again.”
“Didn’t his wife commit suicide?”
“Yes.” She leaned against her car in silence for a few seconds. “I haven’t slept in days. People calling my phone and hanging up. I can’t trace the calls.” Renee seemed nervous while she explained. “Garrett. Peterson. Investigator Brun. They ain’t listening to me. They don’t care about murder, because they’re murderers themselves.” She spoke as if she had begun to fear for her own life. “God, Brun’s crazy.”
“Brun’s always been crazy,” I responded and thinking to myself that he was a madman and his demeanor was that of a comic book villain.
I’ve known only two types of law enforcement officers. The ones who had sense and the one’s who didn’t. Something happens to a person who becomes an officer of the law to the general public. The legal power often drives the most intelligent people insane or it can drive the most asinine person to take life a tad bit more serious. I didn’t know which one Investigator Brun went into the academy as but it wasn’t good either way.
“There’s a terrible rumor that Brun killed Pate Armstrong in cold blood,” Renee explained.
“The Civil Leader that has several business within Orleans Parish?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding, Renee.”
“I wish I was. His righteous civil matter was just a front to cover his world of crime. There were a lot of people there that saw it but no one has come out as a witness. They’re scared. Who would