Read Online A Killer Like Me by Chuck Hustmyre - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chuck Hustmyre
Ads: Link
yelled.
The person at the door mumbled something.
Murphy put the phone back to his ear. “Give me a second.” Then he crawled off the sofa and stumbled across the den.
When he jerked the door open he found a shriveled old black lady staring up at him. She lived across the hall. Murphy had seen her a dozen times since he moved into the converted rooming house a year ago, following the fiasco with Kirsten, but he didn’t know her name. He had heard from another neighbor that the old woman had no family and lived on Social Security and cat food.
Six o’clock in the morning and she was already dressed for the day in a print dress with a lace shawl draped over her shoulders. She held a folded
Times-Picayune
in her hand. “Are you the detective in the newspaper?”
Oh, shit.
Murphy pressed the phone against his ear. “Juan, I’ve got to call you back.”
“Have you seen the newspaper, motherfucker?” his partner shouted. “You said she would keep your name—”
Murphy flipped the phone closed.
“Is it true?” the old lady said, holding up the newspaper. “About the serial killer?”
On the front page, above the fold, Murphy saw his own photograph pasted beside a long article. He pulled the newspaper from the old lady’s hand. “Excuse me a minute,” he said. Then he shut the door in her face.
As soon as he turned around his phone rang. It was Gaudet again. Murphy let the call go to voice mail.
He dropped onto his sofa and peeled off the front section. He tossed the rest of the newspaper onto the coffee table. SERIAL KILLER STALKS CITY , the headline screamed. The subhead read, “Police officials mum on details about killer who detective claims has murdered 8 women.”
The byline was Kirsten Sparks.
Holy shit. I’m screwed.
Murphy’s eyes scanned the four columns of the story. Then he flipped to the jump page and kept reading.
When he finished, he crumpled the paper and threw it on the floor. Then he squeezed his eyes closed and massaged his throbbing temples with his fingertips. This was bad, really bad.
The article was even worse than the headline. Every other sentence had his name in it.
“Detective Murphy said . . .”
“. . . according to Murphy”
“. . . said Murphy”
He picked up the story again and reread the lead paragraphs, hoping they weren’t as bad as they had seemed the first time. It was formatted like a wire story, meaning it would probably be picked up all over the country.
NEW ORLEANS (
Times-Picayune
)—A serial killer is stalking the streets of the Crescent City, mutilating and murdering women. So far the killer’s body count stands at eight, according to the lead investigator.
Homicide Detective Sean Murphy said the same person is responsible for all eight killings, including a particularly grisly one just days ago in which an unidentified woman’s body was found dumped blocks from criminal district court. Her hands had been cut off and taken from the scene. So far, all of the victims have had links to prostitution, but that could change, according to Murphy.
“Serial killers sometimes evolve,” said Murphy, who worked on the state attorney general’s task force that captured the Houma-area serial killer a few years ago. “They often grow or mature, and sometimes with that growth comes a change in their victim profile.”
Murphy said he came forward with the information, despite strict department regulations prohibiting officers from having direct contact with the media, because he says the public needs to know about the danger the killer poses.
“Just because he’s killing prostitutes downtown doesn’t mean that’s all he’s going to kill,” Murphy said during a lengthy interview with the
Times-Picayune
. “Next time might be uptown, Lakeshore, or Algiers. No area is off-limits.”
Murphy provided the
Times-Picayune
with details about the eight homicides, though he declined to give specifics about the evidence he says proves they are
The person at the door mumbled something.
Murphy put the phone back to his ear. “Give me a second.” Then he crawled off the sofa and stumbled across the den.
When he jerked the door open he found a shriveled old black lady staring up at him. She lived across the hall. Murphy had seen her a dozen times since he moved into the converted rooming house a year ago, following the fiasco with Kirsten, but he didn’t know her name. He had heard from another neighbor that the old woman had no family and lived on Social Security and cat food.
Six o’clock in the morning and she was already dressed for the day in a print dress with a lace shawl draped over her shoulders. She held a folded
Times-Picayune
in her hand. “Are you the detective in the newspaper?”
Oh, shit.
Murphy pressed the phone against his ear. “Juan, I’ve got to call you back.”
“Have you seen the newspaper, motherfucker?” his partner shouted. “You said she would keep your name—”
Murphy flipped the phone closed.
“Is it true?” the old lady said, holding up the newspaper. “About the serial killer?”
On the front page, above the fold, Murphy saw his own photograph pasted beside a long article. He pulled the newspaper from the old lady’s hand. “Excuse me a minute,” he said. Then he shut the door in her face.
As soon as he turned around his phone rang. It was Gaudet again. Murphy let the call go to voice mail.
He dropped onto his sofa and peeled off the front section. He tossed the rest of the newspaper onto the coffee table. SERIAL KILLER STALKS CITY , the headline screamed. The subhead read, “Police officials mum on details about killer who detective claims has murdered 8 women.”
The byline was Kirsten Sparks.
Holy shit. I’m screwed.
Murphy’s eyes scanned the four columns of the story. Then he flipped to the jump page and kept reading.
When he finished, he crumpled the paper and threw it on the floor. Then he squeezed his eyes closed and massaged his throbbing temples with his fingertips. This was bad, really bad.
The article was even worse than the headline. Every other sentence had his name in it.
“Detective Murphy said . . .”
“. . . according to Murphy”
“. . . said Murphy”
He picked up the story again and reread the lead paragraphs, hoping they weren’t as bad as they had seemed the first time. It was formatted like a wire story, meaning it would probably be picked up all over the country.
NEW ORLEANS (
Times-Picayune
)—A serial killer is stalking the streets of the Crescent City, mutilating and murdering women. So far the killer’s body count stands at eight, according to the lead investigator.
Homicide Detective Sean Murphy said the same person is responsible for all eight killings, including a particularly grisly one just days ago in which an unidentified woman’s body was found dumped blocks from criminal district court. Her hands had been cut off and taken from the scene. So far, all of the victims have had links to prostitution, but that could change, according to Murphy.
“Serial killers sometimes evolve,” said Murphy, who worked on the state attorney general’s task force that captured the Houma-area serial killer a few years ago. “They often grow or mature, and sometimes with that growth comes a change in their victim profile.”
Murphy said he came forward with the information, despite strict department regulations prohibiting officers from having direct contact with the media, because he says the public needs to know about the danger the killer poses.
“Just because he’s killing prostitutes downtown doesn’t mean that’s all he’s going to kill,” Murphy said during a lengthy interview with the
Times-Picayune
. “Next time might be uptown, Lakeshore, or Algiers. No area is off-limits.”
Murphy provided the
Times-Picayune
with details about the eight homicides, though he declined to give specifics about the evidence he says proves they are
Similar Books
