8. Poor Paul Sicarius. His leg is so infected now.
1820 Words
The night of Amanda Comb's murder...
Paul angrily rummaged through Amanda's small apartment. His adrenaline and need for a fix igniting his fury.
He pulled out drawers and cupboards. Clothing and papers were strewn all over her floor.
Seeing the screen light still on Amanda's cell phone, he picked it up, checking to see if it still was working.
The screen was cracked, but it was powered on.
He wiped his bloody hands on a piece of Amanda's clothing then using his index finger swiped through her phone call list to see who she had been talking to.
He saw several recent calls that she had made to a Hanna Moore, MSW.
He pulled up the name Hanna Moore in a Google search and found out exactly who Hanna Moore was.
He scanned her information and wrote down who her current employer was.
He pulled up Hanna's account on social media, "Hmm, not bad, he told himself, and it says her status is single. Bonus!"
He lifted his arm up high, holding Amanda's cell phone up and slammed Amanda's cell phone on the floor- yelling,"Booya b*tch!:
Paul grabbed all of Amanda's money and a few other items to make it look like a robbery.
He had covered her head, he was so sick of seeing her still face staring at him.
Hearing sirens approaching, Paul ran out the door to the back alley where he stored his stolen motorcycle.
He headed down town and went to find some drugs to feed his habbit.
He was hungry for a fix, he still had blood on his hands, no one was willing to deal with him.
He had contacts in Seattle, where he lived, but none in Portland, at least not for the time being.
No, he didn't have any luck there. He was on fire now. His mind racing.
He turned his attention to tracking down Amanda's social worker.
He wanted to get to her before the cops did, she was a witness.
He rode to the work address listed for Hanna's office. He hid in the building parking garage, sitting on his stolen motorcycle and waited, his leg bounced up and down in anticipation.
Paul Sicarius waited for what felt like a very long time. He was getting fidgety, scratching at the sores on his face until they bled.
He was almost ready to bail, when a nice looking Monte Carlo SS came roaring into the lot.
Paul straightened up to peer at the action.
Paul had witnessed a woman- he was sure was Hanna get out of the Monte Carlo SS, the woman waved at the driver and got back into a newer white sedan as the Monte Carlo SS slowly drove off.
He was surprised when she just sat there, not moving her car to leave.
He decided then that he had wanted to follow her home, so he could be alone with her.
No loose ends. He noticed all of the security cameras around, so he stayed back.
Paul's own cell phone rang, startling him.
It was the Portland police department. He felt his stomache drop. "Sh*t, what the hell?"
He let it go to voice mail.
Once the call ended, he listened to the voicemail. "Hello, this is officer Carla Stone with the Portland police department. I'm looking for the family of Amanda Comb's.
We've found some information that indicates you may be a relative.
Please call the desk sergeant back as soon as possible, this is urgent."
Paul froze. At first he thought,"it's a trap." Then he thought,"if I don't call back, they will think I am a suspect."
Paul wondered why they thought he was Amanda's relative. His curiosity got the better of him, so he called the phone number provided.
"Ehr, yah this is Paully Sicarius returning a call."
A woman responded, "Thank you for returning our call, Mr. Sicarius. This is officer Carla Stone.
I see in our records, you are listed as next of kin on a, um previous arrest record for Amanda Combs.
Can you confirm this, it says you are her cousin? "
Paul responded, "Ah. yes that's right."
The officer continued, "I am afraid we have some bad news, Amanda Combs was found mudered tonight.
I'm so sorry to have to tell you like this. We need you to come down to the hospital to identify the remains as soon as possible, please."
Paul thought for moment. "Well, I am real sorry to hear that. I can't really come tonight, I live in Seattle."
Officer Stone continued. "We need you to come as soon as possible, would you be able to set up a meeting with our detectives working the case tonight?"
Paul agreed he would come as soon as possible to identify his poor cousin.
He showed feigned concern for Amanda.
The officer
thanked him and ended the call.
Paul chuckled to himself. "That witch." He laughed loudly now.
He thought it so ironic, Amanda said he was her next of kin.
Hell, he was her pimp, before she had gotten redeemed.
He told her he wouldn't let her go.
She had to go and get herself high and mighty.
When she walked out on him, he chased her down with his car and rammed into her.
He thought he killed her.
It took him a while to find her again, in Portland of all places.
He had learned that she transitioned to a rehab facility.
He drove down to see her, to get her back.
She hadn't even recognized him.
He was happy to let bye gones be bye gones...but, despite all the charm and coaxing he had tried to ply her with, Amanda refused to come to Seattle with him.
She had changed.
Her injury left her brain all messed up. "Sh*t! She ain't right." he told himself.
He could see she was wary of him, he knew she eventually would remember him and he wasn't going to sit in jail cell because of her dumb ass.
Pissed off all over again, Paul threw the kick stand down and jumped off the bike.
Paul was about to approach Hanna in her car, when an older man approached in a pick up truck.
Hanna jumped out of the car to hug him. Paul watched as the man lifted the hood of her car and jump started her sedan.
He watched them talk through the open window. He saw her look up, she was scanning the parking area and looking in his direction.
He fell back into the shadows.
Once the pair left, she in her car, and the older man in the truck, He fired up his stolen motorcycle.
He zoomed in behind her. She didn't seem to see him.
His stolen helmet was black with a dark visor.
Hanna slowed down and Paul pulled back.
He watched as they entered a small bungalo style home in a quite neighborhood.
He waited for the man to leave. He didn't want to tangle with the strong looking older man.
Night began to fall and Paul was feeling sick.
He hadn't had a fix in a while. He needed to tend to his addiction.
He hid his stolen motorbike in some thick bushes around the back alley and quickly proceeded to the quiet home.
Paul knocked on the door. A well polished elderly man-Jim Miller had answered the door.
Paul rushed in and put his arm around his wife, Ellen's throat choking her as she fought to breath.
She had been Jim's bride of 57 years.
Jim froze allowing Paul to tie them both up.
The Millers had been good neighbors to Hanna.
Shortly after this, he heard the truck next door start with a roar.
He fumbled to see if the old man at Hanna's was finally leaving.
He was surprised to see Hanna in the truck with the man.
Paul raced out the door, donning his baseball cap and pulling it low over his face. He followed behind them, borrowing the Miller's Jeep.
He saw them turning onto the road to the hospital. He knew he would need to make his move now.
Once Hanna was out of the way, he'd go back to get the Miller's money and split town-back up to Seattle, then to Canada to lay low.
Paul entered the ER and pulled on a face mask that the hospital encouraged patients to wear.
He passed by the check in area and headed straight to the lobby.
Seeing Hanna coming, he asked her where the lab was.
She didn't say a word, "that witch." She just pointed to the lab sign.
He was hoping she would take him to a nice quiet place, where they could be all alone.
His palm was getting itchy. He was feeling aroused at the thought of touching her.
He wanted to hold her, caress her softly as he slid the knife into her gut.
He had followed her from a distance.
He saw her heading to the bank of elevators at the end of the hallway.
Hanna pushed the down button. The door closed securely, he just missed it.
He waited for the next one. He headed down a floor.
Not seeing her, he proceeded to each floor until he hit the basement button.
He saw it was the morgue and knew this was the opportunity he was waiting for, he tore off his face mask,"Show time!....
After the failed attack on Hanna at the morgue, Paul Sicarius' knife was left imbedded firmly in his own thigh.
He shuffled out of morgue, breaking a window to limp back to the Miller's Jeep.
He slumped over and almost passed out. He was running on adrenaline now.
He slammed the Jeep into gear and drove quickly back to the Miller's home to tend to his knife wound.
His crimson blood was all over the Jeep now.
Once he arrived to the home, he pulled the sharp knife out of his thigh, he cried out as it had been very deep into his bone.
He had to stop the bleeding so he hobbled into the kitchen and heated the knife up on the Miller's gas burner.
He placed a dish rag between his teeth and bit down. He slammed the red hot knife onto his wound burning the flesh and cauterized it.
This time he did pass out.
Paul awoke to hear the Miller's moving about down stairs.
He pulled himself up to go and check on them. He had securely tied them up, so he wasn't too worried about the old couple escaping.
He just had to get down all of those stairs.
He was getting anxious to get some real money so he could get his fix and head up north.
He was starting to feel the creepy crawlies all over his body.
He was feeling nauseated. His brow was wet with dripping sweat. He was burning up.
- Writer
