Day of the Lords

            by Ian Gill

 

* A Concerned Neighbor *

Ever since I moved to my current neighborhood, there has always been a fair share of strange houses.  One of these houses rests at the end of the block.  Its large, gray, box-like figure stands out from the rest of the well-groomed residences of the neighborhood.  With a landscape consisting of dirt and the occasional weed, it hardly fits in with the other homes generally associated with the Berkeley hills.  When I was a child, the other kids on the block referred to it as the “haunted house”; with the curtained windows and run-down exterior, it seemed to come right out of a horror movie.  However, it houses more than just childhood specters.

The house’s lone occupant is an older woman named Edna, a very thin lady who is usually seen wheeling a black rolling suitcase up the street as she walks from the bus stop.  She doesn’t usually speak to any of her neighbors.  Everyone on the block knows that her son was emancipated at the age of 16 because he was being abused.  Her next-door neighbor, a doctor named Craig Roberts, was the one who signed the emancipation papers.  

So, when Craig was murdered, Edna was naturally the first suspect. 

The events surrounding the killing are a bit gruesome.  Dr, Roberts, who was apparently just returning from a night shift at around 6 AM, was clubbed over the back of the head with a blunt object, and then mutilated with some sort of sharp object.  The sharp object in question must have been quite dull, judging by the state of the corpse. 

To accompany the strange houses in my neighborhood are also a few strange people.  Mr. Roundtree is a man that lives directly across the street from me. He has a bizarre habit of getting up at around 5 AM and sitting in his car from 5:30 until 6:30, when his wife joins him and they drive away.  He’s always been a bit off (little things, like never locking his car or house, or not collecting his mail), but I’ve never thought much of it.  I spoke to him briefly today, and he said that on the morning of the murder as he sat in his car, he saw Edna walking up the street, passing his car ten minutes prior to the murder.  When the police asked him if he was sure about whom he saw, he cited the trademark black suitcase as evidence to his claim.  The police have been searching the neighborhood for clues and witnesses for a while, but so far their efforts have been fruitless.

* Miles *

Work has been a bit slow lately, but out of the blue comes a request for me to investigate the murder of a doctor in the Berkeley hills.  My name is Miles Wright, and I’m a detective with the BPD, the Berkeley Police Department.  I’ve never had this kind of case before; this is my second year, so most of the problems that I have to deal with are minor drug offenses and rowdy teenagers that rookies like me have to deal with. 

The victim in this case is a doctor by the name of Craig Roberts.  The autopsy report shows that the cause of death was not the blow to the head. Whoever murdered him sliced his body up with a dull knife, leading to death by blood loss.  The sick bastard also made off with one of the doctor’s arms and a foot.  

We don’t have any leads yet, so we’re heading up to the crime scene to check it out. 

We arrive at the house where the murder has taken place in the early afternoon.  It’s a very nice neighborhood; all of the houses are probably worth at least a million bucks.  Certainly a far cry from most murder locations. 

The body has already been removed from the bottom of the driveway where it was found.  The victim’s car is parked on the street, which is strange, because the driveway has enough room for the car to be parked there, or in the garage.

The murder report says that there didn’t seem to be any sign of a confrontation between the victim and the murderer.  This would mean that Roberts was caught completely off-guard when he exited the car.  Given the surroundings, the murderer must have come out from behind the car, because otherwise Roberts would have seen them approaching.  I turn and walk across the street.  It’s probable that the murderer was hiding behind one of the neighbor’s cars before approaching the victim. 

 

* A Concerned Neighbor *

A detective from the Police department came to the doctor’s house today to investigate the murder.  I talked to one of the neighbors, and apparently the detective found the murder weapons in one of the neighboring yards, hidden under some brush.  Seems like an obvious place.  I wonder why it took them so long to find. 

The weapons were also covered with fingerprints, some unidentifiable, and some belonging to one Edna White.  The only problem, they say, is that the large wood plank used to murder the victim is much too heavy for her to pick up, much less hit somebody with.  She claims that she was asleep at the time of the murder.  I certainly don’t believe her, the horrid, abusive woman.

 

* Miles *

This is my second day on the Craig Roberts murder case.  Yesterday we discovered the murder weapons hidden under some brush in the yard of Roberts’ next-door neighbor, Edna White.  A fingerprint check also pointed towards her. 

After looking into Ms. White’s background, I discovered that the victim signed the papers that emancipated Edna’s son, Davis White.  Seems like a motive to me. 

We managed to get a warrant to search the suspect’s house, so we’re driving back there.  Hopefully we can get this solved quickly.

I pull up alongside the house, which looks abandoned.  The walkway is very rough with long cracks, and looks like it was just hit by an earthquake.  I walk up to a door covered in flaking gray paint.  Two knocks at the door.  No answer.  The windows next to the door are boarded up from the inside, so I won’t have any luck looking in through there.

Two more knocks.  I glance at the small peephole in the door.  For a second, the darkness shifted; someone’s in there.  I put my ear to the door.  I can hear the muffled sound of breathing.

 “Edna White, this is Miles Wright of the Berkeley Police.  I know you’re in there.  I have a warrant. Don’t make me break the door in.”

 

 

 

 

* A Concerned Neighbor *

They arrested Ms. White yesterday.  Apparently she denied the detective entry to her house (despite his possession of a warrant), and once he found the victim’s missing arm he arrested her on the spot.  I can only imagine what that must have been like, going into that house.  A while back it might have been different, but over the years it slowly became the monstrosity it is today.  I don’t want to think about the horrors that have taken place in there. 

Another strange thing happened today.  I’ve been suffering from insomnia lately, so I’ve resorted to retrieving the paper at progressively earlier hours.  I walked out at around 5:30 AM, but to my surprise Mr. Roundtree’s car was gone.  I could see his wife’s silhouette on their front curtains, so he must’ve driven off by himself.  A bit odd, given his normal routine.    

 

* Miles *

After finding that arm locked in a cupboard I arrested her on the spot.  Maybe some people would’ve asked for an explanation before reacting, but I’m not one of them.  Besides, I wanted to get the hell out of that house as fast as possible.  Dust everywhere, sheets covering the walls, assorted cages, and other strange contraptions scattered to and fro…I wonder what kind of person lives like that.  Ms. White refused to cooperate so we threw her in a cell overnight to persuade her to do otherwise. 

She’s just been brought into questioning, so whether or not we’ll get anything out of her remains to be seen. 

 

* Edna*

            It was around three weeks ago that I received a package in the mail with no return address.  When I opened it, I didn’t quite know what to make of it. 

            Dear Ms. White, it said.  You may recall that your neighbor, Dr. Craig Roberts, allowed your only son to be taken away from you.  Now comes your chance to get back at the man who ruined your life.  If you choose to take it, follow these directions…

            The letter outlined my contact’s plan for my revenge.  On the morning of February 23, I was to wait until the doctor returned from a late shift, which would be around 6 AM.  I would stand in the driveway to prevent Dr. Roberts from entering the garage, and act as if there was an emergency.  Mr. Roberts would hastily exit his car to come to my aid.  Once this occurred, my contact would strike the doctor, rendering him unconscious. 

            Inside the package was also a knife, or what once was a knife.  The formerly serrated edge had long since rusted over, and its dull blade couldn’t cut butter.  Included is my gift to you, the letter read.  It may require some work, but think of it as the last step towards a long deserved revenge. 

In regards to who I am, my identity is not important.  Just think of me as someone else who has been wronged, just like you, and would like justice to be served.

            At first I didn’t know what to do.  As time passed, however, the answer became apparent.  Did I want to kill Craig Roberts?  Yes, of course I did.  He took my son, my baby, away from me.  I didn’t do anything to deserve it.  I treated him with love and care.  Without him, I was nothing, I had nothing to fill my time with, no meaning at all.  I don’t know who helped me kill Roberts; he was wearing a mask at the time.  I couldn’t care less who it was, anyway.  The doctor’s dead now, and that’s all that matters to me. 

 

*  A Concerned Neighbor *

I talked to the detective from the murder case today.  They’re charging Edna White with the murder of Dr. Craig Roberts, but they still haven’t figured out who the other person involved was. 

When the detective (Miles, I think) asked me if I had heard anything, I told him about how my neighbor Mr. Roundtree had mentioned to me that he had seen Edna before the crime was committed.  He asked me where Mr. Roundtree was, and I told him that he just left under strange circumstances.  If I’m not mistaken, they’re looking into his whereabouts right now.  They’ve got a hunch that he’s the other person involved. 

 

* Miles *

I looked into the background of this Roundtree guy that the neighbor pointed out to me.  His name is Rich Roundtree, he’s 46 years old, and has a history of mental instability.  He’s been institutionalized in the past because his illness led to a few cases of attempted murder. 

Roundtree’s neighbor said that Roundtree had told him that Edna White had passed his house almost immediately prior to the murder.  I think it was just an attempt to throw the blame off of him.  Regardless, we’re tracking him down so we can make him talk.  

 

* A Concerned Neighbor *

Now that I’ve got the detective chasing Roundtree, I’ll divulge a little information.  When the cops finally track him down, they’ll find a little present in his trunk.  Maybe they’ll search his house, and realize that the murder weapon completes his knife set.  They’ll arrest him, charge him with conspiracy, and everything will be complete.

I first moved here when my father abandoned my mother, leaving her with almost nothing.  Heartbroken, she managed to scrape together enough money to move here, to Berkeley, and start a new life. 

At first, everything was well.  I managed to make a few new friends, and it seemed as though my mother was finally moving on with her life. 

This was not to last.  My mother, progressively more paranoid each day that she’d lose me like she did my father, forbade me from leaving the house outside of going to school.  I obeyed at first; being a child of the age of eight, I always did what I was told.  

Years passed, and my desire for freedom slowly grew, along with my mother’s desperation.  It eventually reached the point of me trying to sneak out.  My mother responded by purchasing a firearm, threatening me, and eventually locking me up.  She told me that if I ever didn’t come home immediately after school, she would search for me and kill me. 

I’m sorry that it required the death of Dr. Roberts, the man who gave me freedom.  However, it needed to happen in order for me to set my plan in motion.

In regards to Roundtree, I do feel sorry that I had to destroy him.  I have nothing against him, but I needed somebody to pin the blame on.  His eccentricities made him the easiest target. 

Everything from that moment of liberation to my eventual return to the neighbor hood was motivated by my desire…my need to have her suffer as I did.  And now, she will know what it’s like to be behind bars, to look outside and know that hope will always elude you.  And now, more than ever, I feel nothing for her.