Daylight Advantage

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Some stories require more than one ending when Vampires and other such beings are involved.

Submitted: July 18, 2016

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Submitted: July 18, 2016

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“Stanley, my man, what's been happening to you and yours?”

“Say Raymond, it's all good! And you?”

“Couldn't be better Stan, couldn't be better.

So you're in homicide now?”

 

“Yes sir Ray, I'm on the night shift, all the new-bees get stuck with it. I came up for promotion right after your Christmas party and I passed the test in May. A lot happens in a year.

Anyway, I got a call about a homicide at this address. Were you the first responder?”

 

“Yes sir Stan, but I got to tell you up front, this is a real mystery, I mean a real mystery.”

 

“Why's that Ray?”

 

“Well Stan, there are three bodies, all in the same motel room. The room was locked and slide-bolted from the inside, and everyone of the deceased died a different death.”

 

“How so?”

 

“One was shot, a white male, the second had a knife wound and his throat was cut, he's a brother and about 20 years old, and the third, it looks like she fell in the tub, hit her head, and drowned. It is strange, right Stan?”

 

"This is a Full-moon night Ray, strange always happens on Full-moon nights.

 

"Full-moon, I don't see any Full-moon. In fact, I don't see any moon at all, Stan."

 

"Oh, it rises after midnight tonight; it is an odd cycle in this part of the country. Besides Ray, with all the clouds overhead, you may not see it at all."

Wow Stan, you must watch the weather channel a lot, I didn't even know we had a full moon this month.

"It's a hobby Ray, I try to keep track."

 

Yah, well Stan, strange is all I know and these deaths are strange.

 

"You know, Ray, I have three scenarios in my head right now, of how these deaths went down; so it's not so strange.”

 

“Do any of those scenarios include the fact that there was no gun or knife found in the room, anywhere?”

 

“What? --- No way!”

 

“No lie Gemini, Forensics is checking the grounds and trash dumpsters in the area encase there were more people involved. But there should be a blood trail of some kind, considering the knife victim's wounds and the amount of blood in the room; which is strange too.” 

 

“What did you mean by, (which is strange too), Ray?”

 

“Someone getting their throat cut usually causes huge blood splatter everywhere, but not so much in that room. Granted, there is a lot, but not as much as I've seen in other cases. But still, if anyone was in there at the time of the cutting, and they walked out of there on two feet, there should be bloody shoe prints somewhere.”

 

“Woo, Maybe they flew out Ray, or vaporized into a sinister cloud!”

 

“Oh man, don't you start with the Vampire, Zombie Apocalypse stuff again Stan. There ain’t no such thing and you know it! Every time you start talking crazy, I get chills, I mean big old goose-bumps down my back. So get real and work the scene, Mr. Homicide Detective, I got no time for your ghost stories; I have another call to answer.

Ray walks toward his squad car and said, "I'll send my report to you Stan, it should be in your department by morning.”

 

“That's cool Ray, later.”

 

“Are you Detective in charge here?”

 

“Why yes I am Miss. And you are?”

 

“I am Cristina Long; I have a blog called (The Long Blog). I investigate strange homicides and report back to my follower with the latest updates.”

 

“Are you aware that you are trespassing within the tapped area of an official crime scene?” 

 

“I am not trespassing, I am investigating and my sources tell me that there are three dead bodies in that motel room. The public has a right to know what happened here, so would you care to make a statement?”

“Yes, yes I would. My statement is; there are three dead bodies in room 17 of this rather seedy motel and Omit I just got here myself. So tell me, how the hell would I know any more than you do at this time? Unless, of course, I start making stuff up, which I am not going to do, but I am sure that you do that all the time! As far as the public's right to know, that will find its way to real news stations soon, so stay tuned, News at Eleven!”

With that said, Detective Ferrell took a last drag off what was left of his skinny cigar and dropped it in her coffee cup; then walked away.

 

Detective Ferrell pocked around the crime scene for about a hour, trying to understand what had happened just hours earlier; none of it made any sense.

After finishing at the motel, Ferrell completed his notes, went back to the station. Once there, he made some calls before clocking out for the night.

On the hurried drive back to his apartment Ferrell rolled one window half-way down and lit one of his skinny cigars. Then he turned on the radio to a jazz station and enjoyed the drive.

After a few minutes Ferrell thought that he saw Cristina Long standing under a street light, near an alley on 33rd Street.

"What the hell is wrong with that silly woman, she is going to make me late. Doesn't she know it is two in the morning and she is in one of the worst neighborhoods in this city?" Ferrell thought

Ferrell turned his car around and drove into the alley to find her.

It was a blind alley, one way in, one way out, and Cristina Long was nowhere to be seen. In fact, except for a commercial dumpster and some scattered newspaper trash, the alley was empty.

Ferrell tossed his cigar and rolled up the window, then he puts the car into park, shut off the lights, and the engine. But when he started to get out of the car, he heard Cristina's voice behind him.

From the back seat Cristina said, "I do not generally do smokers, or cops for that matter, but I will make an exception in your case."

Cristina Long's eyes were locked onto Ferrell's, via the rear view mirror. Try as he did, it seemed that he could not move as her cold breath grew nearer and nearer to his bulging neck vein.

She whispered in his ear, "I'll drink my fill of your blood, red or blue, and then I'll cut your throat, --- too."

Cristina continued, "Now, we cannot let the Coroners see the fang wounds on your neck so we will just slice across them so that they do not show, you know, cut your throat.

Ah look, the Full-moon has broken through the clouds. Now I have enough light to see what I am doing and I do like to see what I am doing,” Cristina said as she laughed a hideous witch's cackle.

Ferrell's eyes were tearing and his muscles were bulging, as if  from the strain.

“Oh, remember that seedy little motel? Well, I would not want you dyeing without knowing how that happened. It was a hoot! 

I was out flying around and looking for dinner when I spied a fine male specimen in room 17. The door was opened, so I flew right in and brought him under submission with my big baby-blues.

You can imagine my surprise when another man entered the room and tried to shoot me. Unfortunately for him, bullets have no affect on me, unless they are silver-tipped, of course, so the bullet went through me and killed the man I was about to dine on, I mean, dine with; such a waist.

I struggled with the shooter and eventually stabbed him. At that point he was powerless against me, so I had dinner with him instead. Afterward, I cut his throat so that the bite marks would not show.

I tucked the gun and my knife away for safe keeping, and I was about to depart when the screaming started.

It seems that there was a woman taking a bath all the while. The bathroom door must have swung open and after the shock of seeing all the carnage wore off, I suppose that the woman finally found a voice to scream, and scream she did. Boy that woman had a set of lungs on her!

Well, I slammed the door leading to the outside and bolted it, and then I rushed into the bathroom and slammed the woman's head on the back of the tub. I mean, gees, that woman could scream! But that didn't work, she was still screaming, so I had to shove her head under the water for a while; that did the trick.

Wouldn’t you know it, by that time there were people banging on the entry door and I needed to exit, pronto. Well, I did my presto-change-o thing and flew right out the little bathroom window with my little bat wings flapping. It was very exciting and great fun!”

By now Ferrell's clothes were starting to rip from the body changes that Cristina had failed to notice. But the hair sprouting from his neck was a dead give-away, Ferrell was a Ware-wolf!

Cristina could not hold him in her trance any longer, he broke free and she was thrown backward.

There they were, both entangled inside a car together, both struggling for supremacy, and the Full-moon shining brightly into that blind alley.

Cristina's powers were diminished against the likes of this Ware-wolf. But the Ware-wolf would have to work fast, a shadow from a passing cloud was moving overhead; if it covered the Ware-wolf then he would change back into Ferrell.

The Ware-wolf burst through the windshield and into the full light of the moon, he was energized instantly!

Ware-wolf Ferrell jumped on the top of the car, so he had the advantage of attack position, and waited for Cristina's exit. And exit she did, firing the gun from the motel room, unloading the clip of eight remaining bullets in the Ware-wolf's general direction.

She missed him, but the diversions gave her just enough time to morph and flee. Flying up and over the building's edge, she left the snarling sounds of the enraged wolf below.

"I will have to leave this city behind and my precious blog too," Christina thought as she flew toward the Brown-stones on Main Street.

"That Blog gave me purpose, it is such a shame to have to leave it behind. But I guess that I could start another, a little different this time, less on the dark side," Cristina thought as she flew along.

"Detective Ferrell knows my name and how to find me now," she reasoned, "he will come for me. He will not be stupid enough to stay alone and unprepared after tonight.

It is either him or me, and he has the daylight advantage.

He will come for his own safety, with silver-tipped bullets in his weapon, or a wooden spike in hand, it will not matter, he will come; --- but I'll be gone."

 

***

"Hmm, I hear the weather in Florida is great this time of year, and Miami Beach, even better.

Hines, pack the bags and ready my travel casket, we are going to summer in Miami Beach this year. And if the dinning is acceptable, (Who Knows?), we may stay."

 

 

07-16-2016

 

This is the second Version of this two version story: See "A Juicy Situation" for first story version.

 


© Copyright 2017 JE Falcon. All rights reserved.

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