The morning papers reported it in small print somewhere between a lost horse and a stolen car on page 13, or was it page 14? The dead body of Mr. So and so was found in the parking lot, outside a huge, popular departmental store.
Only a few people bothered to read it. Then there was another body, in another parking lot. Apparently during peak hours, a man was shot dead in the busy parking area of a prominent grocery store.
This report grabbed eyeballs! The residents of Happyvile sat up and took note, the reporter was happy, and the TV reporters smelt it out. Seems it was just the thing, life in mundane homes was missing …Drama!
Next day the front pages were rife with another murder. Same modus operandi. The police were interviewed, the reporters turned detective… a la Sherlock Holmes! Sniffing and digging they came to the conclusion it was a Caucasian, who must be quite tall.
“Wait!” said the TV news, “It is a short and evidently a coloured man!” The Police said “ Please, let us do our job, we cannot say anything now!”
The town was abuzz, the sheriff was on one channel after the other, trying to calm down people and assuring the perpetrator, his identity was quite clear and would soon be shouted from the roof tops.
Now the common men and women felt completely shaken. He seemed like a ghost, a person who came from nowhere, killed his unsuspecting victims and disappeared only he knew where. Responsible parents would not leave their children and venture out. Responsible adults dare not leave their senile parents by themselves.
The only car in the parking lot of a 500-car parking drew the attention of the TV Reporter. “ Sir, when no one dares to venture out, how come you have come here? What is your reason to be so brave?”
“Oh! You see if I have to die, I will die! We are born with a pre-determined number of breaths after all. Karma! Have you heard of the Karma theory?” “Yes Sir! Are you a Hindu?” “ Very much so, I came from India ten years ago.”
Now the criminal thought of taking the drama a notch higher. His choice of victim was a female of ethnic origin. And he placed a Tarot card neatly near the body. He tossed a coin between 10 of Swords and 5 of Pentacles. It was to be 5 of Pentacles.
All hell broke loose …
The Police claimed their investigations were back to square one …
The sheriff said he had no clue who could have committed such a series of crimes. The reward for any information regarding the perpetrator was straight away increased 10-fold.
Oh, the dark depths of the human mind! The panelists on TV shows, discussed, questioned, and pounced on each other. A few homies turned up at the police station describing a stranger at the last crime scene. Well the picture the artist drew showed a different man every time. So much for placing a reward on the criminal’s head!
The newspapers were soon joined by weekly magazines. Everyone wanted to make a fast buck from ‘The Flavour of the Season. The town stood ransom. Attendance dipped in schools, colleges, and offices. Children were told to ‘Shhhhhh!’ And grownups kept ‘Shhhhhh!’ on their own.
The unknown stranger was once again being built up, some shape, motive and background was added to conjure up an identity. He too seemed to play along. Dropping interesting tarot cards next to his victims. As time passed by, he seemed to grow bolder. He willfully played along with every speculation. I am sure he was laughing gleefully. Why am I saying he? Could be she too.
As the victims kept increasing, the clairvoyant announced there was a pattern in the randomness and a message in the Tarot cards. The fact remained he or she was a well-trained sharpshooter. The bullets indicated; it was a sniper. So finally, ‘The Sniper’ got an identity.
Fear was looming large. People looked at their neighbours and wondered ‘Is he the sniper?’ ‘ Is the lady with the warm smile, the sniper?’ ‘Could my neighbour, the sweet Mr. X, be the sniper?’ ‘Is it possible Mrs. Y, the baker of sinful cakes, which she generously sends over, the Sniper?’
Officers Thomas and Roy searched for evidence, going over the crime scenes with a fine-tooth comb. They traced the tarot cards, to a manufacturer from New York. Well that was a lead. Thomas went up to New York and on questioning gathered that someone named John Preacher had bought one pack, online from Happyville. Interesting!
The following day Roy and Thomas looked up the address of Preacher. There were 6 individuals with that name. They made a list of all the addresses. It was going to be a long day. They split up and went to investigate.
One lived in a cubby hole and could barely move from his couch to the door. The second one was a respectable teacher of Math in the secondary school. The third had moved out of town. The fourth was a young man who had moved to Chicago to pursue higher studies and had not been in town for more than 2 months. The fifth was a respected veteran, who had lost his child and spouse. The 6th one had passed away just a month back.
So now they narrowed down their list of suspects to Math teacher, young man in univ at Chicago and respected veteran.
The police department wondered how many people were part of this expert shooting team. They tried to calculate how they moved from one location to another, without being detected, how did they remain untraceable. Their commissioner was having sleepless nights and ensured everyone else did too. Overworked! Understaffed!
Officer Thomas was passing by on a lonely stretch of road when his senses started tingling. It had been a hard day. They were not making any headway in ‘The Sniper case’. With many speculations, the newspaper reporters hounding them, tempers soaring, everyone was feeling exasperated. But what was it? What were his senses telling him? Hmm… there was nothing in front… or behind… He stopped his car and looked around. Inhaling deeply, he stepped out, senses all alert. Radio on the ready, for a quick call if required. Then he saw it. A partially hidden blue sedan, with its boot visible. “Hello! Is anyone there? Can I help you?” “Police!” Silence! No response!
He switched on the powerful search light and radioed for help. There was something very much out of place here.
Officer Roy reached the spot in just a few minutes. Together they checked the car. Nothing! No papers or documents. Nothing in the car. As they turned, they could see the parking lot of a huge hard ware store some 600 – 700 metres away, on the other side of the road. The place of the last murder. “That’s it,” said Roy excited. They took the car down to the police station.
As they opened the boot, they were taken aback. It had been modified to create space. A blanket and a cushion, as if someone wanted to lie there comfortably. Well! Well!
They looked at each other. The horizon was turning a light pink as the dawn of a new day hovered to take over. Chief Charlie was peering at them through his glasses. He did not seem joyous.
As Thomas briefed him, Roy shrieked, there was a small hole recently carved into the metal of the boot, like a peephole. They looked at the blanket and cushion again. Yes, someone had lain there all right. There was an impression of a long object being placed on it too. As they searched every inch of the car, they found a folded scrap of paper. A bill in the name of:
Daniel Preacher, Sunset Boulevard, Happyville
Roy and Thomas informed Chief Charlie they knew who it was. There was evidence of two people being in the car. The cushion was used to support a long-barreled gun – a sniper! They put the address under surveillance. The phone on his desk rang, “Chief Charlie,” said he… “Oh! Ok! Ok!” “ Let’s go boys, we’ve got him!”
They drove like hell! With no sirens! On arrival the chief gave the signal. The SWAT teams entered the house.
On searching the house, they found the rooms empty, barring the kitchen and two bedrooms. The backyard though was another story. A firing range had been created and regular shooting practice was carried out there. An obstacle course too had been created. Fit to train marines. Roy and Thomas looked at each other and couldn’t stop giving each other fist bumps.
The house was empty. They wondered if the birds had flown! Thomas got copies of the driving licence and the photograph was soon shared. Meanwhile Roy had done a complete background check and came up with the fact that Preacher was a veteran, highly respected for his sharp shooting and gentle behaviour. They soon tracked Preacher and his accomplice to a seedy bar. As the SWAT team charged in, they were baffled.
Preacher a middle-aged veteran, tall, muscled, and calm whereas his accomplice Jeff, a younger, twenty something, seemed shocked at the intrusion. Preacher quickly regained composure, but the shouts and screams of the younger man was great testimony.
Handcuffed and taken to the Police station, they admitted they were ‘The Sniper’ and had committed all the murders.
The reporters had a field day at the Press release.
It was in the special edition of the newspapers the next day. ‘The Sniper’ was caught at last. Glorious tributes were paid to the Police department, Thomas, and Roy in particular.
The investigations revealed Preacher was an expert at shooting and held in high esteem in the Army and among his colleagues. After his young son Daniel died, followed by his wife in quick succession he had become rather withdrawn. In a fit of anger, he wanted to hurt people, especially those he thought were happy.
The peaceful, treelined neighbourhood could not believe it. They had a cold-blooded murderer amidst them and yet they never had an inkling. In fact, he happened to be one of the most respected as he never hurt anyone, never even raised his voice. Well such is the human mind… an enigma!
Published by Inkfeathers Publishing house: Thrill in a kill
