“The Christmas Bandits were from Goodville, not Blissville,” Adrian corrected.
“I guess it’s better than Whoville.”
“That needs to be our next theme for the department’s Christmas parade float. We were pretty lame this past year and I want to stomp the rest of the floats into dust.” Adrian banged his fist against the steering wheel excitedly. “That’s a great idea, partner.”
“Glad I could help,” I said with a chuckle.
We met Kentucky State Patrolmen Ralph Dennis and Mark Young outside of Thom Renzo’s apartment complex at ten sharp. We didn’t require a search warrant since Thom was the victim of a violent crime, not a suspect. The complex superintendent was on site to let us into the apartment since Renzo’s keys found in his car were still considered evidence.
My good mood from the morning disappeared the second we crossed the threshold into his apartment. “You can wait for us outside,” I told the super, shutting the door to prevent him from following us inside. There was no telling what we’d find.
Renzo’s apartment was the clichéd bachelor pad. Cheap furniture, expensive television and gaming system, and empty takeout cartons, bags, and boxes everywhere. His bed was unmade, clothes were strewn all over the floor, and his bathroom looked like a hurricane had blown through it.
A feeling of dread and disgust permeated my body as we began to open drawers and look for any clue to the identity of Renzo’s killer. It didn’t take us long to figure out that the killer was most likely a victim of Renzo’s sick, twisted mind. Every picture or magazine we found depicted his pleasure in seeing other’s suffering. I’m not talking about rough sex or even BDSM. The expression on the women’s faces told the story even if the article headlines didn’t. In most of the photos, the women didn’t look conscious.
“I’m going to fucking puke, Adrian.” I wasn’t lying either. That sausage biscuit I got from the golden arches drive-thru was about to come back up. What did this fucker do to women? Had he planned to do this to my Maegan?
“That makes two of us,” Adrian said. He pointed to the laptop sitting next to the bed. “I’d rather you shove rusty nails under my fingernails than make me look at the content on the computer.” There are things and images so vile and sick that no amount of experience on the force can prepare you to see.
“We have to do it,” I said.
“Let me do this for you, partner.” Normally, I would not have backed down, but I couldn’t handle seeing anything about Maegan on that fucking creep’s laptop.
I nodded my head and went into the living room to search the entertainment center. I pulled out one video after the other depicting sex crimes involving women on the covers. The titles were written crudely in black marker. How did anyone become so fucking sick? It didn’t take long for Adrian to join me with the laptop tucked under his arm.
“Well? Did you have any luck finding our two blonde vigilantes?”
“I lost track of the number of blonde women I saw on his hard drive. This was one sick fucker,” Adrian said with dread. “Um, his recent search engine activity did revolve around Maegan. It looked like he was trying to learn everything about her, but I couldn’t find any type of journal that he used to detail his sick-as-fuck activities or the plan he had for her. There were plenty of photos of him with other women though.”
“So this person did save Maegan’s life by taking Renzo’s?” I asked.
“I’d say yes.” Adrian looked at the videos I pulled from the shelves and photographed them. “Jesus. Are those home movies?”
“I think so, but I can’t be sure if they’re his or something he bought.”
Dennis and Young were just as sickened as we were, but all we could do was bag the evidence and remove it from site. It was almost lunchtime when we arrived at Renzo’s employer.
The CEO and head of human resources for the small company met with us personally. “Thank you for taking time to meet with us, Mr. Titus and Ms. James,” I said.
“We want to help you in any way we can. We were shocked to hear that Thom had been killed so violently,” the CEO said. He gestured to the file on his desk before he pushed it across to me. “Here’s Mr. Renzo’s personnel file and Ms. James is prepared to answer your questions.”
“Is this ours to take?” Adrian asked.
“Absolutely,” Mr. Titus said. “Ms. James is available to answer any questions that arise later also.”
“Yes,” Ms. James said nervously. “I’ll do what I can.”
I narrowed my eyes and studied her body language. She sat straight and tall in her chair, exuding confidence, but her fidgeting hands and inability to maintain eye contact gave away how nervous she truly was. I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but the CEO was making things too easy. I started to suspect that the personnel file was a ruse on his part to cover something up. Smoke and mirrors. Look to the left so you don’t see what I’m doing on the right.
“This is his complete file? It contains any and all complaints brought against him or disciplinary actions he received?” I asked Ms. James, but she wasn’t the one who answered.
“Of course, Detective,” Titus said, emphasizing his Southern boy hospitality.
I shifted my eyes to him and said, “Thank you, sir, but I wasn’t asking you.”
“Is this everything, Ms. James?” I asked more firmly.
“We need your help, ma’am,” Adrian added, falling into the good cop role like he did when the captain had been his partner.
