The East Avenue Murders (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Linda L. Dunlap
of the catch was what she loved. Admittedly, some of her cases smelled worse than rotten fish. It was at those times true dedication to the job made a cop voluntarily enter a place of horror.
The door to the small bathroom was ajar as though the last person who departed had been too hurried to close it. There was nothing in the small room other than the usual furnishings. Maude gently closed the door, stepping lightly away toward the sleeping area, her weapon trained on the bed where a large lump lay covered by an identical coverlet to the one across the hall.
Struck by the unusual circumstances of the coverlets , Maude held off pulling the fabric back from the bed, taking time to look the room over. She dreaded the possibility of another crime scene, but knew the elements were there. On the floor in front of the bed lay a white bathrobe, the kind that hotels and cruise ships give to VIP customers. It was smeared with blood on one side. Maude’s guts roiled, the dread in her a stimulus to nausea.
There was a minute possibility that under the coverlet lay a sleeping person , one who would rise up with indignation at being disturbed by strangers in the room. Maude hoped that was the case, but it was not to be. She borrowed a fresh pair of latex gloves from the assisting officer and pulled the coverlet back, exposing a dead body. A carbon copy in its mutilated state, the body lay decomposing like the victim in 507. Both breasts had been hacked off and the raw flesh grayed and shriveled with the passing of time. Maggots were present in the second victim also, an indication that the time of the murder had coincided with the first. The mouth and chest were the feeding ground for the pale, voracious, flesh eaters.
The b lood on the victim’s face, neck and chest had sourced from a large slash wound in her left temple near the carotid artery, possibly the cause of death. The extra damage inflicted on the woman was no doubt entertainment for a demented killer who found pleasure in torture. The second murder appeared in its grisly reproduction to be the work of the same person or persons who killed the woman in 507. .
Wanting another cigarette , but knowing it was off limits at the crime scene, Maude took out her phone to make the call across the hall. She had stayed in the room paying homage to the dead woman, giving silent tribute to the life taken by a monster. After she dialed the lieutenant’s number, the phone rang several times before he finally answered.
“Patterson here,” he said brusquely.
She was silent for a minute, not quite sure how to tell her boss that his evening away from home had just been lengthened.
“Uh, Boss, you need to come across the hall to Apartment 509,” she said through the crackling of static over the phone. The reception was poor but it was better than yelling through the door .
“What do you need?” he impatiently replied. “I’m busy over here.”
“Trust me, Boss, you need to come over here,” she said again.
“Oh alright, I’ll be there in a minute.” Patterson growled, disconnecting the phone.
Maude stayed near the door with the street cop , waiting for her supervisor. With knees ready to buckle from the strain of the long day she waited for him to arrive. When the door opened she gave him the look, the one that said we’ve been screwed .
“Maude, what do you want?” Patterson asked loudly. The increased volume of his voice was an indication of his frustration. She could tell he was ready to leave, to finish up the day.
“In the bed, B oss, go check the bed,” she wearily insisted. Maude stayed where she was, delaying the necessity to look one more time. The breasts’ removal touched a nerve within her because of the violence and the obvious hatred from the killer.
The commission of such an act in room 507 might have been a trip into insanity for the killer, but a replay of the horror in room 509 revealed a need to shock and horrify all who came to observe. He
The door to the small bathroom was ajar as though the last person who departed had been too hurried to close it. There was nothing in the small room other than the usual furnishings. Maude gently closed the door, stepping lightly away toward the sleeping area, her weapon trained on the bed where a large lump lay covered by an identical coverlet to the one across the hall.
Struck by the unusual circumstances of the coverlets , Maude held off pulling the fabric back from the bed, taking time to look the room over. She dreaded the possibility of another crime scene, but knew the elements were there. On the floor in front of the bed lay a white bathrobe, the kind that hotels and cruise ships give to VIP customers. It was smeared with blood on one side. Maude’s guts roiled, the dread in her a stimulus to nausea.
There was a minute possibility that under the coverlet lay a sleeping person , one who would rise up with indignation at being disturbed by strangers in the room. Maude hoped that was the case, but it was not to be. She borrowed a fresh pair of latex gloves from the assisting officer and pulled the coverlet back, exposing a dead body. A carbon copy in its mutilated state, the body lay decomposing like the victim in 507. Both breasts had been hacked off and the raw flesh grayed and shriveled with the passing of time. Maggots were present in the second victim also, an indication that the time of the murder had coincided with the first. The mouth and chest were the feeding ground for the pale, voracious, flesh eaters.
The b lood on the victim’s face, neck and chest had sourced from a large slash wound in her left temple near the carotid artery, possibly the cause of death. The extra damage inflicted on the woman was no doubt entertainment for a demented killer who found pleasure in torture. The second murder appeared in its grisly reproduction to be the work of the same person or persons who killed the woman in 507. .
Wanting another cigarette , but knowing it was off limits at the crime scene, Maude took out her phone to make the call across the hall. She had stayed in the room paying homage to the dead woman, giving silent tribute to the life taken by a monster. After she dialed the lieutenant’s number, the phone rang several times before he finally answered.
“Patterson here,” he said brusquely.
She was silent for a minute, not quite sure how to tell her boss that his evening away from home had just been lengthened.
“Uh, Boss, you need to come across the hall to Apartment 509,” she said through the crackling of static over the phone. The reception was poor but it was better than yelling through the door .
“What do you need?” he impatiently replied. “I’m busy over here.”
“Trust me, Boss, you need to come over here,” she said again.
“Oh alright, I’ll be there in a minute.” Patterson growled, disconnecting the phone.
Maude stayed near the door with the street cop , waiting for her supervisor. With knees ready to buckle from the strain of the long day she waited for him to arrive. When the door opened she gave him the look, the one that said we’ve been screwed .
“Maude, what do you want?” Patterson asked loudly. The increased volume of his voice was an indication of his frustration. She could tell he was ready to leave, to finish up the day.
“In the bed, B oss, go check the bed,” she wearily insisted. Maude stayed where she was, delaying the necessity to look one more time. The breasts’ removal touched a nerve within her because of the violence and the obvious hatred from the killer.
The commission of such an act in room 507 might have been a trip into insanity for the killer, but a replay of the horror in room 509 revealed a need to shock and horrify all who came to observe. He
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