The Slasher

Drip! Drip! Blood dripped onto the ground below the fire escape, five flights up Ruby Thompson lay motionless, blood pouring from the deep cut across her throat, eyes staring wide open and dead as Ruby was. In the distance the first siren blasted through the night air, soon other sirens chimed in, all in route to East 63^rd Street the apartment of Ruby Thompson, 305 –E. Rudy had lived in a shady part of town, drug dealers, pimps and drive-bys were common place on East 63^rd. Ruby had lived in the area most of her 25 years, a waitress by trade, a good girl for the part of town she called home.

Detective Betty Martin was the first to reach the body, eleven years on the force and five in homicide. Betty was a hard girl from the same background Ruby was from, only difference was Betty had married a cop and got out of the dirt and filth of the street. Here she was right back in the seedy part of the city but this time she wore the badge and she asked the questions. Betty’s partner Tony Loomis was a new comer to Homicide, only three months as a detective. Tony learned quick and the first lesson was Detective Martin was all business, she wasn’t looking for a easy walk and she never, never took crap from anyone and the included the other officers.

Betty pulled back the neckline of Ruby’s blouse, the cut was deep, clear to the bone, one quick slash and Ruby was history.

Loomis looked at the cut but not too closely, “same as the others?”

“This cut is deeper and it was one quick cut, our man is getting bolder, more sure of himself.”

Taming of a Werewolf

A resounding knock on the heavy wooden door and a moment later the peephole opened then closed and the door opened. In the hallway outside stood a tall bulky figure of a man and with the bright light behind him, he made a dark ominous outline, even then is was clear the man wore a long cloak and hood covering his face. The doorman gestured for him to enter and awaited the strangers name to pass on to the other guests, instead the stranger spoke in a deep gravelly tone, “I am expected.” The doorman gave a slight nod of the head stepped aside just in time avoid being brushed aside by the stranger. In a voice of questionable authority the doorman offered to take the strangers wrap. Once inside the stranger undid a clasp under his chin and pulled the hood from his head and in one swoop pulled it from his shoulders and placed it across the doorman’s extended arm. Another nod of accepting the wrap and the doorman faded into the shadows of the corner.

The stranger face revealed cold gray eyes with gray eyebrows and matching long hair pulled back into a smart ponytail, the sharp edge of his chin and cheekbones suggested a hard demeanor. The stranger’s choice of clothing supported the adventurous look of the face. Dressed all in black with a couple of pouches tied to his wide black belt and a double layer of leather over one shoulder going to the belt but not attached. On his right hip a revolver all in black, on his left a dagger of length enough to bring down any man. His black boots with lacing down the front reached almost to his knees.

The stranger’s entrance had not gone unnoticed by the other guests. Men in bright colored jackets and white-ruffed shirts stared at him; some raised an eyebrow wondering who he was. Several women smiled at the stranger, the air of mystery that his presents suggested brought fear to some and wild fantasies to others. The ladies were dressed in their finest the stranger assumed. Bright gowns of every color, every conceivable design but all included the cinched waists and plunging neckline to show their heaving breasts.