The Immorality Clause by Brian Parker Read Free Book Online Page A

serial killer who’d committed four murders in four weeks was a serious problem. If the murders were related, they varied more widely than I’d ever heard of a killer doing, including the addition of a religious message on the latest murder. I’d need to dig deeper to find the killer’s true signature. Poisoning, blunt force trauma, stabbing and now disembowelment; none of them were even close to the same method.
    I needed to go see the department’s psychologist to see if she could help me determine some link between the cases besides the obvious fact that the sex clubs in Easytown were being targeted. The problem was that she worked in the NOPD headquarters downtown, so it would have to wait until tomorrow.
    As the Jeep cruised toward the apartment building where Paxton Himura lived, I dialed Jasmin Jones’ office phone number. I’d called her often enough over the years as I went in and out of the department’s anger management classes that I didn’t have to search for the number. I figured it was best to set up an appointment with her instead of just showing up at her office with a bunch of gruesome photographs.
    The phone rang seven times and then a machine picked up. I was in the middle of leaving her a message when I realized that today was Saturday. She wouldn’t be in the office until Monday morning. I tapped a few keys on the dashboard monitor to bring up the department’s phone number list. I searched until I found her and then called her emergency line.
    She answered on the third ring. “This is Dr. Jones.”
    “Hi, Dr. Jones. Zach Forrest from the Easytown Precinct. How are you?”
    “I’m doing well, Detective. Yourself?”
    “Good, thanks. Hey, sorry to bother you—” A blood-curdling scream reverberated across my car’s interior.
    “Casey, I’m on the phone with work,” the doctor admonished. “I’m sorry—birthday party for a six year old.”
    “I understand.” No, I didn’t. The only person I knew who had children that I interacted with was Amir. His kids were fine, but I couldn’t stand any of the other ones I’d met. Loud, needy, dirty; they were like homeless beggars calling after a pedestrian. No, thank you.
    “I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday,” I continued. “I need to ask you a favor.”
    She laughed and I heard kids yelling in the background. “You need a referral to talk to a psychiatrist?”
    “What? No,” I replied quickly. “Do you think you could look at a few case files for me and tell me if I’m way off base for an initial linkage between four murders, all seemingly unrelated except they happened in the robotic sex clubs in Easytown.”
    “Excuse me a moment, Detective,” she said. I heard her place a hand over the phone’s microphone and she told someone to hold off on lighting the candles.
    The Jeep parked in front of the Regal Apartments and I eyed the sky dubiously. At least I came over here on a Saturday afternoon when a lot of the residents were gone, so there was parking close to the entrance.
    “Alright, I’m back,” Dr. Jones said. Her voice echoed like she’d gone into a small room. “You said there have been four murders in an Easytown sex club?”
    “Not quite. We’ve had four murders in four different clubs over the last four weeks.”
    “I’m not a criminal psychologist, Zachary. My role is to discuss problems with police officers, not their cases.”
    “I know this is outside your lane, Doc, but the mayor wants to keep the investigation out of the fed’s hands. If it turns out that they’re linked and we have a serial killer on the loose in New Orleans, the FBI will be all over the department.”
    There was silence on the line for a few seconds and then she relented, “I can look at the files to see if I can give you a few pointers, but it would only be my opinion.”
    I breathed a sigh of relief and then explained my burgeoning theory about why I thought that the cases may be related and went over the generic details