27 April 2012
Detective Larson loved this part. After the 'John' had been booked and processed, it was effectively his job to scare the living Jesus out of them, in hope that they weren't caught curb crawling again. Most of the time it worked, but he had a steady stream of people who he saw regularly. His favourite was a guy called Jim. He would look for girls, and pay to just sit and talk to them. He was massively over weight, with acne that a teenager would blush at having, but he was harmless. He would sit and cry after being caught, but after booking in calmed down, and would laugh and joke with the desk staff. He was just a shy, lonely guy looking for company, and no matter how many times Larson told him that talking to women in bars was legal, and not that bad, he wouldn't listen. Plus Jim was 78, and had many stories most people enjoyed listening too. Shame not a lot of people outside the station stopped and listened. Larson thumbed through the file he had just picked up. 'Stanley Crippen'. First offence it seemed. It had already been decided as it was his first time to let him go as a warning. Of course though, Stan didn't know that yet. Larson picked up his coffee mug and headed towards the interview room he was in. Opening the door and glancing at the gentleman in question, it was difficult to see why he had been out trying to pay for sex instead of just picking up a girl. Tall, slim but well built, short blonde hair, shaven, tidy and clean. Glancing at the file again it said he was thirty five. Hardly past his prime.
"Mr Crippen," Larson began, "I'm detective Larson of Vice. I assume you have been told why you are here, I'm just going to check a few details over with you."
Stan nodded, remaining extremely calm. He didn't want anything to give him away, least of all his body language.
"Now it says here you were picked up at 11pm, trying to exchange cash for sexual services from one of our undercover officers." Larson continued.
"Yes, that's true." Stan replied in a quiet tone. "But in my defence, I didn't know she was a police officer."
Larson smiled. "I would imagine you didn't. If you had, and still tried, well, that would just be stupid." Larson had to atleast admire his honestly, most 'Johns' would try and and say they didn't, or that the officer had come on to them. "Now it says here you like at 89 greenway street. Is that correct?" Stan nodded. "And how long have you lived there?"
"Around six months" came the response.
"Ok, where did you live before that? I only ask as we need it for are records." Larson asked.
"Newport Street on the over side of the city. Number 23" Stan answered honestly, and instantly wished he hadn't. Although no point lying, or he would end up in here even longer, meaning giving them time to link him to his night time hobbies.
Larson instantly connected the address with something else. "23 Newport Street? Does...does that mean you know the Carmicheals"
Stan knew what was coming. But was sure his little 'game' wasn't up yet. "I knew of them. I lived next door to them for a year or two. Didn't really see much of them. Why?" he asked, knowing exactly why. After all, it was he that slaughtered their little bitch.
Larson thought for a second. This guy was about to walk free. Stan didn't have to do anything that Stan didn't want to. He decided to play him. "Sir, he have an ongoing investigation that we could really do with speaking to you about. Nothing directly involving you, but you could be of help. If I arrange to have these charges dropped against you, would you be willing to speak to a fellow Detective of mine?"
Stan had to hide a smile. Nothing directly involving him. It was hard not to laugh out loud. "You say all charges are dropped against me?" he said playfully.
"Of course sir. I would mark the case against you as null and void, noting you helped with another investigation." Larson lied. He loved to play people like this. Almost bending them to his will.
"In that case officer, I would be delighted." Stan replied, this time letting his smile escape. Faking relief. In reality Stan was loving this. The police wanted him to help him solve his own case! He couldn't have planned this any better.
"Excellent." Larson exclaimed. "If we can just keep you five minutes, I will find the lead officer in charge of the case. Hopefully this won't take too much of your time." Larson got up, talking his coffee and file with him. Opening the door he turned to Stan once more. "Oh. And Stanley?" he said.
Stan looked up, "Yes Detective?" he answered.
"Don't get caught again." Larson said with a smile and a wink.
"Oh don't worry Detective." Stan smiled, "I won't. I have learnt my lesson."
Larson smiled once more and left the room. He strode down the hallway to Anderson's office. The door was shut but he knew Anderson was still in there. He knocked once and walked in. Anderson was asleep at his desk.
"Anderson!" he shouted, "Anderson! Wake up!"
Anderson woke up with a start. It had only been two hours sleep, but by god he had needed it. He had been awake far, far too long, and seen things no person should see in their working day. He had spent the entire day interviewing Beth's ex boyfriend, Tuck. He had been just a huge waste of time. The guy was just a washed up pot head. He hadn't even known about Beth being missing, let alone having been murdered. They were now waiting for Beth's friend Jane to show up. But she was out of town and not due back until tomorrow. He had dropped his head to the desk for a second, and that second had turned to hours.
"What is it?" he asked slightly startled. He was actually annoyed someone had woke him up. He had sent Morris home, an was now wishing he had followed her lead.
"I have a 'John' in interview room 4." Larson said, "He was living next to the Carmicheals when their girl went missing. He has agreed to speak to you if you want."
Anderson looked surprised. He didn't mind being woken up for that. "Ah, yeah." he managed. "Just give me a couple of seconds to wake up a little"
"No problem." came the reply. "His name is Stanley Crippen."
"Ok, thanks." Anderson got up as Larson left. Brushing the creases out of his shirt, and trying to flatten his hair. He rubbed his face. If he wasn't careful, the growth on his face was going to turn into a full beard. He glanced at the desk and saw the report from Evergreen Woods. So far they had found 10 graves. Each marked with a cross like some kind of sick treasure hunt. In each grave had been a black sack, full of what can only be described as mush. The first tests done had proved they were human remains, but it would be a while before the identities were discovered. If ever. He grabbed a notepad and pen, and walked out his office. A little way down the hall he came to Interview Room 4. He opened the door.
"Mr Crippen?" he asked, "I have a couple of questions for you."
Stan looked Anderson up and down. 'This is the man they have picked to catch me?' he thought. 'Good god they have given themselves a handy cap.' He smiled at the detective. Eyeing his scruffy shirt, dirty jeans, and tatty trainers. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a while, and his hair was untidy. He also looked tired. 'Guess I'm keeping them up' ran through his mind as he tried to suppress a laugh.
"Thank you for agreeing to talk to me, I'm sure you are a busy man, so I won't keep you long." Anderson said, flipping open the notepad.
"Not at all Detective, I'm happy to be of help." Stan's tone in his voice had changed. No longer was it pretending to be worried. It was a lofty tone, almost mocking.
"Thank you sir. I believe you were living next to the Carmicheals at the time of their daughters disappearance. I was wondering if you could remember anything that would help us with the case." Anderson asked.
"It's true I did live there detective. But I did not know them very well, you see...I'm a private person and I do not like to pry into others lives. I do know that she went missing," Stan was enjoying this, playing with the man whom was attempting to foil his little game. "I remember her mother was deeply upset, her father too. I had only seen the girl a couple of times, and never to speak too, but do know she had trouble with her boyfriend."
"Yes, we are aware of Mr Tuck," Anderson interrupted, "he has been helping us also. He was unaware she was missing."
"Ah! Indeed!" Stan returned, "I believe the use of drugs does create a barrier from you and the outside world."
"Do you remember anything out of the ordinary? Remember seeing anyone strange?" Anderson asked trying to return to topic.
'You mean like cutting off her head and fucking her mouth? You mean like slitting her throat and watching her bleed out? You mean like forcing myself on her death corpse?' Stan thought but didn't say. "No I'm afraid not. Like I said, I keep myself to myself, and don't like to pry."
"Was anyone living with you? Anyone else that might have seen anything? Girlfriend? Parents?" Anderson asked.
He had hit a nerve with Stan with this question. Stan stopped playing. "Both my parents are dead sir, and I would rather not talk about that right now if that's ok with you." he said, almost through gritted teeth.
Anderson quickly apologised. "I'm sorry to hear that. Listen. Thank you for talking with me, I won't take up anymore of your time." He handed Stan his card, "But if you remember anything, please, call me."
Stan took the card. Shooting Anderson a fake smile. "I will Detective. I guarantee I will call you if I remember anything"
"Good night sir" Anderson said as Stan got up from the table.
"Good night detective. I really hope you find the girl" he smiled again, this time while pointed away from Anderson.
"I'm sorry sir. But she is dead"
"Oh." Stan returned. "Oh dear. What a shame, and she was such a pretty girl" and with that, Stan walked from the police station, still a free man. Still unsatisfied with his last kill. Still looking for the nex
Stan: Chapter Seven • Opuss № I