Evil (closed)

[BLACK BART]

The man was positively evil. Dark hair, clear blue eyes, a tan over a muscled, athletic body that the ladies couldn’t keep their eyes off of. At five, eleven he carried his weight easily, the muscles moving easily as he padded along the pool or across the dance floor.

If you looked into his eyes at the rare off guarded moment you might get a fleeting idea of what he was capable of, but then the moment would be gone and his easy, practiced smile would cover it up and leave you wondering if you had ever seen it in the first place.

Wealth, power, confidence, good looks. He reeked with all of it and knew it, knew how to use it as well thanks to the polished and private schools he was bounced in and out of. Over the twenty years he was ruled by the threats of losing his enormous trust fund he had grown an enormous hatred for women in power, and after the mysterious death of his attorney and his 21st birthday he had the means to exercise and nourish that hatred for the next ten.


Meticulous and precise, he left a tiny, bloodless trail that the best minds in three continents realized was a pattern, and in their quiet horror set out to trap the man they could only describe…as evil. They had a profile, they had proof in the grotesque forms of the remains of each woman, but that was where the clues ended, the name, face and motive remained out of their reach and all they could blindly do was set out the bait…

An intelligent, strong willed woman that made men look twice, who held positions of influence and power…hoping the new recruits would be the perfect bait…and live to tell about it.

 

[Anam Cara]

Samantha Curtis

She sat at her desk, pouring over the case files for what must have been the thousandth time. Her colleagues at Quantico preferred the ease of the computer, but she liked hard copy. There was something about touching and holding the photographs and reports that stirred the fire in her head, kept her on the edge, made her think harder and longer.

There had been another murder. Same M.O.. Same perp. And despite her training and all the years she'd been at it -- at this same frigging case -- Sam Curtis took every one very personally. Too personally, they said.

So she did the shrink thing for them. Being a psych major herself, she squeaked through -- just barely -- but McLaren didn't get enough to rubber-stamp her removal from the case on psychological grounds. That didn't mean they wouldn't find another way to take her off, but until then...

She'd been doing some graduate work in Criminal Justice at Long Island U and finishing up her major in Psychology when the FBI had recruited her. At first she'd turned them down, despite the allure of the men in black. Sam chuckled. Little did she know.

It was just a few months later when her Aunt Joan had been brutally murdered. No one at the local cop shop seemed to know what they were doing and frankly, they weren't exactly forthcoming with information. Sam thought it was simply because they didn't have any, though they would have liked her to believe differently.

Joan wasn't a 'nobody'. She'd been a Congresswoman in the 11th District for over eight years. A pillar of society. A strong woman, outspoken and sometimes abrasive, but she got the job done. She was the best of the best. And she knew it. When Joan Monroe spoke, people listened and jumped.

Months passed with no evidence, no clues, no trace of the murderer. Frustrated, Sam began to do a little digging on her own. She found clues, leads. They wrote her off as some crazy grieving relative which infuriated her. Something had to be done on a higher level -- and she was the one to do it.

Sam had called the number on the recruiter's card that was still in the middle drawer of her desk where she'd placed it. She wanted in. She wanted in now. Could they guarantee where she'd end up? If it was going to be a desk job in some backwater, she wasn't interested. They couldn't, but the recruiter liked her spunk and assured her that he'd see what he could do to help.

For the next two years, she helped to analyze crimes and crime scenes, constructed behavioral profiles of unknown offenders and provided threat analysis and dangerousness assessments. She conducted research regarding violent offenders and their crimes. Sam worked hard and her efforts proved her worth. She finally made the elite profiler's team.

Of course there were those who wondered who'd she'd fucked to get the job, but that didn't worry Sam. She'd made it on her own merits and she could care less what anyone thought. She was where she wanted to be and there had been three more murders during the time she'd trained. Sam had begun to build a dossier.

Now here she sat almost eight years later, manicured fingers massaging her temples. Who the hell was this bastard? Sam didn't know, but she would find him and stop him if it was the last thing she did.

 

[BLACK BART]

"No, it's NOT a problem at all Mariette" I soothed over the phone to the silky voice on the other side. "I was impressed you knew exactly what kind of flower it was and thought it fitting, a beautiful living flower for another, No you know money wasn't the object...what is is what it means to us. I'll see you tonight as planned then?"

Her assurance made me smile softly and we closed the conversation with the soft noises lover make. Tonight I knew would be a very special night....one that only came once every 6 months.

Turning I lifted and ran the silk cords through my fingers, testing and admiring the bright red cords as I packed the five of them in my briefcase beside the tiny digital camera.

"Oh YES, This is going to be a very special night" I promised outloud and looked around the now vacated and well cleaned suite of rooms. "One you'll never live to regret."

Mz Mariette Lawson, an established and succesful Attorney at Law, graduated 1st in her class of 303, a dynamic personality in and out of the courtroom. Dating a spectre that has yet to be photographed or seen by any reliable source.

The gossip column in the paper made me smile, knowing the next time "Mz Lawson's" name was seen it would be on page two...

in the obituaries.

 

[Anam Cara]

It was during her early days that she'd begun to comb the VICAP database, entering the details of her Aunt Joan's murder to compare with others on file. The system was available to every law enforcement agency, no matter how big or small, yet those idiots hadn't even bothered.

At first Sam didn't get any hits, so she widened the parameters of her search. That brought up a few matches, but none exact. However... much to her surprise, Sam stumbled on something that she hadn't expected to find -- a series of murders that showed too many similarities to be ignored.

Not one to believe in coincidence, she began comparing case files and compiling further data; speaking to officers involved, family members, requesting DNA analysis. Sam couldn't believe that no one had picked up on it before.

What she had before her was at least ten years of murders -- mostly women and a couple of men, which still puzzled her. They fit but didn't, but Sam wasn't ready to preclude them from her investigation based merely on their sex.

A hand slammed down hard on her desk, startling her. "You're like a goddamned bloodhound, Curtis. Give it a break, will you? Besides, it's time for lunch and I don't favor eating alone today."

Sam pushed her glasses up on her nose and and growled. "Special Agent Carmody -- bite me. Besides, I brought lunch from home. I'll share my tuna if you share any info you've heard lately."

 

[BLACK BART]

"How does it feel now, Mari?"

I moved to the tripod and settled behind it, knowing the nude form in the small screen wouldn't answer, despite the fact her mouth was no longer gagged.

The camera flashed and once again recorded the delicate angle that the womans head was canted at, the way both her breasts leaned to the same side as her body was twisted.

"Too bad you won't be able to see THESE pictures, Mari" I told the still body and meant it as I lifted the tripod and moved it carefully.

The new angle showed the shoulders, back and arms of the once powerful woman, her wrists now cruelly bound together by one of the thin red cords brought for that purpose.

"You would appreciate the beauty of this moment, being the artistic and sensitive person you were, I'm quite sure of it."

Again history was recorded and her lean, well cared for body was immortalized, her bent legs now showing as I raised the camera's height and reaimed, the second thin cord that cut into the ankles and pulled them towards her wrists quite visible.

"Just a few more and I'll clean you up and ready you for your guests that are coming."

 

[Anam Cara]

"Ms. Mariette Lawson, an established and successful Attorney at Law... found by her housekeeper early this morning... Local police are investigating the murder."

Sam had only been half listening to the news over coffee while the early morning haze lifted from around her head when she heard it. It was a new location, but that didn't mean it wasn't him -- he hadn't hit the same place twice -- yet. The little she'd heard was enough to get her moving out the door toward the 'office'.

Once there, she booted up and went immediately to VICAP. Nothing. Well, it was early. But that didn't mean she couldn't phone to do a quick check on her own. Ever the queen of hard copy, Sam riffled through the rolodex on her desk and dialed the number.

"Los Angeles Police Department, Sergeant Ryerson speaking."

"Special Agent Samantha Curtis here. Connect me with whoever is dealing with the Lawson case. Pronto."

A click and a series of rings told her that Ryerson was a smart cookie. No muss, no fuss. She had...

"John Provino here. How may I help you?"

"Captain Provino, this is Special Agent Curtis out of Quantico. I believe you're working on the Lawson murder? I also have reason to believe that the M.O. of the perp is the same as other murders currently under investigation. Would you mind giving me some details before I fly out?"

She could tell by the pause that not only didn't he like "interference" by the Feds, he was questioning who or how valid her credentials on the phone were, but she had faith. He'd have someone else check the call while he small talked -- giving no more than the news had released until he was sure. He didn't disappoint.

Once the smoke had cleared and she was certain he was flaring mad by his tone, Sam asked for the information she'd requested. She also told Provino, much to his further ire, that she wanted the entire condo sealed. Hey. She'd seen worse cases botched and evidence lost because there were too many cooks in the kitchen.

The hair on the back of her neck and on her arms stood on end while Provino talked. She knew he was holding back and that there were things he hadn't even noticed, but that didn't make him incompetent. He just didn't know what to look for. But she did.

Hanging up, she dialed her super. "Mr. Clark, Agent Curtis here. I have a lead on the perp. I want clearance to go out there this afternoon." There was no need to explain. Sam only meant one particular perp when she went "formal". She also knew he'd check before giving her the go ahead, as well as he knew she'd go on her own, expense account or no.

 

[BLACK BART]

A new entity had entered the scene. A deliberate and methodical one, one quite sure of herself and yet in an odd way, not quite completely confident. She knew how to use her authority and wasn't afraid of creating waves it seemed, but in her eyes?

Her eyes told it all as I watched her survey the latest crime scene, the intelligence in them as she studied it all and tried to put into perspective, her voice coming to me in the quiet of the room as I held my camera.

"Somethings not right with this scene."

The young officer stepped forward and coughed before he began speaking, then assured her the room hadn't been disturbed...that it was held exactly as it was discovered for her to look at it...even before the officers were allowed to dust and photograph it...

"They can go ahead and do just that, we won't find anything here, I'm thinking." She answered in an almost distracted tone as she jotted quick notes into a tiny pad and continued to move around the pale, bound corpse.

Oh, Yes...This one was intelligent, already she had picked up on the obvious fact the rest had missed, and was carefully keeping it to herself. She was trying to put the pieces together by herself...in her mind she was forming a profile that she alone would use to track the killer...and I would use to bring her to me.

The officer nodded and I moved from my corner and opened the lense of my camera, then took the first of many shots that would end up in a file for the rest of time and forgotten, keeping my eyes on the job at hand and away from studying the newest and most interesting woman I had found in a long, long time....

"I'll have copies forwarded to each department." I assured the young officer in charge later as the woman walked from the room and I packed my equipment and followed. "But will need more information as to where to find this last name on the list...Federal Agent Sam Curtis?"

 

[Anam Cara]

A cursory scan of the room told Sam that this scene was almost identical to the others. Almost. Not to denigrate Provino or whoever was supervising the crime scene investigators, but they had missed what she considered to be vital clues. Of course they hadn't known what they were looking for, but even so. As for Sam, she wasn't ready or willing to share. She'd been working this case far too long to hand it over to some local yokels -- even if they weren't exactly backwater.

She walked around jotting down notes, drawing pictures and diagrams oblivious to the crew who were both guarding and inspecting the team. A piecemeal crew, considering that it was a holiday. Well, for most people anyhow.

"But will need more information as to where to find this last name on the list... Federal Agent Sam Curtis?"

Sam was heading for the elevator when she heard her name mentioned. Turning to see who was speaking, she saw the guy who was obviously the CSI, cameras and other equipment in tow, speaking to one of the rookies just as the elevator doors opened.

"I'll skip this one," she said to the carful of people and headed over to where the younger of the two was obviously pointing in her direction.

"Special Agent Curtis?"

Sam looked him over, head to toe. A good-looking man, just under six foot. He'd blind you with his pearly whites -- if he ever smiled, that is. Not really one to take notice of things like that, she thought she wouldn't mind seeing him grin -- just once. Okay. Maybe twice.

"I am. And you are?" she answered, choosing to ignore his extended hand.

"Master Sergeant Kendall Williams, Division of Forensic Services. I'm the Crime Scene Supervisor for Region One."

"Indeed? And what brings you out on Christmas Eve? All the small fry go out of town or is this case that important to someone?" This was an interesting development. Nobody got shooed into a position like this without having some sort of valid credentials. Maybe he'd seen some things that she thought he'd missed. At any rate, Sam's curiosity was piqued.

"Sorry. Listen, let's start all over. Special Agent Samantha Curtis. I'm pleased to meet you, Master Sergeant Kendall Williams," she said with a grin extending her hand as he had initially done to her.

 

[BLACK BART]

A long SLOW look at the woman who held her own hand out now...starting at her intelligent and wide set eyes, to study them and the intelligent face before moving down to take in the rest of her and how she held herself, then return slowly again to assess just what kind of woman lay hidden under the clothing...

I took her hand just as she made to lower it, holding it firmly yet making no attempt to demonstrate any type of overt strength as I shook it and returned her greeting.

"It is a pleasure to meet someone as qualified and beautiful as you are, Agent Samantha Curtis, if I can be of any help please feel free to contact me night or day."

Sliding my free hand into my jacket I felt her tense at the motion, her years of training warning her to go into a defensive motion which her face showed she was battling with, the delay allowing me to pull out the "threat" she was battling in her mind.

"My card Agent Curtis" I offered and freed her hand at the same time, a flitting of anger showing in her eyes before quickly disappearing as she accepted it without looking at it. "It has my office number and my private cell phone number on it as well, something I offer to very few, so use it if you feel the need."

Shouldering my bag again I nodded, then reached for the door she half blocked, turning to look back at her and the men now carrying the covered body from the room...

"I'd enjoy discussing this case with you and why the bodies are always brought to a different location after the victims are killed over a cup of coffee sometime." I dangled out in the air and opened the door to allow the coroners men to move between us and through the door.

"Call me if you need, Agent Curtis." I repeated and began to follow the pair and the burden between them. "I'm a night owl so don't worry about the hour."

 

[Anam Cara]

I almost let him go, figuring I'd call him tomorrow just to see what his film looked like, if nothing else. Almost. But that last comment of his brought me up short. He noticed! Of all the murders to date, he was the first to have said that the bodies had been moved. Wait a minute! Victims... He'd said victims -- plural. Not victim.

"Wait!" My voice sounded almost desperate as I hurried after him. "Williams!" I had to find out what he knew. What he'd figured out. And especially why he was tying this in to "other" cases.

"Yes?" The CSS pulled up short and turned around as I reached his side.

"Umm... I'm staying over -- at least for tonight -- and I don't know Santa Barbara at all. Besides, I'm starving and dying for a cup of coffee. Could I entice you to join me now?" I had to find out what this guy knew.

 

[BLACK BART]

"Interesting choice of words" I remarked and stopped as Agent Curtis approached. "Seems that's just what our perp here is doing with his victims, don't you think?"

The question made her pause and I smiled as I caught her off guard.

"But the answer is yes, I'm hungry myself and know of a small diner that makes the best pie fresh every morning."

Inside the car I took the time to sneak a few sideways glances at my companion and found her even more attractive up close...

"So Agent Curtis, How long have you been in law enforcement?" I asked, curious just who and what this woman was made of.

"And what made you get into this line of work?"

 

[Maid of Marvels]

We made small talk as we drove, and I told him how I'd started out in Criminal Justice. I'd had a hankering to be a lawyer at one point, I'd thought. For some reason, I left out the bit about Aunt Joan's murder -- maybe it was just too personal to share just yet -- but I did credit a "relative" with the reason I'd finally gone to work for the FBI. "Eight years. Almost nine now. Yourself?"

Before he could answer, we'd arrived. The place was called Margie's Diner and we were in Goleta, he informed me -- near Santa Barbara's northwest city limits. I couldn't wait to get inside and had the rumbling sounds generating in my stomach to prove it.

Williams parked in the rear, coming around to open the door just as I was swinging my legs out. I smiled as he made a show of trying not to let me know he'd gotten a gander at my gams. They were one of my better assets -- if you liked legs, that is.

"Coffee! Coffee! Coffee!" I chanted as we went inside and were shown to a small table. The waitress, to her credit, had heard my plea and was already pouring before we were barely seated. It smelled like heaven on earth and I savored the aroma, sipping at the rich, dark brew as I glanced through the menu and placed my order for a reuben sandwich with a side of fries and cole slaw. "Oh, and pie after?"

Williams smiled and the waitress chuckled. "If you have room, sweetie, you can have all you want."

I didn't know what she meant until I started noticing the size of the servings that were being brought to nearby tables. "I always have room for dessert. I'll just take half the sandwich back to the hotel for snacking later." Little did I know.

Trying to avert my thoughts from the dire need for food, which would soon be on its way, I looked up at Williams and smiled. "So tell me. What got you into this line of work? I always thought the CSS was highly underestimated by those who don't really know what you do. Kind of like the guy who picks up all the pieces for others to put together, yes? Or puts together the pieces that others find?"

Of course I knew the Crime Scene Supervisor was often the one who spotted the missing link, but I wanted to take the measure of him as a man first and CSS later. I had to know if I could trust him.

 

[BLACK BART]

cop to cop

Chuckling at the hunger and the way she ordered I placed my own order and sipped at the extra strong coffee before answering.

“You’ve been in the business long enough to know the requirements of the CSS.I joined ten years ago fresh from college and bored tearless, it was obvious then I really didn’t belong in society so to speak and was overjoyed when the current director explained a few things to me. We’re all chosen because of our unique abilities to “read” the crime scene and all the people involved in it. It’s not training rather a gift that the head honchos have learned to pick up on and identify, then take that raw gift and train us to master it. For most people myself included it’s the first time we’ve ever felt like we belonged, fit into that “special club” and we take to it like fish does water.”

My pie arrived (ala mode) and I dug into it, enjoying the blend of caramel and fresh apple it contained and the rapidly melting ice cream on top of it.

“I can smell someone schmoozing me a mile away, someone lying to me even from a greater distance and though the schmoozing is pleasant enough to receive it isn’t necessary. The talent I have I use and then once the puzzle is complete I turn it over to the real cops, the ones that have to drag in the criminals I finger, it’s my job…I’m good at it and I enjoy it.”

My speech had sobered her and the arrival of her food gave us both the opportunity to gather our thoughts before we continued…

“Look don’t take me wrong. We’re both on the same side and I’ll give you what I know when I know it as long as you treat me the same, ok? I’m not after the glories of the catch just and instead get my thrills from the chase and am used to handing the con over to your squads. Does that work for you so we can be partners?”

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Partners. I scrutinized the man seated across from myself from over the rim of my coffee cup. The same side, he said. The same side of what? This case was mine, mine alone. As it had always been from the very first. Aunt Joan. When no one else gave a shit. The way no one still did. Then again, he had said victims. Plural. More than one. What did Williams know that made him realize there had been more than one murder by this sick perp -- or had Provino blabbed?

What if I shared what I knew and he took the ball and ran with it? What are you worried about, Sam? That he'll steal your thunder? At the least you might actually finally catch up with the bastard. At the best, you'll see him rot in hell.

"I'd like to take another look around the condo after your guys clear out." It was almost a challenge. If he accepted, he might be breaking his own rules and that of his department's. On the other hand, I knew that I had carte blanche and could come and go as I pleased.

I tallied the little bits that I knew about Kendall Williams in my mind, at the same time taking in his appearance. Black hair, brown eyes. Strong, square jaw. Good teeth. Mixed heritage. Just under six feet. I set my cup down with a loud clank that startled almost everyone around us. I'd been sizing him up like a side of beef. What the hell! The mere realization made me furious with myself. I was not some stupid moonstruck chica that could afford -- let alone have time -- for the petty games and flirtations. I had a job to do, dammit.

Struggling to calm myself, I turned my attention to the pie I'd ordered. The crust was light and flaky, I noted, savoring the cold sweetness of the ice cream as it melded with the warm, ambrosial tang of the peaches. "Perfect," I said with grin. I took another bite. And then another. Finally making a decision of sorts.

Setting down my fork, I wiped my mouth and pushed the dish away. Let's see how much this bad boy knows... "I noticed you didn't use a tripod."

 

[BLACK BART]

Ken

The fork chimed off the glass plate and I brought the cooler coffee to my lips considering the woman across the table from me and her words.

So we both had the kind of personalities that grated on each other. Also a physical attraction. It would be interesting to put it to the test and see how far the Agent would go to solve her case.

"I don't need one." I referred to her last comment about the tripod. "It's bulky and just one more think to carry, plus it forces the photograph to make his or her subject conform to the position and setting of the fixed camera. Shooting pictures freehand allows me to move as close or far from the subject as I want and also with those shots to tie certain clues together others might miss."

Her face fell a tiny notch, her hopes that I would rise to her innocent remark dashed as I gave the clinical answer she had asked for but didn't want.

"You can go back over the scene if you'd like anytime." I moved back to her stronger statement. "We both know you carry enough clout, but I appreciate the professional courtesy in you asking me even so."

Draining my cup I pulled a bill large enough to pay for two of the meals we had shared out and dropped it on the table before making a show of looking at my wristwatch.

"It's late. I've enjoyed talking with you and my offer still stands. I usually work out at Phil's gym in the mornings and it occurred to me that you might like to do so as well but not have a place as you're not from around here. If you'd like meet me at 6 and I'll vouch for you as my guest, otherwise have a good night and you know where you can reach me?"

I rose and thanked the waitress, sliding my jacket on as I stood at the door and considered the agent as she worked at the final bites of her pie and then rose to join me. The ride back to her rented car was a quiet one and as she thanked me I wished her a good night.

She crossed in front of my car and my headlights showed her well shaped figure and lean, long legs as she moved into the street...

"Agent Curtis?" I called as I rolled my window down and let the car roll forward. "Your man is using a set camera because he likes to pose his victims before and after he kills them...and from the side of the bed he's left handed, but the camera is on his right. That means he's using a remote part of the time and there's a good chance he might be in his own pictures. See you in the morning."

She was still standing in the street as I made the block and turned the corner....

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"Why you dirty... " Sam tapped her car keys thoughtfully against her chin as she watched Williams' car drive out of sight. The blaring of a car horn reminded her that she was standing in the middle of Olive Street, and if she didn't move, she'd quickly be joining Mariette Lawson down at the morgue. Oh, and that reminded her. She wanted to stand in on the autopsy.

Walking over to the rental, Sam unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel, letting the automatic seatbelt glide into place across her body. Pulling her notepad from her purse, she jotted down a couple of things in a sort of shorthand that only she was able to make heads or tails of. She'd transcribe it all when she got to the hotel.

Sam had an expense account, but she rarely went over the allotment. This time was no exception -- she'd made reservations at the Holiday Inn over on Calle Real. Lots of people snubbed their noses up at places like that, but she liked them fine. Coffee makers in every room, even a laundromat. Food was right downstairs, too -- no wandering around and getting lost in strange places. She also liked the fact that they always provided her with the morning edition of the local paper. Home away from home. She ought to get paid for doing endorsements, for Pete's sake.

She hit a couple lights, but it still didn't take her fifteen minutes to get there. That was another plus. Close to the scene -- which meant she could pop in and out without going through a whole rigmarole to get there. No fuss, no muss. Samantha liked things as uncomplicated as they could possibly be.

Pulling up out front, she let the valet take the car while she pulled her roll-along suitcase behind herself to check in. "Room 127, Ms. Curtis," the desk clerk told her. "Oh, and I had coffee, Sweet 'n Low and creamer sent up as you requested."

"Thanks, Bob" she replied, slipping a twenty across the counter to him well aware that the cost of the things she'd asked for would be on her bill. She believed in keeping in good with locals who might just come in handy some time.

"I'm full, I'm beat and I'm off... Going to need directions to Phil's Gym, if you can manage. Working out in the morning. Wake up call at four thirty, if you would?"

Grabbing the room key and waggling her fingers over her shoulder, Sam didn't even bother waiting for a reply. She knew he'd do everything she asked -- and more. They always did.

Once in her room, Sam locked the door and kicked off her shoes before opening her luggage, grateful that she had packed a pair of shorts and a midriff tee for her usual morning run. They'd be perfect for the gym, too. She didn't seem to get to one as often as she liked lately, but she wasn't going to miss this workout for the world -- even if it was going to be mostly a mental one.

 

[BLACK BART]

Ken

Somewhere in the background an old clock chimed the half hour. The sweating man that danced around the bag ignored it, his pace up to the point where he had a good sweat going and his heart was working. He didn't have to worry about waking the neighbors, there weren't any, the loft overhead was his and the buildings on either side were deserted and derelict years ago.

Ken had discovered the place and made friends with the previous owner shortly before the old man had died, the past occupying the mans thoughts and words as Ken had returned a few times to visit, the mans gratefullness apparent as after his death the deed had arrived in Ken's old apartments mailbox.

Perfect...The place was perfect in it's remote location and gave Ken the privacy he wanted, the invitation to the FBI agent the first he had given to the now closed but still functioning gym...

His stomach growled and he slowed, the workout done for the moment as he moved to the table in the corner and his juice bottle...he never ate in the mornings, preferred to run lean and hungry until later...the fruit juices a consolation to needing some intake to offset the regular workouts each morning.

The door rattled and this time he glanced at the clock. Ten minutes early...he grinned and moved to the door, opening it quickly to see the alert yet surprised face of his expected guest...

"Gourgeous morning. I never asked what kind of workout you prefer but think there's enough equipment inside to meet your routine? Come in and I'll show you around."

Closing the door Ken flipped on the lights and the interior revealed itself...the contents almost out of an ancient "Rocky" movie with the center being the "squared circle" amidst the clutter of free weights and odd shaped machines used to develop individual parts of a body.

"It's all ours" Ken smiled and waved a hand over the contents. "I'm headed towards the weights but would be happy to "spot" you if you'd like...otherwise choose your poison and help yourself to the fresh orange and cranberry juices on the table....There's fresh towels and working showers to your right and a hottub with jet spas next to that. Make yourself at home"

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"I'll skip the juice for now," she said with a twinkle in her eye as she appraised his 'bod'. Nice, she thought. Very nice. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Sam felt as though Williams was giving her more of a challenge than an offer, and she wasn't about to let it go unmet. "Just let me get these sweats off and I'll be right with you."

All formalities aside, she set her bag down on a nearby chair and pulled them down, folding them and setting them over its back, talking all the while. "I don't go to the gym as often as I would like. I average three times a week anymore, but I do run every day. Okay, set. Lead me to the bench, Williams."

"Say, you don't mind if I call you Kendall, do you? Or do you prefer Ken? I mean, after all we are off duty," Sam added with a grin, wondering if she was ever off duty when it came to this case. The most likely answer was a flat out no, though she could pretend for the next hour or so.

She examined the bench when they got to it, wiping it off with the towel she had slung over her shoulders. "Sweat rash is yucky," she said by way of explanation, though she was sure he understood. "I don't lift heavy either. I just like the definition -- no need to look like Popeye on spinach."

Eyeing the weights, she chose the plates she needed, sliding them onto the bar and tightening them down. "Eighty five is my max. Can you spot me for forty reps?"

Almost oblivious to his presence at this point, Sam adjusted the height on the uprights before setting the bar onto the rack. She liked things 'just so', then again most lifters did. Finally satisfied, she sat down on the end of the bench and lowered her body until she was beneath the bar, wiggling to get comfortable.

Glancing at the stopwatch hung by a thick cord around her neck, she glanced up at Ken for the first time since they'd even neared the weights. "All set. You?"

 

[BLACK BART]

"Ken it is" He replied and admired her openly as she pulled off the shape hiding sweats and revealed a much nicer form underneath.

Not that she noticed for she had become all business as she adjusted the weight bar and bench to suit her. The weight was respectable he noted to himself, above the average a rookie would even try and as she slid under the bar he noted she did it with practiced ease.

"SET" Ken chanted and as both pair of hands met the bars he lifted with her and lowered. She moved right into the lifting he noted, no warm ups, just a fast paced and steady routine that showed precise and well practiced.

"SET" He chanted again as she finished the reps and held the bar, knowing she could place it but accepting his help....

"Well done" He complimented as she swung her leg over and rose to a sitting position to accept the towel he offered. "You've obviously lifted more and often but decided to hold back from building bulk...A sacrifice to save your speed, perhaps?" He had taped his hands as they talked and she replied in assent, then offered in defense...
"It's not the biggest person that always wins if the smaller knows how to move."


It was his turn and rather than reset the bench he moved to another he had steered her from.

"Agreed" He stated and then as he shifted under the bar and looked up at his "partner" countered.

"If you're in a ring with rules and point counters, but on the street?"

She blinked an eye no more...then moved to help him with.

"25 to warm and then I'll do 50" Ken informed her as he let her lift most of the bar weight and accepted it.





"SET"

He pushed off the first twenty five quickly, feeling his muscles loosen again as he mentally calculated what he was doing...and why. He was going to push her a little bit. Perverse yet useful in finding out how good a partner was...or an enemy...

The bar felt good, his hands still gripping it securely and as he slowed to set the bar he changed his mind and moved directly into the next reps...He knew she was there, knew she was mentally counting the numbers and probably rolling her eyes at the macho display...counting on it in fact to leave the impression he was over confident...and then he slowed as he counted down the last few and she steadied the bar into it's cradle.

It felt good, the sweat was rolling and he was loose....his body charged with the adrenalin he craved as he sat up and accepted his own towel.

"Care to try?" He offered and nodded over his shoulder to the dark ring. "To prove our theories?"

 

[Maid of Marvels]

She was game, despite the fact that it felt as though Ken was testing her. Sam hadn't sparred in a while -- at least she didn't think the verbal kind counted. Following his gaze toward the ring, Sam grinned and added, in the best Brooklynese she could manage, "Ya know -- I coulda been a contendah."

Once more, she concentrated on preparing for the task at hand, examining the equipment and prepping herself mentally. The ring, at a glance, was cool and the turnbuckles were none the worse for wear. It was serviceable.

There were several styles and types of gloves, but Sam made the decision on her own, not waiting for Ken to direct her. The oversize gloves felt like sixteen ouncers and that would serve her well. Sam didn't want him to "forget" that they were only sparring.

"Cool beans," she said as she picked up a wraplicator and began to weave it around her right hand after placing the loop around her thumb. Flexing her fist as she wrapped, Sam made sure that it wasn't too tight. Once satisfied, she fastened the end and began on her left hand.

"Three minute rounds?" Sam asked when she had finished with both hands and had slipped her headgear on. "Or two? And how many? I wanna give you a good workout."

She shook her head back and forth as she talked, loosening her shoulders and shaking out her arms while she bobbed to and fro. "You know, Mark Twain once said: It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog."

Unwrapping a mouthguard, Sam chuckled as she slipped it into her mouth and grabbed for the gloves. Once they were on, she patted Ken's butt and rolled herself up into the ring to warm up while she waited.

Aware that he was watching, she moved in all directions, not wanting to give him too much of a clue to her style. In fact, Sam thought she'd probably change her tactics from round to round -- but then again, so would Ken. He was certainly a challenge... she had to give him that.

 

[BLACK BART]

Strong...she was strong...and light on her feet as well as she danced about the ring and loosened up...

And smart. You didn't get to her rank so early without having more between her ears than pretty eyes.

But had she ever boxed in a real match with a real opponent for any length of time?

"Three five minute rounds?" He tossed back and lifted himself to the deck then slid between the second and top rope. "Points scored for contact, Queen's rules...and loser buys dinner at winners choice before the case is over."

She nodded and circled to his left, knowing he was right handed and it would make it more difficult to use his dominant hand...

Oh yeah...she was smart all right...but so was he...this was going to be fun...

Ken shifted his feet, telegraphing the left hook he was going to toss and smiled as she ducked her right shoulder and bobbed out of the way...then circled with her just inches out of her reach.

He had her by nearly eight inches. In a serious match it was a "killer" amount to give up and if your opponent used it against you aggressively?

It would wear you out and set you up for one...single...punch.

Again he shifted and looped a slow punch out and again she danced away, her eyes blazing at being toyed with as she tried to "press" him and put up a flurry of punches that he swatted away then spun away from the corner she was trying to back him into.

The first round went by and the timer chimed the end..Ken tossed a towel at his opponent and nodded to the water bottle perched on the ledge that had been modified to use in gloved hands, then scopped a second in his own hands and let the cool liquid roll down his throat and over his face...

One minute later Ken windmilled his arms and moved to the center of the ring again, offering his gloved hands and grinning as she slammed her own on top of them before dancing away with fire in her eyes...

Oh yeah....this was going to be fun...

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Sam checked her stance, raising her left hand to cheek level. He enjoyed toying with her, she thought. This had evolved from simple sparring to a test of some sort, much like the bench press had been -- though even more so.

Knowing that her reach was far shorter than Ken's, Sam decided to try a different technique. So far her moves had been defensive, perhaps now...

Tensing her muscles, she moved in quickly... a jab immediately followed by a shift in her weight and a pivot that allowed at least a passing glance of her right. He was quick. She had to give him that much. But Sam was determined in a bulldoggish sort of way.

She bobbed, weaving away from him as he countered. Thrown off balance for a moment as she caught a hook. Nonono. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.

Shifting her center again, she brought her hands up to her chest and spun slightly, moving closer as she did so. Without a second thought, she lowered her right shoulder and threw her body forward, landing a perfect blow. An uppercut that sent him back a step. Paycheck!

Just then the timer went off... in the nick of time, she thought, not knowing how long she could keep this up.

 

[BLACK BART]

Ken

Ken continued to bounce on his feet and surveyed the woman in front of him with a growing respect. His jaw ached and as he twisted his head side to side he knew it was because he had underestimated his opponent. She was fast on her feet and with her mind, a deadly combination that he could admit, recognize and even admire.

“Good round” He complimented and scooped his water bottle, then rinsing his mouth and spitting the lukewarm liquid out into the pail hung conveniently.

She had dipped her shoulder as she moved… a tell tale maneuver he would watch closely for again, testing to see if it was a chink in her own armor…and capitalize on if it were and not a intentional flaw…

“You’ve boxed more than a few classes at the “Y” haven’t you?” He grinned and hazarded, then nodded as she admitted.

“ Two brothers and a father, all with belts and titles, then the academy where a person is pushed harder just because…I’d say the same about you the way you move, correct?”

“Unlike you it’s in my file” Ken returned and grinned to show no hard feelings.” Shall we?”

Again he offered his gloves then danced back as Sam touched them and began to circle to her right.

But this was Ken’s round…or so he hoped as he used his longer reach to flick out with and keep Sam moving…dodging and dancing blows that stung if he brushed her and she knew would hurt if they landed solidly.

Right…. right…right…left…Ken dipped his own shoulder with each rifled punched and moved towards her, forcing Sam to give ground and try to stay off the ropes. It was a tedious tactic…one that would tire both himself and his opponent Ken knew, but trusted the hours he had spent increasing his stamina…

Until it was the final few seconds of the second round and Sam lowered her gloves to ward off a low right punch to her abdomen and Ken took the opportunity…And swung with a high looping left…dropping it so it piled into her shoulder and forcing her into the ropes…and bouncing back as the bell chimed…

In a knockdown brawl any blood hunter would have torn off his opponents head as they came out of the ropes that way…but this wasn’t a brawl and Ken wasn’t quite hunting for blood…yet.

“So you held the Academies title for how long?” He guessed again…

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Kendall Williams was sharp, she had to give him that, but she wasn't sure that his interest was just idle curiosity. Of course there was the murder on his turf, and the fact that he had taken notice of things that others had missed. What did he want -- really?? Sam was a little more than intrigued herself.

"Yeah, Champ. Three years," she mumbled with a grin that looked almost feral behind the mouthpiece. One more round. Just one more round and they could talk. Maybe she'd even learn a thing or two more about this enigmatic man. "Ready?"

Sam swished her mouth and spat, moving toward the center of the ring again. She'd be more careful this time not to let him corner her. Ken fought like her brother Art and she'd always been hard put to hold her temper with him in any ring -- the surest way to defeat. But she could do it. She would do it.

Timer set, the two circled each other warily, throwing punches that were more a tease than anything else. At first...

Suddenly it began in earnest. Sam took more than one glancing blow and a couple solid hits, returning them in kind only to see him arch an eyebrow here or there. He wanted her pissed off. He wanted her to make a mistake. Well, she thought. We'll see... we'll just see.

Sam raised her left hand to block her face and began to bob, the seeds of a plan beginning to grow in her mind. She hadn't wanted to give it all up, but at the same time she didn't want to lose.

Shifting her weight, she tightened her butt muscles and stepped in with a jab before pushing off with a carefully aimed straight right. Bingo! But that wasn't all she had for him -- or he for her. She dodged one and took a blow to her belly, but that was okay. Better than okay. It gave her the time she needed to shift yet again as she danced around him.

Jab. Jab. Right. Some made contact. Some didn't. Sam's jaw was set and her mind and eyes focussed as she rebounded from a couple good rights from Ken, one that nearly knocked her on her ass.

Dance, ballerina. Dance. She could almost hear her father's voice encouraging her. It was time.

Her left foot in front, Sam pelted him with a couple of rapid-fire uppercuts to his body, which he countered with the expected straight. Dance, ballerina echoed in her mind. It had always been a signal and one she would answer to now.

Forward. Back. Side to side. Suddenly whirling. Sam barely slowed as she traded arms and delivered a full-bodied blow that she knew he hadn't been expecting. A left. She watched as Ken started to lose his balance. Would he fall? Would he... Sam brought her left back up to her cheek, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, watching and waiting.

 

[BLACK BART]

Ken

The maneuver caught him flat footed, ill prepeard for the barrage of punches and the one haymaker hidden at the end of it...

Ken staggered and then caught himself, his left foot moving behind to steady himself as he fought to bring his hands up.

But somehow he couldn't quite seem to move fast enough, his arms feeling like lead as his brained screamed for the body to respond, his eyes watching hers and the left handed glove that hovered eagerly beside her cheek.

For a second he was dead on his feet and in the breadth of the sweep hand moving one stroke he thought he had made it...until her glove moved forward as if rocket propelled, her weight and fury behind it guiding to his jaw.

And all went black...

"Ken...? Ken....? Can you understand me?..."

How long it had been he wasn't sure, but what he did know was how his jaw felt and the fact he ahd been knocked out...cold.

" My yaws roken ah tink." He replied and tried to sit up, then stopped as the ropes spun in a violent circle around hi.

"What was that Ken?" The voice replied and it returned to him, how he had ended up on his butt in the middle of the ring and who it was that was speaking to him.

"My yawwww is roke" He tried again and this time did sit up, fighting back the violent convulsions in his stomach...and the wound to his ego at the same time.

The image flitted through his mind of the next day at the morning check in....

"Just how did you break your jaw again???"

"In a sparring match you said????"

"And WHO were you sparring with...

"Isn't that the special who you outweigh by 80 pounds...outreach by over a foot...stand taller by over a foot???"

And the final jibe that was sure to be thrown...

"Watcha matter...try to wear her skirt!!!!

He nearly lost the contents of his stomach at that point, then fought it back as he knelt and then rose to his feet, jamming a glove between shaky legs to tug it off and watching through blurry eyes as he did the same for the second.

He growled and pushed Sam back, then nearly fell over the second rope and lowered himself to the floor beside the ring, wobbling towards the phone on the desk...

The phone rang half a dozen times and he nearly hung up before an out of breath voice came on and he realized he could only grunt...

"Ken? What's wrong? I know it's you, you're the only one arrogant enough to call me on my private line and your number shows on my readout...are you hurt?"

"Errr herrr" Ken grunted and then a second time as the voice asked if he needed help at his place...

And he put the phone back on it's cradle, leaning against the wall for relief...

"What I can do for you??" The worried voice spoke from beside him and he turned to look at the owner of it, almost glad he couldn't speak the words he was thinking at the moment.

Instead he pantomined with his hands the actions of showering and pointed to the door marked accordingly on the side, then to the clock on the faded wall above and held up ten fingers twice...

Sam nodded and moved to the bag she had brought with, then to and through the door he had pointed out, a final worried look tossed over her shoulder before the door closed...

At which point Ken slumped to the stool and closed his eyes..to wait for the doctor to arrive and check him out...He silently prayed she didn't say it was broke...and could hopefully reset it before she left...