The Killer's Revenge

Chapter 3 Who is Mr. M?

It was dark outside as I got into my black Dodge Charger with blue stripes down the center. Before I slid in, I looked over the hood at Blake. “Don’t touch anything, especially the red button.” His face brightened when I said that. “I mean it, if I see your hand move a centimeter, then I’ll kick you out of the car while it's still moving.”

Blake raised his hands in surrender. I gave him one more pointed look and then slid into the car. As I started driving, I glanced at the clock and saw in bold green numbers eight-thirty.

            “Blake, I can’t take you home now. Its eight thirty and I have a meeting, you can come with me, but you stay in the car,” I said sternly.

            “Okay, I have nothing to do tonight,” replied Blake with a smile on his face. I’m surprised he didn’t have a tantrum about staying in the car.

            I got to the coffee shop around nine. I ordered a black coffee and sat down while I wait.

            “So, who are we waiting for?” Blake asked from my right. He was sitting next to me at the table.

            “We are not waiting for anyone, I am waiting for a witness and I told you wait out in the car,” I said through a clenched jaw.

            “Come on, Detective, I was the one saying that it was murder,” whined Blake. I rubbed my forehead as a headache starts.

            “Blake, I’m only going to say this once. Get back in the car!” I was standing by this point, looking down at the kid, but he just looked up at me with a blank look. I reached down to drag him up when a man, wearing a baseball cap, walked into the coffee shop. He scaned the room before taking a seat at my table.

            “Mr. M., I suppose?” I asked, as I held my hand out to shake, completely forgetting Blake was still here. Mr. M. looked to be six feet with blue-green eyes, black hair was sticking out of the hat; looked to be of Armenian descent and was wearing Khaki shorts and an unbutton blue plaid shirt over a white long sleeve tee. He couldn’t had been more than nineteen years old.

            “Yes, I am Mr. M.,” he said as he shook my hand.

            “Nice to meet you Mr. M. I’m detective Rick Johnson with the Devonshire precinct.” When I sat down I see him glance at Blake. “Pay no mind to him. He’s just some punk kid wanting to play cop for a day.” Mr. M. smirked at Blake with a gleam in his eyes before returning his attention to me. “Let’s start with your real name?”

            “My name is Vartan Kasabian, but you can call me Vartan.”

            “So, Vartan, what did you see earlier today?”

            “I was walking to the park when I looked up and saw in the window of a house two men; one of them was not moving, the other one was putting a rope around him. It looked to me like the guy was paralyzed because his eyes were moving around. The man that was moving tied the rope to the beam, and then kicked the chair out from the paralyzed man. He then walked out of view.”

            “What did the man look like?”

            “I was not able to see his face.”

            Hmm, interesting, he could see the victim’s eyes move but not the suspect’s face.

            “Did you see anything that would help i.d. the man?” asked Blake.

            “Shut up, Blake. I’m the detective not you, so be quiet or I’ll arrest you for obstruction,” I threatened. Blake leant back into his chair and crossed his arms across his chest, pouting and mumbling how it wasn’t fair. I shook my head and rubbed my face to relieve some of the tension. “Did you see anything, Vartan?”

            “From what I could see, he looked to be around five eight.”

            “Did you see anything else?”

            “Well, there was a tattoo on his right arm; the writing looked Japanese to me, or at least something asain.” He glanced at Blake again. I turned to look at Blake but he stared back with an innocent expression.

            “Is that all?” I asked once I turned back around.

            “Yes, that’s all I saw.”

            “Thank you for talking with me today, Vartan.”

“No problem, Detective.” He nodded to me and then got up from his seat and left.

             I turned to Blake and saw a somewhat relieved expression on his face. When he noticed me, he quickly composed his face. He's hiding something, I thought. “I need to get you home and I need to get home, too.”

            Blake stood up and asked, “Gonna spend some alone time with the missus?”

            I pushed him to get moving. “Shut up and get into the car.” Once we got into the car I asked him for his address.

            “Three-three-one Franklin Street.”

            I started to drive to his home. The ride was silent as I’m mulling over this new lead and Blake was staring out of the side window. There was something weird about this Vartan kid. I noticed that he kept shooting glances at Blake. Maybe he was curious about him since he isn’t a cop? I pushed that issue aside and focused on getting Blake home.

When I got Blake home, it was around nine forty-five.

            “Thanks for the ride, Detective.”

            “No problem and like I said leave the case to me.”

            Blake smirked at me. “Now, detective, where would the fun be in that?” He quickly shuts the door before I could retaliate and sprints into his house. I shook my head and decide to let it go; I just wanted to go home and relax with my wife.

            I got myself home by 10:05; I walked into the house and kissed my wife. We spent the rest of the evening eating the chili dogs I promised and watching Thor before we called it a night and head upstairs to bed.