Peter Pan The Killer

Chapter 22: Uncovering Peter Pan's Secrets

The humid air signalled another London downpour on the way. The streets were bustling with cars and bright red buses, the grey skies giving a rather solemn feel to the city. James got off the cab and paid the driver, before stepping into the large red-bricked building.

J. Roger Corporate Private Investigator

Ringing the doorbell, James waited for the receptionist to allow him in. A number of doors and a small front desk occupied the lobby. After stating his purpose and identity, the receptionist ushered him to the office of Detective Roger.

The plump old men was puffing on a cigar when he entered. The room smelled off nicotine and mint, files were overflowing in the shelves and tables.

"Good day, Detective. I'm James Hardwing," James said with an outstretched hand. Roger did not shake it.

"Sit, kid. I know what you came here for," he said his voice gruff. James obliged and sat on the wooden chair opposite of him. Roger pushed some files from the corner of the desk towards James.

"Listen here Hardwing, I'm not responsible for what you do with these files. If you get into a snitch, don't come crying for help," he said.

"I want to know why the lot of you are so perturbed by this case, till you closed it when you got the chance," James retorted. Roger laughed, what sounded like claws scratching against a tree bark. It was an unamused laugh.

"A long time ago, a woman came up to me and asked me to take up a case. It involved her pretty diamond necklace, getting stolen. Simple case, didn't seem like much," Detective Roger said leaning back against his cushioned chair.

"Now I'll tell you what's strange. The next day, we found her dead in her bedroom, with her diamond necklace clasped around her neck," Roger said, his lips set in a grim line.

"Then we found compelling evidence, linking her case to many others. Thirty murders had been committed the same way," he said.

"And what way is that?" James asked.

"They stabbed themselves," the detective replied.

"Stabbed themselves? As in committed suicide?" James questioned.

"Not quite. These people seemed to have been made to stab themselves. They were all stabbed at one specific area, with the same weapon. It was suspicious to find over thirty cases with the exact same detail," he said.

Hypnosis. James concluded. The same way the killer Gwen mentioned was doing his dirty work.

"So tell me why you guys dropped the case," James requested. Roger let out a weary sigh.

"They started to lose it. Every detective involved. There used to be more of us in the corporation. Now all that's left is me," Roger said.

"And that includes Detective Stewartson?" James said, recalling the previous discussion he had with the retired man.

Roger's eyes turned sad as he nodded. "He started to go mad the more he looked into the case. He said he started to see things, have nightmares. I took him off the case and told him he needed a break," he murmured. "I closed the case not long after."

"It had come to my knowledge that you've suspected a young boy to be committing the murders," James brought up.

"As unusual as it sounded, the evidence pointed so. We got information on the kid and who he was allegedly associated with," Roger said, flipping open one of the files and pointing out the information.

"He has no recorded identity. He was said to have been in an alliance with a man called Gregory Skul. Couldn't find either of them I'm afraid," Roger said with another distraught sigh. James read through the details. He decided it would be wise to forward these things to Gwen as soon as possible.

"Thanks a lot, detective. I'll be visiting again soon," James said getting up from his seat. Before he left, Detective Roger gave him a few parting words of advice.

"James Hardwing, I'm warning you. Whatever happens to you beyond this point is none of my responsibility. You're walking on a dangerous path," he said.

James only smiled at his warning, "Oh I'll be sure to get this murderer behind bars. Mark my words."

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"That's useful information," Gwen muttered over the phone. James had called her just after she got out of the bath in the evening. He informed her about the evidence he collected.

This might be her chance, Gwen thought. She could dig out more from Peter Pan himself. Gwen did not tell James about her daily meetings with the killer. Partially because she was worried about his threat of killing those she let in on the secret, and because she was too curious in finding out more about the killer to not get him caught just yet. As much as she knew curiosity killed the cat, she could not help it. Something in her gut told her, there was so much more to this murderer than meets the eye.

That night, when Peter Pan dropped by yet again, Gwen was prepared.

"You were waiting for me?" he said with a smirk.

"Yes," Gwen replied with a monosyllabic answer. He raised a brow and crept over to her. Resting a knee on her bed he leaned towards her.

"Gregory Skul," she said suddenly. "Do you know who he is?"

Peter Pan paused, she knew she got him this time. His eyes shifted from its amused demeanour to a haunting look. He was silent for a very long moment. His lips settled into a grim line.

"Well, well, Wendy. You've been pushing my buttons, now haven't you?" he said, his voice sounding like a low hiss. Gwen gulped, she had ticked him off with the mention of the name, but she would not back down so soon.

"Who is he?" she asked. He narrowed his eyes, but then a maniacal grin spread across his face.

"A man... Who made a monster," he said, in a low voice.

Gwen was quick to put two and two together. "Your father-"

The moment the word slipped out of her mouth, he pinned Gwen onto the bed with a hand pressed around her throat. Gwen struggled as he tightened his grip around her neck. His face was inches away, the maniacal look in his eyes still vivid.

"Wendy, I enjoy playing with you. I wouldn't want to kill you so soon. Don't make me, Wendy... Don't make me," he whispered harshly into her ear.

Despite the constriction of breath, Gwen continued to speak. "Did he make you do it? Did Gregory Skul make you commit those murders?"

Gwen stared head on into his green cold eyes. This time, instead of a wall of ice, she saw something very humanlike. Burning rage licked the frozen structures. Psychotic anger emanated from him.

"Tell me," she whispered. He lost the staring match they were in. His gaze flicked away. He did not spare so much as a glance when he let her go and left the room in an instant.

As soon as he left, a twinge of ache settled in Gwen's chest. She did not know why. The look in his eyes were that of a shattered mind.

It reminded her of Anna.