The Keystroke Killer Read online

  The sister spaceship, the U.S.S. Dimension was also on the agenda. Dr. Angela scheduled brilliant minds, including sixty-three Nobel Laureates from forty-seven countries to speak over seven days. He waited in the green room alongside Dr. Andreas Elcakarte, University of Cologne, Germany; Dr. Mikhail Patrinko, Samara University, Russia; and Dr. Pi Hen Peng, Nanjing University, China; and several other prominent scientists.

  Dr. Angela cleared his throat and focused his eyes on the Russian. “Thank you for joining us. I enjoy talking about other’s research.”

  “It’s my pleasure to be sitting beside the man respected and knowledgeable on such things as Hawking’s M-theory. I discovered the paper he wrote three days before his death on the concept of parallel universes. He was well beyond his years with his theories.”

  “I agree. His brain was indeed magnificent. I tried to obtain it for research, his family wouldn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Too bad. With the prestige work you accomplish in genetic research, you would have figured out how to tap into his genius.”

  Dr. Elcakarte raised his thick brows. “Here’s something I find of interest. Einstein was born on March fourteenth, and Hawking died on it, one hundred and thirty-nine years later.”

  The Russian nodded in amazement. “I had the pleasure of studying with him at Cambridge. I can say he was my mentor. He taught me everything about M-Theory and quantum physics. My only regret was not listening to him about the many parallel universes and his theory on time travel.”

  A grin which looked like rueful admiration flashed across Dr. Angela’s lips. “Maybe, you and I can figure out time travel and bring him to the future. Humanity would benefit from such a maneuver.”

  Dr. Pi Hen Peng butted into the conversation. “He was brilliant and believed time travel was possible. I spoke with him on that theory and his theory that our universe has at least ten dimensions. The year he died, several researchers discovered evidence of the fourth dimension. One experiment relied on lasers to trap individual atoms of a highly reactive element, called rubidium, in a square, like a cat sitting between taped lines. The fourth dimension is real.”

  “I remember that experiment extremely well.” Dr. Angela distorted his face. “One of my colleagues, Dr. Judas Greenberg, worked on that with his wife at Dimension Global. They tried to design an experiment that would allow contact with and to see the fourth dimension. Marge Greenberg was his research assistant.”

  The Russian nodded surprised. “What happen to the project and to the research?”

  “Dr. Greenberg tried to steal it from me. I fired him and Marge.”

  “Did other researchers work on that project?”

  “Dr. Shannon Faust made progress. He got it to work once. That was a huge disappointment. I fired him too. Then, someone sabotaged the program. After that the project never came to fruition.”

  Priscilla Gentry, PhD candidate and a symposium volunteer, entered the room. “Gentleman, in five minutes I’ll take you to the podium. Dr. Angela will deliver the opening remarks and welcome the attendees.” She handed each speaker a program guide. “I highlighted the order and the time each of you will address the conference.”

  Priscilla sat beside Dr. Angela. “Maybe you can discover something ground breaking in physics and take advantage of the higher-dimensional physics in lower dimensions.”

  “Sounds like you’re an informed volunteer.”

  “More than that. My doctorate is in physics and I’m researching how to contact the fourth dimension. I want to see the invisible foe.”

  “When you get to that point, call me.” He handed her his business card. “I’d be interested in what you discover.”

  “Thank you, sir. I will.”

  He flipped the pages of the conference brochure and scanned them. One lecture caught his eye.

  Title: Negative Time Scales in Quantum Systems and the Impact on the U.S.S. Dimension, presented by Dr. Sangha Deopi, S N Bose National Center for Basic Sciences, India.

  ***

  Matthew parked in a pay by the hour lot on the outskirts of the French Quarter as a group of protesters demonstrated. “Dimension is evil. Dimension is evil…”

  I concur with that. He headed toward the Saint Garrick Hotel, a charming boutique hotel in the Banks Arcade. A perfect place to meet his future client, Ima Star, one of the most famous drag queens in the city.

  Matthew entered the hotel lobby where the smell of baked cookies and fresh brewed coffee welcomed every visitor. He looked around the lavish lobby’s marble floors, Victorian style furniture and the chandeliers. Nothing had changed since the first night he checked into it after Livia asked him to come to New Orleans to help her. He approached the desk and waited behind a customer to receive his key to a room. The clerk flashed a lazy grin. “Thank you for choosing the Saint Garrick.”

  Matthew stood bored. How many times a day does she have to say that?

  The customer gathered his luggage and left while Matthew stepped to the counter.

  “Welcome to the Saint Garrick. Do you have a reservation?”

  “No, not today. Can you call Ms. Ima Star’s room and tell her Matthew Raymond is here?”

  The clerk searched the hotel’s database. “I’m sorry. We don’t have a guest by that name.”

  “Please check again.”

  Ms. Ima Star wore a hot pink sequined evening gown, matching silk heels and white gloves as she pranced into the hotel lobby. She flipped her hot pink boa around her neck as she rested her gaze onto Matthew “I’ve arrived my darling Matthew Raymond.”

  Matthew jerked his head and looked at the fierce and fabulous drag queen. She held out her gloved hand flashing a costume jewelry diamond ring as if she expected him to give her a princely kiss.

  He kept his distance. “How do you know I’m Matthew Raymond?”

  “Don’t be coy. Have you ever heard of a D-Global search? I’d recognize your beautiful face and magnificent body reeking with testosterone from a thousand miles away. You’re exactly what I have on my menu today.”

  Matthew stepped backward.

  She stepped forward. This will be fun.

  He stepped backward. This is uncomfortable.

  The clerk laughed. “You two need a room?”

  Matthew jerked his head toward the clerk. “No!”

  Ima puckered her lips. “Now, Matthew. I can call you Matthew, right darling?” She stroked the side of his face wiggling her gloved finger.

  Matthew stepped backward. “Matthew is fine. We should go to the courtyard and discuss why you contacted me?”

  “After you darling.” Ima’s laughter was a cascade of notes.

  Matthew headed toward the patio as the drag queen followed Matthew staring at his butt in his tight jeans. Simply scrumptiouslylicious.

  The exterior of the Saint Garrick patio painted the charming environment in every detail. The bubbling water fountain, benches, eight iron tables, matching chairs and umbrellas accented the tranquil welcoming red brick patio. Matthew held the door open like a gentleman and allowed Ms. Star to enter first. She sat on a bench near the bubbling water fountain and patted the seat beside her. “Sit right here.”

  Matthew scraped a chair across the brick patio and sat. “Now, tell me why you need my service?”

  “I like you. Straight to business and no pussy footing around.” She took a deep breath. “Someone’s taking my girls. There’s a pattern. This momma ain’t happy.”

  “Whoa, slow down. When you say my girls, what do you mean?”

  “Someone asked for my girls from Purple Oz to perform at the Fleur De Lis Country Club during lunch. The next thing, one of them doesn’t show up for work that night. It’s happened three times in the last two months. They vanish without a trace. Poof! They’re gone.”

  “Do you suspect someone who works there is responsible?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need you?” Ms. Star dug in her bra and pulled a white lace handkerchief. She dabbed her faux
tears. “I’m sorry. This is so emotional for me. My hormones are in an uproar.”

  “I’ll need the names of the girls and their pictures in and out of drag.”

  “I only have one on me; so, I’ll have to get you the others. Is tomorrow soon enough?”

  “Tomorrow is fine. I’ll be at my office all day; so, no need to call first.”

  Ms. Star reached into the left side of her bra, retrieved a picture and showed it to Matthew. “Her name is Anna Conda.”

  “Anna Conda?” He scratched his head. “That’s her name?”

  “That’s her stage name. Her birth name is Jody Pasteur. Find Anna and bring her back. It’s like there’s an invisible foe lurking out there and kidnapping my drag queens.” Ms. Star stood, placed her hands on her hips and stared at Matthew with burning intensity. “The House of Star can’t take another hit. I’ve got my motherly reputation to maintain.”

  ***

  Morty stepped to the rusty cage and leered down at his captive guest. “Well darling. I trust your evening was exactly as you expected?”

  Anna lay in the cage nonresponsive. He grabbed a brown bottle less than an inch tall from his shirt pocket, unscrewed the top. He pushed it between the bars back and forth beneath Anna’s nostrils. The smell of the ammonia jolted her head and her eyes popped opened. He quickly retreated his hand from the cage. “Time to rise and shine. Your breakfast bar is here.”

  Anna scooted into the corner of the steel dog cage.

  “After last night’s meal I was hoping for more cooperation. I can always force feed you again.” He gave an unforgivingly ice cold devastating stare. “I’m going to remove the tape around your mouth. When I do, you’re not going to scream. Honestly, it won’t do you any good because nobody can hear you, anyway. It’s better to save your strength. If I remove the tape, are you going to scream?”

  Anna shook her head and showed she would remain silent.

  “Don’t bite me either.”

  Thanks for the tip. Anna’s body shook uncontrollably.

  Morty placed his hand close to the wire cage. “Lean your face near my hand and I’ll remove the tape. Remember, if you scream, you die.”

  Anna squinted, trembled and avoided eye contact with Morty. He pulled a gun from his left pocket and aimed it at her.

  Anna’s eyes widened in fear as trepidation consumed her. Her heart raced she trembled short of breath. Please, don’t kill me. Her throat closed over in panic.

  “If you scream, I’ll kill you where you sit. Understood?”

  Again, a terrified Anna nodded that she intended to remain silent as she leaned her face against the cage. Morty jerked the silver duct tape from her mouth ripping the stubble from her face making her wince in pain.

  “Good little girly.” He unwrapped the breakfast bar, sniffed and licked it before tossing it onto the soiled floor of the cage. “Now eat.” He chucked the wrapper in the trash.

  “My hands are tied behind my back.” Her voice quivered and weakened. “How am I supposed to eat it?”

  “You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.”

  “Why are you doing this? Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Please.”

  “You won’t tell anyone. Do you have any idea how many times I have heard that? Honey, where you’re going you won’t be able to tell a single living person. Now eat or I’ll force feed you, I got a lot of tubes.”

  Anna fell to her side and positioned her body close to the breakfast bar. She struggled to position her mouth over it and took a bite.

  “You figured it out. You girls always do.”

  Morty stepped backward as Anna devoured the bar. She had difficulty swallowing because her throat burned from the feeding tube last night. Panic pinched her throat compounding her struggle to eat. He found the whole thing amusing as his nostrils drew in the crisp air.

  After Anna gobbled the bar, he unchained the cage and toddled to the corner of the shed. He opened the door to the cast iron stove. “Are you ready for our next activity?”

  Anna trembled in fear. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “Get out! Take your position at the wall.”

  Anna discerned what that meant; Morty made her do it yesterday. Chills radiated across her spine as she held back her tears.

  “Don’t make me say this again. Get out of that damn cage. Move!”

  Anna scooted out on her butt.

  “Now, stand.”

  She struggled to stand without her hands which were duct taped together behind her back.

  “Be quick. You don’t have all day. Time is money.”

  Anna wiggled her tied hands behind her back toward the cage. She pushed herself upright using it as leverage.

  “Good job. I like a girl who can think.”

  Anna shivered and stared at the floor as her watchful hostility toward him swelled.

  Morty pulled a switchblade from his pocket, flicked it open and cut the duct tape securing her hands. “Put your hands above your head and spread your legs.”

  She didn’t obey.

  “Now see what you’re making me do.” He ripped his belt from the beltloops. “I won’t ask you again.” He hurled the worn leather belt across her back cracking it against her, and then again. “Now, assume your fucking position.”

  Fear shot across Anna’s face and every muscle tightened as if a boa constrictor wrapped around her throat and coiled tight. She assumed the position as he raised his belt.

  “Please, don’t.” Anna begged although it wasn’t her style; fear got the best of her.

  Morty, in a red faced rage clenched his jaw, grabbed her hair and twisted it tight around his fist. “Stop your begging. It’s not becoming of my stable.” He shoved her against the wall and shackled both of her wrists in the metal rings secured three feet apart and about five feet high to the wall.

  I can’t endure anymore.

  Morty secured her ankles to the metal rings about two feet apart on the floor by chains.

  She couldn’t move from her spread eagled position eluding to the Leonardo Da Vinci position in his drawing The Vitruvian Man. Her tears flowed as she tried not to make a sound, not even a whimper during her gasped breaths.

  “That’s better. Now you’re being a good girl.” Morty’s evil eyes fixated on the branding iron in the hot bed of blistering coals. He put on his Steiner mustard leather welder’s gloves and retrieved the devilish burning instrument before approaching Anna wielding the branding iron.

  She winced and bit her lower lip as the branding iron’s heat permeated toward her. I’ll kill you when I get the chance.

  He pulled her silk nightgown from her left shoulder and pressed the heated metal iron hard against her skin as it sizzled.

  Anna clenched her jaw, veins popped on her neck and her body trembled. She screamed in agony from the branding hoping someone would come to her rescue.

  Morty tilted his nose high in the air and inhaled the aroma of her burning flesh.

  Anna fell limp and passed out as Morty removed the branding iron. Only the chains around her wrists held her body from falling to the ground. The branding site, an ‘M’ and a smaller ‘T’ below whelped and blistered.

  ***

  Congressman Thompson entered Dr. Angela’s office, his stride full of vitality. “I’m a married man now as of this morning. How did your morning go?”

  Dr. Angela retrieved his bourbon and two shot glasses. “It’s time for a celebratory drink. Have a seat.”

  The Congressman’s brow scowled. “No thank you, it’s early for me.”

  “We’ll toast at your reception and fundraiser tonight.” Dr. Angela placed one shot glass back in the desk drawer. “Please tell Mrs. Thompson congratulations.”

  “She’s not changing her last name. She likes the one she has.”

  “Mrs. Thompson is a feminist to the core, you need to put her in her place. My opinion, you either control them or they’ll control you. Trust me, there will never be a time in my life where any woman c
ontrols me.”

  The congressman held his response.

  “We have many items to discuss on our agenda today. Have you decided on your campaign manager?”

  “Not yet, sir, but I have a couple on my mind.”

  Dr. Angela handed him a typed list. “Here are my top candidates. You won’t go wrong getting into bed with any of them.”

  ***

  The office area for Hammer and Snead Investigations comprised a vast room. Eight desks filled the area although only three desks had personal items and engraved nameplates.

  The bullpen area branched off to one copier/kitchen room and two glassed-in offices. One office had a door plate for Nathan Stead and the second for John Hammer.

  Matthew sat behind his desk, propped his feet up on it, leaned back and looked at Debra Jones, a thirty-five-year-old woman with long silk black hair who sat on the corner of his desk.

  Debra held her stomach as she laughed. “That’s funny. I’m having difficulty visualizing you with Ima Star.”

  “She’s quite a character. Bold, brash and fierce.”

  Peterson, early fifties, African American, from his desk flashed an indolent wry grin. “Sounds like you, Jones.”

  “Watch it boys.”

  Peterson burrowed his brow. “You make it sound like I insulted you.”

  “More like you compared me to a drag queen.”

  Matthew rolled his eyes. “How did I get the lucky draw? How come one of you didn’t get Ima Star?”

  “It was your picture on our website.” Peterson held his laughter.

  “Yep, she would consider me a threat.” Debra pushed her fingers through her hair. “Rumor has it, although he’s a he, dressed like a she, she prefers men.”

  “Stop, I can’t listen to this.” Matthew fidgeted in his chair.

  Peterson grinned with amusement from ear to ear as he watched Matthew squirm. “Be careful in the men’s room with her and don’t drop the soap.”

  “Not funny Peterson. Not funny at all.” Matthew flipped Peterson the bird. “Ya’ll need to shut up and focus on your own cases.” Matthew snatched Ima’s case file.

  “Deedra, search missing drag queens and New Orleans.”

  “Search parameters commenced.”