Deadly Voice
Dennis Le Croissette.
Jonathan West has three secrets. He’s a handsome young bachelor with a birthmark on his cheek that he covers with a cosmetic cream, he’s a shoplifter at weekends, and he’s a serial killer who’s controlled by a controlling inner voice. His problems increase when he’s blackmailed about his shoplifting and has to sell his stereo to make the payments.
Jonathan’s so good looking women flock to him. He’s already killed his first girl-friend and convinced the police it was a suicide then he stabs a girl he meets in a bar and murders a prostitute.
When he meets a woman he respects, she doesn’t know he’s fearful the voice will tell him to kill her. He becomes obsessed with the daughter of a man who’s befriended him and she becomes a victim, too.
His problems affect his behavior and both his girl friend and a female coworker try to help him. When the police track him down at his apartment, he’s shot and killed, believing they only want to question him for shoplifting.
Chapter One
Sharon hesitated for a moment outside Cookies Bar, then pushed open the door and walked inside with quick deliberate steps. As she eased herself on to a stool at the counter, the guy next to her glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the glittering row of bottles. With his boyish, open face, tall build and sandy hair cut shorter than most of the guys she knew, he looked like an actor out for an evening's relaxation.
The bartender leaned over to her. "Hello, Sharon," he said. "Sharon Ross! Where you been, honey?"
"Yes, it's me again, Joe." He looked much older than she remembered, his left eyelid drooped even more than before and he'd developed a limp.
"Good to see you, Sharon. Still drinking martinis?"
She hadn't been in the bar for two years. After she and Jerry married, he told her he didn't like Cookie's ― a 'meat market' he'd called it. He'd probably been afraid they'd meet one of his bimbo's there.
Her girlfriend, Tanya, had twisted her arm to get her to come tonight. "It's only a bar, Sharon," she'd said. "You've been there many times before."
"I know."
"What are you afraid of? You'll have to start going out on your own sometime."
She couldn't see Tanya anywhere. Sharon hoped she wouldn't be too long. As she glanced around, she saw the guy next to her was sizing her up. Wow! He looked even better in close-up. A firm chin with a slight dimple, tall, slim with sandy blond hair. What more could a girl about to be divorced want?
After a second glance at Sharon, Jonathan returned to his thoughts. He had his own troubles to worry about. His Visa card was overdrawn and his MasterCard had already been canceled. How could he have run through so much money in such a short time?
He finished off his second glass of Captain Morgan's rum and Coke and started to feel the effect of the booze. It took at least two drinks to warm him up, nowadays. Two more and he'd begin his search for a good time.
The bartender, who had something wrong with one of his eyes, limped over to him. "Same again?"
He nodded yes and looked around at Sharon. "Hi," he said. "Like another drink? My name's Jonathan."
She hesitated for only a second. "Thanks, I will ― I'm Sharon."
She heard a familiar voice. "Wondered where you were."
Tanya wore her gold-sequined black sweater with half a drawerful of chunky jewelry. It never took her long to pick up someone wearing that sweater. Sharon saw she was sporting her cat earrings. That meant she was on the prowl this evening.
Tanya glanced at Jonathan as she edged between him and Sharon. "Not breaking anything up, am I?" she whispered. She lowered her voice even more, "Wish I could find one like that!"
Sharon smiled.
"Anything new with Jerry?"
What the hell, she'd already told Tanya the whole sordid mess. "The lawyer said there'll be no problem getting my share of his money."
“Cool,” Tanya sighed. "I thought he was a good catch when you married him but you're doing the right thing now. Two different girls in two weeks! You know there've been others. He's a real shit."
"It's tough, Tanya."
"Done it twice. Second time's easier."
"After two years with the bastard, I can’t picture getting married again. I'll play the field for a while."
Tanya smiled and took another quick look at Jonathan. "So I see."
Sharon turned back to Jonathan as Tanya returned to her prowl. He really was cute. She'd once thought her husband was a hunk but Jonathan was something else.
He flashed her a smile that tilted the corner of his mouth. How could she not be interested?
"Nice bar," he said. "I haven't been here before. You a regular?"
"I used to be."
Was she married? She wasn't wearing a ring but Cookies was so dark that he couldn’t spot whether she’d taken it off. He knew a couple of married women who removed their wedding ring if they wanted a night out. Anyway, did it really matter?
She was a blonde ― almost natural, he decided. Good looking, nice butt, just how he liked them. He liked her blue-green eyes, too, and the line of her neck ― he always paid particular attention to their necks.
While talking to her he unconsciously fingered his cheek.
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
He shook his head. He hadn't wanted her to notice the small birthmark he always covered up with a cosmetic cream. "I'm okay."
He’d almost finished his third rum and coke. Time for another. He looked at Sharon again. She'd be the one, tonight.
He had a pleasant deep voice and his speech wasn't slurred. She wondered how much he'd had to drink. She didn't like men who drank and slobbered over their words.
"I like your dress," he said. "Silk, isn't it? The color goes well with your hair."
Not many men noticed dress fabrics and colors, she thought. "Are you an artist?" she said.
"No. I like art but I'm not a painter. Wish I had that talent. I just appreciate anything that's pretty."
She smiled and finished her drink.
"Like another?"
"Why not?"
Maybe she'd enjoy being single again.
He gave Joe the one more signal, pointing to her glass. She was still nervous. But three of Joe’s martinis could relax a charging rhino. Ten minutes and one more drink and she’d be his for the night.
"You from around here?" he asked.
"La Jolla."
The high rent district. He loved these rich bitches who like to play around. His eyes inventoried her outfit, a fancy silk dress, a gold bracelet. Was that a Rolex on her wrist?
How much cash did he have? He couldn’t use his Visa card and she looked really expensive. Fancy women needed fancy restaurants and hotels. He couldn’t take her to a Motel Six!
"You live here, too?" Sharon said.
"In Olive View."
They chatted about San Diego, small talk but it made him think his evening might not be wasted after all. He tried to draw her out about her personal life but she evaded his questions. They talked of shows they'd seen, concerts they'd attended. When she mentioned the names of restaurants she liked, he knew she was used to the best.
At eleven-thirty she looked at her Rolex. "I have to go. Walk me to my car?"
She was smaller that he'd thought. A compact woman, petite and sensuous. As they were leaving he saw two men down the bar checking her out. He felt proud she was leaving with him.
The multicolored shawl she draped over her silk dress came alive under the outside lights. Her eyes sparkled as she faced him. She had high oriental cheekbones, almost like a china doll. Was there a trace of “yellow” mixed in with that blue blood?
"How about another bar," he said.
"No. I just want to go home."
Why did she have to leave so early? Did she have to hurry back to her husband?
He didn't want to lose her. "Can I see you again?"
"Maybe."
He took that as a yes.
Her new Acura CL was impressive He was glad he'd parked his beat up '98 Mustang at the other end of the lot. She suddenly smiled at him, placed her arms around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him.
It took him by surprise. The sensation of her lips and the warm pressure of her breasts reminded him of his last steady girl-friend, Anne. She'd embraced him the same way on their first date. He tried to put thoughts of Anne aside. Everything that happened with her was in the past.
She pulled away, unlocked her car, and opened the door. Before she closed it he grabbed the side window and leaned over it to talk to her.
"Nice hands," she said. "Long fingers ― a surgeon's hand."
He pulled his hands away. He'd become used to compliments on his looks but no one had ever remarked about his hands before. He'd figured women told him how handsome he looked so he'd spend more money on them. Now, Sharon was admiring his hands. It made him uncomfortable.
She started the engine. "Can I see you again?" he asked once more.
"I said, maybe." She stopped as if her thoughts were somewhere else and smiled at him. "Come and see me tomorrow." She wrote down her address on a book of Cookie’s matches. "About eight o'clock."
She slammed the car door, revved up the engine and zoomed off leaving him standing alone in the parking lot in the moonlight, watching the exhaust trail from her muffler.
Sharon arrived home at ten minutes to midnight. As she removed her make up her thoughts turned to Jonathan. His fantastic looks intrigued her, his hands, too! Unlike most men, he hadn't spent the night talking about himself. There was something mysterious about him ― an air of aloofness she found intriguing. It reminded her of the spy movies she'd seen where the hero carried on a passionate affair with the beautiful woman without compromising his mission.
Her imagination was probably playing her tricks. He probably had an ordinary job and went to the Charger’s games. She hoped he wasn't married. She liked his gentle manner and was pleased he hadn't come on too strong. She hated men who thought it their right to demand sex from a woman. Jonathan was a welcome relief from Jerry.
As she undressed in front of the mirror, she smiled as she stroked her body and let her hair down. "Not too bad for thirty," she said to herself, "but no man for you, tonight, Sharon honey."
She climbed into her king-size bed wondering what Jonathan was doing now. She lay in bed thinking what she'd do when she got her divorce. The money she’d get from Jerry would allow her to live any life she chose for at least five years. She'd probably marry again ― someday. She was still young. She’d never be a “babe” again, but Jonathan had liked the way she looked. So did those other two creeps at the end of the bar.
She started fantasizing about Jonathan being with her in her bed. She could almost feel those long, slim fingers of his caressing her. In her bed ― the bed she and Jerry bought two years ago when he couldn't keep his hands off her. It seemed such a long time ago now.
It’s time for a new life, she thought. There are plenty of good-looking men in the world that will want me. I'll start with Jonathan.
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