Twelve Days of Murder By Jason Wrench
General Release Date: 23rd November 2021
Word Count: 65,722
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 257
Genres:
CHRISTMAS,CRIME,CRIME AND MYSTERY,EROTIC ROMANCE,GAY,GLBTQI,MEN IN UNIFORM,THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE
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Book Description
The holidays are hard enough for widowed NYC detective Frank Schultt without the gifts of a Christmas serial killer and a handsome FBI criminalist.
On the first day of Christmas, a serial killer gave to me, twelve holiday murders…
A killer is on the loose in New York City during the Christmas holidays and it’s up to NYC Detective Frank Schultt and his partner to figure out who the killer is and put a stop to it.
Five years before, during the Christmas season, the widowed detective had found his husband shot dead in a liquor store robbery. He’s finally on the mend and trying to get his life and career back on track, but this case might prove too much for his recovery.
A mysterious FBI criminalist named Aaron Massey is assigned to help him solve the crimes, but the witty and attractive profiler raises feelings in Frank that he doesn’t know how to handle.
Can Aaron help Frank break through his emotional walls fast enough to stop the killings, solve the case and fall in love before Christmas?
Reader advisory: This book contains vivid descriptions of crime scenes and body parts, plus a hostage scene with a shooting, references to drug addiction, trafficking and implied sexual abuse of children.
Frank approached the man in the suit. Damn smug rich fucks think they’re better than everyone else. This should be fun. Frank pulled out his pad and asked the man his name.
“Aaron, Aaron Johnson. I’m the assistant executive director for CWI. Anything I or my staff can do to help you, please just let me know.”
Frank eyed the guy, jotting down his name in his notebook. He looked the part of a spoiled rich kid turned executive. Mr. Johnson’s shoes went for several hundred dollars in most men’s specialty shops, and the suit had probably set him back two grand. Frank made a note in his book about the expensive tastes the man had. So much for child welfare. These nonprofit types are some of the biggest crooks I’ve met. “So, Mr. Johnston.”
“Johnson, there’s no ‘t’ in the name.”
“Thanks, I’ll make a note of it.” Instead, Frank noted that the guy was both rich and egotistical and definitely appeared to feel a little superior to those around him.
“So, tell me what happened in your own words.”
“Sure thing.” Aaron began by explaining that he’d been talking to the store manager when the incident happened. He’d heard one of his office workers scream, so he’d rushed back to the table to find out why. When he got to the table, he’d noticed that everyone was staring at something on the floor. He’d then leaned over the table, seeing one of the mittens on the ground with what looked like a wrist sticking out of the open end.
“Did you touch the mitten? Did you see anyone else touch the mitten?”
“I know I didn’t. I mean, I watch enough police procedural shows on TV to know better than to touch something that may be evidence at a crime scene.”
“Okay, good to know. So, should I expect to find any trace evidence from you on or near the glove?”
“Well, I was behind the table earlier this morning when the store opened, but other than something that fell off me and was on the ground, there shouldn’t be anything. I mean, I may have dropped a candy wrapper earlier. We’re handing out candy canes to potential benefactors.” He gestured over toward a large bowl of candy canes sitting on the table surrounded by a ring of holly. “Please, take one. You look like you could suck on something,” he finished with a mischievous grin.
Great, is this dude trying to hit on me while I’m interviewing him? That’s the last thing I need. Keep it professional, Frank. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he responded flatly. “So, who was the woman in your group who found the hand?”
“That would be Shelia—the one in the Santa Claus sweater,” Aaron responded. “And too bad about the candy cane. They’re not going to lick themselves.”
Frank groaned and rolled his eyes on that one. “Are you flirting with me…at a crime scene…where you’re a suspect?”
“Oh, I’m a suspect, am I?”
“Everyone’s a suspect. If you’ve seen so many cop shows, you should know that already.”
“Touché. Can’t blame a guy for trying. Finding stable hot guys is hard these days.”
“Try Grindr. Oh, and one more question… How does someone working for a nonprofit, such as yourself, afford a two-thousand-dollar suit and five-hundred-dollar loafers to match? In fact, I’ve estimated your whole outfit, Rolex included, is probably worth nine to ten thousand.” Frank noticed that three of Mr. Johnson’s colleagues were eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Umm-m… Well, uhh-h…that’s a little uncomfortable.” Mr. Johnson eyed Frank but didn’t exactly make eye contact. Frank wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret Mr. Johnson’s clear desire not to discuss the issue in front of his employees.
Then he looked Frank directly in his eyes. “Well, if you must know…” He hesitated for a second before continuing. “I have some family money that not only supports my richer tastes, but it also allows me to give back to the needy. So no, I don’t have a sugar daddy, if that’s what you were thinking, but if you’re looking for a boy toy…” Aaron said with a smirk. Frank overheard one of the man’s colleagues snicker at that one.
The balls on this guy, Frank thought as his entire body stiffened tightly. Don’t react. Don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Once again, no thanks,” he said. “If I need to talk to you again, how can I find you?”
Aaron reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Frank. “And, Detective, I hope you’ll be seeing me again…sooner, rather than later. I bet we have more in common than you can imagine,” Aaron responded, raising his eyebrows on the last word.
Frank took the card by the edges and slipped it back into his coat pocket. Frank inclined his head, turning to leave. Thanks for the fingerprint, douchebag. Let’s see who you really are. Frank walked over to Shelia, where she retold the event in her own words. The version of the story she told was like Mr. Johnson’s, but something just didn’t sit right with Frank.
After finishing the interviews with the other employees, Frank headed back to check in with the geek twins to see if they’d found anything else. As he approached, Richardson and Nasab were taking off their gloves, which was a good sign that the two were wrapping things up on their end. Frank inquired if anything new had popped out, but it was more of the same. Lots of possible evidence, but they doubted any of it would lead to anything helpful.
Frank took a step back and looked at the larger picture. He eyed the various mittens on the tree and tried to determine whether any of them looked out of place. The tree looked perfectly spaced. He started at the top of the tree and looked at every part, hoping some clue would jump off the blasted thing. When he got to the base, he noticed something half-hidden in the folds of the rug, which blanketed the bottom. “Hey, Nasab, what’s that thing sticking up in the back there?”
“Where?”
“Look toward the base of the tree behind the stump. There’s just something that looks like it’s tucked in.” Nasab grabbed his camera and took a few pictures of where Frank had indicated before pulling a pair of latex gloves back on to ruffle through the tree curtain. After unveiling a small card roughly the size of a postcard, he took a couple more photos before picking it up.
“Bring it here,” Frank said.
Frank slipped on a pair of latex gloves, then took the card from Nasab. On one side, the card was blank. The other side was a picture of two birds. Frank brought the card over to the charity people and asked if anyone recognized it. One woman in the group piped up that she had seen that postcard set at Hallmark the previous Christmas.
“That’s two turtle doves,” she stated. Frank gave the woman a blank look. “You know, as in ‘two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree’.” She sang the last bit to Frank, who just stared at her and thanked her for her help.
Frank walked back over to Nasab and explained what he’d learned from the woman. “Might as well bag it and see if there are any prints on it when you get back to the lab. Hey, have either of you seen Jasika?”
“The last time I saw her was when you sent her to talk to the employees, so I guess she’s probably still over there interviewing her little heart out,” Colin informed Frank.
“Thanks—and call me once you’ve found anything on the evidence. And start with that card. It’s the only thing here that seems out of place beside the hand itself.” Frank started to walk away before he remembered the card from Mr. Johnson sitting in his pocket. “Oh, and one more thing… Can you dust and check this business card for prints?” Colin used one of his gloves as a barrier and accepted the card from Frank, placing it into an evidence bag. Then Frank set off to find his partner.
He found Jasika talking to the store manager. Frank overheard his version of the story, which meshed with Mr. Johnson’s, but Frank still wondered why his stomach said that something about Aaron Johnson was off—way off. Frank became so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear Jasika approach.
“Earth to Frank,” Jasika playfully chided as she snapped her fingers.
“Oh, sorry… I was just mulling over the details.”
The two spent the next few minutes trading information about what they’d learned from the suspects. Frank filled her in on the card and his feeling that something was odd about Mr. Johnson.
“You mean the really hot, rich guy who hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you got here?”
“Really?” Frank responded with a hint of excitement in his voice. What the hell was that? Did I just squeak like a schoolgirl with a crush? Get it together. Frank started to swivel his head to see where Jasika had pointed but stopped himself. “See what I mean? Something just seems off with him. I can’t put my finger on it, but the rich tastes and the nonprofit thing just don’t seem to go together to me. Anyway, I gave the geek twins his business card to pull a print. Hopefully, something will turn up as a result of that fun little test.”
“Well then, I guess our work here is done. Shall we head back to the precinct?”
“Sounds like a plan. Did you come here via car or did you hoof it?”
“I hoofed it myself. Besides, it’s maybe a ten-minute walk from here to the precinct, so let’s go.”
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Jason Wrench
Jason Wrench is a professor in the Department of Communication at SUNY New Paltz and has authored/edited 15+ books and over 35 academic research articles. He is also an avid reader and regularly reviews books for publishers in a wide number of genres. This book marks his first full-length work of fiction.
Find out more about Jason at his website.
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