I, The Tribunal
A Poached Parody

By P.C. HATTER
CHAPTER 13


Sunday was torture. I tried every which way to put the puzzle pieces of the case together, but nothing made sense. Aside from a nagging feeling I’d missed something, I had zero.
That night consisted of nightmares where the killer was laughing at me. A maniacal shadow that I cursed and tried to get at with no luck. It danced out of claws reach every time.
Tired of climbing the walls, I refused to stay inside and decided to have dinner at a local greasy spoon. Before I got through the door, I spotted two storks outside the restaurant. One apparently had let the other try on her coat because the one was gazing at her reflection in the glass windows.
That’s when the answer hit me. The mirror. The mirror Deloris was standing in front of and the realization that the killer had been leading me around like a bull with a ring in his nose. I was beyond angry, and strangely enough, ecstatic. Why in heavens name was I ecstatic? I’d beaten Duke to the answer. It had to be the answer. It was the only thing that made sense.
I made my way to the killer’s apartment and ghosted one of the residents as they walked into the building. There was no use using the elevator. I didn’t want the operator to nark on me. Besides, I had time. The stairs suited me just fine.
Using one of my skeleton keys I entered. The darkness didn’t bother me. I already knew the layout of the place and picked a chair next to one of the potted plants to sit and wait.
I was going to avenge Jeromy. Treat the killer like they treated him. They might take a stab at me, I’m not easy to kill. Besides, I had my gun.
In the darkness, I let the primal beast within take hold. Cold, dark, and unforgiving.
The apartment door opened, and the lights came on. She didn’t see me at first, but when she did her tail went rigid. Amazingly, her smile didn’t look forced, but I knew it was. I had the .45 leveled at her stomach.
“Kaiser, darling, how nice to see you. What’s with the gun?”
“What do you think? I know Sylvia. You slipped up, and I figured it out.”
Her brows creased in puzzlement. Every movement correct. Had I not known it was all an act, I would have believed every word that came out of that beautiful mouth. Sylvia was the true huntress. A deadly chameleon people mistook for normal.
“Drop the act, Sylvia. I know everything.”
When she walked over to an end table and lit a cigarette, I realized she’d planned an exit. A bolt hole just in case things went south.
I wasn’t about to let her talk her way out of this.
“It took me some time, but I figured everything out. Each killing was so cold blooded I figured the killer had to be crazy, or some outsider. But no, it was just someone who didn’t like cops getting too close to their action. While Jeromy might not have been on the force, he was still a cop.
Sylvia did her best to sell me on tears. I wasn’t buying.
“Your profession gave you an in with the wealthy, but that wasn’t enough. You got greedy.”
The tears stopped, but I couldn’t let her talk. If she did, I wasn’t sure if I could keep my promise to Jeromy.
“You preyed on your client’s weakness with drugs. Prescription drugs are easy enough for a doctor to get ahold of. The more you offered the more money they handed over. Everything was working out fine until you met Damien Styles and tried your hypnosis act on him. Your book is well thumbed.”
Her hands slid slowly up to her blouse, and she unbuttoned it.
“Neither of you were who you presented to the world. Two vipers in a cage. Then Jeromy stumbled into the picture and got suspicious. Meeting Phillis confirmed his suspicions of Styles, but he didn’t suspect you. When you spotted those yearbooks, you knew Styles was going down and were afraid he’d take you down as well, trying to get a lighter sentence. You waited for Chatty to go back to sleep and disconnected the bell. Did he let you in, or did you swipe his keys? No matter. You couldn’t resist making a study of him as he died.”
The blouse fell to the floor.
“You grabbed the yearbooks along with the notations and told Styles to make sure Phillis kept quiet. Only you followed him and made certain neither could say a word. Luck was with you when you spotted the madam’s escape and followed her. And let’s not forget Axel Dabrowski. Styles probably told him everything. Dabrowski had to be silenced. Too bad you missed. I didn’t. Again, lucky you.
Her fingers went to her skirt, and it slipped to the floor.
“Clancy was just an accident. A poor dumb pigeon that didn’t want to lose a plum job. A client probably called you to say he hadn’t arrived. You had to retrace his steps to find him. Too bad you forgot to plug back in the bell when you returned from shooting him. Chatty never knew you weren’t in the dark room. You’re too good at figuring out a person’s mind. Deloris was easy. What female can resist trying on another’s coat, especially one with embellishments. How did you get her to switch coats? Maybe Deloris intended to run when she realized what you were. I’m guessing you were delivering a shipment to Henderson James for one or more of his clients. That’s why he and his assistant ran. They didn’t like the idea of getting caught with the stuff. How’d you slip by the bartender? Was his back turned or did you know ahead of time the poor guy could barely see past his nose. No one noticed you leave or return. No tribunal would convict you because it’s all circumstantial evidence.
Sylvia had removed her bra and panties. An ethereal seductress that stepped toward me with arms outstretched to encircle my neck and take my breath away.
The gun roared and Sylvia staggered back. Her eyes glared at me in disbelief. I stood up and glanced behind me at the .45 partially hidden under the leaves of the plant. The silencer was still screwed onto the barrel. She could have reached it easily and blown my head off had I not shot her when I did.
When I heard Sylvia fall, I turned back to her. Pain joined her look of unbelief as she bled out.
“You shot me.”
“Yes, I did.”