Chapter One
It's the final race of the season. The spectators are beside themselves with excitement. They are cheering and shouting as the sound of high performance make the final corner for the start/finish straight. The noises get louder. A car shifts down. Tyres squeal. A young woman climbed into a small box suspended over the the start line. She carried a checkered flag. The nose of the first car peered from the final corner. It is a jet black Nissan GT-R. The driver floored the throttle. The huge twin turbo V6 roars in excitement and he gathers speed. Close behind him is a Chevrolet Corvette Z06. The GT-R changed gear. The engine screams on the red line. The driver changes gear once more. The turbo blowing off as he changes. Behind him the Corvette is gaining on him. The driver weaves. The Corvette counter weaves. The Corvette changes up. The GT-R changes up. The Corvette closed in. His nose level with the rear wheels.
The young girl drops the checkered flag. The GT-R crosses the line first. The Corvette half a second behind him. They were followed by a Ford GT, an Aston Martin One 77 and a Lotus Evora. The driver of the Nissan rolled down his window and shakes his fist at the crowd in triumph. He slowed to do his victory lap and rolled into the pit lane. He stopped outside a garage with a large Nissan logo above it. He cut the engine and climbed out of the car.
A man stood at the garage door. He approached the driver and hugged him tightly.
"You came?" asked the driver.
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," said the man. "Well done!"
They hold each other in a tight embrace. The crowd cheer louder and louder.
They released each other.
"Now," said the man. "Go celebrate."
The driver placed his helmet on the bonnet of the car. Underneath the metal, the engine ticked itself cool. The name on the helmet read, "J. Bennett."
He walked through the pit garage. All the mechanics in turn approached him to hug, high five or congratulate him in other ways. Everyone was ecstactic because of his victory. He left through a small door at the back of the garage.
The door opened to a small service road. He crossed the road and was welcomed by a huge podium surrounded by screaming, clamouring fans. He walked through them, they are held back by fences but he paused every so often for a selfie, autograph or just to shake hands. After what seemed like an age he was standing on the podium marked with "1". As he looked down at the crowd below him, he relealised the importance of his situation.
He was the worlds number one. The best in the world at something. This is what he had wanted for such a long time, and now it was finally here. But looking out over the crowd, something was missing. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find out what the missing piece was, but nothing came to him. A judicator placed a wreath around his neck and placed a bottle of champagne at his feet. The judicator then shook his hands and repeated the same motion with all the drivers.
An intercom crackles.
"In third place for Ford is Andrew MacKinnon."
There was a rousing cheer for him. He shook his head in thanks.
"Second place for GM Chevrolet is Nigel Garrett."
Nigel waved his hand enthusiatically.
"But the winner of the 2016 Gran Turismo is Justin Bennett for Nissan!"
Justin raised both hands in celebration and punched the air in triumph. The crowd were yelling themselves hoarse.
A large gold cup was placed in front of Justin. He picked it up and raised it high in the air. Without warning the two drivers uncorked their bottle and began spraying Justin. He dropped the cup. He hastened to open the bottle and sprayed them in return. The crowd laughed and cheered as each driver sprayed each other. In the distance the suited man was clapping enthusiatically. This was Justin's moment. He then took a long swig of his champagne before turning it onto the crowd.
Later that evening it had started to rain heavily. Sitting in the gravel driveway of an expensive house was a large blue Dodge Viper RT10. Inside the house, several lights are on. The rain pattered on the roof of the car and house. It trickled along the guttering and down on the gravel. It formed little puddles due to the saturated ground being unable to soak up anymore liquid.
The house was very modern and open plan. There was a large cabinet filled with a variety of different cups and trophies. In the centre was his cup from today. The others surrounded it like disciples surround their master. It glinted in the low light of the room. Several photos were affixed to the wall. Most of them featured high performance and classic cars. However, above the mantelpiece was a large photo of himself and a young Japanese girl sat on the bonnet of his Dodge Viper at Venice Beach California.
Justin himself was sat at a large breakfast bar. Next to him is a half full bottle of whisky. It looked as though half of the contents had been consumed that evening. Some of it had even ended up on the breakfast bar itself. In his hand was a glass of said whisky. He had his eyes fixed on the photograph of himself and the young girl.
"Congratuations to me!" he said in mock celebration. He raised his glass and drank to himself. He them slammed it down on the bar and smashed it. He staggered up from his seat in the goal of reaching the bathroom. All this whisky was playing havok with his kidneys. He had just reached the hallway. A car stopped outside. The front door opened.
"What the..?" began Justin.
He was unable to finish his sentence. The unknown trespasser pulled out a silenced 9mm and fired once, twice, three times into Justin's chest. He fell back against the wall and slid to the floor slowly leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
The assassin leapt back into the car. The engine revved and the rears span as they floored the throttle. Gravel was thrown everywhere as the car sped off. It tore off down the road. Justin lay in a heap on the floor, life slowly ebbing from the wounds open in his chest. The front door flapped in the wind as the rain continued to pound on the roof.
The next morning Justin's body lay in a body back. It was slowly zipped closed covering the expression of surprise still etched on his face. The body back was wheeled on a stretcher and placed into the back of a black van labelled 'Coroner'. The driver climbed into his van. The engine started and the vehicle trundles out of the drive to the police precinct.
As the van drives away, two detectives duck under the police tape surrounding the property. They look very similar to each other, suggesting they might be related. Their feet crunch along the wet gravel as they approach the front door. A lady CSI is already at the scene.
"Looks like we got ourselves a homicide," said Robert the first detective.
Daniel, his twin, is looking very carefully at the blood stains on the wall. His eyes follow them from their splatter point all the way down the wall.
"I think he was shot," said Daniel.
"Where's your evidence Sherlock?" asked Robert.
Daniel threw his a scarcastic look. He then pointed to the blood splatters on the carpet.
"Look at them," he explained. "The size of them. A knife would leave bigger spots then that."
Robert nodded in agreement.
"Also on the wall," he continued. "He was clearly shot at a distance."
Robert nodded.
"You think maybe a 9mm?" he questioned.
Daniel nodded.
"Yes," he agreed. "And maybe a silencer too. The killer wouldn't want anyone to hear his deed."
"Or her?" suggested the CSI.
"Her?" repeated Daniel. "Whoever heard of a female serial killer, Alice?"
"Aileen Wuornous?" queried the Alice. "Ring a bell?"
"That creepy woman who killed those seven men in Florida cause she accused them of raping her when she was a prostiute?" said Daniel. "Well, she was just a crazy psycho. I don't think this is the same situation."
"Maybe not," said Alice. "But we can't rule out a woman out. It's possible."
" Prove it," said Robert.
Alice lead them past the blood and into the lounge. She pointed to the trophies and the picture on the mantelpiece.
"What do you see here boys?" she inquired.
Their eyes absorbed the room around them.
"Damn this guy had an ego," said Daniel.
"Thank you," said Alice.
She turned to leave.
"You're welcome," replied Daniel automatically.
"Wait!" yelled Robert. "Thank you?"
Alice smiled.
"An egocentric racing driver was murdered by his jealous ex girlfriend," said Alice. "It's obvious!"
"Keep talking like that and you'll put us out of a job," said Daniel reappearing beside his brother.
"No," said Alice. "I'm not that idiotic."
"Although little miss clever," said Robert. "Why not put your money where your mouth is. Whoever solves this case gives the others $100."
Alice hesitated for a moment.
"Deal!" she said. She pulled out a $100 bill and placed it into Roberts open hand.
"And you too brother, get one hundred of your American dollars and put them into my hand."
Daniel pulled out a crumpled $100 from his pocket and thrust it into his brothers hand. Robert slammed his $100 on the top. He then folded the money together and slid it into his breast pocket.
"Winner takes all," he declared.
"Deal!" Daniel and Alice said in unison.
Daniel pulled out his cellphone and made to leave the room.
"You calling the loanshark?" asked Alice.
He gave a sarcastic look and turned away from her. He left the room just as the call connected.