Title: The Postcard Murders, Chapter 1
By: greygoose70
Summary: Young couples are being killed across Europe. Why? And what's with the postcards?
AN: First of all, I want to apologize for taking so long to get this story published, but the research I had to do was quite extensive, and just when I thought I had everything I needed, something else needed researching. And to all who follow me know I don't post a story until I have it finished.
PROLOGUE
2018 January 23rd
Boudreau's Grill & Wine Bar, Paris
"What do say we finish off this celebration in your guy's room," the brown-haired woman, Jill, enquired.
"Good idea sweety," Jack, her dark-haired companion replied, "I'll get us a bottle of champagne to celebrate." He then left their table, went to the bar and purchased a bottle of Moet & Chandon. Upon his return the two couples exited the quaint diner arm in arm.
"The Clarisse Suite," Jill commented when seeing the bronze placard on the door.
"The hotel up-graded us when they discovered we were newly-weds," Christine told her, "And at no extra charge," Clive added.
Once they were in the room, Jack went over to the mini bar, opened the bottle of champagne and filled four glasses. He returned to where Clive and Christine had taken up residence on the love seat, and handed them each a glass, telling them to wait, that he and Jill wanted to propose a toast to them.
"To a long, fruitful marriage," Jill began raising her glass. "And a joyful and successful future," Jack finished with his as he raised his glass as well.
Clive and Christine raised their glasses and clinked them with those of Jill and Jack, saying "thank you," then took a drink.
It only took a few minutes for the drug to take effect. Christine was the first to drop off. Clive took a bit longer. Jack and Jill then got to work.
They stripped Clive and Christine of their clothes and placed the couple on the bed. Jill picked up Christine's purse, riffled through it until she found Christine' passport. "This is good," Jill said, "won't take much to make me look like her."
Jill gathered up Clive and Christine's clothes, valuables, and other important belongings and stuffer them in her backpack. She then opened an outer pocket and pulled out latex gloves, chlorhexidine, and a stiletto knife. They pulled on the gloves, got some towels from the bathroom, and set about methodically wiping down everything they had touched in the room, including the two unconscious figures on the bed..
Ready?" she asked, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.
They took off their own clothes, folded them and put them as far away from the bed as possible.
Jill started with Clive, not for any sexist reason, just because he was heavier of the two. She sat behind him and hauled him into her lap, his arms flopping to his sides. He grunted as though he were snoring.
Jack straightened Clive's legs, crossed his arms over his stomach, and handed Jill the knife, which she took.
Jill held Clive's forehead in the crook of her left arm to keep his head up, then felt for the pulse on his neck. She then thrust the stiletto into his left jugular vein. She cut quickly through muscle and ligaments until she heard a soft hiss that told her that his windpipe had been cut. Blood gushed out like a fountain almost three feet from his body. She checked that she hadn't been hit by the cascade.
"Bingo," Jack said. "You hit a geyser."
Jill carefully moved away from Clive, propped him against the cheap headboard. She had gotten blood on her arms when she arranged his hands but hadn't bothered to wash it off yet.
"Now it's your turn, Christine," she said to the doped-up English woman.
Christine Spence was thin and light. Her breathing had almost stopped already. Her blood scarcely spurted at all.
Jill looked down at her bloody arms and went to get in the shower. Jack followed her. They removed the latex gloves, then stood under the overhead shower and carefully soaped each other, and the stiletto, rinsed themselves off, but left the shower running. They dried themselves with the hotel towels, which they then stuffed into the top of Jill's backpack.
Jill opened the room's door with her elbow, and they stepped out into the corridor. No security cameras, they had made sure of that on the way up.
Jack pulled his sleeve down over his fingers and hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign outside the door. The door closed with an almost inaudible click.
"Stairs or elevator?" Jack asked.
"Elevator, " Jill replied. "I'm tired. Murder is hard work, darling."
They waited until the doors closed and the elevator was descending before they kissed.
Part One
15 February 2018, Interpol Hdqts., London
Rick Castle sat in the conference room, there with him sat Interpol Section Chief Emily Prentiss and Vittoria Sanchez, sister to the latest victims, her brother Eduardo and his wife of three weeks, Sofia. They had the files from the three slaying spread out in front of them.
Rick had been called in to investigate after receiving a call from CIA Director Benson that Clive Spence, a CIA NOC (Non-Official Cover) agent and his wife, Christine, had been murdered. Their bodies had been found in the Hotel de Paris, Montparnasse, naked with their throats slashed. Rick had worked with Clive during a couple of his assignments, found him to be quite proficient in assisting Rick complete is missions, and therefore considered Clive a friend.
This third case though, (the first one, with this modus operandi, having been in Madrid eight weeks prior) is even more personal. The entire Sanchez and Castle clans have been united by a bond greater than marriage, have been since Vittoria's help during the antimatter case a few years ago. Rick and Kate even flew the whole Sanchez family in for his and Kate' wedding. The Sanchez' reciprocate by doing the same for the Eduardo and Sofia boda (Spanish for wedding).
"What's your take on the postcards, Rick?" Emily asked flipping the card from the first killing over several times. "And why the comments?"
"First of all, I believe the photo on the card is meaningless, and the comment is just to taunt the police, but what befuddles me most is why were they mailed to a reporter of a local newspaper in lieu the police. Here's another thing. The bodies of the victims appear to be staged. Take a look at this one from the Paris, the woman is made up to look like Mona Lisa where she is holding hands with a male companion."
Just as Rick finished, his phone began playing, She's so Beautiful, the ring tone he had assigned to Kate. "Hey beautiful," he said after swiping the 'answer' icon, which got snickers from the two companions sitting with him, so he put the phone on speaker.
"Hi, Kate," Em and Vittoria greeting her simultaneously.
"Hi to you two also. So, how's the investigation going?"
"Slow," Em answered.
"Actually, slower than slow," Rick added.
"Well, stick with it. I'm sure you guys will figure it out and catch whoever is doing these killings."
"We sure could use your help," Vittoria told her as tears began to form in her eyes.
"And I'd love to be there, Vittoria, but I just came from my, OBGYN and she advised me to limit my travel."
"Will you be able to come for the funeral?" Vittoria asked sniffling as she dried her eyes.
"Yes. "I'll be flying over with Jordan and Terri."
"Execelente. I'll let you know when it is, probably won't be for at least a couple weeks though," Vittoria replied.
"Kate," Rick interrupted, "since we've got your attention, maybe you can help us with something; you being the art expert that you are."
"Not sure about the expert part, but what's the problem."
"I'm thinking the positions of the bodies are patterned after works of art but can't identify them."
"Send them to me and I'll take a look." Rick signaled to Em who instantly sent them off via email. "Got em," Kate declared a few moments later. "I can see what your first problem is, they're naked. Not sure what the one from Madrid is, need to research it. The one from Paris though resembles an unfinished da Vinci. It was going to be of Lisa del Giocondo, the model for Mona Lisa, and her husband, Francesco, but da Vinci never got to finish it. Now the one in London is unique, I believe is one from the Dying Dandy, a series of painting by Nils Dardel. I think the paintings hang in the London National Museum."
"That's the connection!" Rick clamoured. "The killers are art enthusiasts. It's where they are meeting the victims. Em, we need to get the surveillance videos from that museum."
Rick picked his phone from where it laid, took it off speaker, stood and headed out the door. Once in the hallway he sought a private spot and spoke. "Damn woman. You know how much I love you." It was a statement he made to Kate all too often.
"You better since I'm carrying our child," she proclaimed as she began rubbing her abdomen and supporting a huge smile. She has the most wonderful husband, and she's going to be a mother, her life couldn't be more perfect.
"So, what did Lorraine have to say? Could she identify the little munchkins sex?"
"Castle," Kate clamoured, then returned to her normal voice. "She didn't want to speculate but believes it could be a girl since there was no presence of the Y chromosome. Will have to wait until she does an ultrasound towards the end of the second trimester."
"I should have this case wrapped well before then so we can find out for sure…together. I love you."
"Love you too, Babe."
"Rick disconnected the call and ventured back into the conference room where saw Em on the phone and Vittoria on her laptop. Vittoria looked up as Rick entered saying she thinks she found the painting that the killers re-created with the victims, the Naked Maja by Francesco de Goya, it hangs in the Prado Museum, in Madrid. Em, who had just completed her call and hearing Vittoria instantly began making another call. "Okay," she stated, "I've got agents heading to the three museums to collect camera footage going back five days prior to the murders. Should have them after lunch."
"Excellent. I'm hungry. Let's go get lunch," Rick responded.
"The Golden Chippy," Vittoria popped up.
"Good as place as any," Rick replied.
End of Chapter