Christmas Murder: Love Affair Mr. Grey & Elle

Christmas Murders: Love Affair Mr. Grey & Elle

by Christina Easley

copyright 2018 ©

Give to help victims of unsolved murder mysteries.  Many crimes have been solved and criminals have been brought to justice because of the efforts of private detectives and free lance criminal investigations.  The friends and family left behind after the crime have to put their broken lives back together without the loved one who used to financially support them.  Murder and missing people is truly a man made disaster that strikes the lives of the innocent. During the holiday season  thousands of adolescents, women, and children go missing.  Without continued investigations from private citizens they will never be found.  Also the issue of teen pregnancy and adoption is discussed.  Shelters and college scholarships for women who are pregnant and alone need your support.  You can help See the website Disaster Relief Free  www.DisasteRelieFree.Blogspot.com

Table of Contents

Christmas Murders: Love Affair Mr. Grey & Elle

The Mainframe Murders: 4Give and 4Get

Exciting Explosions

Wild Acts

Rupture the Silence

Beginning the Ending

More Games

Another Big Event

Too Many Hard Times

More Dangerous Games

Epilogue

(Afterword)

Afterword: Macy Jones

Afterword: Elle

Afterword: Mandy Stealini

Afterword: Albert

Afterword: Sheila

Afterword: Edwin and Hansela

Afterword: Calvin

Afterword: Gregori Benson

Afterword: Edward Leah Leah’s Family

The Mainframe Murders: 4Give and 4Get

She could taste spite, touch anger, feel freedom, hear victory, and hardship in the air. The salty and bitter savor of strife was on her lips. She could feel shame and defeat like rough, icy snow on her fingertips. The sound of fire and rushing water wet the air as fear poured from her, perspiration mixed with, blood and tears streamed across her face in the face of exhilaration, exhaustion, and anticipation.

She grabbed the wheel of the speedboat and accelerated speeding across the horizon and smooth surface of the water like a skipping stone—like a shooting star. She was afraid that she would loose control of the speedboat. On the icy shore a large explosion boomed through the air filling the dark cold night with the sound of flames and the wicked wind of wanton, wondering and waiting.

Not this time Jaleasa. It is wiser to be steadfast not fast.

I see you have read the fable of the tortoise and the hair. I’ve got you by the tail Sheila

Yes, I believe the slow tortoise (turtle) won in the end, I’ve got back-up. Did you think your hard protective shell would saved you again? Yes, actually patience, timing, and precision! Don’t worry Sheila, the Boss will be merciful! I’d rather die than go through that again.

Sheila abandoned ship, plunging into the frigid dark, depths as the flames flowered across the surface of the water above like a blooming garden of fire. Sheila torpedoed even further down into the darkness leaving the glittering moonlit sky of night behind. Now she was embracing the stark blue blurry abyss. Now she found the underwater door and entered the combination of numbers, quickly. The door slid open and sucked her inside the airtight compartment.

Slowly, all of the water was drained from the compartment and she was left alone in the glaring lights of the room gasping and panting for breath. She exhaled an air of relief and excitement all at once. She was safe for now.

The assistants rushed to help Sheila to her feet. The air was being put back into her lungs with an oxygen mask over her face. Slowly her body was being decompressed. Soon she would be briefed on the situation and the others would help her to her feet.

Her heart raced and her pulse throbbed beneath the skin -tight protective suit that she was wearing. Jaleasa had promised that they would torture her if she did not escape. The icy waters were inviting compared to the possibility of torture.

The prized possession that the chase had been for was now securely wrapped up just beneath the tightly zipped suit, held close to her body. There was a sigh of relief and exhaustion as Sheila realized that the chase was over at least for now!

The air in the tiny compartment was now almost breathable. Sheila still sat propped up against the cold metal wall waiting for her limbs to warm up. The beginning is full of possibilities. There are questions and reasons without the confines of society. Will they reach freedom and whom will they trust?

Sheila had just narrowly escaped death and destruction in the cold dark waterway. The enemy had sent many lethal weapons against her but by some twist of fate or good luck she made it back to safety.

The mainframe had calculated the probability of someone getting killed, murderer even was one in three million. The body was coated with a thick mask of blood that made a trail from the bedroom to the concrete. The crime scene photographers took pictures of the victim and the system officials made notes and tried to collect evidence.

The mainframe would have statistics on the murder victim and the system already surmised that there was an 85% chance that the killer was an intimate friend or relatives. The trail of blood led from the lavish boudoir, past the babbling brook and through the manicured garden. The photographer framed the scene of the victim in the view of the camera. Now this family portrait would be framed in blood instead of pride and happiness. Elle was the officer assigned to the case now. It was being called the bull dog murder mystery. the Ren tabloids were a buzz with the next clues and the next victim.

It looks like we have an arrest already. Mainframe stats say the boyfriend did it

What, Lieutenant, you already used the mainframe probability to make an arrest!?

Yeah, it’s as good as done, probably get a conviction to!

But I think I can get real evidence on this one.

Are you serious Elle? Real evidence that would be a first.

But I have a great source, this waitress…

Yeah, we already have a guy on the inside, rumor has it, not evidence just the stats.

Well, what if I could really prove the truth instead of the statistical probability?

Elle, come on now really, everyone knows real evidence is impossible. Even a confession is forced.

This time things could be different, real concrete evidence really!

Like what Elle? Finger prints, no one ever developed the ability to lift and interpret finger prints it’s like being a palm reader.

Well, I don’t know, like a real motive and a real conviction.

What, like some blood test, no one has ever been able to collect enough blood and test it properly.

Ah, well, a chemical identifier traced from one person to the next should do it.

What do you mean like some genius who can find a chemical connection between victims’ clothes or residence and the criminal?

Yeah, a smoking gun.

Oh, even a smoking gun with gun powder residue would not be enough, because we can’t prove who fired it.

What about an eyewitness?

We have one, our stool pigeon on the inside said they argued a lot and we got recordings of it; it’s a sure thing he killer her or is likely to kill in the future.

You’re saying that everyone who fits a killer’s stats in the mainframe will kill in the future or has killed already and when all of them are punished it doesn’t matter who they killed already or might kill in the future they will do time for it.

Yep, and you know it Elle, the mainframe is the only way, the system prevents chaos.

I think it causes chaos and injustice. How many supposed killer actually, factually kill?

Enough, for us to keep doing things the way we are, 65%.

That stat is most likely based on another false statistic too.

Maybe, you know what Elle…we’re almost sure this is a man too. Hey, a woman like yourself could get away with murder…if she wanted to.

I’m going to talk to my waitress for some real inside info anyways. If you insist Elle, see ya back at headquarters.

Edward Leah of Ren’s daughter Geraldine had been found murdered in her ornate boudoir covered in blood and mystery. The photographers had framed the scene, capturing the obvious trails of prescription robot assistant  spilled everywhere, planted by the system officers of course. Edward Leah s’ daughter had apparently been known to owe an prescription robot assistant  debt.

It was said that the delivery boy arrived at her door every third cycle of the full moon to deliver much more than a gourmet meal. The daughter of one of Ren’s most respectable families had accumulated a large tab with the Stealini family delivery boy. The Stealini’s were known to supply massive amounts of prescription robot assistant  that had millions of citizens of Ren beneath their control. The hungry families all gathered in the restaurant. The little child sucked their greasy finger and giggled with glee as they chased each other around the tables. The hot rolls and beverages were being brought to the table; the waiters and waitresses sighed with fatigue.

She reached back for her notepad and loosened the strings in her apron. Then she pointed her eyes down and began to write as she exhaled a familiar gasp of routine boredom. The noonday sun shone through the greasy glass window half covered with red and white plaid curtains as Elle positioned herself in her usual booth. She shifted on the plastic cushion and adjusted her sidearm.

What’ll it be today?

"The usual ah, da, um for ya (prescription robot assistant  for Leah), that special sauce on the side

Got it, special sauce.

Oh, and have it brought to the car.

Sure Elle.

They had gone through this same procedure many times before. Mandy Stealini would go talk to the delivery boy and he would put Geraldine’s usual order of prescription robot assistant  in the to-go container with a note disclosing information about her orders of prescription robot assistant  and how often they had been delivered to her.

Well, what do ya think Mandy was it her boyfriend or did the family decide to get rid of her and her debt once and for all?

I can’t say. I’ll find out all that I can and get back to you with another order. Well, do you think that it was political or just a jealous lover?

Your mainframe would probably say that it was political and blame a rival of the Leah family instead or tie her boyfriend in with an enemy of the Leah’s and get them both. Mandy Stealini wanted to break away from the system profile for her type of person. The mainframe already had her pegged to behave a certain way to do certain things according to what the statistics that the system officers have collected for hundreds of years.

Many feared that if she broke the profile that her nonconformist uncharacteristic behavior would raise a red flag and the system officers would be sure to send profile splinters after her. Profile Splinters were people that were sent by the system officers to control the population and for Noncons and Frags, (system fragments) that have broken away from the system to return.

The Frags were threatening to the system because they could cause a new Hollywood and a new mainstream. Large crowds of people would then follow the Frags and the Noncons would then control the behavior of the population and change the statistics. The system officers wanted to control the mainstream Hollywood’s and behavior down to every detail. System profile splinters (Pro-splints) were sent out to coax the Frag or Non-con back into the expected way to live and behave.

Mandy knew that the life that the mainframe had predicted for her was not what she wanted to be and not how she wanted to live. She wanted to break away from her routine and maybe even become a star, go on a path to stardom. She wanted to see the world, be an actress or a singer and make the world recognize who she really was instead of just a profile.

The truck pulled into the rest stop. The transport worker hopped out of the big rig and adjusted his cap as he ran his fingers through his hair filled with the pangs of a long haul. Now he would have to hurry to deliver on time for the stop. He left at two hundred haller time and should have arrived at three hundred maller time.

Every Yallsday and Uvsday the transport worker had to make the same delivery. He had been falling behind the rest of his peers. The snow flurries were drifting in now that he was up north. The unseasonable tropical storm had sent rain that would soon turn into a blizzard. The gusts of chilling air prickled his skin as he pondered the awful thought of not being home for Christmas with his wife and children.  Sheila would be worried. He had tried to call her earlier but the phone had been busy or turned off. There was a sense of apprehension in the air as it whirled all around him as if it were lashing and laughing at him, whipping him with the punishing idea of work on Christmas Day, while his family celebrated without him thousands of miles away.

The scent of ground loofer hummed through the air and the transport worker now wanted to taste the tart and bitter black liquid that would help keep him awake and ready to complete the long drive. There was always the temptation of prescription robot assistant  in the back of his mind that he could not push away.

If he could just get a prescription from the system officers just like the other transport worker s he could make the long drive without falling asleep or taking so many rest stop breaks. The idea of becoming a slave to two things: prescription robot assistant  and the transport system, was sickening, maddening even.

There were no friends in sight at the rest stop, all of the other long haulers in his age class and experience level had all already delivered the load. He returned to his truck swiftly and grabbed the receiver, to gab the frequency that was familiar to him. Sure enough he found his buddy Jimmy Slim.

Hey, Jimmy Slim, hangin’ around a little later yourself hah, over?

Yep, sure looks that way Albert, over

"I guess Sheila and my babies will be on the still this X-mas.

Oh Ali, you say that every year—you’ll make the haul just fine and get home in time for Christmas as always.

But what if this year is different anyways Ali.

Don’t think like that Ali, everything will be just the way it should be.

I saw some of the snow flurries drifting in instead of rain and well, I can feel something brewing in my bones, something not normal.

It’s your funny superstition Ali, just drive the dang rig forget about those strange feelings. Albert had a big decision to make. Soon he would have to determine if he was going to take on a robotic attachment or continue to fall behind his peers. Most of the other transport workers had a limb that was robotic and computerized; it stopped them from driving too fast or too slow and prevented fatigue and accidents.

Albert would choose the prescription robot assistant , the robotic limb or the decision would be made for him by the system. Albert would not be able to leave the transport system he chose not to continue, because if he left all of his income and benefits would be taken away and he would be put into a system containment facility until he changed his mind just like all of his buddies.

The system had already determined how long he would live and how he would die. But he decided that he would die with Sheila and the kiddies back in the meadow burrow country, in the state California. The mainframe said that men like Albert had a woman in every city and town that they drove through, but he never did fit his profile completely, he was determined to be different.

If Albert ever decided not to take the prescription robot assistant  or the install the robotic limb he would surely be made an example of to prevent the other transport workers from rejecting the system norms. He would climb back into the truck and drive until he was delirious and drenched with anxious perspiration.

Soon his vision began to blur and his reflexes had began to slow. The truck even seemed to veer a little out of its lane. The special highways that were just for transport trucks were just for moments like this. If Albert did crash into someone, it would be another big transport vehicle instead of a tiny car with a regular passenger in it.

As the flurries drifted into view Albert knew what the new snow meant, it meant that he had to be even more careful and cautious while his peers stayed at a constant speed and direction, confidence allowed by the computerized arms and legs that they kept hidden from all those outside the transport system.

On night after a long drive the transport system decided that Albert needed a chip in his head to monitor his driving. They slipped something in his loofer mug and he dozed off. Then they took him to an operating room where they secretly implanted a microchip into his brain, like a tracking device.

All of this surgery was done without his consent and he never seemed to notice the difference. He just woke up after a two-week recovery in his truck, thinking he had just been asleep for a few hours. The system and the mainframe was making decisions for him whether he liked it or not as the weather worsened she drifted into an automatic driving mode and pushed on through the hovering snowflakes as night descended upon him.

The kids would not be home for another few hours. The holidays were finally here. The house was draped with the festive garlands and ornaments that were befitting a great celebration. There was nothing but silence and the scent of dinner hovering all around the large ranch style house.

Most housewives would be nervous if their husband didn’t show up for dinner two days before Christmas but not her. This was the time for her mind to unwind and venture down the exciting paths of untold mystery and seduction. When she was alone in the house she often pretended to be someplace else or to be doing other things.

Today she made believe that she was in an exotic club in Morocco in the dusk of evening. With the dim light dancing across the horizon she was enveloped in a world of salacious sounds and sensuous scents. The music bellowed through the air and the mellow harmony of the flute and piano muffled the delicate and vulgar tingles of laughter.

She took out the large green neon lamp and turned it on. Now she closed her eyes just after she had envisioned the room lit in green light. Somehow she could feel hands all over her and her clothes falling to the floor layer by layer. Now she was dancing nude in the green neon light that rained florescent fantasy on her face.

Her lips sparkled with the moist wetness of excitement then she slid around the room the slightest idea that someone had been watching her all the time. In her mind the crowd was cheering and hooting at her. The audience was filled with her husband’s friends and some of his enemies that drooled with envy and lust as she danced alone in front of the captive room of staring eyes.

When a few hours of dancing had passed she opened her eyes, put her housewife attire back on and then continued to neaten the house to prepare for her husband and kids arrival. This holiday season would be no different from any other, or so she had thought.

Suddenly, she saw the huge truck pull into the driveway and Albert slide lethargically out of the driver’s seat. He seemed to sigh with relief and excitement as he slammed the heavy door, closing the door on the world of a transport worker and the world of a husband and father.

Albert had the appearance of a Norwegian Viking, with curly flame red hair and freckles. His frame was broad and stocky he would naturally he fleshy and stalwart but the transport system would not normally allow him to gain weight. When he was growing up his buddies used to call him fat Al, but now he was papa Al or Ali.

Now he approached the door with a smile and when he reached the threshold Sheila was there, waiting to embrace him. She hugged him squeezing his firm fatigued flesh while he suddenly picked her up and carried her into the house with one arm, closing the door with the other. Sheila let out a pleasant and well-controlled laugh as she tossed her head back and smiled.

Sheila and Albert were determined to stay together despite what the mainframe said, with their statistics on their marriage, they were going to defy the odds. Sheila didn’t seem like the type to be wed with Albert, or to be wed at all. She was a sinewy sienna skinned woman with a touch of red ocher on her hide cheekbones and her thick, spiraled hair fell lavishly to the middle of her long curved back. The odds of a couple like this getting together and staying married was slim to none but they never believed in the statistics just in love and purpose.

The kids, Edwin and Edwina were arriving home. Now they were unwrapping themselves like Christmas presents and positioning themselves in front of the traditional fire that Sheila always made for the holidays. The fireplace would be adorned with stockings only the night before Christmas.

Edwin and Edwina were sitting in front of the roaring fire now, filled with joy. Now Albert and Sheila joined them and they began to sing some old Christmas carols. Edwina was humming some tune and Edwin was trying to make up some lyrics. He grabbed the family guitar, which no one in the family had ever learned to play and tried to strum a few chords. Soon the house was filled with laughter, about the funny lyrics to replace old Christmas songs and extra verses just to make a comedian out of everyone.

It was at this time that Sheila realized that it was time to sit down at the dinner table and serve the pot roast. Edwin and Edwina would start the conversation about school or current events to impress mom and dad but on this evening Edwin seemed to be thinking about something much more serious. He chewed his food pensively as if there was something on his mind then he pretended to laugh at jokes and make quips about Edwina and her funny ways. But she knew exactly what her friends had expected for weeks at the high school.

Hey, it looks like bedtime huh, kids.

I guess so, mom, dad.

Is there something you guys wanted to tell me?

No, nothing at all, just small talk.

Well, see y’all bright and early tomorrow for sledding if it snows and hot loofer if it doesn’t.

Hey, Ali, I guess we’ll be turning in as well.

Yep, you go on up stairs Sheila and I’ll follow behind you.

Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me Edwin?

Yep, why do you think I want another last minute gift for Christmas?

No, I just sense that there’s something wrong.

Well, there isn’t. I’m going to bed now pop.

Alright Eddie just don’t feel that you can’t talk to me about anything.

Hey, Sheila I’m on my way up now Honey.

Honey I have some very important decisions to make soon and I am going to need your input. It’s about work, the transport system.

Well, I have some news for you too Ali.

What about?

The kids, it’s Edwin he’s afraid to tell us about it.

About what Sheila?

He thinks he’s made a mistake and your going to be mad at him and throw him out.

What is it Sheila, his grades?

No Honey its more serious than that, but something to be happy about.

I can’t believe you just sat here and whispered that to me like it was some awful thing.

Yeah, well I thought you would have an open mind Al.

Well, I think that’s just great and they can come and stay in the attic.

Aren’t you afraid what the neighbors would say to them?

No, the attic can be a safe haven for them, everything will be fine Sheila just fine.

When Albert reached the top of the stairs his back ached and he stretched like a cat after a long nap. Then he sighed and walked toward the bedroom where the tiny nightlight had been switched on. Sheila was waiting at the edge of the bed. She had some news for him that would most likely change the rest of their lives.

The two young lovebirds disappeared into the thicket together. The moon was descending upon them like the face of a great and mighty ruler of the night. The stars promised to shine their eerie light unto them as if they were worthy of their appearance.

Soon they would whisper to each other among the gravestones of their grandfathers and ancestors. The mausoleums were ready to be filled with their remains if they should fall out line with the elders. They had been together