The Twins

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Chapter Eleven

Isis and Taylor were back at the Double 0 precinct. Isis sat at her desk twirling a ballpoint pen between her fingers. She stared at the picture of her niece. Taylor entered the cubicle carrying two plastic bottles of water. “Here you go.” Isis took the water and thanked him.

Taylor sat behind his desk, twisted off the cap, and looked at his partner. “Are you okay?”

Isis kissed the tips of her index finger and tapped the photo of her niece. “Yeah, I was just thinking… Tanya Jamerson had the same kind of stun gun wounds on her body as the Jenkins boy…”

“Yeah, and what about the duct tape?” Taylor said as he took a sip from his water bottle. “I think maybe the killer was interrupted.” Taylor took another swig from his water bottle.

Isis stared at him. “What are you saying, dude?”

“It might be the same persons who killed the Jenkins boy.”

Isis waved the rookie off. “No. I think it was a rape gone bad.”

“But what about the duct tape?”

“A lot of perps use duct tape on their victims.”

Taylor placed the cap back on the water bottle. “Okay, what about the bodies in the apartment? You said that one of the girls killed the other--” The fax machine inside their cubicle started singing. Isis rolled her swivel chair over toward the machine. A preliminary report from Raymond Johnson slid out.

“It’s Raymond’s preliminary on the Jenkins.” Isis rubbed her chin as she read the report, “The old man died from a myocardial infarction--”

“A what?”

“A heart attack, Taylor. The old man died of a heart attack.”

“Oh…why didn’t you just say that?”

Isis looked at her partner and shook her head. “Anyway, his son was shocked to death. All the wounds on the boy’s body were post-mortem.” Isis passed the fax over to Taylor. “The killer or killers stunned the boy thirty-two times until he was dead, then they’d desecrated his body,” she said.

“The boy had thirty-two stun gun marks on his body? Wow!” Taylor said.

Isis sat back in her chair and squeezed the bridge of her nose.

“I’ve confiscated a lot of stun guns from a lot of prostitutes. As a matter of fact, I was hit by one myself…” Taylor continued.

Isis stared at him.” Go on,” she said.

“Well, first off, it’s no picnic. For a few seconds, it felt like I was choking to death. I lost total control of myself…” Taylor shook his head. “I can’t imagine someone getting hit by one of those things thirty times.” Taylor sat back in his chair and passed his hands through his hair. “That shit would definitely kill somebody.”

“We’ve got a real sicko on our hands, rookie.”

This is the kind of case that Isis lived for: a real bad guy, or according to the witnesses, a couple of real bad girls.

Stacey and Jannifer walked into their village apartment pushing a shopping cart full of black paint. The twins would paint their entire village apartment midnight black: the walls, the floors, the ceilings, the kitchen, the sinks, the bathroom. The drapes would be midnight black also. There would be no furniture in the apartment, except for a twin sized bed with black bedding and a black headboard. There would be no refrigerator, no pots and pans, no T.V., and no music of any kind in the teenagers’ village apartment.

Detectives Williams and Taylor took a long lunch. Isis brought her partner to her favorite restaurant, Burger King on Lenox Ave. She ordered a Double Beef Whopper with cheese, and Taylor ordered the same. Isis told Taylor all about her niece and how she was like a daughter to her. Taylor told Isis mostly lies.

“Paris,” Isis said. “Your wife is gonna love Paris.”

“Yeah, that’s all she talks about…” Taylor played with his food, and he didn’t make eye contact. “...She deserves it. She’s such a good woman,” he muttered.

“You’re lucky, dude--” Isis’ phone went off. “It’s my niece...What’s up, Pam? …A new outfit, what was wrong with the last one you bought? ...Oh, I see.” Isis looked at her partner and smiled.

Taylor felt uncomfortable. He lied to his partner about his personal life, something he’d never done with his old partner back at the 7-5. He looked up and caught Isis staring at him.

“Look, I gotta go, I got another call.” Isis tapped a key on her Smartphone. “Yes, sir...Yes, sir, we’re on our way, sir.” Isis switched off her phone. “They found another one.”

“God, does it ever stop?” Taylor said.

Isis jumped up and snatched her burger and fries off the table. “Welcome to homicide, dude.”

When Isis and Taylor arrived at the crime scene, there were a dozen patrol cars parked all over the street. Four vans from the major networks were also at the scene. Traffic was rerouted, and a large crowd had formed on the opposite side of the block. Isis approached a sergeant who was looking up at the clouds that were coming in from the south.

“Sergeant, any witnesses?” Isis asked.

“Yes, Detective, that girl over there. Her name is Tina Small.” He was pointing at a twenty- something-year-old woman, who was talking to Jamie Lopez from Eyewitness News.

Isis placed her hand on the sergeant’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “See if you can get her away from those guys.” Taylor approached his partner and told her that he would stay outside and talk to witnesses.

“Okay, rookie, you do that. Start with her.” Isis was pointing at the young woman.

“I’m on it.”

“Who else do you have, Sergeant?” Isis asked.

“The driver, his name is…” the sergeant flipped through his notepad, “...Carl Townsend--”

“Whose driver?”

“The victim’s. The driver is in shock. All he could tell us--and he barely did that--was his name, and that the apartment is on the first floor.” The sergeant looked over at the driver, who was bawling like a little girl. “Sissy,” he whispered to Isis.

Isis looked over in the man’s direction. He had a blanket thrown over his shoulder and another man was comforting him. “Make sure the driver doesn’t leave the scene. I wanna have a word with him.”

“Yes, Detective.”

Isis turned to leave, but before she could, the sergeant said, “Detective...the body, it’s...” The sergeant attempted to collect himself.

“It’s what, Sergeant?”

“I’ve never seen anything like that in my entire life.”

The first thing that Isis noticed was the bloody footprints that covered the floor. She stood by the entrance to the apartment. Forensic Pathologist Raymond Johnson and his team of technicians were hard at work. Raymond Johnson was standing in front of the victim’s body. He removed a probe thermometer from the victim’s anus. A female technician assisted him. As soon as Raymond moved away from the body, Isis gasped. She was hit by the sight of a man’s rear end--bloody handprints covered seventy percent of it. With a grim expression on her face, Isis said, “I’ll be goddamn…” Isis noticed something stuck to the heel of the man’s left foot. “What the hell is that?”

“Oh, Isis, I didn’t know you were standing there, we got to stop meeting like this.” Raymond was decked out in a white hazmat suit. Isis’s jaw dropped when the chief forensic pathologist said that it was a piece of the man’s penis.

“His what?”

“Our killer chopped the man’s penis up in pieces. The rest of the pieces I believe are in his mouth.”

“Who was he?”

“We haven’t found any identification, but his neighbors say that his name was J.J.”

Isis stared at the black party hat that was on top of the dead man’s head. “Our killer poured glue on the victim’s’ body before he applied the tape,” Raymond Johnson said. Isis looked around the room and saw an empty box of crazy glue. She also saw six empty rolls of duct tape spewed all over the floor.

The victim was on his knees, and his hands were taped at the wrist. It looked as if he was praying.

“I’m almost done here,” Raymond said.

Isis continued to scan the room. There was a glass of liquor on top of a mini bar. The female crime scene technician excused herself as she slid past Isis.

“Isis, check this out,” Raymond said. He slowly turned the dead man’s body over just enough for Isis to see the chest and the lower half of his body.

“Holy shit...” A small, bloody footprint was embedded on top of the man’s chest.

Johnson said, “Our killer ripped off his cock and balls with his bare hands.” A pair of underwear, a sock, and a shot glass were stuffed into a gaping hole where his manhood should have been. The forensic pathologist slowly lowered the dead man’s body back to its original position.

Isis looked at the bloody footprints that covered the white carpet. “Those footprints are what, a size six?”

“No,” the female technician said. “It’s a size four.”

Raymond smiled and whispered, “That’s Annette Toni. She’s a transfer from Midtown North.”

“You’re gonna have to get a little higher if you want to get a better shot,” Toni said to a forensic photographer.

Raymond said to Isis, “She’s the best in the city.”

Isis stared at the woman.

“What exactly is her function?”

Raymond took Isis by the arm and walked two steps to his right. “She’s been a cop for seven years and she goes strictly by the book. She lives and breathes the job. She wants to be an FBI agent. She specializes in firearms, blood splatters, she’s a latent and trace evidence examiner, she’s a forensic photographer, and she’s a student at John J. Some say that she spends all of her vacation time at the FBI training center at Quantico where she studies behavioral science.”

“Detective, over here please,” Toni said.

Toni was standing by the bathroom. Isis walked over. “Hi, I’m Annette Toni.”

“I’m Isis. Isis Williams.” The two women didn’t shake hands. “Whatcha got, Detective?”

Toni stooped and removed a pointer from her shirt pocket.

“That’s cellophane. They wrapped their bodies up before they killed him.

Isis stared at the piles.

“Even their feet,” Toni said as she glared at the bloody tracks leading to the bathroom. Toni stood, forcing Isis to stand, too. “The victim was expecting sex from our killers.” She stepped around the bloody footprints like a ballerina. “If you look here you can see that he was planning on having sex.”

Isis was looking at the condoms that were displayed on top of the mini bar.

“The killers took his wallet. There was no I.D on the body.” Toni looked at the dead man, then she stared at the mini bar. “Those two glasses weren’t touched. Our UNSUBS didn’t come here to drink--”


“Yeah, that’s what the FBI calls--”

“Yeah, I know what it means.”

’Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“That’s all right.”

“Like I was saying, our killers came here for one thing and one thing only. And that was to murder this man.”

“How do you think two women subdued a big guy like that? From the way it looks, he didn’t even put up a fight.”

“I believe our killers used a Taser or maybe even a stun gun. But we’ll know more when we get him to the morgue.”

“Excuse me, Detectives, we need to cut out this section of the carpet,” one of the CSI technicians said.

The body of Jonathan Jacobs was taken from the apartment. Isis and Annette Toni were standing in front of the crime scene vehicle, still discussing the murder.

“It takes a lot of pressure to rip someone genital off like that, right?” Isis asked.

“Yes, it does. One of the killers placed her foot on top of his chest, gripped his cock and balls, and pulled.”

“Ouch!” Isis said.


“What do you think the motive is?”

“It could be a revenge killing. I really can’t say right now,” Toni said.

Isis looked around and saw Taylor talking to the same female witness he was questioning when she went into Jacobs’ apartment. She waved him over.

“Revenge, huh?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Toni said as she closed the door to the vehicle. The two criminalists said their goodbyes as Taylor made his way towards Isis.

“Well, did you have fun, Mr. Stud-muffin?”

“She had a lot to say,” Taylor answered, ignoring Isis’ sarcasm. “Ms. Small said that the two females pretended to be adults, but she knew that they were teenagers. She said that one of them was a light skin black and the other was a Latino.”

“Where was she when she saw them?”

“She said that she was exiting the building when Big John and the two teenagers were coming in.”

“Big John…is that what she called him?”

“Yeah, she didn’t know his last name.”


Taylor closed his notepad.

Isis looked over at the driver. The man was balling like he’d just lost a family member. “C’mon, let’s go talk to the driver, I bet he’s got a lot to say.”

The driver was clearly shaken. He was a large man in his middle forties. There must have been fifteen balled up, Kleenex tissues lying around the driver’s feet; he held another one in his hand. “How ya doin’? I’m Detective Williams and this here is my partner Detective Taylor, what’s your name?”

“Car...Carl Townsend,” the driver stammered.

“Just take it easy, Carl. I wanna ask you a few questions--”

“They were two teenagers about sixteen or seventeen-years-old.” The driver spoke rapidly, cutting Isis off. “One of them was a light-skin-black girl and the other was Latino…” The driver told the detectives that his boss usually took girls over to the apartment.

A car horn blared and the driver almost jumped out of his skin. Fear locked his jaws again. The driver started shaking as if he was just doused with a bucket of iced water. The man’s eyes had a blank look to them.

” This guy is gone, “Taylor said.

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