Bantering With Murder

Banter is a gun-for-hire. After she does a hit in a park, she meets a good looking detective, Corey Van Baine, who is investigating the case. But he’s married. When Banter learns his marriage is on the rocks and his wife has left him, she becomes his unlikely therapist to help him overcome the devastation. However, Banter finds herself falling in love with him and suspects Corey is falling for her. A love affair enfolds via cellphones and brief glimpses as they do their jobs. Him, always one step behind her, trying to find out who she is, and she, leading him on… Until they find themselves working together on a mass murder case...and the bullets start flying.

Chapter 1

Banter could feel that her gun was still strapped firmly to her back. It didn’t even shift as she executed one last cartwheel. She’d calculated the distance precisely and landed right beside the picnic table. After two deep breaths to recover, she sat on top of the table with her feet resting on the seat. Three breaths later, the black stretch limo pulled up to the curb. She’d been waiting for it.

“I don’t like you,” Banter said.

She stretched her right shoulder as she looked over the park. This was her favorite place to go for executing her parkour moves. There were a number of benches, nicely spaced, a few half walls defining garden areas, and picnic tables that she could use as obstacles to be navigated. The park still had the old style metal swings with the a-frame base that was fun to run up and climb, then walk across the top like a balance beam. This was her way of training to stay in shape and keep herself agile.

Banter rubbed her hands together to generate some heat and expend some of her exasperation. Her thin black gloves kept her hands warm with the added benefit of giving her enough feel should she need to pick a lock or someone’s pocket as well as preventing her from leaving finger prints.

“Give me an opening. I’ve been after you for weeks. I’m getting tired of this.”

She felt warm from her exercise when she sat down, but knew she’d cool fast despite wearing dark colors. Her jeans were stretchy and black as were her t-shirt and hoodie sweatshirt, although beneath the black hoodie was a blue sweatshirt. She liked to dress in layers. Her athletic shoes were also black with the brand logo blacked out with permanent marker to keep her as indescriptive as possible. The dark colors usually absorbed a little heat from the sun, keeping her from cooling too quickly, but the late afternoon sun was too low in the sky to do much good. The dark colors also made her almost invisible in the park. Banter didn’t know why that was, but a black figure garnered no attention.

A young girl that Banter guessed was about five years old was swinging on the swing set that Banter had climbed earlier. The child stood out, dressed in a bright red and yellow colored jacket. A woman, that Banter figured was the girl’s mother, was strutting along the sidewalk where the limo pulled up. She looked a little cold wearing only a short, tight red skirt and a white blouse showing a lot of cleavage. The woman seemed to be expecting the limo.

“That is a bad car to talk to, lady,” Banter said. “But you might give me my opening.”

She could tell by how the limo sat lower than normal to the ground that there was more than just her target in the back. There had to be three or four people. She didn’t expect any more than four as her target didn’t like to be crowded.

The woman sashayed up to the window. The window rolled down. Banter could tell there were words exchanged, hearing the murmur of voices, yet unable to pick out any words. Then the window closed and the door opened. A hand reached out and literally pulled the woman into the limo. The door closed quickly behind her.

“You ask for trouble, girl, and you’ll get it,” Banter said, knowing she needed to be patient and wait. She rued the fact that the limo was virtually bulletproof, which was causing her problems. However, with multiple people in the back and one hooker, she hoped they’d get sloppy.

The limo shift just a bit from side to side. Banter knew someone was having a little too much fun. They were probably tenderizing the hooker a little bit with a few slaps before they used her hard. She knew what type of people were probably in the back and they weren’t nice.

Banter counted out five minutes and was about to rise when the child on the swing realized her mother was out of sight.

“Mommy? Mommy?” The child looked a little frantic, then spying Banter trotted over. “Have you seen my mommy?”

Banter thought the child was a little too trusting, especially considering her mother’s choice of career. She decided to take advantage of it.

“Yeah, she’s in that limo having sex,” Banter said. The child would be a good cover. “Let’s go over and check on her.”

Banter rose from the picnic table to cross the park, knowing the child would follow, providing a sort of blind that a killer was on the move. She slid out her pistol from the holster, hidden beneath the sweatshirts. While keeping the pistol hidden, she pulled out her silencer from another pocket and twisted it onto the pistol. It was a small annoyance that the pistol didn’t fit the holster with the silencer on. She had to keep them separate.

As Banter came within fifteen feet of the limo, the door opened. The hooker was kicked out, face planting on the cement. Her skirt was hiked up, revealing a bare ass with a new bite mark. One shoe was off. She looked a little roughed up. Her splayed legs prevented the door from being closed. There were voices and loud raucous laughter from within the limo.

Banter was prepared for the worse case scenario: four men in the back, a driver, and a man riding shotgun. She narrowed the distance as she slid the gun behind her to her left hand, getting the right angle and shifting her body to be out of the path of the ejected shells. She shot twice through the open door; one head shot at her target and one shot at chest range lower. Then she quickly shifted the gun to her right hand and changed the angle and shot twice more, hoping she got whomever was sitting across from the back seat.

The driver’s door opened, but Banter, still moving, anticipated this and she pulled one shot into the driver. He slumped over the steering wheel as she continued toward the front of the limo. The man riding shotgun couldn’t get out fast enough. He already had his door open enough to get out his gun in hopes to cause her to falter as he tried to get enough of himself out of the car to try and get the right angle to shoot. But she didn’t hesitate, pulling a shot at his hand, taking off a finger. He lost his grip on the gun, stumbling as he tried to get out of the car and recover. She pulled a second shot, catching the man in the head.

Banter turned around and returned to her original position. No more doors opened. No more windows were rolled down. She knew the driver and the man riding shotgun were dead. She knew her main target was dead as he’d been the first one she shot. With that head shot, he was definitely a goner.

“Get the fuck out of here, you bitch,” Banter said using a low voice, talking tough to the hooker on purpose. The hooker had yet to recover from her landing on the sidewalk, seeming to be afraid to move for fear she was next. Her child was crying beside her, tugging on her mother’s arm.

Banter’s tough talk caused the woman to gain control of herself and to rise. She pulled down her skirt and grabbed her child’s hand. Her nose was skinned and bleeding. The woman avoided looking at Banter as if she knew it wasn’t a wise thing to do. She limp off with her child in tow.

Banter returned to her picnic table, taking off the silencer and replacing the pistol into her back holster and the silencer into her pocket. She waited, wanting to know how many were in the limo without risking sticking her head in to find out. Too late, she thought, about asking the hooker who was now out of sight.

The area was pretty quiet, being some distance from any buildings and hidden by a lot of trees. The limo was parked in a good spot, outside the range of any of the traffic cameras in the area. She knew the limo parked there on purpose. And that was perfect with what Banter needed. There were no witnesses. The hooker didn’t count since Banter knew she’d never tell anyone that she’d even been there, especially since she had a child to protect. The child was the only reason that Banter hadn’t included her in the hit.

This park wasn’t the typical spot a man went to get his fix. Her target had a sex addiction, picking up women here all the time on a daily basis. Banter noted the women were always different and usually solo. She figured this was a prearranged meeting spot.

Most of the hookers were in and out fast since the guy was usually alone in his limo. This time, with pals along for the ride, his fix wasn’t going to be quick. Especially if he shared, which he apparently did, giving Banter the time she needed for her approach. She suspected the woman was gang banged in quick succession. And probably never even paid.

The sex was fast for a reason. The limo had a time limit. That limit was exceeded today and the patrol car that worked the area appeared. The patrol car hadn’t even reached the limo when it turned on its flashing lights and stopped. The man riding shotgun was probably an obvious clue that something was amiss since she figured he was laying beside the limo looking a little dead.

Banter waited to see how the scene would play out. She was risking hiding in plain sight as she didn’t fit the stereotype of a gun-for-hire, knowing she had a school girl appearance, especially now that she’d pulled the hoodie off her head. Her dark hair was short and sassy. Her eyes were a deep brown. However her complexion was pale, making her eyes stand out. Her eyes could catch a lot of attention whenever she needed to bait a guy. She was only a few inches over five feet and petite. Sometimes it was tricky hiding weapons on her slender body. But she was good at what she did and she made good money. This hit was worth three hundred thousand.

Two more police cars arrived, blocking the other side of the road which hemmed in the limo, securing the crime scene. None of them were using sirens, but they turned on their flashing lights. Two unmarked police cars arrived ten minutes after the last police cars and parked on the grass of the park. The crime scene investigators arrived in their van. Soon, tiny orange markers appeared around the limo.

Banter assumed they were marking the shell casings from her gun. She counted them. Yep, seven markers. She’d fired seven times. Some technician was now walking around taking pictures of the markers and the limo. She knew they’d checked the interior of the limo through one of the doors on the side away from her as well as through the door on her side that was still open.

An ambulance arrived. It was also not using its siren. They weren’t even using their flashing lights. There appeared to be no hurry by anyone to remove the bodies. Banter felt confident that everyone in the limo was dead. Quiet ambulances usually meant there were no survivors.

A meeting of three suits and one police officer by the unmarked cars caught her attention. Banter figured this was the policeman who first arrived and the meeting was about him giving the details of his discovery. After a fifteen minute meeting, two of the suits and the policeman walked off toward the limo. The third suit scanned the area and spied her, which surprised her as none of the other officers seemed aware of her.

Banter enjoyed watching the man approach her. He was a good looking guy that she guessed was in his thirties. Toned body. Black hair. Brown eyes. Handsome face. She’d not be surprised to find out he was Italian or some other import.

Banter smiled and spoke to him first.

“You married?” she said, putting a little huskiness in her voice. She could tell she’d caught him off-guard.

“Good afternoon,” he said, finessing through a slight breakdown of his composure. Banter decided he had a nice voice too. “Did you by chance see what happened?”

“Just sat down,” Banter said. “Watching the show.”

“What’s your name?” he said. He had a way of giving her his full attention while maintaining a vigilance around himself. Banter was a little impressed.

“Depends. You married or not?” Banter couldn’t see his left hand to tell if he had a ring or not.

“Sorry. Married,” he said. “So now what’s your name?”

“People call me Banter. My mom calls me a pain-in-the-ass. My dad calls me Annie. What’s your name?”

“Detective Van Baine. Anyone else around when you came?” He was working to take back control of the conversation despite she was trying to derail him.

“Nope,” she said. “How many dead?”

“Don’t know yet. Anybody you know?”

She knew he had to be aware of the body count, but, typical policeman behavior, wasn’t giving out any information.

“Can’t see from here,” Banter said. “You got pictures?”

He gave a quick smile and shook his head. “Not yet. But you think you might know?”

She shrugged. “I’m not exactly a jet setter in the limo crowd. Chances are pretty slim that I’m tight with whomever is in there.”

“You come here a lot?”

“Not regularly, no. Like I said, just sat down to watch the show.”

“Live around here?”

“Nope, just came up the walking path,” she said with a shrug toward the path.

She could tell his eyes noted the path.

“Here’s my card. If you do remember seeing or hearing anything, let me know,” he said.

“Sure thing. So you have a good marriage?” Banter said as she took the card.

He smiled as if he found the comment amusing and walked away.

Banter laughed silently to herself and watched him as he made his way back to the crime scene. She kept close attention, seeing which unmarked car he used and getting the license plate number. Damn, he was a good looker, she thought. She slid his card into her jeans back pocket.

A few more curious bystanders gathered to gawk, but the police already had the area they needed taped off. The police needed to hurry to get things wrapped up before rush hour when there’d really be a bunch of gawkers.

Someone must have made the decision and they began to bag the bodies. They took her target out on the side she was on, but she noted the door on the other side was also open and they were taking out another body that way. It looked like her first two shots took out her target and a man sitting next to him. Then they opened the other door on her side and took out one more body. That man was hit by either her third or fourth shots. The last two bodies were the driver and the man riding shotgun. Five bodies total.

Banter stayed on the picnic table despite she was feeling chilled. She took the time to use her phone and log into her special email application to send an email claiming the hit was complete. The email was one way. No one could reply to it, so if someone ever got that email address, no one could send her email and start chatting with her. Not that she’d ever respond.

The bodies were loaded into the ambulance and the doors shut. One of the unmarked cars pulled out and left. Then one of the marked police cars left. The remaining people were working quickly to clear the crime scene. A technician picked up all the orange markers and, she suspected, the shells as well. A tow truck appeared and all the doors to the limo were closed.

A muffled alert dinged on her phone, notifying her that the money for this hit was transferred into her account. For the money to be transferred that fast, she knew someone was monitoring the police scanners.

The request for this hit had an “asap” rating, but it’d taken her almost two weeks. Usually she could complete a hit in a few days. The man practically lived in a bullet proof limo with a bodyguard riding shotgun. His house was a regular fortress in a gated community. He’d been a hard man to get close to unless you were a hooker. And there was no way she was posing as a hooker. She had a feeling his hookups were prearranged any way and there was some secret password.

Banter knew this would be a tough job as she’d seen it come up before but hadn’t taken it. Apparently, whomever had taken it the first time had failed and it was reposted. The job sat for over a week with no takers. That was unusual, so Banter finally decided to have a go at it. The job was originally a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar hit and got bumped up to three hundred thousand to try and tempt the better gun-for-hires.

She logged into her special bank account and initiated a transfer of the money to a couple of accounts in a small credit union that didn’t always follow the banking rules.

Often she’d take out cash in small amounts and stash into a safety deposit box. That cash was her rainy day fund or emergency funds. She had a scheduled transfer set for every two weeks, as if she was getting paid from a job, going into her checking account. Her checking account was at a real bank that annoyingly followed the rules, making it difficult to move large chunks of money.

The good looking detective got into his car and left. Banter rose. She had the information she needed and didn’t need to hang around any more. More people were coming and hanging out by the walking path to see what was going on. Banter headed that way, cartwheeling over a bench. The time was getting late and she was getting cold.

She jogged until she neared what she called her home court, a two block radius around her apartment. Once there, she slowed to a walk and began her approach protocol. Being careful and making sure no one followed her or was watching was key to staying undetected and safe.

Banter never kept to the same approach pattern. Throughout her two block home court, there were a number of apartment buildings that had two front entrances at opposite ends of the building, opening out onto different streets. There were also alley ways with multiple entry and exit points. She used them to do her sweatshirt exchange. As she entered through one building or alley, she’d remove her black hoodie to reveal the blue sweatshirt, then exit out the other door or alley, hiding the black hoodie beneath the blue sweatshirt. It was her way of changing her persona. Then she’d proceed to her own apartment building, always watching the cars and the people to see who was watching. Today, as usual, no one was paying her any attention.

Once she reached her own apartment building, she rarely used the front door. There were two side doors and one back door that she could use that were less exposed to the public view. If anyone was lurking at these doors, she’d continue on by. On occasion, she came down from the roof, having jumped over from another building, but that was rare.

Her choice of entry today was a side door. She was glad no one was around as she trotted up the stairs to her second floor apartment. This was a quiet building.

Banter shut her door with her usual relief of having made it home. She loved the quiet of her apartment. By the door, she hung up her black hoodie on one hook and her blue sweatshirt on another. There was a small set of hooks that contained keys. Rarely did she take a key with her. She’d changed out her apartment door handle with a keypad so she didn’t need a key. At night, if she needed to go a long distance, then she’d borrowed a car, although the police would call it stealing. However, she’d always bring it back. She only needed to grab a key if she was going to take her own car or get access to her storage in the basement, which she never used. But the key hung there anyway so it didn’t get lost.

She also removed her wrist wrap that held her tools for picking locks. The wrap was custom made with leather stitching, making it look like a wide bracelet that the younger punks were wearing these days.

She unstrapped her gun holster, putting it on her kitchen table. It was rare that she used the same gun on more than one job and she swapped out the gun with another. Only then did she remove her gloves, putting them on the table by her front door. Relieved of all her equipment, she headed to shower and change. She felt chilled and a hot shower was needed.

As she dried her hair, she turned on the TV to see if the limo shooting made the news, but the six o’clock news had nothing. She fixed herself some hot tea and settled on her couch with her laptop and phone. She left the TV on with the volume low so she could catch the late news.

The time was six-thirty. As she sipped her tea, she wondered about the good looking detective. She pulled out his card. Corey was his name.

Damn, he was a looker.

She had a special app on her phone that allowed her to be anonymous and she used it to dial his phone number.

“Hello. Detective Van Baine. How can I help you?”

She smiled, enjoying the sound of his voice.

“I think I can help you, Corey” she said with a slight seductiveness to her voice.

“And whom am I talking with?”

“Banter. Remember? In the park.”

“Yes, Banter. I remember you. How are you doing this evening?”

“You home with your wife yet?” Banter took a sip of her tea. He took a moment longer than he should to answer.

“Is this a personal call? Or do you have helpful information about the limo incident?” he said. She noted how he kept his voice even, not giving anything away.

“Both,” Banter said. “I’d guess that you’re still in the office. You usually work this late?”

“And what do you have about the limo incident?” he said.

Banter read between the lines. By not answering her questions, she knew he was still in the office and that he did work this late.

“All I have is stuff you already know. But perhaps, I shouldn’t know,” she said, being a tease. She heard the faint tick of static that her application made when someone on the other end was trying to trace the call. She smiled, enjoying the game.

“And what do you know that you shouldn’t?” he said.

“Seven shots. Two head shots,” she said. “And no one heard a thing. That means a silencer.”

“You good at your job?” he said, somewhat surprising her.

“Very good,” she said.

“Perhaps we should meet and talk about this.”

Banter laughed.

“Yes, we should.”

“When were you thinking?

“You still married?”

He chuckled.

“Yes, I’m still married.”

“Well, then we’re not meeting too soon.”

Banter deciding that was enough for the night. She’d already gone too far that he’d met her and now knew what she was. But again, where was the evidence?

“I’d really like to discuss what you know,” he said.

“I’m sure you do. Very nice talking with you. We’ll talk again. Good night,” Banter said, ending the call.

She already knew that his tracing equipment would place her somewhere in India and that his call recording software would be unable to pick up her voice. Banter checked her own tracing application and the application placed him at Police Headquarters.

“That’s a nice building with lots of options. Maybe I should give you a visit, sweetheart.”

Banter stayed on her couch amusing herself on her laptop until the ten o’clock news. There was still no mention of the limo shooting. She was a little surprised, thinking for sure they’d put some spin on the shooting and make everyone hysterical about using parks because of the increased risk of getting shot.