The Poker Murders

The Killer

          Blake and Mort reached the door of 15 Porter Street. Blake stepped in the ramp and rotated the handle and opened the doorway then they penetrated inside, plodding upstairs. Blake occupied his armchair again and slide out the card and frowned at it, tight-lipped along with squinted eyes. Mort stood against the wall.

   "A skulled Jack." he stated, "Switch on the light, Mort." he ordered with bossy-eyes. Mort got off against the wall and switched it on. 

Then gazing down the card glid downwards. A faint and slim shadow of upside-down alphabets appeared from the back of the card. He flipped the card and his eyes were broad-opened. 

   "Knave in the Nave." he murmured, thoughtfully then spinning and showing it to Mort. Then he yelled, "Of course, of curse, Mort. How could I even once slipped that out of my mind." 

Dark spread beyond the sky, it was beginning to dawn. The starry night contained only two elements: the brilliant moon and the sparkling stars along with screeches of the bats, the hooting of the owls and the howling of the hounds grew the eerie sounds.  A stony silence rose after Blake shouted out his phrase. Merely the clock was tickling.

Blake was beseech-faced, filled with aghast then pushed the card back to his coat pocket and clomped down the stairs and flung open the door with rapid paces. 

   "Where are you going again." Mort screamed, running behind him. 

   "Getting a cab for the graveyard." Blake answered.

   "Ha... ha, now why are you taking a taxi now, it isn't too close now," Mort exclaimed grotesquely. 

   "Well... it's urgent." he responded.

A flashlight appeared in the vague and they catch it up, making the way to the graveyard. Getting there, they descended the vehicle and crossed the road quickly. They stood and gazed at the colossal gate.

   "How on earth are we going to enter inside now." Mort mumbled. 

   "Hum, so simple, we have just to climb the gate." Blake answered ingeniously. He went first, holding the horizontal rail tightly and managed to push his body up, mounting like a monkey deliberately. He took the precaution of the pickets on the top and then lowered himself back to the ground safely with a squatting motion. Mort repeated the same as he did and plunged inside. They were trespassing but for the good of all. Once inside they walked clandestinely, huddled to each other. They could notice a thick fog while ambling. A briar that half covered the place with a smoky tinge. They were blinded by the fog and were soon forced to move it from their face by waddling their hands and squinting their eyes. 

   "Look there, the lights are turned on but the gateway is closed." Mort told, staring the light through the fog. 

Blake peeped through the door and spotted a man sitting quietly on one of the pews with black-rimmed spectacles. 

   "Ok, time for action. Take this gun and fix and focus your vision on him and if I shout shoot then you shoot him, ok." Blake explained fluently, slipping out a gun from his coat pocket.

   "Where on earth did you get this gun." questioned Mort.

   "Forget about this and concentrate on the life or death situation." Blake said, holding it to Mort, "That's my true gendarme. Go to the window."

Blake flung open the huge door and entered in. The man didn't turn and stayed still. He walked each footsteps echoing, breaking the silence then he sat beside him. 

He progressed his hand with the card and said, "It was you, isn't it." 

   "Yes." the unknown person said, standing up and unveiling his face. His glasses were splattered with blood and his eyes were filled with fury. He removed his spectacles and wiping them with his shirt. He was wearing a brown bulky jacket. 

   "Slaughter brings me laughter." he said, smirking evilly. 

Blake moved his face from him and glared to the cross and found the father dead along with blood-soaked cloth.

   "Killing someone in the house of God is a great sin." told Blake.

   "I don't care but I dare." he yelled, the phrase reverberating in the hall, "And sorry, you are not here to explain this to me." he said pulling out a pistolet from his jacket and pointing it at him.

   "Dicing with death is a life or death situation." he stated.

   "Shoot." screamed Blake, moving back.

Mort pulled the trigger and the bullet fired his head then he came in, rushed and stood beside Blake, regarding at the body. Blood spread out of his head. Blake was paralysed, his mouth wide-opened. 

   "I told you... just... to... to... shoot him somewhere... he... can still be alive...  just let him in agony." he said, deadened, gulping his saliva. 

   "I had... killed someone." Mort said, traumatised.

   "Ok, an idea you just phone the police in the telephone box and I'll tell them that I have merely seen him been shot right in front of my eyes."

Mort nodded and did what has been told and called the police. 

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