How Unfortunate

Chapter One

     Kupela slowed her car to a stop at the station, quickly grabbing a comb to make some last minute adjustments so she wouldn't walk in looking like she'd lost a footrace within a wind tunnel. It didn't help that the sun had yet to rise and she could hardly make out any fine details on her dark skin. She'd never spent so little time on her makeup in her life, skipping over the fine details in order to quickly cover up the dark circles under her eyes and leave. Sliding out of the car, the detective had to keep herself from sprinting into the building in her excitement. A flash of a badge and she was past the secure inner doorways and down the grayed hall towards the four secure interviewing rooms. Commissioner Winston Michaels met her halfway when he caught sight of her, gesturing for her to hurriedly follow him into an observation room adjacent to one of the interrogation chambers.
     "Who else knows?" Kupela demanded as her superior ushered her in.
     "Only those who were here when he walked in," Winston answered, closing the door firmly behind him and gesturing to the large one-way mirror that acted as a window into the interrogation room. "There he is. Came in a good two hours ago. You're leading this case; I only thought it right that you be the first to know." He stopped there, taking a breath to gaze at the suspect behind the glass.
     Kupela's heart skipped a beat at the sight of the familiar man. He looked astonishingly like the police sketch she kept her eye on every night before exhaustion would tear her away from her work. "Oh my god..." she murmured, taking a step closer to inspect the unaware man. A thin face, black hair, those shoulders slumped in a relaxed manner. "That's him. That's the Skinner."
     Winston knew how long Kupela had waited for this moment for five long years, and so decided to remind her of what they'd discussed over the phone. "Well, the Skinner's face," he corrected. And he was right. That sunken face had far more life to his eyes, and even as he looked with an annoyed gaze at the wall, Kupela could tell they did not hold the same crushing weight as the police sketch. There were no scars visible on his face despite the lone witness having clearly nicked the killer over the bridge of his nose. As much as she wanted it all to end at this moment, she knew that what she was looking at wasn't the serial killer they were searching for. The man was slumped back in his chair in a nonchalant manner, running a hand through short and spiky ebony hair tipped with green. No, that wasn't killer— that was just someone with his face.
     The Commissioner broke the silence. "His name is Shane Nicolescu. He claims he's the identical twin of the Skinner. Records say he's a petty thief, but nothing ever worth a felony."
     Kupela tossed a glance at him for only a moment before focusing back on Shane. "You took his DNA, right?"
     Winston huffed at her asking such an obvious question. "Of course. Need a couple of days to figure out, but if his DNA matches the sample at the crime scene... we've finally got the bastard." He waved a hand at the suspect. "Of course, there's a small problem with him. Twins means two suspects with the exact same fingerprints and DNA. If we don't have a few sturdy alabis for him, legal proceedings are going to be a real shit show."
     Finally, the Commissioner turned to face her directly, gesturing for her to show the same respect. "Don't fuck this up. This guy's our ticket. Get a few alabis, figure out what he's about, and see if you can get anything that may incriminate him. I'd rather not risk him getting cold feet— if you can stick him in a cell until we find his brother, do it."
     As morally questionable as the demand was, she couldn't find a sensible reason to disagree. With their success so close, she could bear putting a man in jail for a few days just so they could close the case and save some lives. "Understood. I'll get his brother's address."
     "Already done," Michaels replied, looking back at the glass. "Terrance already got to it. You just handle the rest."
     In her astonishment of the scenario, Kupela realized then that she had looked over a completely separate body in the interrogation room. "What?" She stepped closer, brow raised to her hairline at the sight of the middle aged man no doubt getting spittle all over the suspect with all his ranting. At this rate, Mr. Nicolescu would need to get tested for mono. "What is Richards doing with my witness? He's not even a part of the investigation!"
     "Well he was the only one here at the time and—" Michaels didn't get to finish his reasoning as Kupela was already leaving the room and rounding the corner towards the interview room entrance. She composed herself, soon giving up her gun in a safe place as was procedure. The detective restrained her actions and knocked gently on the door, interrupting whatever garbage was spewing from the exasperated Terrance. Once she had opened the door and poked her head in with a clearing of her throat, Detective Richards got the hint that it was his time to leave.
    The older man made sure to snip in another comment, however, as he always needed the final word. "I'll be sure to swing by after she's done here," he assured the other male in the room. He got up and begrudgingly left, shooting Kupela a rather dirty look as he did so. It was nothing new, of course, and Kupela took it in contemptuous silence.
     "Joys..." Shane murmured with a faux grin, waiting until the other detective had left the room before setting his eyes on Kupela. "That guy had on a wedding ring. Godspeed to the lady who has to deal with that thing every day."
     Kupela let herself smile at this. "Mm, so you'll be happy to know he has children as well." As much as she wanted to get right into the meat of the matter, building rapport with a suspect was important to ease the flow of information. She offered a hand. "Hello, I'm Detective Kupela Abebe."
     "Oof. Poor kids." He took her hand with a firm shake. "Shane."
     Upon her hand grasping his, Kupela finally noticed the fact that Shane wore gloves. They were a form of red long gloves made of leather, stretching to disappear beneath his coat. "Cold?" she asked him, a sharp brow raised at this. It was midsummer, after all. While the room was an uninviting gray with chipping paint and had a cold look to it, it was still pleasantly warm in the station.
    "Nah," Shane denied, going back to slumping in his chair. "Just a germaphobe." He moved onto the main subject matter, something his interrogator was relieved about. "So. Let me just clarify what the last guy didn't understand. I'm not the killer. I never knew about his escapades until recently. No, I don't know where he is. I tried visiting his place, but it doesn't look like anyone's lived there in months. I wasn't able to get in. I gave the other guy Liam's address. That's all I know."
     Kupela was thankful he had dove right into the basics, and with that, she sat down with her notepad. "His name is Liam? Are you close?"
     Shane settled in, noticeably more at ease with her than he was with Richards. "Yeah, Liam. Our mom's like a fifth Irish and really weird about it. Anyways, we've been pretty close until dad died, and he wasn't a fan of how quickly I moved on. We stopped hanging around each other as often as we used to."
     "Any criminal past?" Kupela pressed. While the department could easily look Liam's criminal history up with a database search, she wanted to be sure that Shane would be truthful with her.
     Shane shook his head. "Not that I know of. I mean he once fucked a guy up in an alley but that's about it. I was always the rat of the family and he was the angel."
     Kupela made note of Shane's admitted criminal history and to remember to take a look. "I see. And, just to be sure: you're identical twins?"
     From here, Shane stuck a hand into his pocket to pull out his wallet. "Yeah, identical. But we're pretty easy to tell apart." He flipped through the wallet, where Kupela could easily see the amount of hundreds and twenties he had. He tugged out a few photos, and sure enough, there was Shane and Liam in several candid pictures. They were indeed identical, though they had some key differences that made it easier to tell them apart. Shane seemed to always have his hair dyed one color or another while his brother kept his hair a natural black. Liam was also dressed more formally, a sign that, unlike his sibling, he could actually hold down a job. A peculiar note, however, was how Liam wore gloves as well. Leather, reaching up his arms, but this time a sky blue. "Germaphobe, like me," Shane explained when he saw she had taken notice. "We got worried about it after our dad died of typhoid." While none of the pictures were particularly interesting, one caught Kupela's eye. It was a Christmas photo, judging by the brightly lit tree in the background. Both were showing off identical black t-shirts with images of a large white price tag with bold wording. Liam's shirt said "BUY ONE" and Shane's shirt read "GET ONE FREE". It was hokey, and Liam seemed to know it, but it was in his grimace that Kupela spotted it. It was a scar, thin and sharp, that sliced through his skin with its off color.
     Kupela knew it was unprofessional, but she couldn't help herself. A hand came to cover her mouth. "Oh my god..." That was him. That was the Skinner. She could clearly remember interviewing that shaking, sobbing woman who had managed to escape. In trembling words, a blanket over her shoulders and her daughter there to hold her hand with teary eyes, Marie Atkinson recalled grabbing a flimsy piece of metal by the construction yard she had been cornered in to lash out at the killer. The cut had been small, but not only was it enough to have her outrun him, it also led to the police obtaining the only DNA sample they had been able to gather of the killer in the five years he's operated thus far. Shane's offered DNA would be compared to the one they had on file, and if it matched, then it was all finally over. All that was left was to find him before he could hurt anyone else.
     "Everything alright, lady?" Shane asked, successfully breaking her train of thought. He was sliding the photos back into his wallet. "I'm guessing you believe me now, huh?"
     Kupela's eyes flicked to the one-way mirror. The Commissioner was no doubt watching and had already ordered immediate action. SWAT would be gathered to do a raid on the address provided, and from there they would simply let things unfold. For now, however, her focus was on getting every drop of information she could out of the new asset. "Well, Shane, you've now become our key witness."
     Shane, despite having confirmation that his brother was indeed a vicious serial killer, seemed pretty psyched about it. "Does this mean I get police protection and all that?"
     The detective no longer tried to hide her feelings on the matter and openly grimaced. "If we have evidence your life is in danger, then yes. But it also means we'll have to rely on you for your accounts and to properly establish a timeline, as you stated you were closest with him." She looked down at her notepad, noticing she had written only the most basic of details. "For now, I'd like to ask you some questions."
     "Fire away, lady."
     "How long have you known he was the killer?"
     Shane bit his lip and gave a half-hearted shrug. "A week ago. I'd gone to his place to find him, like I said, and everything was boarded up. Walked around the house, and by his shed (which was also padlocked), and there was this paper, halfway trapped under the shed door. I took it out, and, sure enough..." For the first time, that playful disposition seemed to fade as he thought back to that day. "It was... ah... a missing person poster. Like the kind you hang up on street posts and all that. It was for this girl named Anjie (can't remember the last name, sorry), and I looked it up on my phone, and... she was a victim of the Shell Shock Skinner." He let out a puff of air, clearly still trying to accept the reality of the situation even as he spoke. Kupela took a moment to offer him a water, but he declined. "I mean, I didn't want to believe it, but finding that kind of thing at someone's house is kind of weird in my book."  He brought a gloved hand to run through his hair, swallowing the lump in his throat. "So... I returned the next day with a lockpick kit I have—" he paused in a sudden panic and added, "Um, if anyone asks, I have one because I get locked out of my house a lot." Kupela resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his flimsy attempt to save his own skin. She let him continue nonetheless. "Anyways, the first thing I did was get into the shed, because, well, that's where dead bodies are usually stored." His laugh was humorless this time around. "I broke in and..." Combing his hair with his hand seemed to be Shane's stress response, as he did it a third time. "I'm sure you've smelled a dead body before. It was pungent— I could barely stand in there for a minute before I had to shut the doors. In that time, though, I saw what I needed. Walls were plastered with missing person posters. There was this crusty, brown substance all over the wooden floor, and I'm pretty sure I saw a cat skeleton in the corner. And everything was covered in this black soot, though nothing was burned. And... and the mushrooms. There were these giant black mushrooms growing everywhere. Walls, floor, I think even saw some on the posters. I know it sounds wild, but that's what is. Everything was just... absolutely fucked, y'know? That's when I knew..." He threw his hands up in defeat. "Liam... there's something wrong with him. He's sick."
     Kupela was writing a mile a minute at this point, and when Shane's silence indicated he had finished, she took a moment to review what she had been told. While it was a story lending credence to his claim, there was nothing substantial in there to match with the Skinner's MO. She decided to press further. "Why didn't you come to the police right away?"
     "Shock, honestly," Shane confessed, looking over at the mirror. "I tried to tell myself there had to be some reasonable explanation, but I came to realize I didn't know my brother as well as I thought I did. I don't wanna believe my brother is a monster, and a small part of me is hoping that coming here was just a waste of time."
     "That police sketch was up for years," Kupela mentioned, trying to find any holes in his story. "You didn't recognize your own twin's face?"
     This time Shane's laugh was genuine, shaking his head all the while. "Yeah, I'm gonna be real with you. I thought it was my face, not his. You see, I may or may not have had a scuffle with some lady around that time, and she got away before I could snatch anything. When a sketch of the Skinner showed up on TV days later, I legit thought it was just me and that she mistook the situation as an attack by the Skinner and was over-exaggerating."
     "Never once did you think it could have been your brother?" Kupela proded, flicking her eyes away from the notepad and up at him.
     Shane's red gloves were a stark contrast to the faded, chipped oak of the table as he idly drummed his fingers. "Like I said, I was the family disappointment, not him. He wouldn't drink milk out of a carton, he's such an angel. The reason I wasn't able to attend his graduation ceremony was because I was in jail for stealing some flowers for him. And don't look at me like that— this lady was expecting me to pay fifty dollars for twelve colorful sticks that are gonna die in a day or so. She deserved it."
     Whether or not the price of those flowers was a scam was none of Kupela's business, and she was quick to get him back on track. "And there were no signs of Liam having any feelings of aggression or hatred?"
     "Nada," Shane denied outright. "We were each other's best friend. I could name all fifteen girlfriends he's had starting from third grade. Yeah he became a bit closed off, but I just thought it was because of dad. I didn't actually think he was... ya'know. As far as I knew, everyone liked him."
     "And I assume you have alabis to cover you for the nights of the murders?" Kupela suggested. Asking for an alibi for each killing over the past five years was, admittedly, impossible, but it was an effort to get Shane to cover as many nights as he could. Part of it was to confirm that he didn't have a major part in the murders, but a good chunk was to see if she could count him as being a reliable witness.
     "Yeah I got some," Shane confirmed. "In fact, I was out of town for several months, and I'm pretty sure I was in jail when the last girl went missing." Many alibis could be faked and questioned, but if he really was in jail at the time, Kupela knew it was solid. She still wrote herself a reminder to check it out just in case.
     Despite her certainty that Shane was being truthful with her, she continued on with the questioning. "We will need to do a thorough search of your house, as well as any electronics you have. Do you consent to a search?
     Shane's grimace showed his reluctance. "I mean, if you have to, I'd be happy, but do I get to clean up beforehand? Maybe delete some files?"
     "No."
     "Yeah, didn't think so."
     Kupela wrapped up another page of her notebook before her gaze flitted to the witness once more. "And once SWAT is done doing a search of Liam's house, do you feel comfortable going there with me to have a look over? Having context on certain things would certainly help the case.
     There was a moment of hesitation, but Shane covered his reluctance up with a lackadaisical act. "Sure. Why not?"
     Finally, Kupela shut her notebook. "Good. And you promise to be completely honest with me?"
     To the detective's surprise, this was responded to with a curt laugh. "Oh, no, I can't promise that." Shane watched Kupela's brow scrunch up in both confusion and a sudden frustration as she let out a bewildered "Excuse me?" The thief could only shrug his shoulders, as if the situation was out of his hands. "I lie. It's what I do, lady. I'm all for your cause, here, but I have to save my own skin, too."
     Kupela needed to take a moment to process this. "And... and you do know that lying to an officer is illegal, right?"
     "Oh of course," he replied shamelessly, his chin propped up by his fist. "You can't book me unless you know what I'm lying about, though." There was a stark silence in the room as the detective looked over him with a newly scrutinizing gaze. With her silence, he decided to continue. "Tell you what. I promise I'll be a hundred percent honest with you, if you can promise me one of two things." Both already knew what the answers would be, but Kupela gestured for him to continue all the same. "I want immunity," he requested. "I do a lotta stuff, and if anything comes up that isn't exactly legal, I don't want it coming up to bite me in the ass while I'm up on the stand for you."
     Kupela was quick to shut the request down. "You know we can't do that. I'm a detective, not a prosecutor. We need to get all the facts on the table before we can talk about immunity, and even then, it's not in my hands. What's the other promise?"
     From here, Shane's tone became significantly more serious. He leaned in, putting weight behind his words so everyone listening could know just how important the request was. "My brother comes back alive. I want him to get a fair and just trial, just like everyone else. We can talk about death penalty and all that later, but I just want him back alive. I want to be able to see him and talk to him one last time."
     There was a brief moment where her gaze strayed from his. "That is what I aim to do."
     "That doesn't sound like a guarantee, lady."
     "Mr. Nicolescu—"
     "Shane," he corrected.
     "Shane," Kupela snipped firmly, gaze hardening on him as her patience was wearing thin. "Your brother is a serial killer with a body count in the double digits. It is my priority to keep to make sure justice is served, but if lethal force is necessary, I will happily make sure he never hurts another soul again. I am taking no risks."
     The witness considered her words for a half second before he gave a simple nod and looked away. "Well. It is what it is, then, I guess."
     The officer was ready to dismiss the man and his arrogance, but she stifled her displeasure. "By telling me all this, you bring any future testimony into question. You will be considered unreliable."
     Shane drummed his hands on the table. "And I fail to see how that is my problem." It was now evident that he very well knew he was being irritating, and he was leaning into it. "Still want me to tag along for the house tour?"
     "You really don't have an iota of guilt, do you?" she inquired, no longer trying to be cordial.
     At this, he snickered. "I had to get rid of that a while back. Unless you're talking about the criminal kind. That case, I plead the fifth."
     There was a faint knock on the other side of the one-way glass, disrupting the tension then and there. It was the Commissioner, no doubt, most likely wanting to inform her that the raid was underway. She stood up, smoothing her blouse and snatching up her notepad. "Despite your obvious reluctance to tell the truth, I would still like you to come to the scene. Any information you can give us on your brother would still be invaluable."
     Shane grinned and hopped up to his feet. "Sweet. Is this where I meet your partner? Hopefully he's actually got a sense of humor."
     As Detective Abebe opened the door for him, she threw a tired look his way. "I don't have one." Her words were unusually sharp and firm, but it seemed to affect the other none.
     The corner of his lips tugged up into a suggesting grin. "No partner? Does that mean I get to be your partner?" Something far more important soon came to mind and he rushed to add something on. "Oh oh! Does this mean I can ride shotgun? Can we turn on the sirens to get there faster?"
     Kupela shot him a scathing look, ushering him out with more force than was necessary. "No, no, and definitely no."
     Seemingly having reverted back to a child, Shane tried to prod her into giving in as she marched them around the corner. "Come on! I've always wanted to do it since I was a kid! Surely this sort of situation calls for it."
     Taking in a deep inhale to steady herself, Kupela spun on her heel to give the man the most unamused expression he'd seen. "Even if I wanted to, my car doesn't have sirens."
     With that, she glanced over her shoulder when hearing her superior call out her name. She hurriedly approached Winston, leaving Shane there to look as though his dreams had been thoroughly crushed. Kupela couldn't find it in herself to care. After five years of heading this case, the answer was finally laid on their doorstep. She finally knew who the Shell Shock Skinner was. All she needed to do was to catch him before he could strike again.