Speaker 1: Content warning. This story contains descriptions of violence, disturbing themes,
and graphic imagery that some listeners may find unsettling. Discretion
is advised seriously.
Speaker 2: Calaruga Shark Media, Hello and welcome to the Artist. This
episode is titled The Congressman's Secret.
Speaker 3: Thomas arrived at Mariella Vasquez Henley's elegant apartment in the
heart of the city. He knocked casually on the door,
which swung open to reveal Mariella, dressed impeccably in a
sleek evening gown. Thomas's body language suggested concern. He's in DC.
Don't worry about it, she sighed, He's up there all week.
I'm meeting him Friday for some bullshit dinner. Thomas raised
an eyebrow. Don't you guys have secret service or something?
Mary Ella chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in her eye
in the twenty seventh Congressional District. Are you kidding? Nobody
will know? They exchanged knowing looks, and without missing a beat,
Thomas leaned in, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. Well,
I suppose it's our little secret. Then later that night,
as they parted, ways at the door, Thomas casually reached
for the house key from the tray by the entrance,
slipping it into his pocket unnoticed. Saturday, seven thirty four pm,
Detective Elena Martinez arrived at the scene, her expression somber
as she navigated through the flurry of activity. The apartment
belonged to Congressman David Heney. Lying in the center of
the lavish living room was the body of a young woman,
her features frozen in an expression of terror. Blood was
splattered across the opulent furnishings in pristine walls, a stark
contrast to the elegance of the surroundings. The victim, identified
as twenty five year old Mia Reynolds, was a political
aid who worked closely with the congressman. Elena's experienced eyes
quickly took in the details, the multiple stab wounds that
marred MIA's body, the signs of a violent struggle, the
desperation that was evident in the disarray of the room.
But it was the deliberate placement of the body and
the symbolic nature of the wounds that hinted at something
more sinister than a mere crime of passion. As Elena
began her investigation, Whispers of a cover up started to surface.
It became clear that powerful forces were at play, intent
on protect acting the congressman's reputation at any cost. Evidence
started to disappear, witnesses became uncooperative, and Elena found herself
facing obstacles at every turn. But the seasoned detective was undeterred.
She delved deeper into MIA's life and her connection with
Congressman Henley, uncovering a complex relationship that was entangled with ambition, power,
and dangerous secrets. Mia, it seemed, was not just a
political aid. She was involved in a clandestine affair with
the congressman, a relationship that had the potential to destroy
careers and lives. Dirty cheater, Elena thought, feeling bad for
the jerk's wife. The autopsy report brought more chilling details
to light. Mia had been tortured before her death, the
brutality of the attack indicating a deep seated rage or
a message intended to be sent. The precision of the
cuts suggested that the killer was so someone with a
knowledge of anatomy, someone who knew how to inflict maximum pain.
Elena recalled the precise and ritualistic nature of MIA's wounds.
They matched the modus operandi of a renowned torturer known
in the underground circles as the Artist, infamous for their
methodical and brutal torture techniques. Determined to bring down this
network and avenge Mea, Elena orchestrated a sting operation. With
the help of a few trusted colleagues. They infiltrated a
high society event where members of this underground network were
known to recruit and meet. Elena, dressed elegantly to blend in,
scanned the opulent ballroom filled with the city's elite. Her
eyes locked on cong Grismon Henley, who stood near a balcony,
his posture rigid with tension. She approached him, cautiously, aware
of the many eyes that might be watching Congressman Henley.
Elena greeted her voice low. Henley turned, surprise flickering in
his eyes before he masked it with a strained smile.
Detective Martinez, I didn't expect to see you here, he
realized he was being rude. This is Thomas. Thomas met
Elena's gaze with a relaxed smile, his demeanor confident yet unassuming.
Pleasure to meet you. Extending a hand in greeting. Thomas
could smell cop all over her. I'm going to get
something from the bar. Does anyone want anything Gin and tonic? Please?
Thomas nodded, turning his attention to Henley, and you, Congressman.
Henley shook his head, no, thank you. I'm fine for now.
Once Thomas was out of earshot Henley, they shared he's
fucking my wife. They think. I don't know. What I
do know is that he was in New York the
last time the artist struck there. Later in the evening,
Elena found herself standing next to Thomas by the bar.
The crowd had thinned out and the atmosphere had become
more relaxed. Thomas glanced at her, curiosity evident in his eyes,
so Elena. He began taking a sip of his drink.
What brings you to a party like this? Elena smiled,
her eyes sparkling. I'm an artist, she said, smoothly, though
she knew he saw right through her. Thomas raised an eyebrow,
his expression skeptical but amused. An artist. Huh interesting? What
kind of art do you do? Elena leaned in, slightly
lowering her voice. I work mostly with mixed media. A
lot of my pieces explore themes of identity and surveillance,
very avant garde. Thomas chuckled softly. I'd love to see
your work. Do you have a gallery? Elena hesitated, then nodded,
I do, but it's nothing fancy, just a small place
on Northwest Fifth, more of a warehouse, really. Thomas's eyes
gleamed with interest. I'd still love to see it. Your
work sounds elusive, Elena returned his gaze, the air between
them charged with unspoken tension. I could show you around sometime,
she offered, her voice, teasing maybe tomorrow evening. Thomas grinned,
knowing the game they were playing. I'd like that, how
about around seven seven it is, Elena agreed, feeling a
strange mix of anticipation and wariness. She knew he was
onto her, but she also knew she had to play
along to get closer. They exchanged a few more pleasantries
before parting ways, each of them aware that the upcoming
meeting would be a pivotal moment in their cat and
mouse game. As Elena watched Thomas blend back into the crowd,
couldn't help but feel a shiver of excitement. She was
getting closer, but she knew she had to be careful.
Thomas Ashton was not a man to underestimate. Elena stood
alone in the dimly lit warehouse, the air heavy with anticipation.
The trap was set, her team concealed and ready to
move in at her signal. Her heart pounded, not just
with the fear of what was to come, but with
the determination to face the monster who had taken MIA's life.
Footsteps echoed in the vast space, slow and deliberate. Then
he appeared from the shadows, the Artist, a man known
to the public as a philanthropist and a pillar of
the community. But here in the darkness, he was the predator,
his true nature unmasked Detective Martinez. He said, his voice
smooth and chilling. You're a braver woman than I gave
you credit for. Elena's grip tightened on her weapon. Your
game's end tonight. No more hiding behind your reputation. The
Artist chuckled, a sound that made Elena's skin crawl. Do
you think you've uncovered the truth? You've barely scratched the surface.
This city is rotten to the core, and I'm just
a symptom of its disease. You're a murderer and a torturer,
Elena shot back, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing
at her. He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming in the
low light. Murder, torture. They're just tools, tools to expose
the hypocrisy of those who think they're above it all.
Mia was one such tool, a naive girl who thought
she could change the world. Elena felt a surge of anger.
She was a human being, not a tool for your
sick games. The artist shrugged, his expression one of twisted amusement.
In the end, they're all just pawns in a larger game,
even you, detective. That was the signal. Elena's team burst
from their hiding places, flooding the warehouse with light and shouts.
The Artist reached for something in his coat, but before
he could react, Elena tackled him to the ground. The
struggle was fierce. He was surprisingly strong, but Elena's determination
fueled her. After a violent tussle, they subdued him, handcuffed,
and defeated. The artist glared at Elena with undisguised hatred.
You think you've won, he spat, But you're just a
cog in the machine. This city will chew you up
and spit you out. Although the case was closed, Elena
couldn't help but feel a sense of hollow victory. The
city he was safer, but the scars of what she
had uncovered, the depth of corruption and depravity, would haunt her.
She had stared into the abyss, and while she had
emerged victorious, the darkness had left its mark on her soul.
Thomas Ashton sat on the cold, hard bench in the
dimly lit County jail. His head bowed as he contemplated
his next move. The concrete walls seemed to close in
around him. He knew he only had one chance to
make things right. A guard approached, jangling a ring of
keys and unlocked the cell door with a loud clang. Ashton,
you got your one phone call? Thomas nodded, swallowing hard
against the lump in his throat. He knew exactly who
he needed to call, picked up the receiver, the plastic
cold against his ear, and dialed the number he still
remembered by heart. The phone rang. Victor hesitated for a moment,
then crossed the room with measured steps. He picked up
the receiver, his voice calm and steady, Salvatore, Victor. Thomas's
voice crackled over the line, filled with urgency and desperation.
I need you to do something for me. Victor's grip
tightened on the receiver. What do you need, Thomas? I
need you to paint, Thomas said, his words rushed and
pleading in our style, the way you taught me.
Speaker 2: Next time, on the Artist a Killer's Canvas.
Speaker 1: As Thomas Ashton walks free, a new nightmare begins. Detective
Sip Maloy's world is shattered when a familiar, gruesome scene
unfolds in New York City. But how can the artist
be in two places at once? Meanwhile, in Philadelphia, Victor Salvatore,
the man who taught Thomas everything he knows, prepares to
pick up his brush once more. As past and present collide,
the lines between mentor and protegee blur, leaving a trail
of blood across the East Coast. In Miami, Elena Martinez
races against time, diving deeper into a web of political
intrigue and deadly secrets. But as she closes in on
the truth, she may find herself in the crosshairs of
a killer. With Thomas Ashton, playing a dangerous game at
the heart of political power. The stakes have never been higher.
Don't miss episode eight, The Protege, where the student becomes
the master and the true architect of horror is finally revealed.
In this deadly game of cat and mouse, who is
really pulling the strings.
Speaker 2: The Artist is a Calorogus Shark Media production hosted by
Aidan I Flanagan, Written by Aidan I Flanagan and John McDermott,
Produced by Mark Francis. Executive producers John McDermott and Mark Francis.
Portions of the podcast may have been produced with the
assistance of AI. If you enjoyed this series, check out
the inspiration podcast Murder Weekly, available wherever you get your podcasts.
This show is also available commercial free. Check the show
notes for more info and how you can buy merch
for The Artist. Calaroga Shark Media