Lone Lake Killer

by Maxwell, Ian

After what seemed like forever Carli screeched out, White. Male.

  “That’s all you got, White and Male? What a scam, even a two a year old could’ve told me that.”

  “Relax Tyler, I’m just setting up the framework. Once I have the framework up and running, it’ll be a breeze. Trust me, you gotta respect the process.”

  “Yeah dude, trust Carli and her process…,” Jake chided.

  Tyler shook his head in resignation, as Bill, wiping down the bar asked, “What about Bonnie and Clyde? That Bonnie sure was a female and if Wikipedia is correct, killed a ton of people.”

  “No Bill, they were anarchists… bandits,” clarified Jake, “not serial killers.”

  “But they did kill people… and am pretty sure Bonnie was no light weight.”

  “Yeah, but anarchy has always been kinda cool. People seem to get it.”

  “Sorta like John Wayne?”

  “I guess you could say that. But remember even he was just a surname away from… hey!”

  Carli had thrown a piece of chalk at him to get their attention. “I’m done.”

  The guys looked up to see a shopping list of bullshit that read:

  - Single. White. Male

  - Drives Toyota Celica

  - Height between 5’8” – 6’1”

  - Wears brown coat

  - Uses IKEA table

  - Muscular

  - Day job – bank teller/ realtor/ checkout clerk/ insurance salesman

  - Deep hatred for gov’mint – anarchist

  - Hates Friends

  A gaggle of anger, insinuation and confusion broke out between the guys – all aimed at Carli.

  Carli stomped her foot for order, “One at a time. One at a time. Guys…”

  Tyler drew first blood, “The fuck is a Toyota Celica doing on the list? Do you have a shred of proof that ties the killer, let alone a serial killer to an extinct Toyota model?”

  “Umm it’s got great pickup, decent efficiency, great maneuverability and a surprisingly large boot… all characteristics a serial killer would pine for…”

  “Bullshit,” it was the other deputy, Jake, “I know what this is about. You drive a battered Celica don’t you, Carli?”

  “So what?” began Carli indignantly, “You suggesting that I’m the serial killer?”

  “No, but you’re trying to profit from a bad situation.”

  “Whaaat… how could you say something like that?” Carli dragged.

  “I think I know what your shitty little scheme is. You’ve been trying to get rid of that junk for a while now haven’t you?”

  “No.”

  “And nobody wants it. So you created this so called profile of a serial killer just to make your car famous. You’re such a pumper-dumper, Carli.”

  “No way… wait, what is a pump dumper?”

  “It means you inflate the price of something worthless like your crappy car and then unload it on some poor unsuspecting putz like say a memorabilia collector or a news channel or…”

  “Oh come on… these are totally baseless, fabricated allegations designed to besmirch my reputation in town. I know you guys…”

  “Oh yeah? So why’s there an IKEA table on the list?”

  “Umm, cleaning blood off a table is much easier than the floor. Duh.”

  “No, it’s because you paid like a grand for that shitty Swedish table. In fact I remember you snobbing about getting your culture shots.”

  “Oh yeah,” concurred Tyler, “I remember now, you told me you keep banging your toes on its sharp edges. Jesus Carli, this is low… even for you.”

  Bill finally got in on it, “Carli, was that the flyer you pinned on our message board last week?”

  Her scheme crumbling, Carli put up a brave face, “But the other characteristics on the list are all true. Plus I gave you something in five minutes that a psychologist would have taken months if not years to produce.”

  “Said every hooker I ever prosecuted…”

  ***

  “So Carli, you sure you don’t have an expensive mink brown coat that you want to get rid of?”

  “For the last time, NO. Thought the killer uses it as camouflage. To hide between tree barks.”

  “Why’s he an anarchist?” asked Jake picking on another of Carli’s points.

  “Why not?”

  “I mean you say he hates government and then you say he hates friends. Usually these government hater types have a ton of shady friends. Your theory doesn’t add up Carli.”

  Carli waved him away, “No Jake, I meant the TV show Friends. Not people friends.”

  “What the fuck does a terrible sitcom from the 90s have to do with the motives of a nascent serial killer?”

  “Back when I was doing my thesis in college, we correlated hatred for Friends and crime sprees in America…”

  “But doesn’t like half of America hate that show?”

  “Yeah, so overrated…”

  “You’re right,” continued Carli, “that’s why the studio buried it.”

  Unable to decipher Carli’s angle, the guys just went with the flow. “What about Glee, bet a ton of people turned psycho after that went on air…”

  “No, the data said otherwise. It was Big Bang Theory that really really…”

  …

  …

  …

  “Grey’s Anatomy?”

  …

  …

  …

  “Blue Bloods…”

  “What’s Blue Bloods?”

  …

  …

  …

  “True Blood.”

  …

  …

  …

  “How I Met Your Mother.”

  “Oh Jesus, HIMYM. Show was responsible for so many misdemeanors across Canada… all the way from Manitoba to the tar sands of Alberta. That was the last one before the studio shut us down.”

  “Figures,” said Tyler, before adding “for the last season they should have simply let loose a bunch of inbred alligators onto the set … would have been so much better.”

  “Totally, but I would have unleashed the gators earlier, like for the last three seasons,” said Jake.

  “Make it four…”

  “Five.”

  “What is wrong with you guys?” protested Carli.

  “Oh I’m sorry, were you a fan Carli?”

  “Honestly, I think it was the bestest show on TV.”

  “And I rest my case.”

  “You guys are such jerks.”

  “Six… six seasons. I would have thrown in the crocs after the second season…”

  “Make it seven. The rot set in after the first season.”

  “You know what, the whole damn thing was a waste. Seriously, Robin again???”

  After about twenty minutes of this, they finally got back on track. Carli continued, “So anyways, was watching Friends reruns the other night and that Gunther guy really gave me the creeps.”

  “That blonde Nazi?”

  “Yeah, men shouldn’t be blonde.”

  “Or Nazi.”

  Bill shrugged, “He seemed alright.”

  Ignoring Bill, the young deputies of Lone Lake zeroed in on the blondes. “So let me get this straight, someone that looks like that blonde maniac is our killer?”

  “But stronger. Remember, the killer carried away a grown man.”

  “Yep, that’s what I meant by muscular on the list.”

  “Jesus Carli, the list again?”

  “Also, I think I might add a blonde to my list.”

  Chapter 6

  Soldier Field, Chicago – 2010

  All he had to do was pass it to that fucking clown. And all that asshole had to do was catch it. This wasn’t like walking a tight rope or something. No pressure, no exotic schemes, no winds, no nothing. Home crowd. Clear audibles. Ideal conditions.

  Listening to his trainers on the sidelines, Lars had evaded pressure and done his part. The tape would prove it. But the fucking clown had
dropped the ball. It had gone right through his Butterfingers. In fact, the clown had been eating Butterfingers moments before the drop. The tape would prove that too.

  And the finicky Soldier Field crowd had started a light riot and booed him off. Booed poor Lars off the center.

  Back in the locker room, still raging at the clown’s effort or the lack of, Lars had gotten into a yelling match with the clown. What started as jawing soon led to shoving, pushing, a left hook, one upper cut… and finally one slightly tight hold on the clown’s neck. The EMTs had revived the clown in under two minutes. No biggie.

  Next thing he knew, Lars had been cut and shipped off to some no name shit town called Spokane. He’d lasted three weeks there.

  Chapter 7

  ZING

  It was an email from County about the gun they had recovered at the crime scene.

  “Cool, so they did prioritize my request,” began Jake, “okay here we go, two sets of finger prints. The Carmichael guy’s and someone else’s. Probably the killer’s but…”

  “Let me guess, they don’t know who the other guy is?” Tyler was jaded with the County labs and their so called results. It was always something with them, either a need for more information or a lack of resources or an escalation to Denver or something weird like a bank holiday.

  “Apparently the prints aren’t standard, wonder what that even means, so they have sent the rifle to Denver for a more in-depth analysis.”

  “So what does that mean… where does that leave us?”

  “Two words: Inbred cannibals.”

  “Here we go again, first it was guys trying to plug our victim behind the bushes and then it was a nascent serial killer and then it was female dentist and now inbred cannibals. Cannibals… really?”

  “Yeah, think about it. Those guys stay off the grid and hence aren’t in the system, they live off the land… and of course breed with themselves… it all makes perfect sense.”

  “But,” began Carli, who was immediately cut off by Tyler’s ringing phone.

  It was a Maui number. “Fuck. I think it’s the Sheriff.”

  “Answer it dude… I mean answer it Deputy Tyler.”

  Tyler nervously tapped the screen, “Good evening Sheriff Johnson… hope your… what… really… when… uh… oh okay… okay… got it… sure… will do, Sheriff,” with that the Sheriff hung up.

  Tyler turned to the rest of the gang and said, “Guess what?”

  “What?” Bill, Carli and Jake asked one after the other.

  “The Monson kid got out today.”

  “Shit… Monson as in Shane Monson?” Carli panicked.

  “Yes.”

  “As in Carli’s sweetie boy?” reconfirmed Jake.

  “Yep, the one and only sweetie boy who stole a Brink’s truck.”

  “Oh shit… oh shit,” Carli broke into a sweat, “Guys all kidding aside, you gotta help me.”

  “Why?”

  “You won’t understand, you gotta put me in witness protection.”

  “Don’t think so,” said Tyler as Jake stifled a laugh.

  “Come on you guys, I might have said some mean stuff about him during the trial,” pleaded Carli.

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Carli, you can stay with me in my mom’s basement,” offered Bill.

  ***

  As Carli desperately tried to create a scene by faking a freak out, the bar’s phone rang. Bill answered it. “It’s for you guys,” Bill pointed the receiver at the deputies, “Some woman named Mandy wants to talk to the deputy in charge.”

  “Mandy? Shit that’s Shane Monson’s mom. Mandy Monson. What could she want? Fuck, hope they aren’t thinking about a retrial or some shit like that,” Carli fretted as she swallowed something 150 proof.

  Tyler shushed her and picked up the receiver, “This is Deputy Tyler… okay… ma’am calm down… slow… slooow… okay… okay. Okay. Fine, sit tight and we will see what we can do. Ma’am relax, he’s eighteen, basically an adult… I know… so please.”

  As Tyler hung up on Mandy Monson, Jake got to his feet, “What was that about? The Monson kid in trouble already? Did he hit her?”

  “No,” Tyler waved him off, “nothing like that. The guy actually arrived yesterday.”

  “Yesterday? Thought the Sheriff said he was coming today.”

  “Yeah some mix up with County. So anyway, around 6 this evening Shane went out to meet his buddy Cody. It’s close to midnight now and he hasn’t returned.”

  “Shit, she checked with Cody?”

  “Yeah, apparently Shane called Cody from his cellphone about some secret hideout or something within Lone Lake and then he abruptly hung up.”

  A quick call to Cody confirmed he was telling the truth. “He says the same thing.”

  “You think he’s telling the truth?”

  “Who, Cody?”

  “Yeah if I recall correctly Cody was involved at least in watering those plants, but got away with a misdemeanor.”

  “Well, Cody and Shane aren’t thick anymore.”

  “Probably had something to do with one of them going to the penitentiary while the other cooled off in Whistler.”

  “Yeah that Sanderson dental money must be substantial.”

  “Or perhaps, it was a love triangle involving Carli.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Carli exploded in a blinding rage, “Fucking let it go will you. I was new on the job and got attached to the kids… all the kids… and one of them happened to be a fucking drug smuggler. Said he’d run away from home and was lost in Utah, so I lent him some money. That’s all there is fucking to it.”

  By the time she opened her eyes, no one was there in the bar. Not even those old timers, Monroe and Gary. Being in no mood for Carli’s histrionics, the patrons of Kitty’s had simply abandoned ship till things blew over.

  “Fuck,” muttered Carli, “fuck you guys.”

  Chapter 8

  Outside Kitty’s Roadhouse, the deputies plus Bill and Carli stood around in an ‘about to take action’ circle. The old timers were back in the bar.

  Tyler began, “Alright, we got two missing guys. An out of towner named Kip Carmichael and an ex-lover of Carli named Shane Monson.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you right back… so anyways, from analysis of cold facts and hard data, it seems like we got a serial killer on our hands. I think it’s time we acknowledged it and gave him a name.”

  “Backchannel Plugger,” offered Jake.

  “Gross,” said Carli.

  “Well you got anything Carli?”

  “The Guys Killer.”

  “Guys Killer, really?” asked Bill the bartender, “seems so-so. I would go with something like Phantom of Lone Lake or the Beast of the Backwoods.”

  “You suggesting our serial killer is not a man but something mythical like Bigfoot?”

  Bill’s nostrils flared, “First of all, Bigfoot isn’t mythical. Secondly you guys are way off. Geographically speaking this isn’t even close to Bigfoot country.”

  “What?”

  “This is Sasquatch country.”

  “Jesus Bill…”

  Jake felt like he needed to interject before things went out of hand, “Guys, linking our budding killer to the lumbering Bigfoot would bring the whole Bigfoot crazies to town. What we have here in Lone Lake is our own bite sized paradise. We sure don’t want to ruin it with adult dress-up-cons or other barf-cons.”

  “Okay,” Bill tired again, “but prefixing a phantom or a beast to a serial killer’s name usually adds an aura of mystery… and… dare I say romance.”

  “Romance? See, saying shit like that is what makes you sound weird and girly…”

  “And get punched.”

  “Oh fuck you…”

  Carli chimed in, “What about a Ripper? Lone Lake Ripper?”

  “Hmm, Lone Lake Ripper… a ripper does sound strong.”

  “Okay, so what’s he ripping?”
<
br />   “Their asses of course.”

  ***

  “Got it. Got it. Yeah, okay Sheriff,” after conferring with their Sheriff in Maui they finalized the moniker of their budding killer to Lone Lake Killer.

  “But Ripper sounded sooo much better and stronger,” Carli aired her feelings.

  “No, Sheriff Johnson wants it to be lean, mean and unambiguous. And I gotta agree with him, Killer does sound better than Ripper.”

  “Well, guess it’s time to get down to the actual searching part. Or as they say, pedal to the metal.”

  “I guess,” Jake said grudgingly.

  “So how do you guys go about this?” asked Bill.

  Tyler and Jake briefed them on the plan. The plan was simple and had no frills. None at all. The idea was to alert the residents of Lone Lake and make them check their own premises for vagrants, bodies and other suspicious shit. And if they found anything, they would call the deputies, wherein Jake and Tyler would check it out.

  It was an all-around win for Tyler, Jake and the community.

  Tyler placed a call to the night dispatcher Lamont while Jake called up Linda the other dispatcher’s home. With Lamont, Linda and Linda’s son helping her, the trio would be able to cover the entire populace of Lone Lake in about an hour.

  “Thanks Lamont,” Tyler hung up.

  Seconds later, Jake too disconnected his call with, “Thank you Linda and hope your son’s cool with it… yeah keep me posted… and if you can’t reach’em send a text… of course, the department will reimburse you… right.”

  Hanging up he sniggered, “Reimburse, haha… yeah right.”

  ***

  With the heavy lifting delegated to the dispatchers and the community, all they could do was wait. Jake shrugged, “All we can do is wait. Waiting is boring.”

  “Another beer?” asked Tyler.

  “Umm, don’t think so,” said Jake, “pretty low on funds.”

  “I could reinstate Happy Hour,” offered Bill.

  “Well that settles that.”

  As the guys trudged back to the bar, Carli stopped them.

  “Stop.”

  “What now?” asked Tyler dreading the exchange.

  Being anti-fun and still seething about her exposed Celica selling scam, Carli couldn’t allow it.

  “Guys are you fucking serious, the whole town is looking for monsters under their beds and all you care about is your next fix. I mean come on…”