by Carver Pike
He asked about my upbringing and I told him I’d been bounced around different orphanages and foster homes. I told him about Mrs. Rebecca’s house. He kept the questioning there for a while and I had to wonder if he’d already heard the story of the “Foster Fondler.” He asked about my face and how I’d gotten beaten up. I told him that I’d gotten jumped earlier by some thugs on the street. I could have told him about Jane. She was my best alibi, but I didn’t want her involved. I liked her and if she knew what was going on, she’d never see me again. I was willing to risk some time in jail if it meant still having a shot with her. This cop, Mac, didn’t seem to buy my lie about getting jumped, but it was my story and I was sticking to it.
It wasn’t until I was sitting in my cell, alone, that I started trying to piece everything together. It was like trying to put a puzzle together upside down, where all I could see was the shapes of the pieces and the dull brown color on the backside. I didn’t have the full picture to make it all make sense. Other than Nikki’s wild accusations and the question asked by the cops, I had no information at all.
At first I thought maybe I’d accidentally killed Davey or one of his friends, but that wasn’t it at all. If it was, Mac would have asked more questions about the fight, or mugging, that I said I’d been involved with. Someone had been murdered. Of course the cops wanted me to give them the details. They weren’t going to give me any. Those one-sided sons a bitches weren’t much help at all.
So there I sat, like a young child trying to put mental Lincoln Logs together. Tinker toys for the mind, a hell of a time suck. It seemed time was something I might have plenty of. I lay back on my cot and closed my eyes to keep the angry fluorescents out of my eyes. They burned down on me, doing their best to make my stay as uncomfortable as possible.
In the cell to my left, an old man snored, probably sleeping off a public intoxication charge. Two guys in the cell across from me played cards. They wanted nothing to do with me. So I lay there listening to the drone of the snore and the pitter patter of thin cardboard thrown down with each dropped poker hand.
Cards were a favorite at Mrs. Rebecca’s house. None of us knew how to play well. Neal was probably the best. He tried to teach us all poker but he always won. I was better at Gin Rummy. It was cards that eventually led us to try darker stuff. Neal was always the one coming up with strange games. He claimed a girl down the street told him about some of them. We tried that stupid pencil game and we even tried making our own Ouija board once. None of it worked.
One game almost worked. Or at least it seemed to be working until Neal did his usual bullshit prank and tried to convince us he’d gotten attacked. I didn’t want to play the game as much as the others did. I didn’t want to play it at all. First, I didn’t think it would work. Second, why would we want to find out if it did? Nothing good could come from a game that involved calling on dead people. Especially one that called on a man in all black that could potentially kill you if you fucked up. Yet, the others wanted to play.
Neal let the candle blow out during the game which caused us all to have to sit in a circle of salt while we waited for some specific time to roll around. At that time, the game would be over. But then, of course, he just happened to fall outside the circle and skitter away into the dark kitchen where he claimed he was visited by the Midnight Man himself. It was stupid really. He was always doing dumb stuff like that. Neal was an attention whore.
I wonder what happened to him.
Given his asshole tendencies, I figured he’d either ended up a cop or a criminal of some sorts. Maybe he’d gone off to Broadway to use his ridiculous dramatic personality to propel him into stage play stardom.
Or maybe he’s here in San Francisco still.
As I began to drift off to sleep, I thought about my last night with Mrs. Rebecca. We had dinner together. She cooked me beef stroganoff. It was delicious. Then we shared a bottle of wine by candlelight as we talked about the future. I talked about the future. She didn’t seem as convinced.
“Kevin,” she said. “What we have here. I like it. I really do. It’s special. It always has been, but if you keep coming back here to see me, you’ll never have your chance with a real woman.”
“B…b…but you are a ra…ra…real woman,” I said.
She smiled and looked down at her wine glass, picking it up and swirling it by the stem.
“You know what I mean, dear,” she said. “I’m an older woman. My past…well…you know my past. It’s full of some pretty devious deeds. I’m not a stupid person. I know the things I’ve done are wrong. I have no explanation for my desires or excuse for following through with them.”
I didn’t like hearing her talk about it. In my mind, I’d already forgiven her for anything she’d done with other boys. What she’d done with me, I was proud of. I loved her. She was every woman to me. The only woman. Her indiscretions with other boys was the only thing I saw as a fault. To me, it was almost like she’d cheated on me as a kid. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I was in love with her then and I’m still in love with her.
“P…please,” I said. “S…stop.”
“I need you to know something,” she told me. “The things I’ve done are wrong. I know because they were also done to me. When I was a kid, no older than ten or eleven, my stepdad would come into my room and do things to me. It messed me up in the head, Kevin. I didn’t know how much until you and your brother and the others were taken from me. I was forced to talk to someone. I spent some time in an institution. I know you think I ran away from you, but I didn’t. I was taken away too. And I had to speak to someone, you know? Someone who knows things. She was a doctor and she helped me understand what I’d done and why I’d done it.”
“It’s o…okay,” I said.
My breathing had picked up and I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. This was too much to take in. I’d already accepted her and everything she’d done and all she was and I was perfectly fine with it. I needed her to stop talking. I needed her to shut the fuck up before she ruined everything. I loved her. That’s all that mattered. But it wasn’t enough for her. She needed me to know the truth. A truth I didn’t want to know. It didn’t make everything okay so why did I need to know?
“You see,” Mrs. Rebecca continued. “My stepfather did things to me. His friends did things to me. And I turned around and did the same things to you. I’m damaged, Kevin. I’m so damaged and I’m so sorry.”
She cupped a hand over her mouth and began to sob into her hand. It was the first time I’d ever seen her cry. The woman was a brick wall. She never showed this much emotion. I reached over and took her hand, but she pulled it away. Somehow I got the feeling that she was letting me go that night. She was breaking things off with me, but not before one final intimate time alone with me.
She may not have wanted me to touch her hand, but I knew she wouldn’t refuse my body. So I walked around to her side of the table. She looked up at me as I stood behind her and I lowered myself down to her level and kissed her lips gently. Her tears ran down over my lips but I didn’t care. She was my woman and I wanted to take her pain away the way she’d taken mine. I wasn’t a child anymore and nothing about what we were doing was wrong.
I took her into her bedroom and we made love that night. It wasn’t rough or kinky. It was beautiful, and she told me she loved me. She would forget the past. I would make her. I would smother her in so much love and caring that she’d have to believe she was a good person deep down inside.
Yet, her guilt was too strong, and it was the last time I saw her.
Chapter 17 – Simple Simon
The fucking news. How dare they? How dare she? Gloria fucking Styles. What a fucking joke?
I’d beamed with happiness the moment I realized the news was covering my story. Finally, I would get the recognition I deserved. The city would know that a serial killer was stalking its streets. They would have reason to hide indoors and lock their windows at night. Nobody would feel safe walking
the downtown streets. The demons would be proud too. How could they not? I was doing it. I was Simple fucking Simon.
Then Paul Wesley, the newscaster, stood on the scene outside the hospital trying to be cool and suave and ended up looking like a silly fucking joke. He was turning my story into a farce, a goofy children’s tale. He even said the words, “twisted toddler’s tale.”
Okay, calm down. It’s fine. The world does know about you now. At least all of San Francisco does. You’re the boogey man now. They all fear you. You got what you wanted. They even know about the pie ingredients.
Yes, they did catch on to the pie ingredients but they didn’t seem to understand fully. Not yet. They called them “food items” so it’s clear they haven’t realized I’m creating the ultimate pie.
Simple Simon met a pie man. Yes! They took the bait and ran with it. They will spread my name and fame will come with it.
Then it dawned on me that one person in particular was solving these crimes. She was closer than anyone was. Of course she would be. She was the ultimate professional. She was the one woman who’d taken me up on a date and had basically laughed right in my face. She’d made fun of my sigmatism, or what many would call a lisp. She knew I was asking for the fucking soy sauce. Not the thoy thauth.
But it was funny to you, wasn’t it, Sally? It was a big fucking joke.
It might have been comical to her, but for me it meant long hours in the library and late nights studying videos. I became determined to kick the lisp. From that point on, I didn’t speak a word without serious concentration. I guess, in some ways, she helped me, but in the end she was still a bitch.
Then, there was that night in the pantry when she bent over to unload the beer with her tight ass so close to my cock. The way she looked over her shoulder at me with that sly grin.
Fucking cock tease. Now you think you can play my game? You think you can figure out who I am and what I’m doing? If you had any idea!
Nikki wasn’t ready yet. The demons would have to wait for her. She needed to get out of the hospital and feel safe at home before I claimed her. That would come later. But Sally. Sally meant nothing to the demons. She was mine and mine alone. I could take her at any moment.
In fact, I’ll take her tonight. If the cops want to try and figure me out, I’ll hit them close to home. I’ll hit them where it hurts, right in the fucking medical examiner’s office.
How to do it, that was the real trick. Should I dress up in black and sneak into the building? No, that wouldn’t work. It was a guarded building. I’d guarded it a couple of times myself while working with SecuriDyne.
That’s it. SecuriDyne.
The uniform would open the doors for me. It didn’t matter so much that someone might see my face or track me down later. Things were beginning to move quickly and I’d have Nikki spread eagle in front of the demons soon enough. My all-black Simple Simon getup might be counterproductive this time. If anyone saw me sneaking into the building looking like that, it would all be over.
With the news playing over and over in my head, and an old Prodigy CD blasting from my stereo, I set to ironing my uniform. It was a requirement of the company. The brown, UPS-like getup needed to be crisp and pressed with tight creases.
“Breathe with me!” I yelled along with the music as I pressed the iron down hard on my slacks.
The crease reminded me of my knife blade and that was perfect.
“GONNA KILL ANOTHER ONE?!” Samuel suddenly yelled in my ear.
I nearly dropped the iron.
“Must you always show up yelling like that?” I asked. “And, yes, I’m going to kill another one. Do you remember Sally?”
“The sexy bitch with the strawberry lotiony pussy?” Hag asked.
“That’s the one,” I said.
She had always used some sort of fruity lotion back then. She always smelled immaculate. The thought of it made my dick twitch in my pants. If I didn’t concentrate on the ironing, I’d be bent over the bed jacking off to thoughts of Sally in the pantry that night. I’d come so close to fucking her. I know it. She wanted me. I think maybe my aggression was too much for her. She wasn’t ready for a man of my caliber. She wasn’t ready to experience the thunder.
Thunder shook the sky as I stepped out of my apartment, dressed for my temp job at the medical examiner’s office. Getting in wouldn’t be tough. As long as I didn’t make eye contact with anyone and kept my ball cap-style security hat pulled low, nobody would see me. Manny was always the one in charge at the medical examiner’s office and was probably the worst person to hold the positions. He was overweight, lazy, and never followed procedure. He was lucky he was in a low profile environment. SecuriDyne was one of the top security firms in the city but most of the badass, ex-military guys worked the more dangerous gigs. Nobody had any reason to fuck with the medical examiner’s office. No, the real crazies went after the rock stars playing in the nearby stadium or bothered the city politicians. Black tie parties were always a fun gig to work. Those usually had at least one or two rowdy guests, but the medical examiner’s office was always dead.
The parking lot was dark and quiet as I sat crouched down behind an all-white van with my company issue backpack strapped to my back, waiting for my chance to slip into the building undetected. It took no longer than twenty minutes before one of the guards did exactly what I knew one would. He walked out, slid a rock in front of the door, and stepped around to the side of the building. He was a smoker and I remembered from my previous time working that shift that the smokers would sneak out back for a cigarette. This was common at every single post manned by a SecuriDyne guard and probably at every single post ever manned by any security officer anywhere. When smokers want a hit, they’ll break any rule they have to. When this one did, it gave me my chance to waltz right in.
So far so good. Not a single person, as far as I could tell, had seen me enter the building. I’d only worked this position twice before, and I never even realized I had a connection with Sally back then. She was never around when I was on shift and I could only hope she’d be here now. With so many dead bodies piling up, thanks to me, I figured there was a good chance she’d be working late. If not, I’d have to stick around until she decided to show up for work. Either way, Sally was going to die.
Cameras were all over the building, but my hat covered my face, so I kept my head down and my hands in my pockets as I strolled the halls. Finding me wouldn’t be impossible, but they’d never track me down before I got to Nikki. The cops had proven to be way too slow in figuring shit out. If they got me on camera, they’d only see a security guy walking the halls.
It didn’t take long for me to find Sally’s office, and when I did, I had to wait a second to calm my nerves. Seeing her again, face to face after all these years, would be strange. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened the door and stepped in, not quite sure what I should do with my face. Should I smile? Should I scowl? Should I run in shrieking like a bloodthirsty savage? It didn’t matter, the office was empty.
This can’t be. She’s a workaholic. She has to work late. Even in college she showed up early and stayed late. This isn’t like her. I’ve given her so much work. This doesn’t make any fucking sense. What, have I not killed enough for her? Have I not given her enough reason to work late? Is she still able to sleep well at night? Do I not haunt her dreams?
“She’s not afraid of you at all,” Rotten said.
“Who would be?” Putrid replied, chomping his nasty fucking teeth at my ear. “You’re a pussy. You can’t even worry a medical examiner.”
“Did somebody say pussy?” Hag asked.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Samuel said. “Everyone else is.”
“Sally?” came a man’s voice from behind a second door. “It’s about time you got back to your regular routine. Mr. Smooth let you out of his sight a little earlier tonight?”
Mr. Smooth? Who is this Mr. Smooth? Does Sally have someone special?
&nb
sp; I looked at her desk, searching for any pictures she might have of herself with this Mr. Smooth. There wasn’t one. I recalled the telephone conversation I’d overheard the other day. Sally had been discussing my kill with someone named Bruce. Could this be him?
“Mr. Bruce?” I called out.
“Yeah, back here,” he said.
Perfect. He’s not Sally, but he’ll have to do. If I can’t kill her, I can at least fuck up her world.
I picked a file up off of Sally’s desk and carried it with me into the room. Bruce was busy checking out a body. It wasn’t one of mine. At least, if it was, it wasn’t one I recognized. He didn’t even look up at me at first. I thought that was fucking rude.
I’m a visitor and you don’t even look in my direction, Bruce?
“Sir,” I said. “I have this for you to sign. Manny at the front desk sent me over with it.”
“What is this?” he asked.
He set down his scalpel and the light shining off it caught my attention. I’d never killed with a scalpel before. It would be a much cleaner cut than my big hunting knife would make. Sally would like it cleaner. She’d appreciate that. This was, after all, all about her.
“Don’t know,” I replied. “Was just told you have to sign it.”
I handed it to him and he set it down on a small table in the corner and reached into his pocket for a pen when I interrupted him. This was the first situation where I wasn’t killing my intended victim and it threw me off ever so slightly. I had to improvise, but it was so much fun.
“SHOVE YOUR KNIFE UP HIS ASS!” Samuel yelled.
“Stick that scalpel in his armpit,” Rotten said. “That would hurt.”
I ignored them and whistled instead.