Crazy Kills Crazy
Face to Face
Nick PT Barnum. Wordlessly, he brings himself face to face with the serial killer, leaning forward until their eyes were less than a foot apart. The horrific murderer was sitting in a chair in a hotel room waiting for the Bridgeport Police Department. He didn’t say it, but when Nick walked into the room, he was very much surprised. The blood that streamed through his veins was a deeper shade of red. And Nick just somehow knew that.
Then, softly, the dark stranger began describing the murder of a young Puerto Rican woman. He talked about an argument, a brief struggle over payment. He wanted to prove to the young prostitute that he was in the market for her services. And she wanted the money up front.
Then he talked about her wounds in which he had inflicted slowly. He moved closer still to the private eye as if he wanted to share a secret. He told Nick Barnum of the twenty or so blade wounds to her face, as he described the motions with his index finger. Every movement he made was slow and deliberate. He wanted it to really sink in. He wanted Nick Barnum to grasp the reality of cutting into human flesh. He made a few more gross gestures then he tapped Nick Barnum lightly on the cheek and winked.
The private eye was sickened visibly.
Then the dark stranger told Nick Barnum about the young woman’s son who came out of a bedroom and witnessed the murder of his mother. He told Nick that the boy came close to crying, but oddly steadied himself, hiding his face behind his hands.
Nick Barnum shrugged, but knew deep down inside it bothered the hell out of him. The dark stranger looked away, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He then grinned sheepishly.
Nick PT Barnum’s size could be intimidating, of course, and he used that fact on occasion. But ultimately he did his job using his mind and wit. However, the dark stranger was an enigma. Mind, wit, nor his size wouldn’t have phased him.
"What about the boy?" Nick asked.
"I murdered him," he replied then said nothing else. No description of the murder, or how he did it.
"You seem to leave dead people everywhere you go," Nick said. "What do you think a judge would do with you?"
He was silent.
"Death Penalty case," Nick whispered.
The dark stranger did not reply.
"And I wish they had hangings, so I could watch your rotten body swing," Nick added with authenticity. "How about that?"
"No contest my friend," Nick replied. "Hands down."
"Mr. Barnum, I have a mental issue," the dark stranger smirked. " I see ghosts, and they make me do the murders. I can’t control myself. I need medical help."
Nick PT Barnum spent a great deal of time tracking down this serial killer. He did it without the help of the Bridgeport Police department and he had to battle demons in order to catch the most cunning predator he’s ever faced. The dark stranger was the very soul of evil and what he just said disturbed the private eye to no ends.
"I want to be good, but I need help," continued the dark stranger. " Can the courts help me in anyway?"
Sensing that Nick Barnum needed one more good shove, the dark stranger added as icing on his cake," They do not kill crazy."
They do not kill crazy.
They do not kill crazy.
They do not kill crazy.
Those five words kept rifling through the private eye’s mind like a ping pong.
Nick Barnum knew that Detective Peter O’Brien was on his way down to pick up the serial killer. He also knew that the courts indeed did not kill crazy. His job was only to capture the Deepest Shade serial killer. The court system was going to handle the rest.
Nick Barnum grabbed the dark stranger’s left hand and deposited a .38 round in it.
"You see that bullet?"
The dark stranger looked at the cartridge.
"It isn’t my ammunition," Nick continued. " Willie the Greek gave it to me, but no one knows that fact."
The dark stranger looked confused.
"And this gun, not mine." he added as he tossed an empty gun into the dark stranger’s lap.
"You’re fucking crazy."
" Crazy kills crazy," Nick whispered.
"Let me load the gun, give me a chance to defend myself," the dark stranger begged.
"Just like the chances you gave to the women you’ve murdered," Nick replied. " And that boy. Yeah, go ahead, load that fucking gun."
"You will wait until I load the gun, right?"
"You’re suppose to be a man of character!"
"I’m crazy, you’re crazy."
And the last thing that ran through the dark stranger’s mind were three words.
Crazy kills crazy!
© 2011 Frank Atanacio
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