Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|“It isn’t like the 80’s.” Margo Cline, researcher for the Prime Time TV special on serial killers needed a tasty new hook. For days and weeks, combing online and local news sources were filled with political plunder, an avalanche of civil disorder and marital mayhem but no enticing take on the convoluted mindscape of a newly unearthed mass murderer.
“I’ll pay. Just borrow some police files buried in the stacks of unsolved cases. Nobody will miss them. I’ll do the rest,” but Jimmy wanted more than money. It is why he was a successful recruit on the vice squad.
Margo sweated out being pawed with promises to come and got her meat. Police reports littered her front room floor. “If I have to, I’ll create some of my own.” There was some pretty kinky stuff with teasers of missing people and lurking unknown’s that stirred her imagination.
Way past midnight, a pattern began to emerge. “Why didn’t anyone else see this?” The strange case of who she had named inside her head, ‘Doctor X’ had managed to slip through the legal cracks against being prosecuted but he was guilty as sin. Not only that, but he had a following of clone-like copycats he used to muddy up the tracks of his own sordid deeds.
Where the cops secretly spreading their web to gather him in. Margo knew the local political machine was not averse to waiting until the right time for a public announcement to hide their under the table graft from coming to light. “Double whammy. Get them and the copy of a life time. A two-fer-one.” Visions of a Pulitzer swam before her eyes.
The Doctor X in question, was a Harvard professor with multiple degrees in everything except what made money. He was living way beyond his means. “I’ve got Blackmail. Get the inside story from the serial killer himself.”
A three A.M. phone call woke up the devil, only too happy to meet with her demands after it was pointed out she had enough to crucify him. “All right. I’ll come to your house. I want to see what it is like. Gives me some atmosphere.”
Margo showed up at dawn with Jimmy playing backup during his time off. She was wired in case something weird came down. They’d almost been made late with Jimmy’s re-adjusting the mic between her breasts. “Knock, knock,” she said into the front door’s voice plate.
Young women like her were the killer’s specialty. His eyes lit up when he opened his door. “Great knockers, indeed. Come on in. Would you like a drink?”
The feeling his eyeing her gave her was like she was the fly instead of the spider. Jimmy’s sliding up as Doctor X held the door made her gasp, “What’s?”
“Money talks, babe. The political machine wants you and your tell all show gone. Your Doctor X is adding some cream on top. Plus I get to play with you before he takes over finding your favorite pain points. Neat.”
There were precious few seconds while the two men got in each other’s way. Jimmy had been too busy playing with her nipples to bother actually frisking her. Doctor X, unused to direct threat, opened himself up to her slashing knife springing from Margo’s wrist into the palm of her hand. “Bloody good.”
The feeling of thrusting the blade and twisting it deep into the serial killer’s gut gave Margo an unexpected thrill. “You’re next.”
Jimmy’s gun caught in his waistband, the sound of the bullet going off was masked by his clothes. Margo slid the knife across the policeman’s throat. “Poor aim, Jim. You shot yourself.” She watched life die from his eyes.
It was the photo opportunity of a lifetime. One thing led to another. Doctor X’s home office was rife with knick knacks obtained from previous torture murders affixed to grusome photos of victims. What came in just as handy were names of future planned forays. Highlighting the treasure were accounts of his deeds and ill gotten gains doing murder wacks for politicans.
“Well, hello, pretty beauty.” The latest young co-ed not much younger than Margo shivered, naked and chained in Doctor X’s basement.
“Thank God, someone found me,” The blond wept.
“Yes, indeed.” Margo couldn’t have a witness to what she had planned. Especially after a little torture using Doctor X’s tools revealed this was a student reporter from the U. of U. campus paper with big plans. The girl had almost one-upped Margo. She’d found out in the nick of time.
It was nice of Doctor X to have photos showing off his stylized method of torture. “All the evidence will point to him being your death’s cause.” The girl ended up pleading for her own death. Margo felt a surge of elation at the result. “I’m better at this than I thought.”
Which is how Margo, herself, became the cause celebre’, her show (slightly revised) of the political elite, the police and the public at large.
Even better, with the secrets she held back, blackmail and a willingness to take over Doctor X’s business meant her career of being the next nation’s greatest mass murderer was a guaranteed sure killing.