The Poll Bearer Part 20 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

At 4:00 AM, the early news shows were already reporting the crime since this made two murders in just a few days. Nothing was stolen and the victim was brutally stabbed a number of times. Apparently, the victim was attacked while she slept because the blood was confined to the bed. People were asking the public to report anything they knew on a special tip hotline. The media was already throwing out catchy names for the killer, but one was starting to stick: the Ghoul, from the brutality of the stabbings all around the chest and upper torso. Police were still trying to define the murder weapon which was described as being slightly pointy but not sharp. The wounds were more like a partial penetration accompanied by a ripping action.

            There was no doubt in his mind that Mr. Average American, the new Andrew Slate, was a cold-blooded killer who was stalking female victims. Apparently something had triggered him into this behavior, and it didn’t look as if he would stop on his own. It was also obvious to Dan that Slate was using a corkscrew as the murder weapon. The man around whom Dan had staked his own reputation and millions of dollars was now about to undo everything if he was caught. The question in Dan’s mind was should he stop him?

CHAPTER 16

            Dan came in late the next day trying to take time to resolve his dilemma. Part of his answer came when he walked into his office to see Louis already sitting in his favorite chair.

            “Can I help you?” Dan asked sarcastically slightly disturbed that Louis would take it upon himself to be so bold.

            “Problem,” Louis said phrasing it as a statement rather than as a question.

            “And what’s that,” Dan asked misinterpreting Louis’ intent.

            “The people with whom I am associated want to know what type of car you would like,” Louis said forming a sentence of so many words that Dan was almost overcome. “I said Ferrari, but they thought a Rolls might be your style. Which do you want?”

            “What’s this all about?” Dan asked wondering when the next shoe would fall.

            “It’s all about rewarding your success,” Louis continued. “At first, I thought this ocean of money was just bullshit, but I was content to operate my other business. Now, this is a money machine; and even going totally legitimate and paying taxes and everything, I can’t believe how much money is coming in. For once, I’m a true businessman, and I owe it all to you. There’s billions in this.”

            Louis had said more words in the past few seconds than he probably had in the last two years; and while it appeared good, the flaw was that this whole empire could come tumbling down if the police discovered that Slate was their killer.

            “I don’t know what to say,” Dan replied fumbling for something that would take the pressure off.

            “Don’t say anything except what kind of car and what color,” Louis said standing and smiling as he went toward the door. Stopping, he let go with his catch phrase, “Just don’t screw it up.”

            This time he had meant it as a joke, but Dan knew just how serious he was taking it.

            Normally in his life there was someone with whom he could share his problems; even if they offered no solution, their willingness to listen gave Dan a chance to think out loud. This time he had no one; to bring anybody in would implicate them if Slate was ever caught. There was only one answer that he could come up with at the moment…Slate must not be caught, at least not at this time; but he must be prevented from killing again. Both of those sounded like impossibilities, but Dan knew he’d have to pull them off…he hoped…and alone.

CHAPTER 17

The observations of Slate during the daylight and early evening hours went on as usual with commercials being inserted whenever it was necessary to test the new products. Slate proved unbelievably accurate in reflecting America’s tastes, and the advertisers were ecstatic. Louis was happy; Ron was happy, the firm was happy…and Dan was miserable. Even the new Ferrari did little to lift him out of the doldrums of waiting until Slate decided to go on his murderous prowl again. There had to be some trigger, but Dan was unable to find it. Also of concern was whether Slate was picking these women at random or was he targeting specific individuals. If the former, there was less of a chance that the police would find him; if the latter, then Dan was doubly worried.

The strain of working during the day and monitoring Slate all night was beginning to take its toll. Cat naps and coffee weren’t the way to lead one’s life, and Dan was starting to suffer from errors of judgment. What little sleep he did have was punctuated with nightmares wherein Slate would get caught and accuse Dan of being his partner. Although Slate didn’t even know that Dan existed, Dan knew all too well that by his silence he was helping this killer to succeed. His moral character was now a sham as he was selling his soul for money. This wasn’t some case where by letting one killer go you were saving a thousand people or helping the world in some way; instead, this was pure greed and fear of retaliation by Louis and his people. There was no way Dan could justify what he was doing to others or to himself, and it was starting to tear him apart.

He found that he was cutting himself off from people such as Richie and Ron; he was snapping and angry at staff for the slightest mistake. He spent much of his day alone in his office and his nights glued to a bank of monitors. He was only thankful for the fact that long ago Louis had pulled surveillance off him.