Slave For Him |M.B|

Chapter 10: A Crown of Thorns.

Present

"So, the summer of 1944 was life changing because you met a war veteran?" Detective Newton questioned with his pen stuck to the notepad and his eyebrows knitted together. I laughed softly at that question and shook my head in response. If only it was that simple, if only the story ended there. A lot of lives would've been saved. A lot of lives wouldn't have gone the way they did. I wouldn't be sitting here, in my lavender wingback chair with my final book sitting on the table beside me and a cup of freshly poured hot tea in my finest china teacup on my lap, talking to this Detective about what was long but buried in the dirt.

"No, no. You see, George Ragan wasn't just any ordinary war veteran. If you know anything about Daniel Murillo's past, you'll find George there and you'll find violent crimes linked between the two of them." I knew a lot about George Ragan. After I started bringing him meals and helping him clean up his house, I started digging into the public records at the library. A lot of police records were easily accessible for me after 1947. Thanks to Detective Decker. That man put his career on the line just so I could write a couple best sellers.

Detective Newton seemed a bit at sea with the information I was giving him. I was only giving him the outside pieces of the puzzle so he can put it all together more easily when it comes time to do that.

"In 1940 George joined the military, he went all the way to Georgia for basic training then in May of 1943 he was sent to Germany to fight. In February of 1944 he was discharged from the military after their camp was invaded by Nazis soldiers, George was shot in the lower back once. He returned home with a purple heart and a blue star, he returned a hero." I remembered the stories George would tell me about Germany, then of his girlfriend who was waiting at home for him to return in a box with a chest full of led.

"By the end of March George began the ruthless decent into delusions and depression. His girlfriend didn't want to risk the safety of their unborn child so she left and went to live with her parents just outside of Los Angeles. He lost everyone in his life because he had shell shock syndrome. Danny, I didn't know what he wanted to with George at the time, nothing it seemed. So I began to cook meals for George and help him clean his house. I took care of him because he couldn't do it himself." Detective Newton shot an eyebrow upward while the other sank towards the middle. He seemed to have been caught off guard by what I said, almost as if he didn't believe me.

"Mrs Busek, the story that you're telling me is actually a book that was published in 2007, about a woman who cares for a war veteran after he loses everything when he begins to experience PTSD. The author is a superb writer that goes by the name,"

"E.V St Claire. A young boy raised in the Deep South with a Catholic mother and businessman for a father. He went to America's finest all boys academy while his little sister, whom is adopted, went to a Catholic all-girls School." I created E.V St Claire after a couple of publishing companies refused me service because they didn't believe a woman could write a best seller novel. One night I was lying in bed when the idea popped into my head, why not create a new me? It'll make publishing much easier because I'll write under a penname, a male's penname.

"Detective Newton, my name is Eliese Viviane St Claire. And I started writing about George Ragan's life in 1944. I didn't use his real name, or mine for that matter, but I wrote that book. I've written many books that have featured the Black Dahlia Killers and their loyal followers and fan base. That book has been republished half a dozen times in half a century." I was about to give away one of my secrets, one that I've kept for my entire writing career. Detective Newton knew this too. He saw it as if it were standing in the room with a neon vacancy sign, blinking the message 'topless women and cold beer just come in!' or something a little more alarming like 'webcam teens!'