Paul Lantar

Chapter 12

Dedicated to xXdemolitionloverXx for reading and voting on my stories and being a huge support. 

The gentle strong winds delivered comfort to Paul as he stood under a tree watching the approaching storm roll in it was beautiful, he reminisced of the kill before Eric Cane.

Paul observed a trio of people sitting two tables away from he and Veena.

Is that what it comes to? Making it to your eighties and just reading, talking and sipping coffee. He continued to observe the old man sporting overalls, a singlet, top hat and suspenders. Wrinkled and frail his hands shook every time he lifted the mug and took a hot sip. It seemed like he was from another time entirely, the way the old man constantly looked around at things in amazement.

Paul was still trying to work out the relationship of the other two men accompanying him, one was in his forties and extremely fat the other was probably in his fifties and in better shape than the other two at least.

First he thought the huge one and the one in his fifties were brothers, but their relationship seemed something else entirely. You could tell the large guy was more like a well-trained obedient guard dog. It looked secretive and they seem to be getting counsel from the old man.

They all looked different and sat differently the one in his fifties Paul determined was definitely the alpha male of the three. The old man must be some kind of business advisor. The only thing they really had in common besides ordering the same coffee was that they were all Italian.

It’s so obvious it’s killing me!

The man in fifties looked around every time he spoke making sure no one would hear him. Now it made sense they weren’t your average business owners.

Oh yes, very clever meeting place. Paul mentally applauded the gangsters choice of talking business in a small coffee shop located in a busy shopping centre.

“Now he’s taking out the bikers?” the man in his fifties said in a high whisper, his tone was that of annoyance and surprise. He also realized he spoke to loud and glanced over at Paul and Veena, “Nice coffee honey,” the man raised his mug nodding at the couple.

“Earth to Paul,” Veena clicked her fingers, snapping him out of his observation trance.

“Huh?”

“Read this,” Veena excitedly handed over the morning newspaper over.

“What am I looking at?”

I wonder what you three shady men are discussing you look like fellow murderers. How many people have you killed between you all? Do you have any advice to someone just starting out?

“Bottom left article, the one by Natalie Lowe,” Veena pressed her nicotine stained index finger right on it, thanks.

Fuck.

Every theorist, detective, television junkie has so far been wrong about the Contro city serial killer profile, this one is perfect. It’s like she knows who I am! Natalie Lowe…very intriguing.

“It’s not that long of an article.”

“Why’d you hand it to me if you weren’t finished,” he gave Veena her beloved newspaper back.

“What you think of her profile?” Veena loved discussing the whole situation unfolding in the city. Paul would rather she focused more on her poetry.