Murder! Too Close To Home

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

March 10, 1997

The man was ecstatic!

He had already called off work; there is no way he could pretend to do his menial job at the Save-A-Bunch today...no, not today. The well laid out plan had worked like a charm. It had only taken three trips past the house before he had confirmed that the neighbor was sitting on his porch, a witness the mentor had insisted on for some reason.

Parking just out of sight down the road and traveling on foot to the small house, he had easily gained entry posing as a deputy with a dead cruiser.

The witless old man had shown him to the phone in the kitchen, leaving him alone to make the call. Spotting the knives on the counter, he had silently grabbed one with his gloved hand as he waited for the call to go through. The answering machine picked up, telling him that no one was there at the moment, and to please leave a message.

"The Ghost strikes again," he whispered into the phone. "Thanks for making it so easy," he finished with a smile before hanging up the receiver. Slipping the knife up his left sleeve and holding the hilt in place with his cupped hand, the man then turned back toward the living room.

"Find someone to help?" the old man asked when he had exited the kitchen.

"Oh, they will get the message all right," the man said with a smile, enjoying his play on words, enjoying himself immensely truth be known.

The old man stood up from his chair as the visitor passed by him on the way to the front door. Pulling the knife out of his sleeve with his right hand, he waited for the old man to get close enough on his way to open the door. When he sensed him in the right location, he swiftly turned on his heel, bringing the knife up in an arc and finding its mark just below the sternum.

"Thank you for your help," the stranger said clearly as first surprise, then fear entered the old man's eyes.

The orgasmic rush gave the stranger shivers as he happily watched his victim's life ebb out of his eyes. The old man was reaching up feebly and grabbing at the knife in a last ditch effort to pull it out, his last breath escaping his body in a rattle as small red bubbles formed on his mouth.

Realizing that he was now holding up the dead weight of the body, the man pushed it away and watched it land on the floor like a felled tree. Taking a few moments, he closed his eyes to enjoy the feelings streaming through his body; the intensity of emotions almost overwhelming.

Coming back down to earth, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling out 2 garbage bags he had earlier wrapped around his stomach.

Heading into the kitchen, he picked up the meat cleaver he had spotted with the knives and returned to the body. The cleaver was sharpened to a fine honed edge, making the removal of the hand easier than he had expected. Opening one of the bags, he placed the hand inside of it and then carefully sealed it with the built-in pull-strings.

Removing his outer gloves revealed the latex coverings underneath as he opened the second bag, depositing in it the bloody gloves, followed by the deputy's jacket he had worn into the house. Pulling the hood up on the sweatshirt he had worn under the jacket, he worked for a moment folding the bags into as small of a package as he could muster. Heading to the kitchen again, he exited out the back door and worked his way quietly around the house to the road. Continuing on to the car he had obtained for this project, he got in and started down the road, straining to see the road ahead as he left the lights off for the first mile.

***

Approaching court house square, he carefully parked a block away, waiting in the car for a few minutes before exiting the vehicle with one of his packages. He then got out and made his way to the front entrance of the building, the one he knew would be in the shadows due to lack of maintenance and a burned out bulb. Taking a last quick look to confirm his being alone on the street, he climbed the first two steps, undoing the ties on the garbage bag and then turning the bag upside down to deposit the hand.

Quickly retreating down the steps while folding the bag, he headed back to the car, getting in and starting the vehicle before traveling toward the bridge at the edge of town.

Pulling off the side of the deserted bridge, he got out of the car and threw the bags into the river. Re-entering the vehicle, he then drove to the nearest empty fast food parking lot, turned around and headed back to town.

Crossing the bridge again, he turned at the first right and parked the car on the deserted street. Finally leaving the car with the keys in the ignition, he walked the fifteen blocks back to his apartment.

A grin formed on his lips as, just before entering his apartment, he heard sirens in the distance.

"Maybe they have found the hand already," he thought to himself as he unlocked his door and entered the living room.

Once inside, the man stood quietly in the dark, reliving the night's events in his head over and over. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his newest token, feeling the ring with his fingers. It was fate that drew his eyes to the mantle and the ring upon it, the light reflecting brightly off of it seemingly a sign to the man that it was his reward. His mentor would be angry if she found out, but he would cross that bridge if it came up later.

He had celebrated the rest of the night with various forms of alcohol, which was also a contributing factor in his calling off work this day. Taking the ring once again out of his pocket, he took in some of the details through his bloodshot eyes.

Smiling at his prize, he deposited it back into his pocket and clasped his hands behind his head. It was a good day to be the Ghost, a very good day indeed.