Sandy Waitland captured John Fornsworthy’s eyes in her hard, examining gaze. If he was faking she would see it….rather….sense it. People could spew out convincing bullshit when they were trying to get their ass out of trouble but their eyes and auras didn’t lie….nor could they be manipulated. Such curiosities of the human being were as motorized as breathing, heart beats and eye blinks, the robotics of biological beasts.
90 seconds after reaching into her new clients being her entire body convulsed, nearly catapulting her out of her chair.
“Damn and tarnation. What the hell are you?” She wailed as she severed the tie to Fornsworthy and started pacing the floor of her office. Then she glared at the others in the room, one at a time.
“You could ‘a warned me. This guys a cracker. I am surprised he isn’t totally mad.”
Then she turned to Forrnsworthy again and getting right in his face…her nose inches from his. “Are you telling me this is the first time you have ever had visions.”
“I have always had nightmare and day mare but never as clear as this time and I never knew who ‘THEY’ were. The only reason I know this Galbin is because…well….I know him….kinda sort of like. I see him in the news all the time so when I saw him in the vision I knew it was…..is him killing these people….and he has been doing it for a long time. When he butchers the hooker I will know….and when her cooks her I will know.”
“That’s how we get to him.” Sandy Waitland gave a “eureka” shout. “We aren’t likely to catch him in the act of hunting but maybe we can nab him having dinner. I’ll get on it.”
“How?” Dr. Wellons asked abruptly.
“I am a knock out. He’s hungry. It’s a perfect lure.”
Sandy was right…if a little narcissistic about it. She was gorgeous and no man with a libido could turn his eyes away once he looked. More than that though she was in great shape…minimal fatty tissue….all meat….perfect for the larder of one such as George Galbin.
“How are you going to do this?” Dan Ogillyn, the lawyer queried.
“The man is high profile. I’ll put myself in a place he will notice me and make sure I am dressed accordingly. There are certain things this woman like me can do besides dressing right as well. I can get into his head. Send him a message so to speak. It’s a special kind of eye contact.”
“We should get Craigent in on this. Wire you up or something.” Wellon suggested. Waitland interjected cutting off Dr. Mayns.
“For everyone’s sake you better be right or we will all end up at Penetang.” Mayns warned.
“Mayns….you are such an ass…with a mind so closed I am surprized you are in the profession you are. There are things in this world that happen that need…..ah what’s the point. Brain-deads like you will never get it. Maybe you should stay out of it.” Fornsworthy gave a dreary speech.
“You need my assessment. What I tell the courts will decide your fate.” Mayns replied.
“Then truth be damned….I’m screwed. Fornsworthy groaned as he glared at Mayns…
“Not with my help John.” Dr. Wellons interjected assuringly.
viii
The hall serving as the location for The Leen Street Mission for homeless families, fundraiser dinner was filled to capacity for the 6 pm sitting. It was an annual event organized by Mr. George Galbin Professor of Anthropology and Chairman of The Leen Street Mission Committee. The cuisine was simple fare, chicken, beef or pork with a variety of vegetables and deserts at a cost of $150.00 a plate. The hall had a capacity of 120 people. Among the guests was a beautiful young woman that upon entering the hall made absolute certain Professor Galbin took notice of her. He in-turn met her gaze and smile warmly, an indication to Sandy Waitland had established first contact in her mission. Even before she found a seat she was apprehended by an usher and directed to the Chairman’s table, which was perfect but alarmingly quick. Red flags appeared behind the PI’s blue/grey eyes. “It’s too easy.” She thought. What was even scarier happened as she took her seat.
“Welcome Ms. Waitland. It’s good to have a representative from the private policing sector of the city supporting our cause.” George Galbin greeted.
Sandy smiled lightly. “I was not aware I would be noticed, especially because of my work.”
“Well, I make it my business to know who supports the mission.” Galbin replied.
“I have donated on occasion….just small amounts. I stopped in once or twice during a case and was amazed to find the food you serve there as good as what is being served here.” Sandy replied conversational underlined with practiced respect.
“It is exactly the same fare we serve at the mission.” Galbin replied, nodding his head.
“I am sure the people who visit the mission appreciate your help Mr. Galbin.”
“Well. It’s not just me. There are several people involved who deserve most of the credit. I merely spearhead the organization…..and please called me George.” Galbin replied most pleasantly. Sandy was finding it difficult to believe that he was….a…..a killer. But as she attempted to delve into his thoughts she found an enormous cavern of darkness….empty darkness…..an indication that he was harbouring something horrible and….”Oh damn….he knows….he is blocking me.” Her thoughts recoiled and her eyes darted to meet his. Galbin sat there grinning at her and offering a cold black stare in return.
But what could she do. Certainly not turn tail and run.
The food arrived. A slice of meat. Rare, a serving of vegetables and a baked potato stared up at her. Suddenly something horrifying occurred to Sandy. She had been escorted….almost forcibly to the head table. The meat looked like pork.
“Bon Appetit Ms. Waitland.” Galbin offered with a cold daring grin. “Later I hope you will join me for a glass of wine…..someplace.” he added.
Sandy wanted to get the hell out now but that would defeat her purpose. She was glad she had brought along her small but effective, close-range .22 calibre snub-nose. It was illegal but it could be the only thing between her and a cannibal’s freezer. She had to pin the guy now or he’d be left to get away with who knew how many more slaughters.
Sandy looked down at the meat and cut off a piece then forced the morsel into her mouth. It tasted like pork. She hoped it was.
ix
It was illegal. Break and enter. Worse than that John Fornsworthy had escaped from the two men who were trying to help him. He had be let out of the asylum and trusted to their care. But they could not help him. No one could. And no one but he could stop the beast named George Galbin.
John had failed to kill him on the first try. The cops were right. He was a lousy shot with a gun. This time he would use a knife. A big knife, one that butches used to carve up a side of beef.
“I am faster and stronger than him and the last thing he will be expecting is for me to show up at his house and attack him while he sleeps……with his own damn butcher knife.
How many have you killed beast, murderer…. fiend. A dozen….two dozen. Have they all been women or do you like variety. Do you spice them up or savour the natural taste.”
He was mad…beyond help…..mad with what he thought was justice, the kind no one could deal out except him. Mad with delusions of heroism. I can see it now. The headlines. Yes….they will see the truth. John Fornsworthy slays the man flesh eating beast…George Galbin.
The Galbin house was set back off the road at the end of a cul de sac. It was an enormous Edwardian home that looked its age but was otherwise well kept and some scaffolding suggested some repairs were being made to the third story. Scaffolding perfect for John Fornsworthy’s purpose….use. An easy way to gain illegal but justifiable entry to the monsters lair.
John circles the house finding only two lights glowing, one on the first and another on the second floor, but there was no sign that any one was home. John knew Galbin was out…attending a benefit dinner for some homeless mission. He knew that Sandy Waitland was there as well and that t
he two doctors were at home completely unaware their charge had escaped them….at least they had not known he was gone…though that notion may have changed.
John climbed the scaffold to the sill of a window on the first floor and upon attempting to lift it found it unlocked. What a stroke of luck.
The window slid open silently and John crept through the opening into a room he guest was a lounge….”Yes…the smoking lounge.” He said sniffing the air. how quaint and Edwardian of you George. My apologies. I was not aware you were a gentleman beast.” He chided.
John Fornsworthy found his way quickly to the door and out into the hall way. He glanced one way and saw only outlines of doorways in the dark. To the right was the lighted room…..the kitchen he guessed but as he stared into the light a silhouette of a man filled the door. He tried to step back but the door had closed and locked. He turned to flee into the darkness but was stopped by an unmovable barrier that stood over six feet in height with broad shoulders and hands so huge the fingers easily wrapped around his throat.
“Who the hell are you?” John choked out.
“William, Master Galbin’s Butler and Valet.” A quiet resonant voice answered.
“And I Mr. Fornsworthy and Master Galbin’s cook.” A greasy kind of voice came from behind.
John took one last breath then he felt a knife carve into his back slicing through the kidney then turning down….and the world already dim turned black.