Do you need a break?
I didn’t need a break, I needed a do-over. Although, honestly, if I had a do over, would I?
***
Oscar and I met the following evening to discuss the magazine again but, again, it turned into more of a date. We had dinner, drinks and then, he took me home again. Again, a kiss on the steps of my place. A kiss that shook the very bones of my being. A kiss that I went to bed dreaming about.
A kiss that I could not wait to visit again.
***
“Another body showed up, another necktie,” Jimmy gave me the run down, the serial killer seemed to be back. “Here’s something interesting,” he told me. “We found a woman’s body, doesn’t fit the killer’s usual modus operandi. But, she had a necktie stuffed in her pocket.”
I took the details and wrote the story, passed it by my editor, he fact checked and it ran page one next day. This time, there was no way around it, I dropped the term serial killer into the piece. Jimmy had given me the OK.
***
“I am intrigued by the pieces on the serial killer,” Oscar said that evening while we sat at a bar, “is that something you could write about for me, or...” He let that sit in the air between us.
Of course, I couldn’t, I was writing that stuff for the Examiner and I wouldn’t want to cause any problems with my job.
“I mean, if that’s not possible,” he continued, “I am sure there are other stories. Just... boy, you really have your finger on the pulse of this story.” I told him about my contacts at homicide and said that maybe, when they caught the guy, I could do a retrospect piece for his magazine.
“You think they’ll catch him?” he asked me. Very excited.
“Sure,” I said, trying my best to sound like a hardened reporter, liking the way he looked at me when I talked work. “They always do and, besides, my contact says they are close to nailing him. He’s getting sloppy.”
“Ah,” he said and ordered another round. That night, when he walked me to my door, I took the shot, asked him if he wanted to come in.
“If I do,” he said, “I want to know it’s not going to damage my chances of having you write for me.” Did he know the way to my heart or what?
I assured him I could keep business and pleasure separate and he came in.
That kiss, I found out what that kiss could lead to.
***
“How is he getting sloppy,” Oscar asked me and I heard him from a long distance away. My mind still spinning, my body liquid and relaxed from hours of incredible sex. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.
“What’s that,” I said, struggling to bring myself back to reality.
“This serial killer,” he said, kissing my naked hip, making me shiver, “what do you call him, The Necktie Killer, how is he getting sloppy?” I could barely concentrate as he kissed across my hip and down, slowly between my legs again. I felt his tongue hit that special spot and I unfolded to him.
“Some...woman...” I said, my head floating off my body, “they found a woman, a tie... in her pocket... Think he may have slept with her... DNA.” I couldn’t speak any longer as he went to work, slowly on me and I released again. I fell into a deep, deep sleep and when I woke up, he was gone.
“Needed to get a head start today. Didn’t want to wake you. Hope I get you again tonight,” said the note on the pillow next to me. The sentence, I hope I get you again tonight, sent me off in a spin. I was becoming obsessed.
***
I didn’t see him that night. He called and told me he had to woo some more backers for the magazine. We made plans for the following night. Those plans he kept and once again, I found myself in my bed with him.
After we had made love twice, my body once again limp from the intense pleasure, he said he had to leave, early meeting. I didn’t want to be a problem, but I also wanted him to stay, to fu— just one more time. Well, I rarely used that word, but it was exactly what I wanted and that’s what I said.
“Listen, I’m not usually like this but,” I said, grabbing his arm as he tried to exit the bed, “would you please—one more time before you leave?”
I didn’t know what to expect. His eyes sparkled and he pushed me back on the bed, mounted me, and smiled.
“How could I ever say no to you,” he said and did—hard and fast.
There was no DNA.
***
This is how it went for several months. He would take me out, take me home and make love to me for hours on end. He talked about the magazine, told me it was coming together, told me to think about what I wanted my first story to be. I was excited about the idea of working for a new publication.
In the meantime, I was on the phone with Jimmy almost daily. There had been no DNA on the woman’s body they had found. However, the Necktie Killer was upping his game, there were three more bodies in a matter of weeks. People were starting to get panicked. Police had set up hotlines for information and the calls were flooding in.
“I’m tearing what little hair I have out,” Jimmy said to me one afternoon. “We’re getting about five hundred calls a day, most of them bullshit, but, we gotta check every lead.” He sounded exhausted. I felt bad for him, but the stories were getting a ton of attention.
***
“You’re becoming quite a sensation,” Oscar said to me one night, our naked bodies intertwined. “Your stories are so good. I hate to say this, but I hope they never catch this guy, he seems to be good for your career.”
I laughed, but it made sense. Whatever attention I was getting was tied to the stories I was writing about the serial killer. I wondered what would happen after the police caught him.
“You’ll still love me, right,” I said to Oscar, my head foggy, just trying to stay present in the conversation. He went silent. I sat up. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by that, seriously, I was just...” He stopped my mouth with a kiss.
“Of course I’ll love you, nothing is going to change that.” Before I could respond he was between my thighs, working his magic. As I reached climax, I screamed out that I loved him and then, I swear to God, I blacked out from the pleasure.
***
Um... well... all right, that’s... that’s fine. Why don’t we take a short rest here?
I don’t want a rest. I didn’t want to stop, you understand? I wanted Oscar all the time. I wanted him every single night. The problem was, with his setting up the magazine, I couldn’t have him every single night. I saw him maybe three or four times a week. The rest of the time, I just thought about him. I just wanted him. I wasn’t thinking clearly.
I was blinded by lust.
***
One morning, sitting at my kitchen table, sipping coffee, I got a call from Jimmy. Another body, another necktie. I got my pad and pen and started writing down details. This one was a double, a potential power couple. Husband and wife who were starting to make a name for themselves in the investment world. Both killed with neckties.
I listened to Jimmy give me details and ideas that his people were floating around. I started doodling in the margins, something I found myself doing more lately. He told me the details and then, it started to dawn on me. I flipped back through my notebook. I looked at the past murders, the dates, times and, what I had doodled in the margins.
***
Is that when you figured it out?
Maybe, sure, maybe that’s when I put it all together but...
***
I wasn’t sure and, I certainly didn’t want to put it together. It was hard to avoid. Every night that Oscar did not spend with me, the following day, there was a body. Could that be possible or was I just being paranoid? The whole world was feeling vulnerable and helpless with this killer walking the streets.
After I got off the phone with Jimmy, I called Oscar, it went to voice mail. I told him I was hoping I could see him that night. I tried to be calm, but the idea of being with him again took hold.
“I really want you, baby, how about I come by
your place tonight?”
I had never been to his place before, we always went to my place. I never asked why, I didn’t care, I just wanted him all the time.
He met me after work that night and I asked again if we could go to his place. He didn’t argue, he didn’t avoid, we went to his place. It was lovely, clean, comfortable and... he did not have a closet full of high-end European neckties.
I laughed at myself as I peeked in his bedroom closet. How silly could I have been? That night, he showed me mock-ups for the first edition of the magazine, told me he wanted me to write a piece about serial killers through the past fifteen years and, he made love to me. I stayed the night and in the morning, he made me breakfast and we took our time getting ready for the day. He wasn’t hiding anything. I laughed at myself again, for being so paranoid, for being so ridiculous.
As I left that morning. He kissed me at the door and waved goodbye as I walked down the street. I was in a fog, I was so in love, so satisfied that the world was not in focus for me.
Focus snapped quickly into shape when I started to cross the street and almost got run over by a delivery truck. I stepped back onto the sidewalk and caught my breath. I looked up and saw the truck stop in front of Oscar's place. The delivery man went to the door, rang the bell and waited. Oscar must have been in the shower. He left the box on the doorstep. I went back to the house and grabbed it, thinking I would walk in, surprise Oscar in the shower and get some more of what I was craving all the time now.
Belgrade, Fine European Clothes.
I stared at the label, I hesitated and then, I opened it. There were a dozen silk ties in the box. My hands started to shake. I tucked the box under my arm and walked quickly away from his door.
At work, I slipped the box under my desk. I thought about calling Jimmy, but I wanted to be sure. I needed to know that... I just needed to know. I called Oscar and asked if I could see him that night, he said no, that he had to meet a client. Two hours later, he called me back, told me the client had canceled and he would come by after work.
***
You had the ties, he couldn’t make the kill.
***
I got off work early, raced home and put the box of ties on my kitchen table. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to confront him and I wanted him to have a good explanation. I wanted him to laugh at me, call me silly, tell me the work was getting to me, tell me to write about ponies or vacation spots. I wanted him to make all my fears go away.
He walked into the kitchen that night and saw the box sitting, open on the kitchen table. He looked at it and then looked at me.
“I saw it delivered to your place this morning,” I said, shaking, praying, “I was going to … surprise you.”
“Wow,” he said, “dumb freaking luck, right?” I went numb. I couldn’t believe it.
“Is it,” I said.
“No, not really. I saw you pick it up. I watched you open it. I almost ran out, took it from you but... you deserve to know.” I started to cry and he came to me, took me in his arms and held.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I never meant to...”
“Hurt me,” I said, finishing his sentence. He looked at me and shook his head.
“No, I never meant to fall in love with you.”
***
And then? Please, we really need to know.
Then... we made love.
***
He took me to my bedroom and we made love. When we were done, when he had completely satisfied me the way only he was able to, he took the box of ties, apologized and told me I would never see him again. Then, I called Jimmy, told him everything, told him where Oscar lived and, well…
***
They waited a moment and then shut the tape recorder off.
“Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy, but we appreciate you talking to us. Do you have any idea where he might be now?”
“No,” I told them, “after he left, I called Jimmy and... I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Please, don’t worry about it, you’ve been very helpful. You’ll get in touch if you think of anything else, yes?”
***
I went to the Examiner, told my editor I needed to take some time off. He understood, told me to take all the time I needed. That was very kind of him, I told him so. So... that’s it.
***
“That’s a wonderful story,” he said to me, “and I appreciate you not calling Jimmy for a few hours.”
“Not a problem,” I told him. He smiled at me and took my hand. The cabana boy brought us another round of drinks, he signed the room number and handed the boy a twenty.
“Thank you, Mr. Grace,” the boy said.
“Please, call me Alan,” he told the boy. The boy walked toward another couple lounging, as we were, on beach chairs.
“Alan,” I said, “going to have to get used to that.” He laughed. “I was thinking,” I said.
“What were you thinking, my love,” he said bringing my hand to his lips, kissing it, getting me instantly excited.
“I was thinking that my next piece should be called, I Fell in Love with a Serial Killer.” He looked at me over his sunglasses and smiled.
“Now, who would ever believe that,” he said.
***
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