Split

I


“ Hey Nel. “

“ Hey Mr. Bosworth. “ I flashed a smile that I hoped was winning at one of our regulars. We weren't McDonald's, but we weren't small either. We had our frequent fliers.

“ The usual ? “

“ The usual. “

“ Coming right up. “ I pushed past the double doors that separated the dining room and the kitchen and told Andre to get a plate of lasagna ready with angel hair sauce on the side. I then walked back out into the main room of “ Verne's Tavern “. The name was a misnomer. The place had no association with anyone called Verne, and we didn't serve alcoholic beverages. Still, whats in a name? And as long as I, Nelson Dante had a regular paying job there that helped me put food on the table, I didn't give a damn what the place was called. I had my job and I had my hobby. I'm happy.

I looked around. Satisfied that there weren't any customers that needed my immediate attention as a waiter and an over-the-counter person, I walked over to Bosworth's table.

“ So Mr. B? Whats the happy haps? Mrs. B ok? “

“ Just fine and dandy Nel. Hows it with you? “

“ Oh, I'm getting along. I've got my work, and I have a few other hobbies. I'm on cruise control, if you know what I mean. Just sliding through life Mr. B. “

“ I see. “

An uneasy pause lingered between us. I was the first to break it.

“ So I assume you've heard about all those gruesome murders here in Sheffield County? Some serial killer on the loose, says Sheriff Gill Parson. Not too inclined to believe him, but the facts are right there for all to see aren't they Mr. B ? “

“ Sure are Nel. Five murders. Caught the news in the Guardian. Says they've been mutilated and what not. It gives me the shivers to think about psychopaths that are capable of doing that. Should be shot.“

I turned pensive. “But maybe they have a reason, Mr. B. I'm not saying that condones the murders, but it doesn't make them, the murders that is, senseless. Anyway, onto lighter things I say. What are you doing this evening? Taking the missus to the opera maybe ? “, and I chuckled. Mr. Bosworth's frugality, as rich as he was, was a well known fact in Sheffield County, making him the butt of many local jokes.

“ Just a quiet evening at home with the missus Nel. The children are at the Grahams for some little get together with John Graham's kid. Let them have their fun, I say, and let me have mine. “, and he let out a loud guffaw. I contributed a weak chuckle. If there was one thing that disgusted me about the man, it was his vulgarity. But I was careful not to let anything show. He was a valued customer of Verne's. Not that that was going to matter much soon.

Just then, the meal arrived on a tray.

“ Enjoy your meal Mr. B “

“ Thanks my boy. Drop by later for some dinner maybe? The missus would like to see you, and you can see the kids. “

“ Sure Mr. B, just tell me the time and place, and I'll be there. Give my regards to the lady. “, and flashing another of my trademark hundred watt smiles at him, I left to resume my duties.


II


The man in the ski mask picked away patiently at the lock. He was in no hurry. He had it on authority that the man inside was going nowhere for quite some time, and for the time being, he was completely at his mercy.

At long last, the lock emitted a soft click, and the door swung noiselessly open. The man extracted a large Bowie knife with a serrated edge from the side pocket of his pants, and padded noiselessly into the corridor. He knew this house as well as he knew his own. He had studied plans of this house for days until he was sure he could walk around the house blindfolded. One could accuse him of being cruel, cold-hearted, insane, psychotic and vengeful, but no one could say he wasn't meticulous.

For instance, he knew that the man who owned the house was upstairs in his bedroom. He knew that the children were out. He knew that he wouldn't be interrupted.

The thought of his upcoming work sent small shivers of pleasure up and down his spine. Rich useless buggers who had no aim in life, just whiling it away had no right to life. One had to appreciate something to enjoy it. And this man definitely took life for granted. Those who did not value something deserved to lose it. The man in the ski mask lived by this simple principle.

Making sure that all the windows were locked, and that the front door was bolted from the inside, the man in the ski mask padded up the carpeted stairs towards the first floor landing. He immediately adopted a crouching posture, checking the doors to the rooms all around him. He let out a satisfied sigh. Only one room had a sliver of light peeking out from under the door, casting a triangle of light across the carpeted corridor. The master bedroom. The man in the ski mask went on noiselessly. Inside, a conversation was taking place.

“ Jack, will you get me that mink coat you promised me? “, the lady purred.

“ Of course dear. For you, anything.... “ , the man murmured.

“ Good, good. “ He was completely hypnotized by her, she could see that. It was somewhat flattering that after all these years of marriage she still had the ability to render him breathless.

“ And Jack ....” She never finished her sentence. Her face turned deathly pale as it turned towards the doorway. He turned. And she screamed. Framed in the doorway was a tall man clad in black, with a ski-mask on. What scared her was what he held in his right hand. A large serrated knife gleamed in the lamplight. She didn't finish screaming. In two bounds the man was by the bedside. He grabbed her by the hair, and before she could even move, shocked as she was by the sudden appearance of the man, he tilted her head back and slit her throat in one simple smooth motion, slicing the carotid artery and instantly snuffing out her life. The man lay gaping, uncomprehending, completely impervious to what was going on.

The man in the ski mask then turned to the owner of the house, hatred of the darkest kind visible in his manic black eyes. The man pleaded for his life. It was to no avail. Minutes later, after thrashing about wordlessly in agony, one gloved hand holding his mouth closed, he lay dead of several wounds to the chest.

In a black rage, the man in the ski mask ripped and mutilated the bodies of the two victims, the latest of the serial killer in Sheffield County. By the time he was finished, the two lay hardly recognizable as human beings.

Suddenly, the man in the ski mask calmed down. He looked around him for a door to the bathroom. He found it, walked over to the door and opened it. He then proceeded to wash the blade clean of any blood. He was wearing gloves, so there was no danger of any fingerprints being left anywhere. He then removed his ski mask, cleaned his face with water, slipped the ski mask back on, closed the tap, and walked back out . After making sure that he had left behind no traces, Nelson Dante walked out of the house of the now late Mr. Jack Bosworth.