The man raises his hand and the cab stops.
He sits behind the driver, and notes that there isn’t a partition blocking him from her exposed back. It is a lovely back.
“Hello sir!” The driver says brightly. “I’m Liz!”
She calls him sir. Any cab driver doing this for long would have had the formality burned out of them. She reeks of inexperience. Her chestnut colored ponytail, bangs, and large blue eyes make her look younger than she actually is. Girlish.
But that just makes it better for him.
“I’m John.” He lies.
“Heyya John! Where to?”
The man tells her to drive and she does.
“Kind of young to be a cab driver.”
“I know, that’s what everyone says. I work at my dad’s store, but it’s not always enough so I drive at night to make ends meet.”
“Pretty, too.”
“Daw, stop it!” She beams. “My dad says it’s too dangerous, but it’s okay, I’m tough.” She says the last part in a faux macho voice, then smiles impishly at him through the rearview mirror.
“I’ll bet.” He pulls the squeeze bottle from his jacket pocket and soaks the rag. “Turn in here.” The alley is nondescript and miles away from anywhere he’s ever been seen. He’ll take the car with him, and when he’s done with her he’ll torch it. There’s no motive, no clues. It will be as if he was never there.
His hands snake around from behind the girl and clasp the rag to her nose and mouth. She struggles, her screams muffled against the pressure. After a few moments, her scratching hands get lazy. They fall to her sides, her breath slows, and it’s done.
He drags her from the driver’s seat and pulls the keys from the ignition, then lays her on her back on the ground and pops the trunk.
He pauses.
Knives. All kinds of different knives, all sharpened to a gleaming edge. There’s also plastic bags, rubber gloves, and a smock.
“You watch too many movies.” A girlish voice says from behind. A foul smelling rag fastens around his face. “It takes much longer than that for the chloroform to work. Let me show you.”
::
The detective and his partner finish the last of their interviews. In six months a dozen or more men have vanished without a trace, and their search has led to another dead end.
“Thought we were actually getting close this time.” The detective says, pouring the dregs of his coffee into the gutter and tossing the cup.
“Don’t let it bother you. We’ll get ‘em." His partner assures him. "They always slip up eventually. Tell ya what, let me take you to this great neighborhood mom n' pop deli I know of up the road. My treat.”
The detective and his partner order the day’s special from a cute young lady with bright blue eyes. She promises them it's the freshest meat in town.
It is the best sandwich the detective has ever eaten.
He sits behind the driver, and notes that there isn’t a partition blocking him from her exposed back. It is a lovely back.
“Hello sir!” The driver says brightly. “I’m Liz!”
She calls him sir. Any cab driver doing this for long would have had the formality burned out of them. She reeks of inexperience. Her chestnut colored ponytail, bangs, and large blue eyes make her look younger than she actually is. Girlish.
But that just makes it better for him.
“I’m John.” He lies.
“Heyya John! Where to?”
The man tells her to drive and she does.
“Kind of young to be a cab driver.”
“I know, that’s what everyone says. I work at my dad’s store, but it’s not always enough so I drive at night to make ends meet.”
“Pretty, too.”
“Daw, stop it!” She beams. “My dad says it’s too dangerous, but it’s okay, I’m tough.” She says the last part in a faux macho voice, then smiles impishly at him through the rearview mirror.
“I’ll bet.” He pulls the squeeze bottle from his jacket pocket and soaks the rag. “Turn in here.” The alley is nondescript and miles away from anywhere he’s ever been seen. He’ll take the car with him, and when he’s done with her he’ll torch it. There’s no motive, no clues. It will be as if he was never there.
His hands snake around from behind the girl and clasp the rag to her nose and mouth. She struggles, her screams muffled against the pressure. After a few moments, her scratching hands get lazy. They fall to her sides, her breath slows, and it’s done.
He drags her from the driver’s seat and pulls the keys from the ignition, then lays her on her back on the ground and pops the trunk.
He pauses.
Knives. All kinds of different knives, all sharpened to a gleaming edge. There’s also plastic bags, rubber gloves, and a smock.
“You watch too many movies.” A girlish voice says from behind. A foul smelling rag fastens around his face. “It takes much longer than that for the chloroform to work. Let me show you.”
::
The detective and his partner finish the last of their interviews. In six months a dozen or more men have vanished without a trace, and their search has led to another dead end.
“Thought we were actually getting close this time.” The detective says, pouring the dregs of his coffee into the gutter and tossing the cup.
“Don’t let it bother you. We’ll get ‘em." His partner assures him. "They always slip up eventually. Tell ya what, let me take you to this great neighborhood mom n' pop deli I know of up the road. My treat.”
The detective and his partner order the day’s special from a cute young lady with bright blue eyes. She promises them it's the freshest meat in town.
It is the best sandwich the detective has ever eaten.