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Meet the FBI #Vegas #SerialKiller - At the Bookstore Part Two

4/26/2015

MEET THE FBI

            The FBI man seems young to be following me. Can this handsome man with thick brown hair be on my case? He looks like a college student. I wonder if he is still in training like Clarice Starling in Silence of the Lambs. Stopping near him, I grab a Stephen King book of my own and flip open the cover. I can pretend to read too.

            “You’re new,” I say, turning pages and giving him a sideways glance.

            “I arrived in Vegas last week if that’s what you mean.” He sounds even younger than he looks.

            “Vegas can be a dangerous city. You best be careful. A lot of shady characters running around preying on tourists.”

            His head turns to me and our eyes meet, brown intensity digging into my soul. What does he see? Does he have any aptitude for this job?

            “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the tip,” he says, putting the book on the shelf. Taking a pad from a suit pocket, he appears ready to write. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

            Here? Can he be serious? Nobody pays any attention to us and a thought pops in my mind. How many of these customers are props paid by this agent man trying to ask me questions? “This is highly unusual,” I say, continuing the charade of reading the book I’m holding.

            “Is it? I want to ask about your novel. How are sales?” he asks.

            What? I turn over my shoulder looking for George. Did he have it right? Is this man with the FBI? George appears at my side holding a coffee. Always there when I need him. “This man wants to know about sales of my book, George. How many copies have we sold?”

            “Sales have been quite modest. 29 copies of your book have been purchased to be exact.”

            “And one guy at Barnes and Noble bought ten copies,” I say.

            He writes for a moment in silence before meeting my gaze. “Yes, I wanted to ask you about that next. Can you tell me what happened at the frat house? It closed this week under mysterious circumstances.”

            Taking a deep breath, I remind myself not to rush an answer. Sipping the coffee George gave me I phrase my response in my mind before I speak. “Perhaps my book scared them all into fleeing the city. I can see why a certain type of man wouldn’t want to live in a place with a serial killer on the loose.”

            I smile at him and take another sip of coffee. He makes a note and taps the pen against the notebook as if deciding to ask any more questions. “What type of man might that be, Ella?”

            I smile again at his question. Does he think this disturbs me? Looking into his eyes, I lean closer to him. I want to be sure he hears me.

            “What type of man you ask?” I put my mouth close to his ear. “Any fucking man I meet.”

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Story of the Day At the Bookstore in #Vegas

4/25/2015

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AT THE BOOKSTORE
PART ONE

            It’s cold and bitter in Vegas today and I don’t want to sit waiting in this parking lot while Saul runs a security check inside the bookstore. What danger can there be here? Why is he so paranoid every single minute of his life? Checking my phone, I see no message telling me the coast is clear.

            George stares at me and I tap my fingernails on the window of the limo. It frustrates me to always be waiting on the men in my life. What am I the master of again? Reaching for a glass, I pour a double shot of whiskey and drain it. I’ll give myself courage to ignore Saul’s instructions to remain outside. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step out into the wind of early afternoon.

            “Saul will not be pleased,” George says, appearing next to me.

            I laugh and study the front of the store. Books or Books. I guess books it will be then. Taking a step away from the limo, I approach the front door without bothering to watch for traffic. I don’t see anyone in the parking lot.

            George opens the door for me and a bell dings to announce my entry. I walk along a row of books and pass the counter, keeping an eye out for Saul. Mozart drifts from the ceiling and I can't help humming along with the music. Saul appears from behind a bookshelf, arms crossed and glowering at me. Do I need to hear his rant to know what he will say?

            “Goddamn it, Ella.”

            I tune him out and the words flow over me as I scan the stacks of books. The store name speaks it true. Books or books and books everywhere. I feel Saul’s hand on my shoulder and turn to face him.

            “It’s not secure in here, too many damned books,” he says. Why so angry today? It’s because he is sober I’d bet.

            “It’s a bookstore, dummy,” I say, smiling. Workers stack books, not paying any attention to my spat with Saul. The anger rises in my stomach when Saul doesn’t release my shoulder and pins me against a row of books.

            Moving my gaze from his hand to his eyes, I grab his wrist and tear his fingers off me. “There is no place I feel safer than a bookstore, Saul. The only maniac in here will be you, no doubt.”

            He growls and walks towards the front of the store. The bell rings and I know he went outside to smoke and fume about my attitude. I don’t give a damn what he thinks and laugh when George wags a finger at me.

            “He is right you know. Pay more attention to your safety and surroundings. Just now you’re missing the gentleman over there watching you.”

            I try not to look, but impulse overcomes sense and my eyes lock on to a man in a gray suit pretending to peruse a Stephen King book. Attempting to move towards him, I hear George whisper a warning.

            “He’s with the FBI, Ella.”

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Song of the Day Mozart Symphony #40 in G Minor, K 550 - 1. Molto Allegro

4/25/2015

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#SerialPlaylist - The Beatles - And I Love Her

4/21/2015

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Family Business - Part Two - A #Dexter Tale from @TheDarkDexter

4/20/2015

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FAMILY BUSINESS
PART TWO

I sit outside Alvarez's house. I open my car window trying to get a little bit of breeze, because it's a hell of a hot day. I've been here for 2 hours and he's been up to nothing. The phone rings, I look at it and see that it's Debra.

"Hey, sis." I say after picking up.

"Hey, anything?"

"No, he's quiet. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I dug up something about his associates. I'm driving to the location now."

"What?! Deb, I told you to stay out of this!"

"I can't sit around and do nothing, okay? That's not me. And besides, I can take care of myself. I don't need you to protect me."

She hangs up. And that's where she's wrong. She has no idea what she is getting herself into. These people are among the most dangerous I have faced, and that is saying something. I try to focus, get my head together and come up with a plan.

When I look next to me I see Harry giving me the 'I told you so' face. I ignore it and look outside, seeing Alvarez getting in his car. What do I do? Go after him or get to Deb?

Maybe Deb is right, maybe I shouldn't worry about her too much. She is a cop, and a good one. I'm sure she'll be fine. I make a left and go after Alvarez. I take out my phone and text Deb.

"Be careful, okay?" I throw my phone on the passenger seat and stay on Alvarez.

After about 20 minutes he pulls over. I do the same, look around, and to my surprise see Debra sitting in her car nearby. I feel relief. I wait for Alvarez to walk away and I get out and walk toward Deb. I get in the passenger side.

"Hey."

"The fuck are you doing here? I told you I'd be fine."

"Alvarez apparently has a meeting with his buddies. He led me right to this place," I say with a frown.

"Oh.. Okay. What do you think is going on inside?" She says as she looks to the building.

"Probably nothing good. We could check it out."

Her eyes open wide with surprise. "We?"

I stumble over words before I finally manage a simple, "Yes."

She takes out the gun from her glove compartment and loads it. "Okay, let's fucking do this."

We both step out.

To be continued.

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The Book Signing Part Five - Baseball and Blood in #Vegas

4/18/2015

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THE BOOK SIGNING
PART FIVE
BASEBALL AND BLOOD

Descending the stairs, I hear the music and ignore the sweat trickling down my side. I enter the living room to encounter the residents of the house watching baseball while the radio plays. Scott lifts a beer in the air and waves at me to join him on a leather recliner. Eyes invade and inspect me, but not one person speaks or attempts to acknowledge my presence.

Taking one of my books from the coffee table, I stand next to Scott and ignore his indications for me to sit on his lap. I must take the attention from the ball game on the television. Scanning the room, I see one man tapping a baseball bat on his hand and another throwing a basketball into the air and catching it on his palm. These men could care less about my book.

Clearing my throat, I open the book and read the first sentence. The music continues to play and the ball flies in the air time and time again, a metronome signal of the futility of this endeavor. My eye catches Scott smile and it sends a ripple of anger into my belly. Closing my eyes, I let the blood red coat the walls of my mind before I speak.

"I am a serial killer," I say in a soft voice. All will be quiet. All will hear me.

Opening my eyes, I grab the bat from the young man's hands and squeeze until my fingertips go white with effort.

"I am a serial killer."

The ball lands with a thud on the man's hand at the moment the music stops. All eyes on me and I manage to smile. Gripping the bat and tapping it against the table, I turn my gaze from man to man.

"What's a girl gotta do to get heard?" I say, lifting the bat over my head. Into the silence, I smash the bat onto the coffee table sending beer bottles and video game controllers flying.

Finding my book, I open it and clear my throat to read. All eyes on me.

"Why do the papers call you the Butcher of Vegas?" the man asks. He attempts to move, but he is bound to the bed with plastic sheeting.

I drag my knife along his chest and a thin line of blood rises on his skin. Pressing until I hear him grunt in response to the pain, my eyes connect with his and I smile. Climbing on his torso, I lift the blade high in the air.

"You want to know why they call me the butcher? Because I'm going to hack you into pieces as if you were a side of fucking beef."

Closing the book and grabbing the bat once more, I lock eyes with Scott and speak into the silent room.

"Who wants me to sign their copy?"

BEGIN READING -PART ONE - THE BOOK SIGNING IN #VEGAS

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#SerialPlaylist - Reid - Friends #Vegas by @OfficiallyReid

4/18/2015

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NEW - Family Business - A #Dexter Tale from @TheDarkDexter

4/17/2015

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FAMILY BUSINESS

"If you don't give me back my guy before sundown, I'm going to put a bullet through her brain. Do we have an understanding?"

"We do," I say.

I hear the other end of the line go silent and I stare out of my window. "Well, shit," I say as I stand up.

---

- 3 days earlier. -

"Hey, Dex!"

I turn around and see Debra walking toward me and taking a seat in front of me, putting her coffee down on the table.

"Hey yourself."

We both take a sip from our coffee.

"So.. Any leads?" Debra asks

"None so far. Just what we already know. He's not working alone and he's bat-shit crazy," I say, scratching my head. "But I'm gonna swing by his place tonight, see if he's doing anything he shouldn't be doing."

Debra smirks. "Want me to back you up?"

"Nope. You should go home, have a beer and watch Dr. Phil or something."

She frowns at me. "Seriously? Come on, Dex, we're in this shit together now, like it or not. I mean, fuck, what else am I supposed to do? Completely ignore the fact that you go out there and risk getting killed by some lowlife scumbag?"

I sigh. "Deb, I'm gonna be fine. It's not my first time."

"No shit."

"Deb, please, I can't risk you getting hurt or worse. And besides, dad taught me to do this on my own."

She gives me a dissatisfied look, but sighs and says, "Fine, But you are gonna call me if you do need my help, okay?"

"Deb..."

"Promise me, Dexter!"

"I will call you. Now could you please relax and drink your coffee before it gets cold?"

"Yes, dad," she says. I don't really mind that she is angry with me, better an angry sister than a dead sister.

"Alright, I'm gonna go to the station, see you there?" Deb says as she stands up.

"Sure." I nod at her. My gaze follows her as she walks away and as I turn my head I look at Harry's face.

"What? I made her back out, didn't I?" I say to him.

"Yes, for now. But you know her, Dexter. She's gonna ask you again and again, and not just this time." Harry sighs. "I never wanted this. Not for her and not for you. This can't end well, son."

"You think I am not aware of that? You think I want this? I am trying everything I can to make her live her own life," I say.

"I know, son. I am not judging you. I'm warning you." He replies calmly.

"Anyway, gotta get to the station. Got blood to inspect."

To be continued..

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A Wedding in #Vegas - The Little White Wedding Chapel

4/12/2015

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EPISODE FIFTEEN
A WEDDING IN VEGAS

The limo idles in the parking lot of the wedding chapel and I watch Ray staring out the window at the iconic sign. The names of famous people that married here don't seem to impress him, for I detect a scowl on his face. Turning towards me, he pours himself a whiskey and drains it. Pouring two more, he hands one to me.

"I said in my letter all those years ago we should wait until your 21st birthday."

Slamming the whiskey and putting the glass on the mini wall bar, I place my hand on his and smile. I am not in the mood to argue.

"I will not wait for the future when we can begin our life together now. Why would I put off until July being able to call you my husband?"

He shrugs and pours another drink. I worry he will be drunk for the ceremony, but push the thought from my mind. Does it matter? Nobody will be there anyway.

"Why can't we wait and plan a wedding?"

I give his hand another squeeze and resist the urge to sigh. "Who would we invite? We don't need watching eyes. Not from the police or FBI or the press. Besides, once we are married, will it matter if we had a big ceremony or got married by an Elvis impersonator?"

He laughs and finishes the whiskey before putting a hand on the door handle. "I have to see this Elvis."

The door opens and George escorts us to the front door. There are couples and wedding parties everywhere and the place seems more like a circus than a place to be married. Ray and I hold hands in the lobby while George tends to our arrangements. Beyond the front desk a drive through window bustles with activity and I burst into laughter.

"That couple is getting married in a pink Cadillac!"

"Wedding in a drive-through. I've seen everything now," Rays says with a laugh, squeezing my hand.

A man in an Elvis costume enters the main lobby with George and a sudden burst of nervousness explodes in my stomach. He approaches us and offers his hand to Ray.

"George filled me in on the details of the wedding. He told me you want it simple. No pomp. No circumstance. George will sing a song and I'll marry you in a short ceremony. Do you have anything to add? Tell me anything you wish me to say or read."

My mind feels empty. The suddenness overwhelms me and I can't think of a single thing to say to Elvis. I thought the preparations would take more time than this and I'd have an opportunity to at least write down a few words. What will I say during the ceremony? Will speech fail me? Will I even be able to manage to say I do? My mind whirls and skips and I follow George and Elvis and Ray into a small chapel set off from the main lobby.

Ray holds me tight against his arm as if sensing my nerves and kisses me on the forehead. The Elvis talks and talks, but I don't understand a thing. I'm going to be married. I want to scream and shout and instead remain silent and still as stone. The room slows to a sepia tone of colors as workers carry in baskets of flowers and a banner announcing our impending nuptials.

"I can't breathe, Ray," I whisper.

He squeezes me and rubs my back, but doesn't speak. What can he say? All I want is the moment to be over and this tightness in my stomach to pass. One of the workers pulls me away from Ray and hides me behind the door. Without hearing a word the woman says, I understand the ceremony is about to begin.

"Do you have any family?" The woman attempts small talk while we wait.

"No. Everyone is dead," I say. The question makes me think of father and pushes the tightness from my belly.

The music begins, Love me Tender by Elvis. I hear George singing and feel tears in my eyes. What a marvelous voice, deep and sorrowful. A voice full of secrets and knowledge of everything in the world.

My legs are moving and I'm walking down the aisle by myself. Nobody can give me away for nobody can claim the least ownership of me. I've always hated that part of weddings and made sure George told the Elvis to keep it out. Joining Ray and Elvis at the mini-altar, my eyes take it all in. The white flowers and drapes, Ray looking handsome in a gray suit, and the utter emptiness of the room. George counts as the one and only person of our party.

Elvis begins to speak, but I can't concentrate on his words. There will be no vows to repeat, just the simple answer to the eternal question.

"Ella Thomas, will you marry this man Ray Holden III?"

"I do," I say without a moment of hesitation. It makes me smile that I didn't stammer or stumble over the words.

Elvis turns towards Ray and asks, "Ray Holden III, will you marry this woman Ella Thomas?"

"I do," Ray answers.

"By the powers vested in me by the state of Nevada, I pronounce you husband and wife. Ray, kiss your bride."

Ray sweeps me into his arms and I feel his lips against mine. The world fades away as a single thought erases all others. I am kissing my husband. You may now call me Ella Thomas Holden. The thought of having his name fills me with glee. The kiss ends and I open my eyes. Over Ray's shoulder my eyes lock on a man standing near the entrance of the chapel.

Marcus.