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July 22, 2004 I let you go Dr. Liechh. For fun, I let you stumble out into the haze of the evening. I sure did enjoy your outages. I especially enjoyed your lock picking, quite sublime if I may say. So bet you are wondering why and who and nothing you come up with seems to fit the profile right? Yes well if it makes any difference too you I wonder about people like me at times through the day to. I wonder because I find myself to be a fascinating person of above average intelligence and one of whom I am sure you will hear from again. I bid you adieu and a restful night. Yours truly, L.S. A shock rushed through his body and he fumbled for the bureau to hold onto. He dropped the note and looked down the hallway toward the living room. His mind racing at the thought of someone inside his apartment. ‘Glen,’ ‘Yes Dr. Leichh.’ ‘Did anyone ask for me today or in the last hour or so. Anyone who looked a bit suspicious?’ ‘No sir. You haven’t had any visitors’ sir. Is everything all right Doctor?’ The man at the front desk asked. ‘Yes fine Glen.’ He grunted at his fearfulness. Gathered himself and walked into the gloom of his living room. He flicked the light switch at the entrance and lighted the room. He reached the bar counter and poured himself bourbon, straight up. God. This isn’t happening to me. His body felt collapsible. Seating himself on the sofa with the decanter and his glass, he poured another bourbon into the tumbler. Something creaked behind him and he flinched at the sound. Setting the contents of his glass beside the decanter on the glass table, he stood to investigate the sound. He walked over to the position he had thought the sound resonated from and stopped, listening. Checking the rest of the apartment, he called down to the front desk again. ‘Glen.’ ‘Yes doctor.’ ‘I am to have no visitors, understood. No one. No phone calls too?’ ‘Yes sir.’ Gordon sipped his bourbon feeling less than safe. The previous week he had read an article in one of the many newspapers he tried to keep up to date with. The article was a plead for the New York Police Department to up there surveillance on the area directly around Central Park, which included the exact place he’d been abducted on Park Avenue. He scurried to the kitchen and opened the broom closet where he stashed the papers for recycling. Finding the one, which contained the article, he lashed it open and read on. The public of New York has pleaded too the NYPD for immediate action following the abduction and murder of Madison Lockheed, daughter of SenatorLockheed. She was last seen leaving an acquaintance’s apartment on Park Ave. last Tuesday. Missing from her person was an identity photo cut from her driver’s license. Her father, mother, and older sister Virginia, 27 survive Miss Lockheed. He closed the paper and thought hard for a connection. Yes yes my driver’s license. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. The license was wedged in between hid credit cards. The photo was there. He checked other articles in various papers and came up with as many as five homicides related to the Park Avenue killer, as he called it. The media was slow in calling it a serial murderer. He thought otherwise. All five instances were reported between three and five o’ clock. All on Park and all had escaped in death. Only two mentioned missing photos from the deceased’s license. Somewhere there hid a correlation. A versatile coincidence, no, not likely he thought. ------------ Email Luke Nel: narrowdoor@hotmail.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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