The house slumbered a gray restless sleep of darkened hallways, leaky faucets, banging pipes, and appliances turning on and off. Every sound Frank knew by hard. It was the sound of the kitchen door closing that quicken his pulse.
Lester Schuster eased down the darkened hallway leading from the kitchen to the living room. He’d let himself in through the garage where it connected to the kitchen. Normally, it only took him a couple of minutes to get the door open but tonight he’d been a little more excited than usual and it had taken longer. But he was in no hurry.
He hadn’t bothered bringing a flashlight, he’d been in this house so many times he knew every inch of the way even in the dark.
As he looked around, he realized that Frank had changed nothing about the sad little house he’d fought so hard to keep. He attended Frank’s day in court. And Frank had been as blind to him as always. It added an extra special thrill to the game knowing that he was going to kill Frank in his own home.
He knew without a shadow of doubt where Frank would be in the house. The spare bedroom is where he usually slept. That fool still couldn’t sleep in the master bedroom. Too many bad memories. Nothing like the sight of your wife screwing some another man, in your bed, to really mess up your head. He almost felt a twinge of compassion for the poor bastard, because he too, knew what it felt like living with memories that haunted you. “Well, after tonight old Frank won’t have to worry about that anymore. After tonight, he’d sleep for a long, long time.
After a few minutes, in the hallway, he reached his goal. He poised outside by the spare bedroom door and listened for any activity within. Not that he expected any. Frank didn’t have enough balls left to even bring that Black bitch home. She, was a sure bet. After all, she’d liked him enough to follow him around. That should have been enough of a clue for even a dumb fuck like Frank. If it were him, he would have jumped her bones during that first trip to New York, that is, if he had a liking for dark meat.
After a few minutes of listening, he was satisfied that there was no one else in the house. He crept into the room, removed the forty-five he’d tucked into the back of his belt and aimed it at what he thought was Frank’s head and pulled the trigger.
POLICE! Put the gun down! NOW! Someone was shining a flashlight in his face. PUT DOWN THE GUN! NOW! Cops were everywhere – screaming orders all at once. PUT THE GUN DOWN! There was nowhere to run. He was surrounded. Another policeman turned on the lights in the room. HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES – ON YOUR KNEES! He dropped the gun. It made a hollow muffled sound on the carpet. Strong arms were pulling him up and cuffing his hands behind his back. Then one of those sons of bitches reached up and pulled his wig from his head. Rage engulfed him. He felt naked. Betrayed by something he couldn’t control. He struggled but there were two of them now, holding him firm. He yelled, “put it back on, put my hair back on, you bastard.”
Detective Bradley Shaffer grabbed him by the jaw and put his face in Lester’s.
“You freak, let me show you what you shot.” With that, he walked over to the bed and yanked back the blanket revealing a life size dummy.
“Thought you had him, didn’t you. Well your killing days are over.”
“Frank, Margaret. Get out here.”
We had hidden in the one room where, Frank said Rebecca would not look for us. We’d hidden in the master bedroom. I was glad she hadn’t peaked in, because if she had, she would have caught us engaged in some rather adult like behavior. The gunshots had ended that.
By the time we exited the master bedroom, the Police had Rebecca surrounded and handcuffed. She was struggling in vain to free herself. Frank let go of my arm and walked over to Rebecca.
“Why?” Why kill all of those people to get even with us?”
“First of all, I’m not Rebecca, you idiot. My name is Lester. Lester Schuster. Get it right. And secondly, you’ve got it all backwards. I was going to kill those other people anyway, because I knew I could. You and your friends were the icing on the cake.
“Get him out of here, said Detective Bradley.”
“Sir, where do we put him, ah-er her?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a special place for that. It’s called Hell!”