Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Back downstairs, he cleaned up the vomit, grabbed the beer bottle the man had been guzzling from and carried it upstairs, placing it on the nightstand. He turned on the television on low, setting it on his favorite channel: FOX. Once more he returned downstairs, stuffed the ricin-laced pizza box in a trash bag he had neatly folded in his back pocket, tied it up, and exited out the back door.
He felt good, walking with a pep in his step. After he’d walked the block and slipped back into his car, he disinfected himself then drove to the rental property where he showered, fixed himself a fresh cup of coffee, and sat down at an old typewriter he’d use only once then discard. This one he’d found in a thrift store—where he purchased most of his typewriters—after which he’d changed some of the keys leaving it virtually untraceable.
Donning a fresh pair of gloves, he inserted a blank sheet of paper and began to type…
Dear parents, family, and friends of Amelia Appleton,
The man who murdered your precious daughter on April 9, 1998 was Felson Smith, age 63. Felson Smith lived two doors down at the time of Amelia’s death. Please rest assured, he is now gone. I know his death will not bring her back, but at least you have peace of mind knowing that justice has been served, and he can never do harm to another person again.
Sincerely,
SNE
He opened a special chest and removed his stamp that showed a postmark location of Maine. After selecting the perfect envelope, a pale yellow one he’d snagged from a hotel mailroom in Maine while visiting there three summers prior for a business event, he put it all together, planning to send it via special courier in a month.
He then powered up his work laptop, scrolled through a few cute photos of Legend’s new baby on his social media, commenting on a few, then logged off. He retired to his bedroom with a glass of wine and a cigar, exhausted but fulfilled.
Lying on the bed, he smiled up at the ceiling and noticed the rafters…
I speak for those made silent by an untimely, unfair death.
I speak for myself when I couldn’t talk, because no one would listen and no one saw me sitting there, begging to be heard.
I speak for the dead and the emotionally paralyzed.
I am the definition of evil fighting evil. I am the darkness in irony.
I am the culmination of hearing no evil, seeing no evil, and speaking no evil.
I am the ears, eyes, and voice of the psychologically deaf, spiritually blind, and conceptually mute.
I am all of my brothers. They are me. We are wounded. We are strong. We come in three. Like a trinity…
I guess I’m a little religious after all. Amen.
Chapter Fifteen
Legendary Desires was filled to the brim with patrons and the strong smell of smoked meats. Caspian arrived and hugged his brother, confused by the summons. He’d been on his way to Azure’s apartment when Legend called unexpectedly and asked him to swing by so he could run something past him, in person. ‘It’ll only take a minute,’ he’d said.
They stepped out back, where it was dark with the exception of a post lamp and a sliver of moonlight. Legend leaned against the back of the building and lit a cigar while they both ignored the rustling noise from one of his two large trash bins. More than likely a raccoon or possum having its way with discarded bacon grease, collard green clippings, or rib bones.
Legend released a column of smoke as he looked into the distance. The muffled sounds of music from the establishment came out in blurred tones.
“What’s up?” Caspian checked his watch. “I was on my way to—”
“Yo’ girl’s house… Azure’s.” Legend tapped the ashes onto the ground.
“Yes. How’d you know?”
The man studied him long and hard. “…’Cause we always run to the one we’re fallin’ for when we decide to fulfill the promise. It’s how this works.”
Caspian turned away and glared at the trashcans. The rumbling settled down. Perhaps the critters heard their voices and got stage fright.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I decided to take your advice, Caspian, and go see a therapist.”
“Good. That’s real good.”
“You still go to a therapist, too, right?” Legend seemed a bit sleepy. Perhaps the newborn baby had been keeping him awake at night.
“Yeah. Every two months. When we first started, it was once a month and additional sessions as needed. Five years strong.”
On closer inspection, Legend’s eyes weren’t sleepy at all. They were seeing through him… seeing his evil. His golden orbs were like truth-seeking missiles. He knew that all-knowing look. Legend had the gift of sight, of viewing the darkness behind the sunny veil.
“How’s therapy workin’ out for you?”
“Just fine.”
Legend chuckled at that and shook his head. “Caspian, Caspian, Caspian… you must’ve forgot…”