Chapter 17

Jenny was concocting a plan. She sat in her living room looking from her trophies to her bank statement. Figment snoozed on her lap, adorably shifting to kick her human’s bladder even harder.

“Sorry, kitty-o-mine, I have to get up.”

Meow?

The ball of fluff, heat, and sass gave the killer a dirty look before settling on the couch.

“I’m really going to need to remember to start checking these people for money; I’m pretty broke and I need a house if I want to really up my game.” Jenny declared when she returned.

She sat back on the IKEA chair and squirmed to get comfortable again.

“I mean, I’d never try to take jewelry or credit cards; way too easy to track. But if any of them happen to have cash, I should snag it, right? What do you think Figment?”

The cat ignored Jenny and slept on. The murderer pondered targeting someone who might have cash on them. She shook the idea away instantly. Her targets had to remain random and convenient. Otherwise, it would be simple for Eric and his coworkers to find her trail.

“Why does Eric have to be such a nice guy?” Jenny said to no one.

She rose and started pacing. Each rambling thought was punctuated continuous hand gestures.

“I can’t stop. Not now, when I’m doing so well. But I can’t get attached to Eric or let him get too close to me. Although having a cop to argue what a great person—and totally not a serial killer—I am could be a huge bonus if they did get on the right track...”

Jenny strode in an oval around the room, talking to herself for twenty minutes before a knock came at the door.

“Who is it?” She asked as she stood on her tiptoes to peek out the tiny hole.

“It’s Eric. Can I come in?”

Figment looked up at his confused human, yawned, scratched the upholstery, and curled back up. Jenny ran a quick hand through her hair and unbolted the door.

“Hi Eric. I wasn’t expecting you.”

McGill smiled as he entered the murderer’s apartment. Jenny locked the door behind him and offered him a coke. Chilled cans in hand, the pair sat together on the couch. The policeman was nervous because he liked Jenny and wanted to keep her safe. Jenny was conflicted between her interest in Eric and her growing desire to exsanguinate strangers.

“Sorry to come by without calling. I meant to call today.” He interjected.

“That’s okay. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” She teased.

“Jenny, I’m sorry, but I’ve got some bad news.”

Did he figure out it’s me?

Jenny sipped her cola as she fought the welling panic. The fizz wafted up her nose. When she sat her can on the table, Officer McGill put his hand gently on hers.

“We’re out of leads on the case.” He told her quietly.

Jenny forced herself not to look relieved.

“Oh.”

Eric gripped her hand and looked down at his feet.

“We’re trying our best. This guy is just covering his tracks well. I’m sorry, Jenny. I want you to be able to feel safe again.” He apologized.

Jenny gave his hand a squeeze in return and leaned against him.

“I feel safe. I know you’re doing all you can. Sometimes the bad guy wins and gets away with it; that’s just how life is.” She told him.

Eric smiled and met her eyes. They shared a brief kiss. McGill told himself how lucky he was. Jenny was feeling the same way; she wasn’t sure what was causing the feeling though: being with Eric or getting away with murder.

***

Jenny stared at her trophies after Eric left her apartment. She pulled out her realtor’s business card and reclined on the sofa.

“Well, Figment, mommy has got herself a little quandary. Do I cancel my house hunt and put aside my new hobby? Or should I put aside the nice policeman who I can never tell about my adventures? What do you think?”

The feline mewed and rubbed against her leg in response with outstretched claws that pulled at her clothes.

“Less than helpful, but thanks for listening.” Jenny said as she scratched behind Figment’s ears.

The murderer sighed and picked up her phone.

“Hello, I’m calling to cancel my appointment to view some houses on Thursday.”

***

Jenny watched Eric’s chest rise and fall. She trailed her fingers through his hair as he slept beside her. Officer McGill’s uniform lay in a swatch of moonlight on the back of a chair. Jenny let her mind wander from their romantic tryst to the day they’d first met.

She could feel her heart pounding as she rode the adrenaline wave from her first kill. Jenny could still feel the heat from the blood gushing over her fingers. She felt herself flush at the recollection.

It had been several weeks since her last kill. Jenny opened her eyes and gazed at her boyfriend. She slid a hand across Eric’s chest, gently rubbed his nearest nipple, and let her palm drift lower until he responded.

“Jenny, what’re you doing?”

She kissed him and shifted her body in response. She knew just the way to ease the excitement the memory had caused.

“Just needed you. You seem to be okay for another round.” Jenny teased.

Eric let out a low grunt and pulled her closer.

“God, I love you, Jenny. I’m so happy we met.”

“Me too, Eric.” She replied as they got into a rhythm. “That was the best day of my life.”

***

The Prius behind her honked twice and sped past to cut Jenny off.

“These freaking people need to learn how to drive!” She shouted to the empty seat beside her.

The murderess hit her brakes to avoid a jaywalker; the guy stopped to check his phone midway across the street before continuing his leisurely walk across the four-lane main road.

“C’mon, jerk, use the damned crosswalk and look at what you’re doing.” She screamed as she waved her middle finger at the offender.

The jaywalker ignored her and stepped in front of another vehicle, barely avoiding having his leg clipped by the fender. Jenny wove through traffic on her way to work with visions of his throat gushing burgundy droplets. By the time she’d parked, the killer was frustrated but coping. She was also ten minutes late.

“Miss Grand, how nice of you to grace us with your presence.” The store manager greeted her.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was terrible.”

“That’s not the company’s problem, Miss Grand; it is your responsibility to allow yourself ample time for your commute. Clock in and we will discuss your attendance issues later.” He scolded.

“Yes sir.” She replied halfheartedly.

Jenny scurried to toss her bag in a beige steel locker left over from some 70’s high school. The shift went downhill from there. Her register had a scanner that worked less than half of the time, her lunch was ninety minutes late, and when she got to the break room Jenny discovered her lunch had been eaten.

Jenny spoke little to her coworkers. She battled the urge to lash out by keeping her anger within. Images of remembered wounds and desired kills floated through her mind. The killer returned to work still hungry; Jenny did her best to keep her thoughts positive.

A man slammed into her as she exited the room.

“Ow.” She fell onto her backside.

“Sorry, cutie.” Martin leered. “Didn’t mean to lay you down. Not like that anyway.”

Jenny ignored his outstretched hand and climbed to her feet. She brushed off her smock and strode to her register.

“It is fine, Martin. Have a nice day.”

The man adjusted himself and followed Jenny to her lane.

“Well, maybe I should make it up to you. How about I give you a night you’ll never forget?” He said.

The creep gawked at Jenny. He blew her a kiss. Jenny shuddered at the thought of him naked.

“No thanks. I’m not interested.”

“Sure, you’re not.” Martin leaned in and whispered. “I know you might be worried to date the customers, but I won’t tell. Hell, I’ll even rent a playdate for us to share. How does tomorrow sound?”

Jenny backed away and looked around for assistance. Her manager was nowhere to be seen and the other cashiers and baggers were busy. Martin leered at her and winked.

“Look, I have a boyfriend and even if I didn’t, Martin, I am definitely never going to screw you. So back off.” Jenny told him firmly.

The graying narcissist sneered and stormed off. Ten minutes later her manager called her in the office to write her up for insulting a customer. He didn’t even listen to Jenny’s complaint. She gave up and let herself sink into the sensation of her blood pounding through her veins and knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself for very much longer.

***

On the drive home, Jenny stopped at the gas station for some candy. As she pulled up, she saw Martin walk out and climb into his cherry red Corvette.

“Bingo.” She muttered.

Jenny discretely followed the sports car to a two-story house in a new subdivision. She watched Martin get out and stride into the salmon-colored abode from the street. The killer paused only briefly at the stop sign before circling a block away to park her own vehicle.

All the little annoyances and frustrations in her life swam through her mind, pushing aside her better judgment. She checked the blade on her pocketknife and grabbed the handle from her jack out of the trunk. She reached in her pocket and put on the thin plastic gloves she’d used to clean up at work. She spoke quietly to herself as she snuck to the back door.

“You should let this go; you have Eric, and this prick can be traced back to you. Just go back to the car.”

Jenny ignored her own advice and gave herself over to her favorite hobby; her only vice was calling her far more loudly than her good sense. She used the edge of her sleeve to check the door. Locked. The murderer eased to the side yard and tried the windows. The second one was unbarred.

Silent as a mute’s scream, she crept into the house. Jenny examined the pictures and decor as Martin’s footsteps wandered on the floor over her head. There were photos of Martin with other guys, an elderly couple, and him holding a fish. The furniture was expensive but simple in design and the DVD collection sported numerous action flicks and at least three dozen porns.

Jenny tracked her prey’s movements upstairs with a smile. She knew they wouldn’t be disturbed. She wrapped her hand around the black rubber grip of the jack handle and waited in the blind spot at the base of the stairs.

Martin thumped down the carpeted steps and was greeted with a solid thwack upside his skull. He collapsed into a pile at Jenny’s feet. His salt and pepper hair was drowning in crimson as he grabbed at his head wound. The victim looked up and spotted his attacker for an instant before passing out.

“Jenny?”

***

The cold water roused him. Martin looked around in a panic. His hands were duct-taped behind him and around the support beam in his basement. Icy water dripped from his face and the silver strip of tape over his mouth. Jenny stood a few feet from him wearing his rubber kitchen gloves over the cheap plastic ones she’d brought. The yellow gloves reached past her elbow and matched the apron she had donned.

“Hey Martin. How’s the head feeling?” She asked.

She sat the blue plastic bucket on the concrete floor of the game room. Jenny grinned, rose, and stepped closer to her target. Martin threw himself against his restraints and grunted when they held. Jenny opened her pocketknife and turned it a bit from side to side, letting the light race up and down the blade; it hopscotched over the tiny nick near the tip.

“You aren’t going anywhere. I’ve got to vent my frustrations on someone, and you’ve had this coming for a long time, Martin. People would thank me if they knew I got rid of you.”

The killer put the point of the knife at his neck and slipped it inside his shirt. She cut his clothes off as tears rolled down her victim’s cheeks. Jenny left him standing in his underwear and the scraps of his dignity.

“Why are you acting so unhappy? Didn’t you like to tell every girl at the store about how you fantasized about having your clothes ripped off you?” She taunted.

Martin’s eyes plead while he fought his bonds. She lifted the blade again and made a long incision inside his left thigh. The man’s urine mixed with his blood as terror sank in. The killer’s adrenaline kicked into high gear, and she felt the anticipation increasing as that first puddle of lifeblood and fear hit the floor.

Jenny leaned closer to make several small slices to her meat puppet’s torso. She was careful at first, savoring each drop of sanguine fluid and wince of pain. Then she let herself go.

The killer released all her pent-up rage and discontent; her cuts went deeper, liberating Martin’s intestines into a slick cascade of flesh and veins. His muffled screams brought Jenny’s excitement higher, and she swished her knife like a baton conducting a symphony.

Gashes appeared on her quarry’s face, chest, arms, and legs. Red victory greeted Jenny as an old friend. She reveled in her control as she flicked the blade sideways and castrated the man. Her eyes went wide with the cresting of her fury at all of life’s aggravations and she drove the weapon into Martin’s chin.

She watched as the life seeped out of her target’s eyes. The killer drank the moment in; she knew she had too little time to enjoy the glory of taking his life. Gradually, Jenny removed the blade and wiped the coagulating ichor onto a bar towel.

Jenny assessed her situation. She was in a strange place without her usual clean up kit and without a plan.

“Well, I’m fucked.” She commented to the corpse. “Martin, it was nice to visit with you, but I really must clean this mess and get going. Happen to have some bleach in this place? Maybe some ammonia?”

Jenny washed the gloves in the restroom sink and searched for materials to cover her tracks. Unable to find any decent cleaning supplies, she settled for coating the crime scene in vinegar and laundry detergent. The murderer pushed her hair back into her hat and retrieved her tools.

She rifled through the dead jerk’s possessions awkwardly with the yellow cleaning gloves. Jenny found $800 in cash in the master bedroom and a bevy of other valuables. Leaving all but the cash and the number thirteen ball from the pool table in the basement, she then stole one of Martin’s long black coats from the hall closet and left through the back door.

The killer arrived home with two hours before her boyfriend would be off work. Jenny soaked her murder weapon, the jack handle, and the billiards ball in bleach while she peeled off her blood-soaked clothing. Jenny placed her clothes and Martin’s duster into a large trash bag and showered.

A sprinkle of Clorox over the tub and down the drain and she was ready to scrape the soil from her shoe treads and wash the sneakers. By the time Eric showed up for their movie night at her place, the ball was sitting beside her other trophies on the bookshelf and the evidence had all been doused in bleach and thrown into three different back-alley dumpsters.