Peter Andrew Leonard is working through life, one day at a time. I love to blog about books I enjoy, and writing down a story now and then.
The lake was quiet, serene. The boat hardly moved.
“You know Hitchcock, you’re not what I expected.”
This is the psychopath everyone tells spooky stories about?
Maybe it was the chains, the handcuffs, the imminent death…But the guy didn’t look like much.
Unlike Leroy, who appeared capable of wrestling a grisly bear, Hitchcock was average in almost every way. 5’9, slim, dark hair, clean cut. But his eyes reminded Leroy of a Huskie’s. One gray, the other icy blue. Average, but definitely creepy.
Hitchcock smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, Leroy.”
He couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. “You know my name?”
Still smiling, Hitchcock said, “In our business, it’s never a bad idea to keep track of who’s working.”
Leroy grunted, shook his head.
So Hitchcock knew his name, so what? He’d be dead in two minutes.
Hitchcock’s smile never wavered, as if his life wasn’t seconds from being over.
Maybe he was as crazy as everyone said. Definitely cold. Most guys in his position would be begging for their lives right about now.
Leroy pulled his piece. “We can do this one of two ways. One, I shoot you and throw you in. Or two, you go in yourself. Personally I would go with number one. It’s fast. You don’t suffer. But surprisingly, most folks choose number two. So what’ll it be for you, Hitchcock?”
“Number one.”
No hesitation.
Cold S.O.B.. Freezing cold.
Leroy aimed the gun.
“What about a last request?”
Leroy raised his eyebrows. “Hmm, I don’t think so.”
“But -“
For the first time the bastard looked troubled. It was satisfying to see. He thought Hitchcock would go through the whole affair with that crazy grin on his face.
Leroy sighed, “What is it?”
“My phone. Do you have it?”
Leroy had it. He pulled it out with his free hand.
“If I could hear my Lou-Ellen’s voice one last time…”
Leroy shook his head sadly. “Fine, ten seconds. That’s it.”
The smile was back.
“The number is on speed dial.”
Leroy found it easily enough. When it started ringing he held it against Hitchcock’s ear.
After a few seconds Hitchcock’s smile grew. This close Leroy could see the psycho had filed some of his teeth to points. He is fucking crazy.
“It’s for you.”
What the fuck?
Leroy aimed the gun at Hitchcock’s head.
“I would take it, if I were you,” Hitchcock warned.
“What is this shit?”
Hitchcock only smiled.
The boat rocked gently, water slapping quietly against the sides. A loon called from the distant end of the lake.
Leroy hesitated. Then, reluctantly put the phone to his ear. “Who the hell is this?”
“Daddy?”
The sound of his son’s voice was like a punch in the gut. “Alex?”
“Daddy, I’m scared.”
In the background a chainsaw roared. His son screamed.
“ALEX?!”
The line went dead.
Leroy drove the gun into Hitchcock’s forehead. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Listen closely, Leroy. There is a two minute window for me to call back before Lou-Ellen starts pretending tiny little Alex is a tree. I’m nuts, but she is one demented bitch.” Hitchcock chuckled.
Leroy’s mouth gaped like fish out of water.
“Remove these cuffs, the chains, and hand over the gun.” Hitchcock commanded.
Leroy felt his heart being squeezed by terror. He imagined Alex’s big blue eyes, his little mouth. He could hardly breathe.
“Leroy, you only have a minute left. Think of your little boy.”
“You sonofabitch!”
“Forty five seconds.”
In less than thirty, Hitchcock held the gun.
“It was option one, if I recall?”
Leroy swallowed. “You’ll pay for this!”
“Any last requests?”
Leroy’s expression shifted from anger to fear. “Please don’t hurt my boy.”
Hitchcock blinked his cold blue eye and shot Leroy in the head. Next he dialled Lou-Ellen. Her voice answered after the first ring.
“Darling!” she said, her voice husky with emotion.
“Sweetheart.”
“Leroy?”
“Dead.”
“What about Junior?”
Hitchcock could see Lou-Ellen’s wicked smile in his mind.
“Consider him a gift.”
“You are too good to me,” He heard the phone drop and a moment later the roar of a chainsaw.
~ fin ~
Peter Andrew Leonard is working through life, one day at a time. I love to blog about books I enjoy, and writing down a story now and then.
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