The Investagator

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic


This is a short story that takes place in New York City about an investigator chasing a mass murder, but not for long.

Submitted: April 30, 2018

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Submitted: April 30, 2018

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Harold Dyner was an investigator. He was recently studying a case in New York City about a mass murderer on the loose. He had yet to find him, yet he hadn’t found a single trace of him. More and more people were getting slaughtered….because of him. He was at a bar at the time, drinking shots of whiskey. It was October 22, 1966, with Halloween around the corner. He hadn’t really liked Halloween much. Kids screaming,asking for candy, or trading candy at their friends’ house. He wondered if the mass murderer would strike then. But, then again, the streets would be filled parents with their kids. He got up and went to the desk, and payed up.

“Here you go, Willie,” Harold said, giving Willie the money.

“Take care, Harold,” Willie said.

As Harold walked out, he felt the brisk October wind upon his cheeks. He turned down the street and walked toward his office, which was at his house. Still walking, he felt uneasy. The feeling someone would get if they were being watched. Was that someone standing in the alley? No, thought Harold. I’m overreacting. He continued walking. He gradually started getting faster as he walked.

He finally reached his house. He fumbled for his keys, and unlocked the door. He went inside, shut and locked the door quickly. He sighed relief, and went upstairs to his bedroom. He took off his tie, and layed down on his bed.

After five minutes, he got up, got a towel and washcloth and went into the bathroom to take shower. After he got out, he felt much better. He went to his kitchen, got a glass, and poured in Chardonne. He went out onto his porch, to sit on the chair, adjacent to the porch railing. Harold looked around, getting that feeling again.

He looked at the door. At the foot of the door was a package. A very ominous time to deliver it. He got up, and walked to the package and picked it up. A note on the package said, “I know who you are.”. He opened the package. In it were photos. Of him. They were taken very recently, too.

“Well, I’ll be,” said Harold.

He went up to his office to study the photos. He looked at the photos carefully, studying at which angle of the of the house it was taken from. He found out, it was taken through the bathroom window. He suddenly felt self-conscious.

He went outside, and went to the bathroom side of the house. He studied the grass. Some of it was upright, some of it squashed. It was taken in this spot! When Harold approached to take a closer look at the grass, he picked up the picture he found on the ground. He looked at the picture directly in front of him. It was the bush in front of him, with a man standing there with a machete. He put the picture down. The man was standing in front him, in front of the bush, with the machete.

“I’ve finally found you,” he says.

“Who are you?” asked Harold.

“Oh. You don’t know?. Well, I’m hurt.” It was the murderer.

Too late, Harold tried to run. The machete hit him in the back. He blacked out.

 


© Copyright 2018 Adrian Kim. All rights reserved.

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