My finger hovering over the button, I surveyed those crowding the room. It was as if I had waited my whole life for this minute. When I pushed this button, everything would be electrified. It would set off a chain of event around the world. The villain would kill again as he had in the past. Law enforcement would be pushed to the limits in pursuit of him. Victims would die.
Yet I must press the red button. I had already made the announcement. A crossed the United States people were waiting. The workers of this factory depended on me. I dare not disappoint them. The man standing next to me, smiled. "Great moment, isn't it?"
I nodded, too choked up to speak. My eyes filled with tears. I thought of the long road to get to this point. The rejections, the disappointed book sale. The book signings where no one showed, and I wondered why I ever wanted to be a writer. The many times I gave up only to start all over again.
I could have chosen another career, maybe a ditch digger where I would be more successful. Yet I had persisted and now here I was, the newest author with the newest novel to be printed by Greggs and brothers publishing.
The videographer kept the eye of the camera pointed at the button, a wide-angle shot which included me. By evening, the video would be on the internet. YouTube and other places. Eddy, my agent, had the headline ready with the story written. All it waited for was a still shot of me pushing the button. No more delays. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the red button.
The machine roared to life. The air was ripe with the smell of ink permeating the room. Those standing around cheered and clapped as if I had performed a magnificent feat. The supervisor of the plant walked my agent and me through the process. From blank sheets of paper on a large roll. We watched my dream of two years before becoming a reality. From my first word. To the last page and last word. Starting over. Letting the book set for a month, coming back to it. The rejections. The times I quit, then starting again. Then the call from the agent standing beside me. Revising editing.
The CEO of Greggs and Brothers handed me the first copy off the line.
I ran my fingers over the raised title.
To kill a killer
Hunter Blackstone
The face staring up at me was purely diabolical. It looked as he came straight out of the pit of hell. Even through it was warm on this day, I felt a chill just looking at it. My agent was speaking. "Where did you find such a model? He's perfect."
"A friend of a friend. He seemed reluctant to pose." The CEO said. "He came in one morning. Actually, he was waiting for me. Security came to me as I exited the parking garage. A strange man."
"Do you suppose he would pose for some publicity photos?" Eddy asks.
"We tried to find him. Even employed a detective agency." he looked at me pointedly. "He was murdered. Police found his body in a dumpster on the south side of the city"
"How do they know he was murdered?" I said, feeling a chill racing down my spine.
"Someone shot him several times." He said.
"What a shame." Eddy said. "Can you imagine the book signings? The author and the villain both will sign your book."
The next day, I returned home. Back in my office, I turned on the laptop and set down to work. The words wouldn't come. I got up and turned To Kill a Killer to the wall. Normally, I display my latest book on the counter in front of an old typewriter. Somehow, I felt responsible for this man's murder. The police never questioned me. I was three states away when it happened. Finally, I shutdown the computer and went for a walk.
A week later, my agent called just I as was to leaving on the book signing tour. We spoke about the bookstores I was to visit. The scheduled interviews.
I detected a hesitation in his voice. "Ok Eddy, out with it."
"Look Hunter, I hate to tell you this just before your tour, but…"
"Did one store cancel?"
"No, nothing like that." He paused. "It's just. Well, the body of the model for the book disappeared."
"What do you mean, disappeared?" I plopped down on the couch, my hand shaking.
" From the graveyard. Somebody dug it up." Eddy said.
"Why would anyone dig up a dead body?" I said, sweat popping out on my forehead.
"Hey Hunter, be careful. There are a lot of nuts out there. You would not believe how many letters, emails and phone calls the agency gets from women wanting to meet this man."
"Great," I said. "Just what I need. A bunch of love sick females looking to hook up with a killer."
"Hunter, you've been a writer long enough to know some people can't separate fiction from reality."
We took care of some other business, then ended the call. To Eddy's credit, he spoke to each book store manager and warned them there might be a stalker.
By the time I hit Boston, I had performed book signings in five cities in three days. Then it was on to the last one. Setting down at the table, I tried to remember the name of the city I was in. I looked at the plate-glass window. No help. Dalton's Book Shop. I racked my dog-tired brain. Why had I agreed to this schedule? I looked at the stack of books before me and the line of people and promised myself a long rest. I also promised to never do this again. Ok maybe, but with at least a week in between signings. I hadn't written a word in a month.
I was a third of the way through the line when I looked into the face of my villain. My heart speeded up; my palms became clammy. It seemed as if someone had turned up the heat. I didn't have to ask his name. I knew his name as well as I knew my own. The same face stared up at me from the table.
"Just make it out to Skip." He said. I had thought I saw him in line in Chicago and in New York and Indianapolis. But when I looked again, he was gone. Now here he was, live and in person. It was the same face as on my book cover. My hand shook so I couldn't hold on to the pen. He leaned over and whispered in my ear. "You didn't have to kill me." He walked away without a book. I had smelled the odor of the grave on him. I knew it couldn't be. A dead man was stalking me. The manager did a double take. Color drained from her face. Turning, she told her assistant to call security. But by the time they arrived, he had disappeared into the crowd.
I stood up abruptly. "I'll be right back. "I said to her. Without waiting for her reply, I rushed to the men's room. Splashing water on my face didn't help. All it did was get my collar wet. Still shaking, I returned to the table.
I apologized to the lady next in line and signed her book.
"Where did that man go? He looked just like the man on your book cover. We had such a pleasant conversation." She said, swiveling her head around.
"I'm sorry, I don't know."
"Please give him this." She handed me a slip of paper. "Have him call me day or night."
A half hour later, I signed the last book. I had an interview at ten the next day. Then fly out right after that. I called my agent.
"Eddy, he was here."
"Are you sure it was him? You know you've been working it pretty hard." Eddy said calmly. "Could it have been a crazed fan?"
"Yeah, maybe you're right." I said. "Man, he looked just like him."
Eddy laughed. "You wouldn't believe. A few years ago, I had a romance writer that came face to face with the woman on the cover of her book."
" How did that happen?"
"Plastic surgery."
"So, you're saying this guy may have changed his face to look like the villain in my book?"
"Look, it happens more time than you can imagine. You've got one more interview tomorrow morning right, then you are home free."
"Thanks Eddy."
"That's what I'm here for. Get a good night's sleep and I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night"
"Good night, Eddy, and thanks again."
" You bet."
Back at the hotel, I spoke to the night manager. He suggested we change the name on the registration and my room. As far as the hotel was concerned, I had checked out.
"We'll have security check the hallway every hour. Have a good night's sleep, Mr. Blackstone."
"Thank you."
I settled into the new room for the night, secure in the knowledge Skip or whatever his name was didn't know I had changed rooms.
I slept soundly until about three in the morning when I heard a commotion in the hallway.
It seemed as if there was a struggle. Running feet, then two gunshots. I ran to the door and jerked it open. Twenty feet down the hallway, a man in a security officer's uniform lay on his back, bleeding from two bullet wounds. One in his arm and another in his leg. A woman opened the door to her room. I expected her to scream. Instead, she took charge.
Bringing out two towels, she daftly cut away the clothes from the wounds.
"Call 911 and the front desk. Tell them we need an ambulance and the police." I did as she ask.
The boy, because that's what he was barely old enough to shave, was weeping big tears rolled down his cheeks, wetting the carpet.
"A… am I going to die?" He choked out.
She smiled at him. "No, I'm a nurse and I've seen people in a lot worse shape than this live." The elevator dinged.
Within seconds, the hall filled with police and paramedics. They closed off the hotel. No one in or out. Within minutes, it became clear the shooter was gone.
A detective Duggan questioned me in my room. I showed him the cover of To Kill a Killer.
"And you say this man is dead? "He said. I could tell he didn't believe me.
"Look, I know it's hard to believe, but I saw him at the book signing last night."
"But you never saw who shot Wiggens?"
"No, I'm sorry. By the time I got to him, the shooter was already gone."
He rose from the chair. "May I take this with me?" He held up one of my books.
"Of course." I said, getting up.
"So, you have an interview…." he glanced at his watch. "Later this morning, then you're gone. Back to your home, is it?"
"Yes."
"Hopefully you can escape the media." He said, his hand on the door handle. "They're going to eat this up. We'll do what we can on our end. I'll be in touch."
"Thank you."
The hall had cleared out everyone going back to bed; except for one officer named Lloyd. He stood in the empty hallway looking forlorn.
I called down to the front desk. "Guest Services, May I help you?"
"Yes, can you send a chair up to my room?"
"A chair sir?"
"Yes, for officer Lloyd."
"Right away, sir."
"Thank you."
I opened the door. Officer Lloyd turned. "Officer, "I said, smiling, "Are you here to protect me or to make sure I don't escape?"
"My orders are to protect you, Mr. Blackstone."
"In that case, I want you to be as comfortable as you can."
The elevator dinged. "I ask them to bring you up a chair."
"Unnecessary sir." he said through I detected relief in his voice."
The maintenance man set the chair at my door. "Will there be anything else, sir?" He asks.
"No, I think not. We're good." Thank you."
He left.
"I glanced at my watch. "Also, since it is your job to protect me, how about you come inside?"
"I can't do that. My sergeant would have my head." He said with a smile.
"Ok well, at least let me bring you a cup of coffee.
"That would be nice." He said, setting down. "Black please."
Management had put a full-size coffee maker in my room. I filled it with water and waited for it to brew. As it did, I went over my notes for the interview.
When it finished, I poured a cup for Officer Lloyd. He seemed to be slumped over a sleep. Carefully setting the cup on the counter, I shook his shoulder. He fell to the floor. It was then I saw the spot of blood on the front of his shirt. I hurried to the phone in my room. When I picked up the receiver, I felt a poke in my back. I looked in the mirror in front of me. This couldn't be happening. Behind me stood a dead man. I pretended to grab my heart. I hit the record button on my iPhone.
"You can't be here. You're dead." I said, backing up.
The figure standing pointed a pistol at my middle. He grasps his throat and peeled his skin upward. With his free hand, he smoothed his hair. Before me stood my literary agent.
"Eddy? I said, my pulse speeding up. "It was you? Why?"
"Why why you think? Rolon Martin?"
Martin? He died what? Two years ago."
"Martin was a two-bit writer like you. Now he's one of the best writers in my stable."
"Wait a minute, Rolon Martin died from a fall off his ladder."
Eddy just smiled at me. "Yeah, he did, didn't he? He was going to leave me. Go with another agency."
My mind raced. Eddy was going to kill me, then profit off my legacy.
"Yeah, I can see why, "I said, edging backward. "He wanted a real agent. Not just a wannabe." I said, edging myself to the counter. What did I have to lose? He was going to kill me, anyway.
"Wantabe wantabe? I'll have you know I handled some of the biggest names in the business." He said, his face turning red.
"Yeah, when you were with the other agency. But without their backing you couldn't git a kid from kindergarten a contract."
His eyes widened, his face turned purple, he panted like he had just finished a race. He raised the pistol and aimed at my heart. Jumping sideways, I grasp the coffeepot by the handle and swung it at his head. It connected with his temple, dousing hot coffee on the top of his head and down the neck of his shirt. He dropped the pistol and grabbed his face, screaming.
I dove for the gun. He stood there blubbering, trying to wipe cooling coffee from his pink face. Jerking the phone from its cradle. I shouted. "I need security and the police in Room 405 now. The police officer is dead. I need help now." Not waiting for an answer, I slammed the phone back down.
Growling, Eddy charged me. I stepped aside as he came by and clubbed him in the head with the gun. He went down like a side of beef, bounced off the bed, hit the floor and lay still. There was a rumbling in the hall. Two police officers rushed into my room; guns drawn. I quickly lay Eddy's pistol on the bed and raised my hands.
I missed my interview. For the next few hours, the police questioned me three times.
The last was detective Duggan. at the police station. As I spoke, he typed on his keyboard. When I finished, he hit a button. In the back of the room, a printer whirred. Raising, he stepped to the printer then lay a sheet of paper on the desk in front of me.
"Please read this and sign." He said wearily. I scanned the sheet and signed it.
"So, what happens now?" I said, rising from my seat.
"Now, Mr. Hunter, you go back to your home in Indiana and enjoy life. In a few months, you will be summoned back here by the court to testify."
"And Eddy?"
"Mr. Edward F. Dragón will most likely ride the lightning." detective Duggan said. "We know he killed officer Lloyd. He confessed to the murder of Shane Davison, the model for your cover, and three other authors."
My face drained of color. "Three?" I choked out'
"He seems rather proud of it. One drowned in his own bathtub, another a victim of a hit and run. The last one fell off a cleft, or should I say was pushed."
"And I would have been number four." I said. Thinking of how Eddy intended to kill me.
"We owe you a debt of thanks. If you had not stopped him, he would have continued to kill. "He stuck out his hand. "Have a pleasant flight, Mr. Blackstone."
Shaking his hand, I said. "Thank you and thank you for all you did."
By the time I was in the air. I had fielded three calls from literary agents and two from major news outlets. I shut off my phone and the TV. My seatmate seemed blissfully unaware of who I was. I did not inform him.
He said. "I don't watch the news anymore. Too much violence."
I agreed with him and settled back in my seat to catchup on some of the sleep I missed.
Later that afternoon I walked the path through the woods in back of my home. The sunshine seemed extra bright, the Woodside flowers more colorful and the songs of the birds sweeter. The sun was going from warm to hot. A breeze blew from the south. All in all, a great day to be alive.
I thought of Eddy's greed for money, fame and the families he had destroyed. Now his victims were dead, and he set in jail awaiting trial for murder.
Eddy's actions were to increase sales of my book and raise his reputation as an agent. In a way, he accomplished his goal. With the publicity generated by his arrest, my book To Kill a Killer is raising in the ranks. Rumor has it it will be a best seller. Thanks Eddy, I couldn't have done it without you. By the way, I have a new agent. She has the reputation of being a real killer in the marketplace.