Invitation to a Killer

I have been a writer for most of my 60 plus years, but now I was being talked about on almost every TV station in America. That crazy woman Nancy offered me an open invitation to appear on her show whenever I wished. My dad and my uncle had been writers in their day back in the Kerouac era. I had even put a picture of the pair on one of my books THE WRITERS. Many of my readers had written me and asked who the two men were. Were they writers or killers? I read the email from Jessica. I had chosen her letter from hundreds. I was using the working title for the blockbuster, INVITATION TO A KILLER. That was such a great eye catcher. Don’t you agree? Dear Writer: Please consider my enclosed story. Not only is it sexy and sensual, but so am I! See for yourself in the photo I attached. Jessica I made a quick note of her information and of course, ignored her story. I was more interested in her measurements than her literature. I had my next victim in my sights. Sparky was at the Pancake Palace when I rolled up. A retired police office, he would be the last person one would suspect to be the assist man to a serial killer. I didn’t think Sparky looked at it that way. In fact, one day, when he was delivering me contact information about a plastic surgeon I was targeting to kill, he suddenly cut me off when I started to share with him my philosophy about these self-anointed gods of change. “I don’t want to hear it, Writer. I am here to get paid for giving you information. Nothing more!” I liked that about Sparky. Just the facts. He had that Joe Friday look about him. I smiled when I saw him at our regular booth, sipping his umpteenth cup of coffee. I waved off the coffee from the curvy Bernice, who was one of my favorites. She smiled, as she knew, as did everyone at the Pancake Palace. That I had never had a cup of coffee in my life. I slid into the booth, across from Sparky and shoved several hundred dollar bills across the table. Sparky grunted, finished his coffee and was out of the restaurant before Bernice came back with my single Blueberry pancake, hot syrup and two slices of crisp bacon. I never had to order. My breakfast was legendary among the girls at the Pancake Palace. Sparky would be messaging me the details on Jessica later in the day. With business completed for the day, I focused on the Clippers who were having their best season in their history and the Lakers who were having their worst. After disposing of Jessica, maybe I would be ready to give Nancy a call. Business was looking up. You had to give the public what they wanted.