“Yet again, another writer has been found brutally murdered and this time it is Herman Samuels. Samuels was found dead in his..”
Bradley Richter switched off the television. Herman was the third writer to have been murdered.
Bradley too was a writer and Herman was one of his good friends. Bradley was about to finish a new book, Herman too was on the verge of finishing his new book. He thought this was going to be his next bestseller after two flops. After all every writer thinks that their next book is going to be their best one.
Bradley had become one of the best story tellers according to a leading magazine. With four bestsellers back to back, he was on top of the world. Bradley wasn’t a tall man nor was he a too short one. He was a fair man and had golden hair, which were so smooth and straight, that the women who saw them would envy him.
Bradley put on a leather jacket and took his car keys. He was a big fan Camaro’s, but could not buy one. He locked his house and got in his car and drove to the publishing house. Along with him he had his new book, which he was about to get published. Its name was ‘The Fat Lady With a Knife.’ The book was a humorous thriller.
As he drove across the street, he saw people gathered in front of the police station. The fans, followers and family members of Herman. They wanted to know about the murderer who had murdered their beloved writer, son and brother.
They could not get their answer so fast, because the police had released a statement that the killer had left no trace behind. Not even the bullet that was supposed to be in Herman’s body. The reports said that the place where he had been shot was cut open and the killer took out the bullet. The bullet was shot in his stomach and the reports stated that his stomach along with his intestines were all cut open and they were hanging out from his body. The bullet, was missing. There were no fingerprints, no bullet casings, nor any other sort of evidence that would help to solve the case.
Bradley drove his car and reached the publishing house. He went in and met Dave Mendez, the owner of the publishing house, who was really excited to meet Bradley and take a look at his new book. Well every publishing house needs a new book and some profit.
“Bradley, good to see you. Have a seat,” he said. Bradley judged that Dave was really excited.
“Good to see you too. How are you?” Bradley asked.
“Fine. Fine. So I guess your new story is ready?” asked Dave.
“Yeah, it is. Did you read the manuscript, I had sent you?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I liked your idea, about this new humorous thriller, “‘Fat Lady With a Knife,’ I loved it,” Dave continued after a slight pause. “A fat lady with really low IQ, like down to the ground, kills her husband who is a drunkard and gets away with it. I mean WOW!” he exclaimed.
“Ah! glad to hear that you liked it,” replied Bradley.
“So, how did you come up with the idea?” Dave asked curiously.
“Well, um, I had been to a library about three or four months ago. Four months ago! I saw a fat lady siting across me, she was reading a book on how to improve your IQ,” Brad cleared his throat before continuing,”and, I was reading a thriller and you know, that is how I came up with the idea.”
Brad was having second thoughts in his mind. He brushed them off.
“Oh! Well that’s true, I mean you cannot get better ideas that, the sort things that happen in your life, help you. Well, life sure is strange.”
Yeah life is strange.
Brad thought that Dave loved to use the word ‘well’ in almost every sentence he spoke. But today he wasn’t telling it too much. Maybe he was trying to get rid of his habit.
“Well, did you hear about Herman,” asked Dave with a bit of sadness in his voice.
There it is, thought Brad. There is ‘well’.
“Yeah, I did. Its a pity, about what happened. Who would have thought that such a terrible thing would happen to such a good friend of ours and such a great writer,” replied Brad.
“The police said that he must have been dead for at least three months, the body was a mess and then there were those intestines, must have been really painful,” said Dave.
“Of course it would have been painful. His family said that Herman did not like to get disturbed while he was writing and all. He did not call them or see them for three months and now this, its terrible.”
“Well, okay. I see you’ve brought your book,” Dave said looking at Brad straight in his eyes and putting an end to their chit chat sort of thing.
Ah! ‘Well,’ thought Brad.
Oh! Yeah, here it is,” Brad handed it over to him.”Okay, so I guess I should get going, do call me when you’re publishing it.”
“Oh, sure thing,” said Dave.
Brad got up and waved Dave goodbye and went back to his and started it up.
“Its been about two years since your last book came out, it was a bestseller, now we heard that you are going to release a new one, can we know what its about?” asked one of the reporters.
“No. No you can’t, lets keep it a secret, there is more fun in that,” replied Tim Garfield.
Tim was one of the budding writers, who was a competitor to Brad. But he was one step behind Brad. Tim was just twenty years old when his first book came out. It was a major success. With two more successful books, his fourth one, which was a secret was going to be released in another six months.
“Does your family know about it?” asked the same reporter.
“No, even they don’t,” smiled Tim.
About two hours later, when the press conference got over, Tim was going back to his car, when he met Brad.
“So, its a secret?” asked Brad with a warm smile on his face.
“Yeah it is,” said Tim with a broader smile.
They shook hands.
“So, I hear that you are releasing your new book in three days?” asked Tim.
“Yeah, one has gotta find ways to fill his stomach. I hope its going to be a bestseller. I hope that it sells even better than my last one,” replied Brad.
“Don’t worry, it will be a bestseller after all you are a master story teller my friend,” said Time warmly.”Yeah, but you’re better,” said Brad, even though he didn’t mean it.”Okay, then, I wish you luck.”
They shook their hands once again and went on their ways.
Three days had gone by. It was time for the release of Brad’s new book.
Brad had dressed himself in a suit, which looked expensive, even though it wasn’t. People were just too busy in their own work to identify if a suit was a cheap one or an expensive one.
It was time for the launch of ‘Fat Lady With a Knife.’ Brad was a bit nervous about the launch, every writer is.
The book was launched, and everything that happens after it went well. Everything went the way it was supposed to. The event was over and after answering all the questions from the journalists, it was time for Brad to head back home.
He sat in his car and stopped his car in a dark corner of the road, where there weren’t any other people around.
He started to think about the way Herman had died.
There was a knock on Herman’s door. He opened the door only to be surprised that there was no one outside. He looked around and closed the door thinking that he was imagining things. Just as he closed the door and turned around, he saw a man with a mask on his face. Just as he was about to do something, he was knocked out cold.
He woke up sometime later with his hands and legs tied. His vision was a bit blurry at first and then it became alright.
“Who are you?” asked Herman.
“I am the man who visits you in your nightmares, the man who tries to kill you in your dreams but cannot, because you wake up. But now its my time, you gonna die,” replied the man who was now sitting on a chair right in front of Herman. He was looking at Herman’s laptop.
Herman looked like he had seen a ghost. The words that he had just said were the words that he had written in his book, the only difference was that they had been said by a female.
“What do you want?” asked Herman.
“Nothing much, just your laptop and the files in it. Well, particularly this one, ‘fat lady with a knife.’ It sounds good to hear and to say it.”
“You want money, I can give it to you. I can make you rich. How much do you want? How about half a million? That sounds good doesn’t it?” Herman tried to negotiate.
“Yeah, it sounds nice, but no. I need this,” said the masked man with a cold voice.
The masked man removed a USB from his pocket and connected it with the computer. He started copying the files in it.
“Hey! No! Come on mate,” screamed Herman.
“Shut up!” said the masked man.
“Hey, why don’t you take my laptop away with you and leave me alone,” said Herman with a plan in his mind.
“Yeah. I can do that, but you see, I have to take it away and then in case I shut it down or something else like that happens then its gonna be useless for me, because I’m sure that it is gonna require a password to unlock it and maybe some way or another the cops might find me with it and I might get busted.”
“So what? You think nothing is going to happen now? After you leave me?”
“Who said anything about leaving you? I am going to take this laptop away with me and dispose it off. But for you, I have got some special plans. You see I’m going to shoot you in your stomach or somewhere near it and then I am gonna cut that place open and take the bullet along with me and poof, I’m out.”
Herman was shocked. He had never even dreamed in his wildest dreams that he would die such a horrible death.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The masked man the removed his mask and it was no one other than Brad.
“Brad? How could yo….”
Herman felt a strong jolt of pain in his stomach, he looked at it and saw that he had been shot. He stared at Brad, who had a silenced gun, with a look that dying men give during their last moments and he was out. Out cold.
Brad woke up the next with a terrible hangover. He looked around with a blurry vision and saw that there were three or maybe four, maybe more bottles of some cheap liquor whose name he did not remember. Five months had passed, he was making some good money because of his latest book, well because of Herman’s book. It was a bestseller.
Brad got out of his bed and went to bathroom and washed his face and looked up. He saw a man, who staring back at him, with a cold look. A shockingly cold look. It was his reflection in the mirror. He stared back at it and sighed.
It was time. Time to take care of some business.
Day turned into night. Brad was standing about a hundred meters away from Tim’s house. He looked at it. Slowly and steadily he walked towards it.
Tim who was trying to finish his book before the deadline, heard a knock on his door. He walked to the door, opened it. He was surprised that there was no one outside. He felt a bit freaked out. He looked around and saw that there was no one outside. He felt that maybe it was his imagination. He turned around and saw that a window was open, he fell down. There was darkness all around him.
He woke a while later. He opened his eyes and saw that a man was sitting right in front of him, he wore a mask. Tim realized that his hands and legs were all tied up.
“Who are you?” Tim asked.
“You know, everyone asks me the same thing every time I do this,” he replied.
“Do what?” Tim asked, with a little fear in his voice.
“Do what? Nothing much, you see I like to knock out people, by people I mean writers. Then I tie up there hands and legs. Then I talk with them a little more and well I hope you will understand the thing that happens next.”
Tim was clearly freaked out now. The ‘thing’ that he was referring to was to kill people.
“You ain’t gonna kill me!” Tim screamed.
“That’s not up to you. You don’t tell me what to do and what not to do. Its me, who does what he has to do. You understand,” the masked man said sternly.
“Yeah, well what you gonna do?”
“You see I am shoot you in your lungs, well to be precise, one of the lungs. You may die or may not. Then I am going to steal your book and publish it and earn money. Then I am going to burn this place down.”
“Wait, wait. Steal my book? Do you mean..”
“Yeah, Herman and all those writers that died before him. I killed them all. Now you are gonna be one of them.”
Tim felt drops of sweat gathering on his forehead.
“Who are you? Brad?” he asked.
“You know, you are the first person to know who I was before I even pulled out my mask,” then he pulled his mask.
“Why?” asked Tim.
“Well, I am greedy.”
Brad shot Tim in his lungs and saw that the bullet went right through him. Tim started bleeding.
“Good bye Tim,” said Brad.
“The latest writer to be murdered is none other than, Tim Garfield. The place where he was writing his latest book was in flames. After extinguishing the fire, The police and the fire fighters searched the building only to find Tim’s body which was completely….”
Brad switched off his television and headed to the publishing company. He wanted to announce that he was going to release his latest book in a month. As he was going to meet Dave, he bumped into Sara Smith.
“Oh, sorry,” Sara said.
“No, its my fault. I am sorry,” Brad said.
“So, I hear that you are releasing a new book,” said Bradley Richter.
Thank you for reading this story. Please do give me your feedback in the comments section below and also do share this post on social media. It helps me a lot. If you want me to write something in any other genre, please do tell me about it. Thank you once again.