Carnage: Short Story Read Online Free Page B

proportionally.”
    “So he’s traveling north, right now,” Quinn said. “Driving farther between each murder.”
    Lido shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. He’s in a pattern, like so many serial killers, but we can’t be sure he realizes that. Or that he follows it every time.”
    “He’s a beach killer,” Fedderman said. “That’s another pattern. He kills on or near a beach.”
    Lido shrugged. “The Miami murder was several blocks away from the beach.”
    “So what do you think it means?” Quinn asked Lido. “This crow’s—or flamingo’s—flight distance instead of car odometer distance?”
    “Means he’s using a map,” Lido said. “Like we are.”
    Fedderman walked over and the three of them stood at the computer as Lido pointed to Nickleton, and then traced his nicotine yellowed finger over the map to the projected site of the next murder.
    It was the small beachside town of Del Moray.
    None of them had ever heard of it.
    Pearl, Sal, and Harold arrived, and Quinn explained the situation to them.
    “There might be something to it,” Sal said, rubbing his chin. “Or it could be coincidence.”
    “There’s no such thing as coincidence,” Harold said. “Not if you’re a mystic or a cop.”
    Quinn wondered what Harold meant by that. Maybe only Harold knew.
    Pearl said, “If the killer is on his way, or planning on going to Del Moray, he’ll be looking for his next victim.”
    Quinn knew where she was trying to take the conversation and didn’t like it. “Don’t get any ideas about being bait,” he said. “Besides, you’re not his type.”
    But he knew she could be bait, easily. Her features were those of a much younger woman, and her lithe, buxom body only strengthened the illusion. Quinn decided to leave the age issue alone.
    “You can’t stop a woman from dying her hair,” Pearl said.
    “All the killer’s victims have been on the social networks online,” Lido said.
    “I can join them,” Pearl said.
    “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Quinn told her.
    “But we’re going to do it,” Pearl said.
    “What makes you think so?”
    Pearl smiled. “Because it might work.”

9
    Del Moray wasn’t much to look at. Its police department and a strip shopping center faced the public beach across the street. The beach widened in both directions, but some of the clapboard houses and small businesses backed up to it. It was still technically mostly public beach, but few people strayed north to directly across from police headquarters, or south to the line of motels, all low two stories so the view of the Atlantic wouldn’t be spoiled.
    It wasn’t a large stretch of beach, and Pearl was a beauty as a blonde. She would definitely be noticed. Propped on the bridge of her nose were knockoff Prada sunglasses, thick-framed and dark enough that you couldn’t tell for sure where she was looking. In her white-and-blue terrycloth beach bag was her ID, a pullover shirt, a pair of rubber flip-flops, and her Glock handgun rolled in a towel. She wore a two-piece blue bathing suit that Quinn didn’t approve of but that kept catching his eye.
    Quinn thought maybe they had overdone it. The way most of the males on the beach were looking at Pearl, it would be difficult to choose a prospective killer.

    Nothing out of the ordinary happened the first day, or the second, except that Pearl got a nice tan.
    Sal was pretending to sunbathe and listen to music on an earbud, not too close to where Pearl lounged, but close enough to get to her if somebody tried to abduct her. The most likely thing to happen would be for the killer to strike up a conversation. That had happened a couple of times. One of the men turned out to be a Del Moray cop. The other was interrupted by his wife and departed chastised.
    Pearl seemed to be enjoying herself.
    It was six o’clock, and she’d left the beach and was changing clothes in her room, when it happened. The key grated in the lock, and a man entered. He was wearing dark