Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Finding the First Victim

In response to my faithful followers on this website and my fans around the world, I have acquiesced and written my first novel, titled If She Did It. With the most profound gratitude, I dedicate the book to my Yale Law School professors for providing me with the knowledge to represent the otherwise defenseless minions in our legal system.

After extensive bidding by several publishers, the book underwent an editorial massacre with the intent of reducing my sophisticated English prose to sixth grade banter, but the publishers reassure me that this will help make the story intellectually available to the masses. I am now permitted to post the first two chapters as blogs on this website as we prepare to release the full text print version worldwide.

If She Did It, by Horace P. Krouch
Chapter 1: Finding the First Victim

You never forget your first kill.

“Daphne Blain” would only be in town for one night.

She was too beautiful to raise any suspicion, and she was dressed to kill. Her business suit from a long day of meetings was folded and laid neatly in the back seat of her car. (She needed the spare trunk space for later.) Now she was in a black blouse and a red skirt that rode just high enough up her thighs to attract the interest of every man in the bar. She wore black satin stockings, unaware that they would become her trademark. The heels supporting her black shoes were just long enough to accentuate the tone in her legs and just short and flat enough to provide good mobility.

She walked through the bar, glancing from side to side as though looking to meet someone that she knew. The men in the room, and several of the women, gazed in her direction after she passed by and then locked their eyes on her figure. Those who were bolder or had less self-control were sure to get a good look at the front of her as well. Only one or two had the confidence to attract the attention of her mesmerizing malachite eyes.

She already knew what she wanted. She felt an unrelenting restlessness throughout the day. And urge that would not be denied. She needed to find a man that she could control. Someone who wanted to share the rapture. But that wasn't enough. Tonight she would not be satisfied until she killed her newly acquainted lover. Only this would quiet the yearning.

Walking around the room, she could tell that this was going to be even easier than planned. Although she had always fantasized about killing a stranger that she picked up, and had on occasion even visualized the act to the brink of hallucinating, she had never acted on the impulse. Society would prevent her from acting on the impulse. But to hell with society. And to hell with anyone who wanted to come between her and her fantasy. As she looked around the room with all of the potential victims staring at her, yearning for her, she knew it would be easy. She could have anyone in the room. It was just a matter of choosing.

But which one would it be? It definitely had to be someone who was alone. There were enough to choose from. Could it be the one in his early 30s in a gray suit at the corner of the bar? She certainly had his attention. What about the muscular guy at the front table? He would probably put up a fight. More so than some of the others. Probably too much of a fight for her first victim. Maybe the one with a knapsack toward the center of the bar watching all the girls go by. He looked like someone whose absence might not be noticed for a while.

Any of these men would be fun to sleep with and even more fun to kill, but when she spotted the right one, the choice was obvious. It would be the waiter with the blond crew cut. He was looking at her now, smiling. Yes, the waiter was already wondering if he could have his way with her tonight. Perhaps up to a point, but then the tables would be turned against him. She smiled at the thought. He smiled back.

Daphne walked up to an empty table where the waiter was standing with a tray of glasses. She lightly tossed her head to raise a wisp of auburn hair dangling near her eyes and asked if the table was taken.

“Not yet," he said. “Will anyone be joining you?"

“I’m not sure yet," she said.

“Well let me know how that goes,” he said, smiling.

She moistened her lips with her tongue. "I’ll make sure to do that.”


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