A Touch to Die For

by Brian D. Meeks

  "I'll be right up. It should only take a few minutes."

  S. asked, "What are the rooms for?"

  "They're for you. When they arrive, leave your purse and everything here. Who knows if he has somehow tagged our stuff? Here are the cards for our FBI friends. Once you're in the new room, I'm going to meet him, but I can't tell you where."

  "Why?"

  "After I've gone, call the FBI and tell them what's happened and get them to come to the new room. Trust me, I have a plan. Will you promise to stay in the room until I call?"

  "I promise."

  #

  Paul waited at the coffee house down the street from Mitch's hotel and watched his laptop screen and the cab stand. A beeping let him know that Mitch had just used his credit card. He pulled up the screen and saw a massive charge at the hotel. He thought, What are you up to, Mitch?

  He did some quick math and realized that four rooms had just been added to the bill. Well played, Mitch, stash the girl away so I can't find her. That is why there is always a backup plan.

  Paul packed up his computer and waited for Mitch to leave. When he saw the cab pull away with his nemesis, he waited five more minutes and headed to his car.

  #

  S. hated not being in control, but she had made a promise. She now stood by the phone with the cards lined up and ready. Mitch had decided she should wait five minutes to call. He hadn't explained why, but, as the seconds ticked away, she tried to decide which number to dial first.

  S. chose Alex' business card because she wasn't technically an FBI agent. "Hello, Alex. Mitch just got a call from the killer. He left to go meet him."

  "What?! Where?"

  "He wouldn't tell me, but he thinks it might be a ploy to get him away from the room."

  "Stay there and lock the door."

  "I'm safe. I've moved to a different room."

  "Which room?"

  "Are you coming?"

  "Yes, which room?"

  "Mitch said to check our room first, give me a call, and then I'll tell you where I'm at."

  "We're on our way."

  S. hung up and turned on the TV. The noise bothered her, so she turned it off. The quiet was worse. She wished she had her phone, but Mitch had made her leave it downstairs. She realized her problem: how would Alex call her?

  She called Alex back and said, "I just realized I don't have my phone. Mitch said the killer might be tracking it."

  "That was smart. How will I find you?"

  "How long will it take you to get here?"

  "Fifteen minutes."

  The thought of fifteen minutes alone frightened her, but the reality of their day sent a panic through her entire body. Her muscles tightened, and she slumped to the floor and started to cry.

  "Don't worry, I'm on my way. I'm out the door now. Just hang tight."

  "You don't understand," she said, the sobs growing.

  "Tell me while I drive over."

  "He's gone out there somewhere, and I don't know where he is, or what is going to happen. For all I know I'm never going to see Mitch again."

  "Don't talk like that. We'll find him."

  "I never told him. He said it and I just froze. I've never told anyone, but that's because I've gone my entire life without ever wanting to and now...what if..."

  "I'm in the car; hold tight; I'll be there before you know it."

  S. was crying and barely able to cope, but she said, "Come here first. I'm in 1203, please, come here first."

  "I will. We're on our way."

  #

  It hadn't taken very long to get to the diner.

  The Roadway Diner was old, but Mitch assumed they must have good food because half the booths were full. He took one in the corner where he could see the door. The waitress, a bubbly brunette, brought him some coffee and pie.

  Mitch wasn't hungry but figured it might be some time before he got to eat again. He pulled the Moleskin out and flipped to the pages reserved for his life To Do list. There were quite a few items left to be done.

  It was one of those times in life, when a person is in a tight spot, that they make weighty promises with all the intention of carrying them through, if only given a chance. Mitch thought about S. and how terrified she must be sitting alone in the room. He went back to the list and read each one. The one's he had finished made him smile, and the one left undone wiped it away.

  He put it away and focused. If his stalker was punctual, he would be there in the next fifteen minutes. Something was nagging at him, something from that night with the woman before the Stelvio Pass, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The sound of the bell above the diner door made him look up.

  A man walked through alone. Mitch couldn't believe it and hopped to his feet. "Paul? Paul Lemstock? Is that you?"

  The man was startled and looked at Mitch with a confused look. Mitch climbed out of the booth and went up to him, hand extended. "You may not remember me, but we had a class together at Iowa State University about a billion years ago."

  "I'm sorry...but..."

  "It's okay; it has been a lot of years, but I've followed your career. You've been kicking butt since you went to M.I.T. I see you on the cover of tech magazines."

  "Yes, well, I've just retired," Paul said, not really knowing what to do with himself.

  "Life is funny, you know. I was just thinking about you."

  Paul looked worried. "You were?"

  "Yeah, let me show you something," Mitch said as he headed back to his booth. "I need to be quick; I'm meeting someone here. I owe you an apology."

  "For what?"

  Mitch flipped open his Moleskin and pointed to number 27 B at the bottom of the page. "You see, here, just below Larry? I already said I was sorry to him."

  "Who's Larry?"

  "Oh, a guy from high school, but that's not important. We had a class together and one day, you raised your hand to answer a question. The teacher called on you, and you gave a brilliant, albeit longwinded answer. Then I did something I've regretted since. I mocked you, and everyone laughed. It was really mean of me and I should have said I was sorry back then, but I never got around to it. You were obviously the brightest guy in class, and I was just a joker trying to get by and to hit on girls. I meant to find you over the years, but, once you were a billionaire, I sort of lost my nerve."

  "That was a long time ago. I'm sorry. I don't know that I even remember the class," he lied.

  "Well, the point is, I'm sorry. I was a real jerk."

  "Don't worry about it."

  Mitch stuck out his hand and said, "Thanks, I really appreciate it." He lowered his voice. "I've gotten myself into a little situation here, and I'd love to talk more, but it is entirely possible that a psycho is coming here to shoot me or something."

  "You're the writer."

  "Yes."

  "I've read your books, but I guess I had forgotten that we had that class together."

  "I'd love to catch up. Tell you what, here is my number. If I'm not dead, you want to have lunch tomorrow? I have a friend with a boat. He'll be glad to let me use it. I'd love to hear what you are planning for retirement. What do geniuses do when they retire?"

  "Sure, I guess we could get together," Paul said, shaking Mitch's hand and still seeming a little shell shocked.

  "You'd better go. I don't know how this psycho will react if he sees me talking with someone. He is paranoid."

  "Okay...take care...I'll call you tomorrow."

  "Hopefully, I'll be around to answer," Mitch said with a smile and added, "I'm really glad to finally get to run into you. Take care, Paul."

  Mitch watched Paul meander up to the counter; he seemed unsure of what he wanted to do. He bought some donuts and walked out with barely a glance back. Mitch crossed 27B off his list and dug into his pie. His appetite had returned.

  When the hour had passed, he ordered a burger and fries and waited for another hour before calling a cab to head back to the hotel.

  Mitch had called
and she was waiting at the open the door when he arrived. S. threw her arms around him and cried. "Thank God, you're back."

  Once there, he spent the next hour filling in Chavez, Alex, Jamal, and Granville on all the details then listened to a lengthy lecture on how stupid he was to have gone off to meet the guy. Mitch promised to call them the next time the killer called, but they didn't believe him and set up surveillance on the new rooms' phones and his cell.

  When they finally left, Mitch picked another one of the rooms. He and S. settled in and tried to sleep.

  #

  Paul was stunned. He walk into his house, sat down at his computer desk, and stared into the cold, blue screensaver that washed across all the screens. The can of Pepsi that he had grown so close to didn't ask what was wrong. He threw it against the wall.

  "I'm sorry, Pepsi," he said and went and picked up his friend. He set him back on the desk. "You'll never believe what happened."

  Pepsi said, "It must not have been good. You've never thrown me before."

  "I know. I'm sorry. It was just so strange."

  "Didn't he show up?"

  "He did, but he recognized me and then he..."

  "What did he do? It's okay, you can tell your buddy Sergeant Pepsi. I won't tell anyone."

  "I know; you're a good friend. He apologized for college."

  "What an asshole."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Who the fuck does he think he is? Does he think he can just apologize for the lifetime of shame you've carried around with you because of him? I mean, really, the nerve."

  "He was actually really nice about it."

  "Oh, so he's off the hook then? You disgust me."

  "Don't be like that. It's just that, well, I don't know what to do now. He asked me to have lunch with him on his friend's boat."

  "Lunch?! Are you kidding me? Is that supposed to make it better?"

  "You're right, but what should I do?"

  "Have you gone soft on me, soldier?"

  "I'm just so tired."

  "Then wake the fuck up and stop him and his kind."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Bullies. He needs to be exposed, and I think it is time to make another video."

  A seismic shift occurred in Paul's mood, and he began planning how he might shoot Mitch's confession.

  #

  The next morning, Alex tracked Mitch and S. down and brought bagels to their room. S. was worried about leaving the room. Mitch didn't blame her.

  Mitch left for an hour and did some shopping. When he came back, she was still talking with Alex. "Here, I bought some things. I got you pepper spray and a taser. That should slow down anyone who is up to no good."

  "What about you?"

  "I've got a taser, too," Mitch said with a reassuring smile. "You know the guy I ran into at the diner? I told you about him last night."

  "Yes, the friend from college."

  Mitch hadn't mentioned the nature of how he knew Paul and said, "Yes, that's the one. I'm going to meet him for lunch. Do you mind?"

  "No, I think I'll just stay here and sleep. All of this has wiped me out."

  Mitch turned to Alex and asked, "Do you think she'll be safe?"

  "Yes, but I'm more worried about you. He is still out there somewhere."

  "I think he's lost his nerve. Why wouldn't he have showed up last night?"

  Alex shook her head. "You have no idea what is going on in his mind."

  "If he calls, you'll be the first to know. Here is the name of the boat I'll be on. I'll be out of harm's way for the afternoon, so you can relax and keep an eye on sleepy over there."

  Mitch sat on the edge of the couch and leaned over to give S. a kiss. "I'll be fine," he said, sliding a note behind her pillow.

  She looked into his eyes and whispered, "You better because I love you, too."

  It was a moment he wished he could savor, but he had to leave, and his gut told him it was best not to linger.

  #

  Mitch didn't have a lot of time, so he picked up two orders of fettuccine alfredo and French bread plus some fruit and a couple of good bottles of wine. He stowed the food in the galley and went up on deck to wait for Paul.

  The sun and low wind made it a beautiful, fall day. Unseasonably warm, it was a perfect day to take the boat out. The docks were busy. People were working on their boats or simply relaxing on deck while a few people were getting ready to go fishing.

  Mitch had been out on the Shy Kitty half a dozen times. His buddy, also an author, was happy to lend it to him when he called. The last time they had taken her out was the day before he ran into S. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then. He felt old.

  "Ahoy, Paul, over here."

  Paul, carrying a satchel, pulled out a bottle of wine, and said, "Captain, permission to come aboard."

  "Permission granted. It's good to see you. I figured we'd head out and enjoy the beautiful weather. I can't wait to hear how you came up with all those clever inventions that made you the darling of the tech world."

  "I look forward to hearing how you come up with all those clever villains."

  Mitch took the bottle of wine and said, "Have a seat, I'll find us a good spot in the great blue sea...well, ocean."

  Paul smiled. "Sea or ocean - poetic license."

  "I'm glad you understand."

  Mitch waited until Paul was settled and cast off the lines.

  #

  Paul sat on deck and watched the shore and other boats fade away. He reveled in what was to come. He had his camera in his bag. After they were settled well out to sea in a spot where nobody would interrupt the shoot, he would make his move.

  The salt air was refreshing, and he chatted with Mitch as if they were lifelong friends. It would make the final scene that much better. He imagined Mitch begging for his life.

  He still had some details to work out. He was sure he could handle the boat as it was similar to one he had a few years ago. Before he posted Mitch's confession, he would need to decide if it were best to leave the country for good. He was sure that the FBI eventually would get curious about him just because they had lunch. They would notice he was in Italy and New York at the same time and start to wonder if it were more than coincidence.

  A few seagulls loitered about. Paul bent over to see if his gear was ready to go. He sat back up and screamed as he hit the floor.

  #

  Mitch stood over Paul with the taser. He watched him violently shake then rolled him over and forced his arms behind his back. Mitch slapped a pair of handcuffs on him and rolled him back. He duct-taped him to the chair and stood him upright. "Let's see what you have in the bag, old friend."

  Still trembling, Paul cried, "What are you doing?"

  "Look, you brought your own taser and some duct tape - oh - and a lovely camera."

  Paul struggled to answer, and Mitch punched him in the face. "You bastard."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You killed Anne Marie."

  "You're crazy."

  "I'm crazy? You stupid fuck. You follow me around Italy and kill that poor waiter and what was that about my drinking buddy?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "I was pretty drunk, but I remember seeing you in Italy and once back in New York. I didn't put it all together until the FBI found the tech you put in my room, but I was 99% sure it would be you who walked into the diner. Was all this over that joke back at school?"

  "Nobody laughs at me and gets away with it."

  "What sort of sick fuck carries that around with them their whole lives?"

  "Fuck you."

  "You might be interested to know that I really did feel badly about the comment. Last night's apology was real, but today you pay for Anne Marie and the others."

  "Pay how?"

  "I remember reading a number of years ago that you bought a boat to get over your fear of sharks," Mitch said as he pulled a bucket of chum out and started to toss bits of fish ov
er the side.

  "What are you doing?" Paul asked, clearly shaken.

  "I'm inviting some guests to our little lunch."

  Mitch saw him break. It happened much more quickly than he imagined it would. Paul didn't try to hide his fear or to act brave or defiant. He just started to tremble, "Please don't. I'm sorry. Don't do this, please."

  Mitch took out the camera and turned it on. "I'm here with Paul Lemstock, billionaire tech genius and mass murderer. Say hello, Paul."

  Paul looked at the bucket of chum and into the camera but said nothing.

  Mitch told the story of how he had humiliated Paul in college and apologized again. "Now, for our viewers at home, why don't you explain how it made you feel."

  "It made me feel small and stupid."

  "But you aren't stupid. Quite the contrary. You are a genius."

  Paul shrugged.

  "I know you are tied up, and I'm not sure if this will be admissible in a court of law, but why don't you tell us how you planned to get back at me after all these years."

  Paul, more than anything, had been lonely, so he started talking, explaining in great detail how he had seen Mitch at lunch and decided to take revenge by framing him for the murders. He talked for an hour and broke down a couple of times. When he finished describing how he had killed Anne Marie, Mitch asked, "Is that everything?"

  Paul looked away and said, "Yes."

  Mitch turned off the camera. He threw some more chum over the side.

  Paul screamed, "What are you doing? I've confessed. You can't kill me. Please."

  "Technically, I won't be the one killing you."

  "Please, god no, don't do it, I'm so sorry."

  Mitch looked at him and said, "You deserve to be torn to pieces."

  Paul hung his head. "Maybe, but please, I'm begging you, take me back."

  Mitch returned to the helm and was about to head back to shore, but something bothered him. He went back down and turned on the camera. "Why did you bring the camera today?"

  Paul looked down. "I was planning on filming you as I made you admit how much of a bully you were."

  "Filming isn't your signature, though, is it?"

  There was a pause and then he said, "No, it was 'ATM.'"

  "I think it was, though, wasn't it? Are you the Video Killer, too?"

  Paul looked into the camera and said only, "Yes."