by Bill WENHAM
They had to be! I had killed them, both of them. I was pretty sure I’d killed the one that I’d fired at. I’d watched the other one drop down the wall of the dam and bounce into the river over 700 feet below as well. Surely nobody could have survived those falls, especially the one with three bullets in him, one of them a head shot for sure! And yet here it was, a year later, when we all thought it was over and everything was back to normal, we get this message. It said:
‘Well, well, well, Detective Spicer. Let us start off with a little riddle, shall we? The riddle is this. Am I the Butler, returned from the dead, or am I a mere copycat. Either way, I will restart my activities just one week from today, on the anniversary of our supposed demises. And, guess what, Detective Spicer, once again, it is up to you to locate me. Or is it us?
As before, I will leave you tasty little clues along my trail of death and destruction. Not clues as to who I am, since you know that already, but to where I am, just like I did before. By the way, I like the new cabin; it has such a beautiful view of the lake, doesn’t it? And, before I forget, do please invite me to the wedding. I gave you a year so you would have plenty of time to plan it and even you aren’t that slow, surely? I don’t know what her father thinks of you, Spicer, but I will make certain that it’s the kind of shotgun wedding I wouldn’t want to miss for anything. It’s what I’ve been waiting a year for. It’s what I do. But you know that already. And you know I won’t miss too, don’t you? I never do and I always win! Eventually!
You just need to be aware that the Butler still lives and he will continue to live…until you and your woman do not!
Ellie looked at me and her lips began to tremble. We’d thought it was all over and we’d planned our real wedding, her dream day, just as he knew we had. I held her tightly as she shuddered against my chest.
Ellie and I were due to be properly married exactly one week from today! On exactly the same day the Butler said he planned to start killing people again! Would it be people in general? More cops or cop’s relatives? Or would it just be us, Ellie and I? And just who the hell were we dealing with now? Which one of those two bastards has survived?
Or did both of them?
Julio Cervantes smiled grimly as he recorded the message to Spicer. For several years now his brother Emilio had sought revenge against the cop for killing his bride-to-be. But now Spicer had killed Emilio and Raphael as well.
Julio was the older brother and although he was well aware of his younger siblings’ activities and approved of them in principle, he’d taken no part in the vendetta himself. His brothers had been avenging the death of Emilio’s future bride, a personal responsibility of Emilio’s.
But this was different. He, Julio, now had two dead brothers to avenge, also killed by cops. And not just cops, either, - the same cop!
Over the years he’d been aware of Emilio’s ‘Butler’ persona and the reason for it. Julio felt that it was now up to him to continue his dead brothers’ plan of vengeance against the cop, Spicer, to uphold his family’s honor and that of Emilio and Raphael, and, to a lesser degree, the beautiful Rosetta.
Julio had neither his brothers’ weapons nor acting skills but Spicer didn’t know that. If he used his own voice, who would know? It would just be considered to be another of Emilio’s impressions. Also, Julio looked nothing like either of his younger brothers.
Yes, indeed, Detective Spicer, the game is far from over yet, he said to himself.
Have you ever wondered why criminals are kept so long on Death Row, Spicer? Surely you know it isn’t the actual execution that is the punishment. It is the mental anguish of waiting months, perhaps years, of knowing your death is inevitable. You know there can be no reprieve. All you can do is count down the days until it happens. That’s the real punishment, just as yours will be. I will gladly wait and watch as you and your woman die, and believe me I am in no hurry, Detective.
Oh, and by the way, Spicer, rather than assume this vendetta was merely a two brother partnership, should you not perhaps consider it might be a family affair?
And if so, Detective, exactly how many of us are there?
