D. Schmidt - They Ate the Waitress?

Nick took the stand and reiterated everything he had told Margery. “Dunmore made three attempts to frame other individuals for the murder. He threw a pipe bomb into Sweeney’s office, knowing that I would assume it was Donald Canard, an employee of Scunner Consulting. Dunmore also attempted to frame Clayton West, planting the photographs that I mentioned earlier. I believe Dunmore killed West to keep him from telling me about the fraudulent photos. Finally, Dunmore moved West’s body to the restaurant in an attempt to frame Sweeney for both murders.”

He paused to dig through his notes. “Dunmore’s contract with his insurance company permitted me to investigate his home. In his bedroom, I discovered what was most likely the camera used to take the photos, as well as materials that could be used to build a pipe bomb like the one that set fire to the restaurant. I also found a suspicious-looking substance in Dunmore’s freezer, which DNA testing proved to be the remains of Renée Flockhart. The remains only weighed ten pounds. The rest of the flesh, I would imagine, Dunmore had already consumed.”

After Nick left the stand, several of Gordon’s neighbors testified, saying what a “creepy guy” he was and how he “always smells like death” and “never says hello in the lobby anymore.”

A kendo expert testified next. She said that the wounds to Clayton’s skull were from a katana, a Japanese sword, just like the one in Gordon’s apartment. Earlier, she had told Nick privately that “men” was the term for a cutting blow to the forehead, shouted during tournaments. However, as Nick didn’t want anyone to know that had broken into Clayton’s house, he kept quiet about that particular detail of the case.

Finally, it was Gordon’s turn to take the stand. His large frame seemed shrunken, his shoulders stooped. “My lawyer told me I’m certain to be convicted,” he said, shaking his head. “The evidence is just too great. He said I’ll have to pay for everything, so I should just cooperate and make the trial less expensive for myself. Or my estate, I guess…” He took a long drink of water and cleared his throat. “I knew about the investigation from the beginning… Jessica heard Mr. Sweeney and Mr. Wergild talking, and she told me what they said. She didn’t know I had done it; she was just gossiping.”

Gordon paused, staring at the water in his glass. “I’ve known Renée since high school. She never noticed me. She was more interested in seniors, guys with money and cars. So I gave up on her and dated other girls. I had a few girlfriends that I loved, but things never quite worked out. Either I didn’t have enough money or I wasn’t good looking enough or I was too emotionally distant or too clingy. Something was always wrong.”

“Once I got this job,” he continued, “I realized that my crush never went away. I wanted to ask Renée out, but Mr. Sweeney doesn’t like his employees dating coworkers. I got so mad at him for that. So damn mad! I wanted to hurt him, so I sold some information to that activist group. I didn’t know it at the time, but they broke into Renée’s place, scared her pretty bad. She didn’t show up to work for a week. I thought she quit… I could finally ask her out! I went to her place, and we talked… I asked her if she would ever consider maybe, possibly, getting involved with me, but she shot me down. She had gotten a job in The Republic of Texas. I’d never see her again. Just like everybody else in my life, she was going to go.”

Tears spilled down his pockmarked cheeks. The arbitrator asked if he needed a break, but he just shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he said, “That’s when I had an idea: I could keep her here! She was so little, and I’m such a big guy. Her neck broke so easily… I dragged her to the restaurant, where I cut her up and stored her in the freezer. I took bits of her home over the next few weeks, until Mr. Sweeney caught me. He thought I was stealing from him. But she belonged to me! She is me, now. I ate every piece of her, and she’s a part of me forever.”

Oddly, Renée’s parents didn’t seem upset. They looked like they were watching golf on television. Something that disturbing, that bizarre, would take days to sink in. The arbitrator stood and stacked his legal papers into a great, towering pile. “Mr. Dunmore has demonstrated that he is an extremely dangerous individual. Therefore, he will spend the rest of his life in a maximum security work camp. As Clayton West has no known heirs, the profits from Mr. Dunmore’s labor will be divided between the Flockharts and Detective Wergild. Mr. Dunmore’s possessions will be sold, as will his internal organs on the event of his death. The money from those sales will be given to the Flockharts.”

A squadron of heavily-armed security patrolmen led Gordon from the office. Todd and Margery waved awkwardly at Nick from across the room and walked out, leaving in opposite directions. Jessica looked at her watch for a few seconds and then trotted after Todd. Finally, the arbitrator grabbed his briefcase and left for another trial.

Nick sighed, exhausted. “At last, it’s over.”

A gloved hand covered his eyes. A woman’s voice said, “Guess who, you stupid piece of shit!”

“Mom?”

The hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. It was the woman from Gordon Dunmore’s apartment. Her other hand tightly clutched a straight razor. “Recognize me now, asshole?”

“You’re some bald woman. I saw you at Dunmore’s place.”

“Here’s a hint: I wear a wig at work.”

“Oh, holy hell. You’re Faith! You tried to kill me! Well, you’re lucky that I never hit a woman. Technically, it’ll be this folding chair that hits you.”

Faith laughed, toying idly with the razor, swinging it like a butterfly knife. “Go ahead, just try to fight me. I’m wearing these gloves for a reason: I just rubbed so much LSD into your face that you’ll be tripping for a solid year!”

“But why?”

“Because it makes it easier for me to kill you ,” she said slowly, like she was explaining it to a small child.

“I realize that,” he said. “What I meant was why do you want to kill me?”

“You got Don sent to a work camp!”

“No, I didn’t. I got Gordon Dunmore sent to a work camp. Don Canard didn’t kill anyone. That I know of, anyway.”

“I’m talking about Gordon!” she snapped. “Everyone calls him ‘Don.’ He only goes by ‘Gordon’ at work. He told me you were investigating him… He led you to the bar where I work, and I injected you with a speedball. When I left, you were choking on your own vomit.”

But he wasn’t listening. He was staring down at his chest, pawing at his shirt. “Could you do something about these scorpions? What if they get in my pants?”

Faith laughed darkly. “Well, it looks like your time has come.” The razor flashing in her hand, she lunged for his throat. Suddenly, she collapsed on the floor, convulsing violently.

Nick slipped his stunner back into his pocket. “Don’t they teach needle girls anything about their products anymore? LSD takes at least twenty minutes to have any effect. You should have done something to distract me until it was too late. Started a fire, grabbed a hostage, taken your top off…” He snapped his handcuffs on her wrists and, as soon as she was able to stand, he pulled her to her feet.

“I’m never going to see Don again!” she whimpered weakly. “We were going to be married!”

“Weren’t you paying attention? He’s still in love with Flockhart! Damn. Isn’t that just like a woman? ‘I know he’s a psychotic, cannibal murderer, but I can change him!’”

“I’ll get out eventually, you know. I’ve seen the women’s work camps. Minimal security… I’ll escape and kill you.”