Mary, Mary

Chapter 74

THE STORYTELLER HAD TO STOP the stream of murders now. He knew that; it was part of the plan, and the plan was a good one. What a pity, though, what a shame. He was just getting good at this, and he hadn't been good at anything for a long time.

Anyway, congratulations were in order. Praise for him was all over the TV, and in the newspapers, of course. Especially the L.A. Times, which had made that piece-of-shit Arnold Griner into such a saint and martyr. Everyone recognized the Storyteller's masterpiece - only it was so much better than they knew And he did want to celebrate, only there was still no one he could tell. He'd tried that in Vancouver and look what had happened. He'd had to kill a friend, well, an acquaintance, an old humpty-dump of his. So how would he celebrate? Arnold Griner was dead, and that made him laugh out loud sometimes. The ironies were building up now, including some subtle ones, like Griner getting his e-mails, then being his messenger to the police, then getting it himself In real life - as opposed to what had been written in the latest e- mail - the little prick had begged for his life when he saw who it was, when he finally understood, which made his murder even more satisfying. Hell, he hadn't killed Griner and his companion right away It had taken close to an hour, and he'd loved every minute of the melodrama.

So what would he do now?

He wanted to party, but there really was no one he could talk to about this. Boohoo, he had no one.

Then he knew exactly what he wanted to do, and it was so simple. He was in Westwood anyway so he parked in a lot and walked over to the wonderfully tacky Bruin Theater, where Collateral was playing. Tom Cruise, oh, good.

He wanted to go to the movies.

He wanted to sit with his people and watch Tom Cruise pretend he was a big, bad killer without any conscience or regrets.

Oohh, I'm scared, Tom.