No no, you will not get a photo of me, Detective. But you can get a photo of my work.
Snap. Snap. Snap. Get all the good angles, please. I spent a very long time ensuring that everything was right.
The hanging body to the left of the warehouse, the bloody body to the right of the swimming pool… My work must be photographed beautifully. After all, I’d do the same for you if you had taken this much time ensuring everything was picture perfect.
Oh, by the way, did you like the way I arranged the bodies this time? In the shape of a heart… Oh, it did make me giggle as I pulled those squirming men out of their beds, down the stairs and into the driveway. As I meticulously bent their bones into the circular part of the heart, a smile licked my lips. Oh, Detective, I do hope you enjoyed it. Did you? Did you?
Sigh. Probably not. You’ve never appreciated my artistic form.
Anyways, this is neither the time nor place to ask your opinion of my arrangements.
Back to the point.
If I know you like I believe I do- and trust me, Detective, I want to say I know you very well, your fingers are probably shaking as you read this letter. You’ll wipe the sticky sweat away from your bushy brows, and you’ll gasp at your first solid bit of evidence that I am real. Yes, I am a real person, and not just a twisted nightmare to the Surrey police force!
Your legs will grow weak, and your chest will rise and fall a little faster. Perhaps time will pass in heart beats and not seconds? Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum.
I’m excited to watch you open this letter. Then, you’ll photograph it. You’re meticulous with gathering evidence, you know? I wonder which way round you’ll do this. Read first or picture first… Only time will tell.
And now for a compliment.
Your skills have developed much since the first time I laid my spiteful little gaze on you, Detective. Oh, I remember back to when you were just a rookie, fetching the teas and coffees like a good little office bitch. Do you remember that ridiculous outfit you wore? Khaki brown was not and is not your colour if you don’t mind me saying so. Take it off.
Back then, you were so diligent, with bushy eyes and an excitement for life. What happened, by the way? I do hope that your inability to catch me hasn’t had too much of an impact on your mental health, Detective. It would be a damn shame. You seemed so fun to be around back then.
Every morning, you’d almost skip into the office with a wide smile. As usual, It would soon fade when that overweight Sergeant would summon you into his office. He’d wave his sticky, fat fingers in your face and order you to go and pick up the sweet treats from the local café.
Sergeant Dill? Sergeant Dilner? Sergeant Dilnest? Oh, I can’t remember his name. My memory isn’t what it used to be. Anyways, I called him Sergeant Dick. I’m sure you know who I’m on about. It’s important you remember because this was the first time I found you, and it created a routine for years after.
You dragged your skinny little body out of that stuffy, testosterone-filled office, down the road, up the hill and towards that sweet little coffee shop on the corner. You know, the one with the little red flowers out front? I never missed the way your face would flush pink, exhausted after your climb up the hill. Each day, you, and those flowers, were one shade.
Oh, yes, my little Detective, you’ve read that right. I’ve been watching you longer than you’ve been watching me. Fantastic, isn’t it? We were a match meant to be.
Speaking of true love, how is your husband? I heard you two arguing the other day. Tsk. Tsk. I don’t like the way he speaks to you. Only I can tease and torment you the way he did. Did you want me to sort out this pesky problem of yours? For you, Detective, I’ll do anything. Anything except let you snap a picture of me.
CCTV is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? I often wander past those little eyes in the sky, stalking everyone’s every move. Everyone other than mine, of course, but I’m sure you know this by now. I’m like a bad stench, lurking around your streets. You never know where it comes from, you only know that it had passed through as everyone tears their noses up in horror. I am everywhere and nowhere at once.
See, I would like to tell you a quick story now. But you must be kind. Oh, please be kind Detective, after all I am pouring my heart out to you. These little clues might give my game away, give my identity away…
Last weekend, I was thoroughly enjoying my cup of tea- It’s a small detail but you’ll understand soon enough.
It was my day off, you see, so I was really looking forward to just relaxing, putting my feet up, and sipping at that sugary goodness. You can imagine my shock when I heard the police sirens shrieking up my street! Those tin cans of doom pulled up right outside of my house. Luckily for me, I am much faster and smarter than you.
I was out of that chair quicker than you can say “Gotcha!”
Although, I must say, I was slightly disappointed it wasn’t you, yourself, who had come to collect me to whizz me off to jail. Why’d you get those ugly-looking creatures, you call teammates, to do this job? I thought we had something special.
Oh, yes, I remember now.
You’re frightened of me. I’m assuming you got my red rose, the one handpicked from our favourite coffee shop, yes? I’m assuming you freaked out, wondering how I got your address? And I’m assuming you ran the delicate thing for fingerprints.
Now, my shrewd little Detective, did you really think I’d give myself away so easily? Of course, they were not my fingerprints! And I can only imagine the shock of your colleagues as they turned up to 34 Crescent Road, clutching a warrant for my arrest, only to find a whole host of mutilated bodies. Quite a brilliant touch that.
If you were there, I’m sure you would have found me hiding in the closet downstairs. Your thick, skull-headed colleagues did not. The hunt would have been over by now if you were there. Perhaps many more would still have their lives.
I’m beginning to think you enjoy this game of cat and mouse. Are we flirting? Blink twice if we are.
Anyways, I have to go now. More people to kill, more bodies to bury. Or to leave lying around for you to find.
You can now photograph this letter, Detective. It’s the only thing of me you’ll ever get on camera.
Your omniscient (and uncatchable) admirer.