Happy Birthday

  The chilly breeze of this last evening of March, meanly biting at my cheeks, I don't recall it was this way, last year. Maybe it was because of the warmth of her slender hand in mine. . . it seems to me it was much warmer that day. I certainly was not shivering as I'm doing now. I should've taken the other jacket, just as Ma told me.

Pfff. Ma. The poor old thing with those worried eyes of hers. I'd better take care, or she'll never leave me alone. I don't like it when she begs me to stay home when the time comes. Follows me through our cramped kitchen, holds the door open when I go, watches me as I go down the stairs, as if she thought she'd lose me. I'm fed up with living with her. But the rent is so much cheaper this way. . . Still, maybe she knows something. And what should I do then?

Oh shit, that dog again. Great, here it comes. It's not as if it was not written “Dogs must be kept on a leash” at the entrance of the park, where the small bridge stands. Now what? This one really looks ferocious. Let's act as if we've not seen it. Chin up, walking straight ahead, fast, but not too fast. . . shit. . . He seems to like my pants, that one. He's drooling on my shoes now. Disgusting animal.

Oh, but look at her. She enjoys herself. She does, while her huge danish is shamelessly sniffing at me, his muzzle damn too close to my crotch. Now she looks at me squarely. Pretty little thing by the way. She's been around for several days. Jogging both in the mornings and at dusk. Muscular legs and back, not to speak of her GREAT ass. Black hair, blue eyes, petite, but not dwarfy either. No. Not too slender. She's curvy in all the right places, as they say.

But she's got that dog. She's noticed me before, I'm sure, it's not the first time we come across each other. She must have guessed I'm a little bit afraid of the dog. I see that in her dancing, mischievous eyes now.

There. It's time I flash her my winning smile, all teeth and crinkled eyes. Usually it works well enough. She blushes a little. That's good, that's really good. Let's look at her while she walks away, her ugly dog on her heels, her tanned calves shiny with sweat. I'd wagger she stopped jogging only to sway those hips for me. There, she turns and looks back. Just a small sign with my hand, that's all for now.

I let her go.

Anyway there's little I can do with the dog in the way. How could I solve that? There must be a way. There must be one. I like to have a nice, appetizing piece of a woman for my birthday. And it's coming soon now. Barely a week.

I'm sure I'll have more fun with this tanned brunette than with the one last year. That one was shy, with no strength at all. I was over with her in just one week. Poor thing. As we walked here hand in hand last year, she was aware of nothing. It 's been way too easy.

I like them stronger. I love those who resist. Those I can keep in my secret place for weeks before getting rid of them. My victory is much more delicious then. And deserved.

This one with the dog, she radiates joy, health. Her muscular body speaks of hours of jogging and gym. She walks as if she owns the world, secure and carefree. She thinks she's safe, with that big dog always with her.

I'll find a way. I always find one. First the dog, and then. . .

***

The guy is a freak. You've just to look at the void in his icy-blue eyes. I'm sure he's watching me right now. Yes, oh and how superior the smile is. And the small wave of his thin hand.

The dumbass thinks he's the smartest man on earth, and the handsomest, at that. He gives me goose bumps with his gaunt, almost skelettish frame, and the greasy, thin strand of hair he takes great care to stick onto his white forehead... Take this, you scumbag, I hope the swaying on my hips sends your mind rocketting to damn crazy.

On the other hand I guess some women could find him attractive on the frail side. The first time he sees you that is. Then he knows his job well, shy smiles, furtive nods, bolder by the day until he thinks he can put you under his spell and flashes his teeth at you. Yeah, maybe that's how he got them, so harmless as he looks.

How would you make the link between that inoffensive-looking stroller with the shy smile and the monster we were looking for. What he did to those poor women. One can hardly bear to think of it.

Well, if her mom had not come to us, we'd never have paid attention to him. Although we've been on the hunt for the “Butcher of Spring'' for five years. Poor woman, tall, her too thin figure mirroring her son's, and the same blue eyes, full of tears, those ones. But she's been strong enough to come to the Police and tell us. Put her burden at our feet, so to speak. How scared she looked.

Come, Stella, don't stare at him drooling like this. Yeah, you're a good girl, Sweetie, let's jog along and hope the prick will be hooked once and for all. We need evidence.

I'll leave you at the dog daycare tomorrow, Stella, I hope you'll forgive me. Believe me, it's worth your patience and all our efforts. Then I'll just have to look sad enough that I am without you, and cross the prick's path. I bet he'll offer to cheer me up, and think he's the master of the game. Whereas, my colleagues will be following us all along.

Yeah, It will be a great caught-in-the act case.

Happy birthday to you, Butcher. You'll see I'm not exactly a piece of cake . . .

Annick D. Arnaud