MoM - 4

By David Quinn

Matt McCloth had twenty-seven years of police experience under his belt and you can't do anything for that length of time without developing a sixth sense about what you are doing. He was convinced he was sitting with the serial killer all of San Francisco...all of California...the world, maybe, was looking for, but he knew, too, there wasn't anything he could do about it. Like with all the other attention-seekers before her, he had to let her go.

"Stop wasting my time," was all he could say at the end, and when the phone rang a second time, he answered it.

Monica Momussen pretended to be hurt when she was further told to get her lies laundered, but she knew, too, her adrenalin was too high to come down on its own.

"I need another john," she muttered aloud to herself, exiting the precinct. “A high-class one."

And that night, too, she found a replacement; a police officer who had spent most of the night searching for earthquake victims on the Interstate, and the only remorse she felt as she went to bed close to three in the morning was that Captain Matt McCloth had escaped her lure, because it was he she thought of as she plunged her hair pin in the back of her ninth john’s neck and then stuffed his penis down his throat.

© David Quinn 2006

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