orley Munson sat at his desk trying to concentrate but all he could see in his mind was the fat lady’s hand as he dropped the plastic bag containing it behind a tree. He had left it there (as directed) to show his nemesis that he was willing and able to play this twisted game of cat and mouse.
Morley Munson had another plan, of course, and that was to kill this interloper
as quickly (and slowly) as possible. Morley Munson did not murder for sport and
he found some part of this notion very distasteful. Of course he didn’t mind the actual doing of it and each murder that he himself had committed felt entirely justified in his own mind. Having some new person in town knowing his every move, however, was a very unsettling notion to Mr. Morley Munson. No matter what black and foul deeds lurked in his own heart, he was by all appearances a fine and upstanding member of his local community and no second-rate criminal was going to ruin his reputation.
Morley Munson was waiting for the post
to arrive—few days went by lately when a hand-printed note didn’t arrive with a
new challenge or a threatening message. The words and thoughts seemed to be escalating, in fact, and Morley Munson knew that very soon now he and this mysterious figure were going to meet and that one of them (hopefully not himself) was going to come to a very foul and inglorious end.
Morley Munson smiled at his secretary as she dropped a few letters on his desk. One seemed to stick out from the rest. With trembling hands Morley Munson opened the sealed flap and pulled out a note. It read: “Tomorrow night this will all end. At your cabin in the woods.”