FanStory.com
"Shape Shifter"


Chapter 1
Shape-Shifter Part One

By Brett Matthew West

A scant seven miles north of the Marion County line, the turbo-boosted Charger barreled down Highway 14. Named for the Battalion Commander of the 58th Airbourne, killed when he stepped on an IED during the battle for Mosel, Iraq, the W.L. Coleman bridge, with its expansive arch, stood up ahead past the Lemar Meat Packing Plant.

Dutton floored the gas pedal. The car whizzed past the white hash marks painted on the fresh blacktop. He zipped around a hairpin S-curve. Balanced on the vehicle's two left tires, Dutton missed sideswiping the guardrail by a narrow margin. He did not slow down to avoid the Brownlee Lawn Service Tundra Crew Cab and utility trailer that approached from the east, but sailed through the red light at the Highway 29 intersection.

"You crazy son-of-a-bitch!" The silver-haired kyphosis behind the truck's steering wheel cursed out loud. He slammed on his brakes and blared his horn. A Toro Timecutter rocked in the trailer.

Dutton sat the car down on all four tires and raced on.

Mark Ballister glared at his partner and commented, "When you say haul ass that's what you mean."

Dutton cast his eyes to the youthful rookie. He smiled and replied, "I'm just getting started. And, a word to the wise, Mark. You should always come out and say what's on your mind. Mince no words."

Ballister noticed Dutton's hostile tone and attempted another avenue. "How could a sensitive and vulnerable fun-lover like Karl Adler avoid accountability for his violent outbursts that have been traced back to his stellar football career at Marion High School? It's not every day the star quarterback goes belly up."

His analytical mind elsewhere, Dutton responded, "Grasp this concept, Mark. Adler lived a double life and switched back and forth into the dark side."

Ballister pondered, "How did Adler manage to get through life like that?"

Thorough to the details, Dutton explained, "Privilege and wealth were his stations in life. But, there were telltale signs throughout his hyper-masculine world. For instance, Adler grew up in an abusive household. His Daddy Dearest, Justin Adler the Third was a homophobic and an alcoholic."

"Disdain and a drunk. Never a good combination," Ballister interjected.

Dutton continued, "From that, Adler learned contempt, prejudice and hatred for anyone different from himself."

"The world is full of kooks of all flavors," Ballister said.

"And, Adler's attributes were reinforced by prolonged periods of being locked alone in a dark cellar then kept on bread crusts and tepid water while there," Dutton concluded.

He slammed on the brakes in front of the Marion County Regional Medical Center. The Charger jostled. Not waiting for the elevator, Dutton bolted inside the sliding glass doors with their posted Welcome sign and up the nearby flight of eight stairs. Ballister nipped at his heels.

Along the way, Dutton said, "Their wedding anniversary a couple days away, Marlena Madison had told me she anxiously awaited the special package Jordan promised her to celebrate the one year occasion."

"Wasn't he deployed out of country?" A winded Ballister asked.

"Jordan's corporation sent him to Rwanda," Dutton responded. He popped open a corridor marked PRIVATE ENTRANCE and said, "We know a box arrived for them and Marlena opened it."

"The one that exploded," Ballister remarked connecting the dots together.

"Marlena never had a chance," Dutton stated, "forensics extracted Karl Adler's forefinger print from a small remnant of that package."

Ballister asked, "How does Mouse Mordecai figure into the scenario?"

"The weasel's the only tie-in who can confirm Adler's location," Dutton responded.

"You think Adler put the hit on Mordecai to silence him?" Ballister quizzed his partner.

"With no uncertainties," Dutton assured him, "Mordecai's phone had been tapped."

"And, the wrong someone heard the rhapsody," Ballister commented.

When Dutton reached his destination, a blue uniform stood outside Room 408. Grim-faced,the officer informed him, "You're too late, Detective."

Dutton verified,"Mordecai's dead?"

"Indisputable" came the answer, "all he said before the gurney jockeys carted him into Neverland was to tell you Roningers."

"Owe you one, Longoria," Dutton declared and galloped off.

Dutton's footsteps reverberated down the hallway. Ballister labored to match strides. Dutton detailed, "When Adler was thirteen, he assaulted a restaurant manager over a five dollar spaghetti dinner. That tiff provided Adler a sense of being above the law, and a suspended juvy sentence. Adler is highly reactive. That's what makes him so dangerous."

"DNA on a blunt tied Adler to Joshua Miller's slaughter. The abundance of evidence proved the socialite's execution was sloppy and Adler's trial became a pop culture media circus," Ballister chimed in.

Dutton fired the Charger up and vowed, "Adler is a chameleon with shape-shifter tendencies. And, I'm going to nail his filthy, roach-infested, carcass to the inside wall of the Green Peace Cemetery!"

Ballister noticed the claw hammer laying on the car's console. In reference to Dutton's planned carnage, he said, "I have no qualms with that decision."

(TO BE CONTINUED:)





Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan, W., selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan, W., for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.


Chapter 2
Shape-Shifter Part Two

By Brett Matthew West

Filled with thick cynicism, and dressed in a ragged, soiled, macintosh, the stranger appeared to fit right in with the other derelicts and street bums that frequented Upper Madison in the direction of Vernon's Brewery.

Unnoticed by the bustling crowds, as the down-and-out most often are in larger metropolises, the stranger used being ignored to his advantage. He carried a nylon duffle bag until he reached the dense throngs packed like sardines in a tin can and headed for Longview Acres Mall.

Attentive peepers scanned snarled traffic. The stranger saw Four Seasons, the Peach Pit Cafe, and Trudy Orchards Flower Shop. Flashing neon signs blinked in all directions beckoning the shoppers to enter each establishment. Tourists and camera hounds littered the cracked, dirty, sidewalks as a sudden breeze blew a fast food wrapper down the road.

The stranger knew he remained the only creature that really did not fit in any way with the masses surrounding him. He stood a single, alienated being and felt alone in the midst of all those people. He lived life that way. In fact, he relished being alone. Isolation was his chosen means of existence.

Unobserved, he sat his heavy bag down directly behind the rear entrance door of the Walter's Circus Supply store, then walked on. He crossed the street at the intersection of Powell Branch and Novak before entering Marcus Lane.

As was his long-standing custom, three blocks later from an ancient payphone he had discovered on a previous venture, the stranger dialed a number.

His simple message, precise and to the point, said, "Your time is up. Councilman Dell Cavanaugh is at Longview Acres in a green Army duffle bag. More correctly, what is left of Dell Cavanaugh. Once again, you blew the lid off this one!"

Then, like a shadow in the midnight hour, the stranger was gone.

Detective Dutton, and Mark Ballister, quick-stepped toward the crime scene. He removed his dark sunglasses and glanced at the gathered looky-loos. Dutton did not resemble a typical law enforcement stereotype. In fact, if there was one thing the whole department knew about him, Dutton was not. Being a rogue suited his style.

As Dutton approached the blue uniform, in his typical sarcasm he asked, "Karl Adler out for his noonday kill? There's nothing unusual about those bananas."

Ballister watched the packed crowd surveying the homicide location. In disbelief, he shook his head full of long brown hair. The ponytail almost fell out. Television news crews, and press reporters, had already gathered.

Dutton asked the patrolman, "What's being done by you local geniuses?"

"Give us some slack, Dutton," the officer responded. "We're out canvassing the area to try to determine if anyone witnessed anything out of the norm."

"Perhaps the department wants to discover if any alien lifeforms have been vacationing in our town?" Dutton scoffed.

Captivated by what he discovered, Dutton knew exactly what he sought.

"Guess you became jaded a long time ago," the patrolman stated.

Dutton glared back at him and retorted, "I wonder why, Merlin."

The crime scene was overhung by a purple canopy. Dutton crouched near the body bag containing the Councilman's remains that would be used to transport them to the morgue. Ballister joined him.

"Are we reading a Gothic Poe here?" Dutton wondered out loud. He turned to Ballister and inquired, "What do you think of Karl Adler's latest masterpiece, Mark?"

"Adler packed the duffle with precision like he was loading a briefcase," Ballister commented.

"A frigging butcher. But, the question is why would the monster leave his victim here?" Dutton proposed. "Clues. Obvious clues. Have you figured them out yet?"

(TO BE CONTINUED:)



Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan, W., selected to complement my novella.

So, thanks Hagan, W., for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novella.








To read Part 1 click on blue numbers on top of Part 2.


Chapter 3
Shape-Shifter Part Three

By Brett Matthew West

Her gait brisk, Doctor Dorothina Fairchild, the renown Chair of the Gynecology Department of the Water Lakes Regional Medical Center, walked down the darkened corridor on the east side of the medical facility. She made a quick note to report the lighting outage to Facilities so the discrepancy could be corrected.

A busybody by nature, Dorothina's reddish hair was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. A closet hobby painter, Dorothina recalled the upcoming Art Show in Baldwin Park she planned to attend Saturday afternoon. Hospital rounds she'd leave to underlings. In Dorothina's mind, that's all most of them were good for.

"The flimsy louts!" Dorothina mumbled to herself as she neared the parking garage where her brand new Lexus stood at the ready.

The night air remained quiet and felt empty. Dorothina liked this solitude where she could collect her thoughts. Often, Dorothina did not rack her brain at all. Tonight, Dorothina mused on the death of a newborn earlier that morning. Nothing could be done for the blue little girl with her umbilical cord wrapped snug around her neck.

Dorothina simply filled out and signed the state mandated paperwork. She offered little comfort to the grief-stricken young mother. Instead, Dorothina strolled to the cafeteria for lunch consumption. After all, the infant wasn't the first stillborn Dorothina had encountered in her illustrious career. She doubted it would be the last.

Maintaining her theory about death, and the extensive cosmos, Dorothina believed death could be no scarier than a good Alfred Hitchcock flick, or an even better Edgar Allen Poe book. On the other hand, Dorothina wouldn't offer two bits of a hen's teeth for coming into the world.

A street person appeared from out of nowhere. His unexpected presence snapped Dorothina's drifted mind back to the moment. His baggy jeans, and ripped jacket, startled Dorothina, especially when the stranger pressed against her side almost attached to her right arm.

"Hello, Dorothina. What an excellent night for a late night stroll," the man said as if he'd known her a lengthy time.

Putting up a brave front, Dorothina responded, "You shouldn't go around spooking people."

"And, you shouldn't be out here alone," the unknown man retorted. "You should have stayed in your office. Or at least, had Security escort you out. Never know what danger lurks in unknown shadows."

Goosebumps crawled across the back of Dorothina's ample neck. She was very much afraid and pushed the man off her side saying, "Get out of here!" Her vehicle ten steps away, Dorothina quickened her steps.

The street man matched Dorothina's pace and said, "Doctor Fairchild, you shouldn't be so hasty. The attitude does not suit you."

"Go! Get away from me!" Dorothina barked though no one was around to hear her desperate wails.

The man swung a fist and knocked Dorothina down. She fell with a thud and her pulse raced rapid. Dorothina could not see out of her swollen eye.

She screamed, "Are you out of your mind, you insane lunatic!"

The powerful stranger answered her, "Of course I'm out of my mind. At least, that's what all the news reports claim about me. I'm Karl Adler and you are next!"

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan, W., selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan, W., for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.








To catch up with the first two parts of this novelette click on the blue numbers on top of the page


Chapter 4
Shape-Shifter Part Four

By Brett Matthew West

A barbaric pack of news type savages intercepted Dutton and Ballister as they made tracks for the parking garage. At least two dozen reporters converged on the scene. The hawk-eyed bloodsuckers blocked the path and would not allow them to pass. The press corps knew Dutton well.

"Why Nurse Fairchild and when are you going to capture the sadistic lunatic who killed her?" One correspondent squawked above the chaos.

Dutton saw the Channel 17 news helicopter fly directly over his head and knew they thrived on pure commotion.

Someone else bellowed, "Detective Dutton, we hear this latest slaughter is connected to the Karl Adler attacks. Any truth to that report?"

Dutton shook his head and whispered so only Ballister heard him, "Let me talk to these clowns, Mark, and get this insanity over with so we can get on to our investigation."

Ballister nodded agreement. Dutton fought to control his impatience. He strolled towards the cameras that sought his attention. A wave of his hands hushed the crowd. Dutton understood how visual newsmongers were. That included the wordsmiths. As far as Dutton was concerned they all watched, and tried to copy, far too many movie and television personalities. He himself despised the hoopla.

A thin smile crossed Dutton's face. He volunteered, "I'll answer your questions as best I can."

Raw-boned, a copper head stepped closer. Dutton noticed his Salvation Army appearance. A camera flash exploded in front of Dutton, but he was used to them. With the press there was never any way to predict their first question.

Dutton told them, "As you can well see, I just came here. Therefore, at the moment I don't know much to offer you."

"What about the Adler case? Is this murder of Nurse Fairchild tied into that fiasco or not?" A chipmunk-perky female screeched.

Dutton hoped she was wittier than she seemed. He rolled his eyes and looked at her, "We're going to follow all leads, Edwina, but for now, until we have something concrete to talk about, this interview's over."

A reporter hollered from the back of the group, "Why did they bring you in on this analysis, Dutton?"

"Roderick, I'm here because every now and then I get real lucky. Maybe I'll surprise you and get lucky again," Dutton responded with a touch of sarcasm, "right now, I have to get in the trenches. If and when we have something, I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, and all that hunky-dory stuff, I'll be the first to tell you."

Dutton pulled Ballister away from the inferno.

"That was pretty good. You managed to confuse the living hell out of all of them. They couldn't tell if you were coming or going. Well done!"

"Way past their normal blank expressions," Dutton agreed. "They don't give a rip about Dorothea Fairchild. Only what sells the most copies or draws the most viewers. Not one inquired about her co-workers or family, or how they responded to her murder. These nosy news collectors don't get what's right before their eyes."

"Simplemindedness is their true forte," Ballister said.

Police Commissioner Conrad Zigler joined them and provided a friendly cajole, "Make nice with the news. This is a high-volatile emotional moment."

"That's just what I don't want to do," Dutton replied. He felt the whole Adler case had morphed into a bad storm about to happen.

Zigler patted Dutton's shoulder. "I want that sidewinding son-of-a-bitch Adler. And, I want him now! That's why I personally assigned you to this case, Dutton. You're the best I have."

Dutton stared at the Commissioner. He knew the Task Force leader delivered his thunderbolt in his typical electrifying manner. Even on quaaludes or meth, Zigler could not have made his stunning proclamation any clearer.

"Say that again. What was your last comment?" Dutton wanted to know.

"You're here to stop Adler and get Mayor Diaz from breathing down my neck. That's what I need you to do. You have free reign, Dutton. Bring me that bastard's head on a platter!"

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan, W. selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan, W., for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.








If you want to get caught up with the other parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers on the top of the page.


Chapter 5
Shape-Shifter Part Five

By Brett Matthew West

Dutton's nerves on edge, his awareness painfully heightened. He asked himself why the ruthless Karl Adler would strike in broad daylight somewhere as heavily utilized as the hospital's vaunted parking garage? Why Nurse Fairchild? What was the connection? Could Dorothina's slaughter have been prevented? Most importantly, how to stop the madman's insane rampage?

The newshounds had one fact straight. Dutton was well known as the virtuoso profiler of the department. Dutton knew his reputation was at stake and the citizenry that grew more weary daily yearned for this case to be closed. Pronto not soon enough.

A seasoned veteran, Dutton should have been used to the violent crime graphics of the Adler murders, but they did not settle well in the pit of his gut. For Dutton, they brought back way too many memories of another time, another life he once lived.

Not a paranormal happening, Dutton possessed a type of sixth sense. Upon entering a room, Dutton felt sensations he lacked previously. That, and his uncanny ability to sense presences even when alone, made him clairsentient.

Dutton could process raw information much better than anyone he ever encountered. His methods differed immensely from the law enforcement he spent his career with. Being a rogue, Dutton never ruffled. His methodology was diversified and different in his investigative processes.

The school of formalistic investigation is not where Dutton subscribed. Instead, Dutton was the polar opposite. He prided himself on the widest assortment of hunches and a vast variety of instincts. Exacting scientific police work followed those notions. Dutton also knew Adler's killing spree blazed while his pursuit up to this point was tepid.

The storm raged over the city. Something bothered Dutton. He wasn't quite sure what it was. He approached a battered Jeep. His arms and face covered in blood, a badly beaten young male laid on the pavement next to the Renegade.

Dutton wondered, "Had Adler turned his turmoil on children?"

The first thought that entered Dutton's mind was Adler's heart wasn't into striking out at young targets. That's why the boy still breathed air. Was the attack nothing more than a symbolic gesture, or was Adler in a hurry? Perhaps frightened? As those thoughts raced through Dutton's mind, he realized something was out of place about this attack.

Ballister joined him beside the vehicle. Dutton looked at his partner and stated, "This attack wasn't carried out by Adler."

"How can you be sure?" Ballister asked.

"Adler would have killed that teen like he did Fairchaild," Dutton responded.

"An accomplice?" Ballister wanted to know.

"That would explain a lot of unanswered questions about this case, Mark. Better call it in. This boy needs help," Dutton replied.

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan, W., selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan, W., for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.






If you wish to catch up with the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


Chapter 6
Shape-Shifter Part Six

By Brett Matthew West

Nowhere near faint of heart, but more swept up in the tragedy, Ballister observed, "There's blood spatter all over the sheets, the floor, and the walls."

Well versed in gunshots, Dutton noticed the position a bullet entered through the window in front of the deceased's bed. He commented, "Look at this, Mark. The radial lines are even and the glass fracture is clean. A precise kill. Whoever fired the shot stood."

He removed a pad and black ink pen from his jacket pocket. The writing instrument's pressurized ink cartridge guaranteed no matter what angle he wrote from he would never have a pen that did not write.
Just another one of Dutton's well organized details.

Dutton scribbled a quick note, then drew a sketch of the room. Turning to Ballister, he stated, "There's more evidence we need to collect like the Size Eleven Laredo boot print the boys in blue located in the azalea bed."

"Fragile flowers," Ballister commented then asked, "You got a walking picture of the perpetrator?" Dutton's attention to facts never ceased to amaze the young rookie.

The raw data Dutton discovered at the crime scene led him to reply with clear logic, "White male with a reddish skin tint. Sandy hair pulled back tight behind his head and secured with a purple ribbon. No spectacles over his steel-grey eyes. From the trajectory angle of the bullet about six feet two."

"Karl Adler at his finest. That's why the body's mutilated. I knew better than to ask. You think the victim might have been his accomplice?" Ballister wondered.

"Then, why did you wonder?" Dutton responded. Before waiting for Ballister's explanation he elaborated his prognosis, "A classic example of eliminating the excess baggage before it tumbles down on you."

Ballister removed a glossy that hung precariously on a rusty nail in the wall. He read the caption fastened to the bottom of the picture and stated, "Paul Wingate. Why does that name sound familiar?" He thought a moment. Then, the answer came to him. "Paul Wingate. Of course, the small fish in the big meth pond busted last year in the Danworth Projects."

Contemplating how the events must have played out in the room Dutton responded, "MO fits him spot on. Left the scene intact just the way Adler does all his hits. His loud and clear trademark."

Always observant, Ballister looked at four pieces of notebook paper that laid on a small nightstand by the bed's headboard. He picked up and handed the top sheet to Dutton then said, "My but Wingate planned on being a busy boy."

Dutton examined the paper and asked, "Carelessness. But, now we have a probable lead on Adler's To Exterminate list. Did you notice who's name was on the top?"

"Detective John Dutton," Ballister replied, "I saw that."

"All that list does is prove Wingate was nothing more than a rank amateur. Almost don't blame Adler for exterminating him," Dutton responded. He laughed at the concerned expression on Ballister's face and quipped, "Hell, Mark, if I worried about all the sleazebags and two-bit slimeballs over the last twenty years who vowed to murder me, I wouldn't be here now bringing another one down. Comes with the territory. Just another reason for me to nail Adler's vile carcass to the wall. And, I will."

Almost two hours had elapsed in the forensics the room offered. Dutton became intrigued by the disturbing paper Ballister had handed him. The list, now neatly folded, was stuffed in his shirt pocket. Every minute detail about the Adler case intensified.

(TO BE CONTINUED:)



Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan, W., selected to complement my novelette

So, thanks Hagan, W., for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.






If you want to get caught up with the other parts of this story click on the blue numbers on the top of the page. (Know for a fact most FanStorians will not. Just saying.)


Chapter 7
Shape-Shifter Part Seven

By Brett Matthew West

The text message read, "You have taken the town by storm!"

The diminutive, ruthless, Karl Adler busied his thumbs and replied, "I control the city now with an iron fist and only I know why I do the things I do."

The next inquiry came across loud and strong, "Why do you do them?"

Adler replied, "I want to be famous, and through my reign of terror, I am. Much more than I ever imagined." Adler cut the transmission off. He tossed the stolen throwaway into a dumpster. Bounced off the nearby tower, the call could not be traced to him.

On a rampage, with nothing to lose, Adler's ferocious presence spread daily on the news. His sort of chaos was not supposed to happen, but he enjoyed the productivity of his scandalous killings. The slopsucker's mouth sagged when he spoke. Adler's piggy eyes stared far out into space and remained fixed.

His fantasies had always been simple. By flashlight, in his darkened bedroom, the young version of Karl Adler studied mass murderers he became fascinated with, kidnappers, and other vile creatures. He fed off the adrenaline of each delicious attack and treasured the avatar of death. Adler's victims became nothing more than fee fi fo fum monster fodder.

The scariest truth of the day was Karl Adler kept everything off balance. That was the only way he liked life to be. The only way he crafted his nasty deeds. The surprisingly attractive Downtown area would soon buzz with excitement of Adler's creation. Evergreens, tall pines, and firs peeked over Morgan's Jewelry and Johnson's Hardware.

Down the street, Adler noticed four sets of running feet. Onlookers hovered around the chic Donafan's Boutique in rapid anticipation of catching a glimpse of his latest deposit.

"Rice can be as scarce as rain in the middle of a drought, you morons!" Adler said to himself. "On the back terrace and cobblestone patio. That is where you will find the treasure I left you."

Three blocks away, as Dutton pulled onto Bonnet Boulevard he did not like the vibes of the crime scene. Cruisers flashed their blue lights.

"Too much interference," Ballister muttered beside him.

"I tell you, Mark, these people are sick to want to get caught up in a corpse," Dutton replied.

"That's what an unresolved rampant murder spree leads to," Ballister stated.

"Adler is still on the loose and this time he's made another high-profile statement. City Councilman Ron Campanello was no slouch," Dutton responded.

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.







Although very few do, should you want to catch up on the previous portions of my novelette click on the blue numbers on top of the page.


Chapter 8
Shape-Shifter Part Eight

By Brett Matthew West

Revisiting gruesome details of their ongoing investigation, Dutton stated, "Claims he's got information on Adler. Wants a deal."

"When don't jailbirdies want whatever favors they can get?" Ballister asked.

Dutton and Ballister exchanged these few words as they rode the elevator up to the Second Floor Interrogation Room inside McWhorton Penitentiary. There, time crawled by endlessly in a slow stupor and days melted into one another. On the list of Dutton's least favorite places in the cosmos, the supermax facility kept inmates confined to their cells twenty-three hours a day, week after week, month after month, year after year.

"Being run over by a steamroller would be much less painful," Dutton commented.

"You've been watching too many cartoons, especially Wile E. Coyote," Ballister chided him.

Maddening flashbacks raced out of control. Dutton did not like the feeling the traumatic homicides placed on him. Ballister, more or less stayed out of the limelight and observed Dutton's moves. It seemed Dutton's entire life was entwined in the Adler puzzle. He wondered if the situation could get worse?

Dutton did not like Chief Wilson's official hypothesis either. He had been briefed before making his way to the lock up. Dutton chalked the supposition up to the kahuna's usual proclivity. Often, he'd seen the Chief's wandering eyes scan the ceiling for answers that avoided him. Chief Wilson's process repeating never ended in different results.

Dutton recalled the alley where Councilman Ron Campanello had been savagely slaughtered, almost dissected. Something about the scene gnawed his core. Racking his brain, the toughest cases his normal sedative, Dutton couldn't figure out what it was or why. The notions eluded him.

Extensive sketches and notes filled the notebook in his pocket. Until proven otherwise, Dutton never ruled any possible leads out. The images consumed his thoughts. So far, no conclusions had been reached. Now, Dutton was on the hunt again.

Inside the miniscule administration office, Ballister paced back and forth.

"First time here?" Dutton asked.

"Can think of better places I'd rather be," Ballister nervously confided.

The door opened. A massive prisoner was led inside. Coal black, he sported a waist-length beard and was seated on a metal chair bolted to the steel floor that looked like it would buckle under his girth. Then handcuffed to the table. The sight of the convict made Ballister antsy.

"Hot da-da-damn! If it ain't the piranha Defective John Dutton himself in the flesh. The reason I got stuffed in these fine, outstanding, accommodations," the stool pigeon chirped.

"Cut your crap, Big Rib. You want to go back to your cage, split. I don't have time for your games. Do not play me. I am no ball," Dutton responded.

Big Rib's smile remained crooked on his rotund face, one befitting a four hundred pounder. Dutton told the trio of guards who had escorted the murderer into the room he wanted to talk to him alone. Hesitant, they left. Dutton felt no fear and knew if necessary he could control the inmate. After all, he was the one who brought him down.

"Don't sweat the small stuff, Mr. Dutton. I ain't-a here ta harm ya. You seek information I possess and I wanna trade. What'cha got?" Big Rib asked with serious eye contact.

"Tell me what direction you are headed and let's see how things transpire," Dutton replied, "I make no other propositions."

"Adler toldt me you was one tough, smart, little piggie gone to market," the lifer stated.

Dutton ignored the verbatim insult though he preferred to chuck Big Rib through the wall. He demanded, "You talked to Adler?"

"We ain't no kinda friends. No how! Adler only talk when he want somethin'. Like a good little boy, I sit in my cell and let the world pass me by. Stare deep into the wild blue yonder. That's all I do," Big Rib replied.

Tired, drained, and fed up, Dutton responded, "Sure you're a saint. That's not what I hear."

The malefactor glared at him and spouted, "Adler got no friends. Not me. Not nobody."

Dutton sensed Big Rib had something important to tell him. Apparently, he thought the insight was worth a fortune.

"Adler don't need no one. Freak kept them crazy thoughts wrapped up in his own noggin. Know what I mean?" the yardbird sang. "Adler paid to keep unsavories away. Where he got cash no one know."

Dutton wondered where Adler's money tree grew? What abominable connection on the outside gave him greenbacks?

"Adler had the best protection a chump can pur-chase in here. Me," Big Rib began.

"Details," Dutton responded, "and don't hold any from me."

"There was a wildcat from deep in the Kentucky woods here, called hisself Hammer. He out now. Did as he pleased," Big Rib told Dutton.

The detective's interest piqued. He wanted to know, "What was Adler's involvement with this Hammer character?"

"Adler paid to waste 'im dead," Big Rib responded.

"Why did Adler pay for those services," Dutton questioned.

Big Rib's eyes enlarged. He asked, "I get my privileges, right?"

"I'm all ears," Dutton told him.

"Adler wanted Hammer croaked off cause he attacked 'im. Know what I mean?" Big Rib remarked.

Dutton shook his head. He felt Big Rib had more to offer.

"Adler's dyin'. Venus cursed 'im," Big Rib said.

"Why would Adler tell you that?" Dutton wanted to know.

"He know you, Defective. Better than you know him. Said give you the message all personal like. You get what you come for?" Big Rib smirked.

The pieces clicked. Dutton realized Adler's frenzy occurred because he had nothing to live for.

"I get my privileges, right?" Big Rib grinned.

With cold calculation, Dutton replied, "You get nothing. Now who played who?"

Blind fury raged through Big Rib. In a maniacal furor, he struggled against his restraints to get to Dutton.

Dutton smiled. He turned to Ballister and said, "C'mon, Mark. I know where Adler hides out. Guards!"

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.






If you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers on top of the page.


Chapter 9
Shape Shifter Part Nine

By Brett Matthew West

If the vivacious brunette had not placed her warm hand on Karl Adler's shoulder she may have woken up in the comfort of her own feather bed. Instead, what was left of her stayed facedown in a back alley at the bright light of morn.

A cool breeze knifed through his clothing. Adler stood up and peered through the tops of moonlit evergreens. Alcohol coursed through his veins. Adler shut his eyes and tried to recall the events that landed Sondra Schmidt, pole dancer extraordinaire, at his Gucci-clad feet. There she begged for her life. Tears ran her mascara like the blade in Adler's hand ran her flesh.

Adler recalled earlier that fateful night Sondra had smiled, whispered pleasantries in his ear, then puffed a fresh Marlboro Red he lit for her. That was reason enough for Adler to gut her like a doe, but there was more.

Sondra's heavily-smeared, rose-colored, lipsticked mouth formed more words, but Adler could not hear them. The pulsated beat of music rattled the Iron Cougar's windows. At a shouted decible, conversation in the overcrowded bar competed with the song that played. Dancers gyrated around them. For some insane reason, Adler felt like an old fogey. No, more correctly stated, an ancient old fogey soon to be put out to pasture.

Sondra Schmidt was friendly to a fault. Her charms did not surprise Adler. He'd watched her perform numerous times before. Sondra loosened up the more she hit the sauce. Though on his third round, Adler appeared sober for once. Well, almost. If Adler was supposed to be the captain of the idiotic voyage his life had become that explained his sobriety, or the lack thereof.

Adler noticed a full moon glanced through the tavern's skylight. The thought "perfect for a lunatic like you, Sondra," crossed Adler's mind. He studied the petit dancer who he felt tried to irritate some other male in the room at his expense. In his lucid mind, Adler knew at no previous time had Sondra Schmidt flirted with him before. In fact, prior to tonight, she'd taken very little notice of him at all. Too late for the looker to rectify her mistake,. That would soon change. The fire smouldered within Adler and drew warmth.

The foolish nonsense of Sondra's elegant appearance did not alter Adler's notions. Her passionate green eyes were emphasized by an appropriate hue of liner. Sondra wore a diamond necklace. Adler admired the precious stones. Soon, they would disappear into another mystery.

Peepers alert with mischieviousness, Sondra flashed Adler a "now this is comfort" peek. She smelled of burnt cigarettes and spilled beer, of the cheap variety. Sondra made no effort to ignore Adler again.

"Lousy chaser!" Adler muttered to himself.

Confused, Sondra asked, "What?"

Adler snatched two drinks from a waiter's tray. He gave one to Sondra. After he scanned the crowd, Adler wondered why nobody in the cramped club ever had any room to themselves to breath? He swallowed the drink in one vicious gulp and reached for another waiter. Curiosity had become such a necessary part of Adler's psyche. Nobody knew his true identity. His pseudonym "Paul Compton" served him well. Adler bid his time. The night still young, Sondra Schmidt was going nowhere. Except with him.

The wind rustled Adler out of his recollections. He took inventory. Adler's bad knee hurt. That was nothing new. The same injury ached and dashed his effort to enlist in the Army thirteen years earlier. Adler was pleased to find the diamond necklace Sondra Schmidt had worn safe in his vest pocket. Adler deposited the valuable back in the pocket he'd extracted the treasure from.

The world around him morphed into a shadowed existence as Adler made his way. On the opposite side of Bruton Street, a tin roof reflected the waned moonlight. Seldom cautious, Adler heard an engine behind him. He stepped back to the side of the Broadmoor Building to better conceal himself. As the vehicle passed, Adler spotted its two-toned paint job.

Adler watched the road for several moments before he moved forward. His attention focused on an object not far away. Adler heard another engine and strained gears. He smelled the distinct aroma of diesel as a beam of light illuminated the street. Adler realized the bus driver spotted him. It wouldn't be long before what remained of Sondra Schmidt was discovered.

Content with himself, Adler walked on.

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.








If you wish to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


Chapter 10
Shape Shifter Part Ten

By Brett Matthew West

Adler ran the terry towel over his massive construction worker arms and hairy chest. He rinsed the cloth out prior to cleaning his calloused hands, and scrubbed his fingernails with a wire brush until the skin at the tips bled. He flushed the liquid down the drain, then thought of the priceless picture of his blood mingled with that of his victim.

For most of the act, Adler had kept gloves on, but for an instant removed them. He'd never resisted the slippery, warm feel of blood, or its crimson tone. For enjoyment, Adler always allowed a slight barehanded touch as the dissection occurred.

It had been a busy evening at the Iron Cougar. Adler had been well pleased and excited as he rattled the gates of Hell. Reliving some of the best parts, he closed his eyes and would have enjoyed a piping hot shower. Instead, Adler washed down the sink with Clorox and reminded himself to leave no traces behind Luminol could detect.

Much more remained to be accomplished. By his watch, Adler had plenty of time. Of that he was sure. Adler wanted to be ready in the unlikely event the unexpected happened. The philosophy had kept him alive through many encounters with his slaughtered victims?

Gathering the clothing he'd stripped out of to clean up, Adler stuffed the items into a wicker basket. He grabbed a robe and his trusty .45. Perpetually ticked off all the time, Adler turned on the morning news though he despised all the newscasters on tv. The report of Sondra Schmidt's execution would cheer him up and arouse his spirits. Everything had gone the way he'd planned. Adler yearned to be anywhere else in the unknown universe. He noticed Sondra's diamond necklace on the counter.

"What do I want with some bimbo's voodoo crap?" Adler asked himself with glee, "Because as the old saying goes you just don't put new patches on old garments."

Adler scratched his long black locks of stringy hair. Snow-white dandruff settled onto his shoulders. His mind drifted back to fond memories before his disdain for humanity manifested and his future dimmed. Once again, the preciousness of life evaporated. That was his reality.

Knowing the outrage his reign of terror spawned, Adler was the depravity everyone dreaded. More vicious than Bundy, and funnier than the Killer Clown he envied as a young boy, Jason Voorhees could only wish he compared to Karl Adler. But, he did not. Not even close. The nightmare that came true enjoyed inflicting powerful waves of excruciating pain on his helpless martyrs.

Adler thought about the detective who hounded him. What was his name? Oh yeah, John Dutton. Adler understood Dutton intended to ruin all his best laid plans.

A revengeful voice inside Adler cried out, "Gotta kill him!"

The thought pleased Adler. He knew Dutton's death highlighted his line of revulsion. Adler had come to know Dutton well. His reputation preceded him. The excitement of other cops pursuing him, especially for the cold-blooded murder of one of their own, thrilled Adler.

A long sixty seconds of silence passed. Adler's vague sense of prognostication did not lead him to any specific misgivings. Sondra Schmidt. What a luxurious find she turned out to be. Adler was glad he plucked the necklace from around her slender neck. He prided himself for his forethought to collect evidence trinkets from corpses.

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan, W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan, W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.




If you wish to read the other parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


Chapter 11
Shape Shifter Part Eleven

By Brett Matthew West

Dutton studied the crime scene in deeper depth. With painstaking effort, he collected each evidence fragment he found, all the while feeling he closed in on his prey. Dutton tried to organize everything he knew, or thought he understood, about the Adler investigation. The question remained how to stop the onslaught the local paper screamed bold-printed headlines about on a daily basis. The butcher of Sondra Schmidt would be no exception.

"Figuring out when someone is turning dangerous ought to be the first thing you do," Dutton stated. He struggled to comprehend why none of Adler's victims seemed to grasp that concept.

"So true, especially in our line of work," Ballister replied.

Ten o ' clock without his morning java left Dutton in a scowl. Adler had struck in a busy pub. Dutton knew there had to be a coincidence between the packed bar and Adler's known history of boyhood isolation. The possibilities disturbed Dutton but he wouldn't settle on premature theories or jump to any conclusions. The more raw data Dutton could collect the more information it would provide him.

The concrete beneath them was as damp as if it had just rained. In an instant, Dutton knew what the sticky substance was and who it once flowed through. Fog rolled in thicker as minutes wore by. Dutton would feel better once he settled this untimely affair.

Cucumber cool, Dutton pocketed a bauble. He said, "Never in a hundred thousand years would I have believed Adler would so brazenly leave something out for us to find. A little hidden delight most gumshoes would never spot."

"To those who understand well few words are needed," Ballister chirpped.

An erudite analyst, Dutton considered Ballister wise beyond his tender years and a good partner. He concentrated his full attention on his labor. Adler had been methodical with this attack.

"The murder was no crime of passion," Dutton deduced.

"The question is where is that slimeball hiding himself now?" Ballister wondered.

His expectations not high, Dutton discovered a hard object underneath the dipsty dumpster. He reached over and retrieved a serrated knife with a heavy handle. Darkness stained the blade.

"No doubt Sondra Schmidt's life taker," Dutton informed Ballister. Bagging the weapon, he handed it to his assistant for safekeeping, then asked, "Did Adler intend for us to find this so conveniently?"

"You've always had good fortune smile on you with catching cold-blooded killers before," Ballister said.

"All except the one I want to bring down the most. Adler's starting to get cocky with these clues he's leaving. He's cracking, Mark. That means we're getting closer. C'mon. I gotta see a dog about a man," Dutton replied.

"Your maven. Should have known you'd get to this point."

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagsn W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.









If you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette, click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


Chapter 12
Shape Shifter Part Twelve

By Brett Matthew West

The fine hairs on the nape of Dutton's neck stood on end. A telltale sign he conceived something strong about the Adler case. The rolling countryside reminded him the vicious killer had been reared in the vicinity. The question on his mind haunted him.

Ballister drove the dark green sedan up to an ancient-looking homestead. He asked, "Weren't the boys in blue here last week?"

"They were," Dutton confirmed, "but, I have my own questions I want answered."

Dutton wanted to see where Karl Adler grew up and his insanity had been nurtured. The main reason he'd made the sojourn was to talk to someone who had so far been overlooked from the radar, Murray Cotton. Adler's uncle.

Cotton paced on the wrap-around porch that fronted his eighty year old farmhouse. Peeled paint and rusted fences awaited them. When Ballister stopped the car, Cotton did not extend an open invitation for the detectives to enter his home.

Brambles, multiflora, and knotty pines rose in all directions. A thin herd of Black Angus grazed lazily on tall gypsum in a nearby pasture. Poison ivy overran a delapidated barn. Dutton discerned the presence of Karl Adler.

"I had no clue at any point in Karl's life he was capable of murder. No inkling at all," Cotton informed Dutton. "Days go by when I believe I've gotten used to the notion. Most of the time it's very incomprehensible to me and I realize your efforts are unjustified."

Dutton grasped the old man resented the deliberate tone of his voice and wondered how far he could shove before Cotton's temper appeared. Dutton watched every gesture Cotton made. Body language would tell the seasoned veteran what he desired to know.

"Like everybody else, Karl wanted to fit in. I accepted him for who he was and he trusted me," Cotton said brusquely.

"What did Adler need you to accept about him?" Dutton exhorted.

Cotton's glance shifted to a peaceful creek that flowed over a rocky bed on the edge of his property. Dutton detected Adler's presence stronger the more he interrogated the old timer.

"Karl would often get angry. Who can't? He had a slicing tongue he wasn't scared to use. He riled some people with his superiority complex," Cotton remarked. "None of that makes my nephew the cold-blooded murderer the papers peg him to be."

Dutton did not give Cotton room to breathe. He implored, "Adler never ruffled your feathers or made you squawk like a hen tearing up her nest?"

"Fat chance!" Cotton stated, "Karl and I were extremely close regardless what the high-priced shrinks the police use claim. What do they know? I never experienced any of Karl's explosive tantrums."

The revelation fascinated Dutton. He acknowledged Cotton lied and queried, "Were Adler's temper fits ever premeditated?"

"You well know Karl burned down his stepmother's house. Can't say she didn't deserve it though. Karl was also an honor student and always had lots of friends," Cotton said.

The speedy tempo of Dutton's questions made Cotton grow steadily more uneasy. Dutton pushed on. He wanted to see if Cotton had Adler's temper. He asked, "Ever meet any of his school chums?"

Anger flashed in Cotton's eyes. Dutton sensed the real side of him began to appear.

"Karl never brought friends here," Cotton retorted, "your question makes me believe you're insinuating Karl never had any friends. Is that your fifty cent analysis, detective?"

Dutton began to ascertain disturbing vibrations about Adler and Cotton's relationship. He asked, "Adler is known to have a nightmare that took place here. Are you aware of it? I'm sure you are."

Cotton shook his head in denial. His eyes blinked. Dutton had struck another nerve.
Uncooperative, Cotton demanded, "And, if I say no?"

Dutton knew the codger was acting. The accuracy of Cotton's responses explained he knew so much about Adler. His stares off into the distance as Dutton grilled him freed his mind and gave him ample opportunities to come up with the proper answers.

"We'll get a search warrant. Make no mistakes, Cotton, we'll do the search whether you bless off on the action or not," Dutton told him without question, "Adler was very exact about his dream as if he wanted somebody to come out here."

Bones were soon unearthed. Specifically, the scapula of a young boy. Was Adler's first kill another kid? Were these bones Adler's first manifestations? If so, they would be precious to him. The incubus that launched the nightmare Dutton was caught up in the middle of.

Author Notes usa policr car, by Hagan W., selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W., for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.








Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers on the top of the page.


Chapter 13
Shape Shifter Part Thirteen

By Brett Matthew West

Ballister noticed Dutton's intense focus as he read the hardback in his hand. Curious, he wondered, "What's that?"

"The Stranger Beside Me," Dutton answered nonchalant.

"Ann Rule's bio about Ted Bundy?" Ballister responded more so in the form of a question than a comment.

I'm trying to get a grip on what makes a clock like Karl Adler tick. It's called data gathering," Dutton stated. He closed the book and tossed it on top of his desk. Then, glancing at his partner said, "We know Adler has a distinct pattern in how he selects his victims, the locations of his attacks, and his methods."

"We also know he is very unassuming with a face that blends in with the crowd. That makes his victims even less suspicious of him before he strikes," Ballister noted.

"And, Adler has above-average intelligence," Dutton stated.

Ballister stirred his java with a spoon and said, "Those bones we discovered at Murray Cotton's farm have become a big lead in this case."

"So have Adler's poor upbringing, anti-social childhood, and his penchant for being an arsonist. Those boys in Forensics did us a major favor when they matched Adler's prints, found at the Gooseneck Bar fire, with his Army records and turned us onto our killer's name," Dutton remarked.

Dutton flipped on his MacIntosh. He liked the computer's 5K display and sharp image. A message soon appeared that read:

"Shame generalized punishment is viewed so unfortunate. I have taken one in your honor. You are an avid deer hunter. Perhaps a crossbow to the head, your favorite weapon to slay your hapless target with, is in order for the unfortune victim? You too!"

Dutton knew the sender taunted him. A contemporary creature of the modern era, Adler's emails arrived on Dutton's computer with regularity. Dutton then forwarded them up the chain and to the brainiacs in IT. So far, no hits or traces had been successful. Full of consternation, the scene frustrated Dutton all the more, especially since he had not already captured the psycho behind them.

Adler's email afforded Dutton another window of opportunity. The detective knew he had to act with haste before another corpse littered his doorstep. This was Adler's challenge. His methodology lacked a primitive approach.

In the parking lot, Ballister asked, "Where to?"

Only one case on his mind, Dutton replied, "To stop a murder."

"Adler never takes long," Ballister said.

Surrounded by white-washed picket fences, the resort was beautiful. Karl Adler intended to ruin the idyllic locale forever. He disdained the manor's frilled curtains and reinforced masonry walls cemented together with mortar. But, the lone peach tree in the middle of a quaint arcadian garden danced on his last nerve the most.

Adler struck a match and lit the in-wall fireplace centered in a coursed brickwork chimney breast. He spread sheets of newspapers across the parquet floor of the spacious den. Its chevron pattern gave a long line of arrows appearance.

The dominant obsession that gripped the town's dread was Adler failed to possess human qualities. The sensational details of his macabre murders created ghastly effects. Adler placed Toby Robinette on the newspapers.

With an artistic notion for fine anatomy, the dissection of the town's Vice Mayor would commence. Adler's radiance appreciation displayed in the manner in which he disposed his victim's corpse.

Adler cast his eyes around the room. He knew the organized layout of everything contained inside the four walls. He'd been there many times before. Adler reached up on a butcher-block worktable for his dramatic exhibition of honed knives. Each sharpened to a gleaned perfection, but avoided analyzing the guinea pig before him.

Long, frightful, moments passed. Finally, Karl Adler fixed his blank stare on his sacrifice.

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.








If you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette, click on the blue numbers on the top of the page.


Chapter 14
Shape Shifter Part Fourteen

By Brett Matthew West

Immensely successul, chiseled-jawed entreprenuer Toby Robinette spent six years as the Head of Chapter 913 of the Quanzi Young Leaders of Tomorrow Association. Carelessness made him the latest scapegoat of a deranged psychopath.

As he did before butchering all his unfortunate wretches, Karl Adler's ambivolence toward the fundamental question of what constituted humanity lingered in the voluminous lodge. Once again, he asked himself, "What it was he cared about?" Adler doubted he would find the answer inside the Vice Mayor. Perhaps that would make a good start point?

Robinette's hands were secured tight behind his acne-scarred back. The lack of circulation turned his fingers black. His scrawny knees bent at an odd angle toward the salt and pepper, crewcut, hair on his head. The other end of the rope dangled in a hangman's noose around his exposed neck.

Struggling created intense strangulation. Robinette's legs grew weary, numb, and painful. An uncontrollable, overwhelming urge to straighten them, resulted in self-asphyxiation.

Adler maintained his schedule. Like Big Ben in his London hometown, he ran right on time. First, he would flay Robinette from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet. Each body part in correct order. Adler would examine Robinette's long head last. Shock, and critical blood loss, would occur.

Tears streamed down Robinette's face. In anguish he screamed at the sight of the shiny blade in Adler's hand, "Why are you doing this to me?"

In the quiet confines of the serene cabin no one could hear him. Robinette's sounds of turmoil became animalistic.

To mock the terrified examinee, Adler roared back, "Because the observed pain, and suffering I inflict on you, are delightful!" A sinister smile creased his face.

Like one of his many boyhood villainous heroes Robert-Francois Damiens, who attempted to assassinate King Louis XV said, Adler told Robinette, "This day will be hard!" Then, he repeated the words in French, "La journee sera rude!"

Damiens had been drawn and quartered alive after being burned by hot wax, boiling oil, molten lead, and sulpher. Adler longed to do the same to his trophies.

Adler tossed Robinette's skin aside. He penetrated Robinette's chest with a deep incision that raced from shoulder to shoulder, over his breasts, and from the tip of his sternum. Then, Adler cut down the length of Robinette's abdomen to his pubic area. The successful, brutal, mutilation of Toby Robinette completed, Adler thought himself to be absolutely inhuman. He thrived on the sensation.

Adler knew Robinette was just the latest key to his plans and no one could figure them out. No one. Not even the one police mastermind he loathed the most --- John Dutton.

Picking up a glossed 8 X 10 photograph from off the floor, Adler said, "Look what you made me do again, Dutton!"

Adler flashed the blade he'd dissected Robinette with and slit the picture in half. He curled up on the floor beside the pitiful shell remains of Toby Robinette and hugged the bloody corpse snug against his chest. An act Adler committed every time he killed.

Adler wailed loud, and moaned in the spaciousness of the voided cabin, "Please! Someone forgive me!"

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.








Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers on the top of the page.


Chapter 15
Shape Shifter Part Fifteen

By Brett Matthew West

"Let's go over this one more time, Mark. There has to be something we're missing," Dutton suggested. He handed his partner a file.

Ballister propped his Tony Lamas up on the edge of the desk and asked, "Who could forget the cold-blooded slaughter of the one person they ever truly loved? Adler couldn't. At least, that's the story he sold to the blue suits when they brought him in for questioning about his wife's murder."

"The death of Maria Adler began the onslaught of Karl Adler's attacks," Dutton confirmed. He did not have to read the reports. He could quote them verbatim.

"Adler said he arrived home around 2:38 in the morning, give or take. All at once, he stopped in his tracks because he claimed he sensed something wrong inside their residence," Ballister picked up the details.

"Memorable details, I might add," Dutton chimed in, "Adler swore he would never forget any of them. The records indicated Maria Adler was a crossword junkie and Adler said his thing was word games like letter arrangements, jumbles, and ciphers."

"Such as the Caesar cipher. The easiest one to break," Ballister said.

"Like everything else in their apartment, Adler's reading material was neatly arranged. This included extensive sheets of paper folded once into folios with dark lettering," Dutton continued.

"Adler is quoted as admitting he'd been drinking with several pilot friends in the Lost Acre Bar. That part of his story has been verified," Ballister stated, "the five of them would soon be dispersed to different airlines around the country. Adler's future all but assured."

"Adler acknowledged being buzzed, but denied being drunk, and that he was in a jovial mood when he arrived home," Dutton remarked.

"He also lusted for Maria," Ballister cut in.

"He said he remembeted being in the vestibule before he flicked on the hallway light. He saw Maria's purse scattered on the linoleum floor. Its contents spilled in a unique pattern. Earrings, tubes of makeup, and compacts. The whole kit and caboodle," Dutton mentioned.

"Maria was not known to be messy and that fiasco would be way out of character for her," Ballister vouched.

"Adler then stated he searched for her throughout the apartment," Dutton began.

"He grabbed the closest thing he could get his hands on. A butcher knife from the kitchen drawer," Ballister added.

"Frantic and scared, or so he professed, Adler called her name as loud as he could, and asked, "Where are you?" Then, he said his whole world crashed when he discovered Maria laid spread-eagled on their bed," Dutton said.

"Allegedly, he screamed so loud the family across the hall heard his distinct words. That also started their German Shepherd, Sam-Bam, barking. Then, Adler insisted everything in his life changed forever. Maria was deceased," Ballister stated, "though blood was pooled underneath her, Adler couldn't bring himself to accept that fact."

"A terrible scourge was loosed that night, Mark. Even Maria's heart was extracted from her body," Dutton finished his comment.

"Now, we hunt the monster," Ballister reiterated.

"Or, that's Adler's version of what transpired in Apartment 27 that night," Dutton scoffed.

"You don't believe him?" Ballister mocked.

"Not one word," Dutton confessed saying, "Adler's actions speak otherwise."

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.









Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


Chapter 16
Shape Shifter Part Sixteen

By Brett Matthew West

The huge search team swept across town in a synchopated northern direction that disturbed the regular flow of the morning. The ferocious sounds of angry police sirens wailed long and loud. Karl Adler held them in a public display of outrage.

Sensing the commotion, Dutton said, "He's in control now."

Smooth car tires ripped the road surface. The noise fit well with all else that happened.

A frown crossed Dutton's face, "However this chase turns out, Adler's in his finest hour. We are captured in the maniac's moment."

Ballister asked, "Since Adler has no human emotions are we sure we're not being transported to some far distant planet, or universe, and aren't looking for some intergalatic jovian creature?"

"One thing's for sure," Dutton responded, "Adler is definately not optimistic, nor is his outlook towards the living bright. He is a Manifestor and I am a Generator."

"You do have an uncanny ability to take other peoples' energy and lead them where they need to go," Ballister agreed.

"If you believe in Human Design," Dutton scoffed.

"It's what makes up your psychology," Ballister stated.

Dark humor spread rampant among the detectives assigned to the Adler case. The macabre provided a means to help keep them going through the most difficult and gruesome crime scenes they encountered.

A bluish-grey fog settled over McGruder Park, but enough visibility remained for a search. A central attraction for the city, the park contained a popular man-made bass fishing lake that awarded opportunities for tournaments and cash prizes.

Dense foliage overgrew the area. Perhaps the searchers would find Vice Mayor Toby Robinette's remains in the jungly habitat? That's where Adler's emailed message to Dutton's computer claimed he trashed them.

The car's police radio cackled, "All units, 10-54 south entrance."

Dutton responded, "10-17."

He looked at Ballister behind the wheel. Ballister cruised left through the gardener's entrance at the north end of the park and meandered to their destination.

"Adler wouldn't make it that easy for us to find the body. Would he?" A puzzled Ballister wondered.

Dutton noticed several members of the team looked mortified. Wide-eyed, and furrowed-browed, their mouths sagged with twisted curves. Small beads of sweat permeated their foreheads.

Body recoveries nothing new to the seasoned Dutton, he feared this one would make a lasting impression on his young partner. One that could well stay with him for the rest of his life.

"I don't think Adler is much more than a rakshasa," he said, "I wonder if the vermin torments lost souls in hell?"

"I know Adler's filled with an unsatiable lust for human blood. But, can he change physical forms?" Ballister wondered. "Maybe that's why we've had so many problems bringing him down?"

Several parcels wrapped in crumpled newspapers littered the slope of the park that provided expansive views of the city's rolling hills. Frequent visitors walked pets, strolled the butte, and lived a quiet, peaceful, existence there. Dutton knew from past experiences McGruder Park was locked for safety purposes at the witching hour of midnight.

Upon noticing the newspaper droppings, Ballister asked, "What's this? Adler's idea of art?"

"Go ahead. Unwrap any of them," Dutton responded.

Ballister reached down and retrieved a large, round offering. They lay there in a variety of sizes.

"It's all mere meat to Adler," Dutton stated.

Ballister carefully unwrapped the ball of newspaper in his hand. He exclaimed, "Half a head! What the freak! That demented crackbrain sliced Robinette's head in two!"

Dutton remained quiet.

A single eyeball stared back at Ballister. He asked, "How can you stand always being correctamundo about Adler? All the frigging time!" Ballister spun the skull fragment around to face Dutton and said, "It's like the two of you are one?"

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.







Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.




10-54 - body found

10-17 - en route


Human Design claims there are four main personality types. They are:

-Generators / Manifesting Generators = they respond to the world around them. They do not initiate action but wait for the world to come to them. MG's can initiate action.

-Manifestors = initiate Generators into action. Creative, they get things started but seldom finish them.

-Projectors = these are those who teach and/or guide others. Their purpose is to be successful in their own way. They wait to be invited before sharing their knowledge.

-Reflectors = they wait before they act, normally from one new moon to the next, about 29+ days.

Human Design just seemed to fit into the storyline.


Chapter 17
Shape Shifter Part Seventeen

By Brett Matthew West

The quaint home held an empty feeling like an important piece of the jigsaw puzzle was missing. The smell of fried chicken, corn on the cob, and fresh baked cherry pie permeated the air. Neon flashed on the mantel clock. Karl Adler paid no attention. His mind remained on the questions he desired his latest victim to answer.

The dirt road to the house ran a few miles outside of town. Adler knew the finer nuances of life were cooked up by those in charge. He set out to write his own rules. To date, no one stopped him. Adler walked the grungy basement in his faded denim. He enjoyed his unexpected visits. Not that his victims did. Adler got into their suffering.

Grime covered every ransacked room in the crackerbox. A smile broke across Adler's face. He noticed no windows built into the cellar. Fun about to occur, Adler swatted an enormous cobweb out of his way. No spider noticed, the critter lived to see another day. Adler's excited heart beat double time. He could tell the ancient dwelling had been constructrd on extensive rocks.

As though detached from his physical surroundings, Adler waited trancelike, unnoticed. He stayed in that position until the overhead light switched on and Merlin Hightower, a pillar of upper crust society, appeared. Hightower provided essential support for his community.

His pistol pointed at the surprised resident's head, Adler whispered, "Intruder in the house!"

"What the f...?" Hightower demanded. His eyes grew beady and he said, "This is unlawful entry. Get out of my house! NOW!"

Adler grinned. While they lacked pleasure, he discovered humor in Hightower's comments. He held his gun still in front of him. Adler's obsessive compulsive disorder kicked in full throttle.

"What are you doing?" Hightower beseeched.

Adler laughed a sinister chortle. "That's what they all want to know. Soon enough, they find out."

Baring his fangs, Hightower snarled, "I'm not scared of you!"

Adler nodded his head. He understood what Hightower said. "I'm going to straighten your misunderstanding out right now, once and for all."

He shoved Hightower and watched his roly-poly victim, with his robust appearance, crash to the floor in a collapsed heap.

"You getting scared of me now?" Adler inquired. He whalloped the hapless Hightower with the barrel of his gun. Blood gushed down his face in a sudden, plentiful, stream. "You real scared of me now? You don't understand much about pain, but that's going to change rapidly!"

Adler enjoyed the confrontation. He derived satisfaction from tormenting his ridiculed sufferer. "The first thing you're going to tell me is you're the one who tipped my arch nemesis Dutton off about me to begin with. What you say here in my court of law will be held against you in the strictest way, Commissioner. Start blabbering!"

Hightower looked at him. He perceived the insanity in Adler's eyes and stated, "You're psycho. You can't do this to me."

"You're smart, Hightower. But, I have no doubt a braniac like you can get much smarter over the last few hours of your life. We've only just begun," Adler vowed a solumn promise.

He yanked Hightower off the floor with violence. Adler's strength shocked the Commissioner. Immediately, he was hog-tied with rope.

"I don't like your smug "think you're superior" attitude. You aren't superior, especially to me. Maybe your constituents see you that way. I don't. What you are Hightower is a speciman for a dissected anatomical experiment. Let me show you something very creepy," Adler told him.

Hightower screamed an eerie, horrific yell as Adler sliced open his upper chest with a serrated knife. Shocked, he could not believe what Adler did to him.

Desperate, Hightower pled, "Leave me alone!"

"That's the one thing you'll never be again. I'm going to take pleasure in killing you. Then, I'm going to kill Dutton. He's getting too close. I can feel the acidic stench of his volcanic breath down my neck. Excruciatingly painful always works for me," Adler responded.

"I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt me anymore. There has to be a deal we can make," Hightower begged.

Adler shook his head "no" and said, "I want the facts. I want you to tell me why you turned Dutton on to me, Commissioner."

"Yes. Yes, it was me," Hightower began.

"I'm not stupid. I know that. You fantasized about being my accomplice but you couldn't live up to the hype. Now, now, you can't live at all," Adler told him.

Hightower grew exhausted.

'I'm going to tell you a secret, Commissioner. You will appreciate what I say," Adler stated. He raised his knife, "I'll make your groveling like a little oinker short. We'll start with your right ear!"

Hightower knew what was coming. "NO!"


Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.









Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


Chapter 18
Shape Shifter Part Eighteen

By Brett Matthew West

A chaotic scene exploded at Commissioner Hightower's upscale residence. Known for his fine nuances in the art of decit, the cagey Karl Adler remained on the loose. Breaking every speed limit law in existence, Dutton and Ballister raced through town.

The "go" signal given by the Jefe to move in on the house, Dutton had no intention of playing the role of a JAFO and be just another observer. Upon arrival at 412 Christopher Drive, he and Ballister joined a parade of uniforms scurrying through the yard. Efficiently moving, department-issued firearms at the ready, some entered through the front portal. Others dashed in the back.

"I think we're about to finally corner the egnimatic Karl Adler. Maybe we'll get a better grip of his mysteriousness," Ballister said.

Dreary shadows filled the vault. Dark, blackness-enclosed, and tenebrous, Dutton sensed more foreboding than the last time he'd been an invited guest in the Commissioner's home. That was two short weeks ago. Tense, and unsettling, the abode smelled sharply pungent.

An apprehension something bad about to happen, Dutton mentioned to his partner, "Evil lurks."

Dutton tried to recall the last time he wanted a criminal as much as he craved to get his hands on Karl Adler. Dutton knew that would provide him therapy time. He wouldn't be vocalizing, just taking needed action against the treacherous killer.

He heard an agent call out, "Over here. Hurry!"

Dutton led Ballister down three stairs and through the door.

"Holy s--t!" Ballister exclaimed upon spotting Commissionrr Hightower's sprawled cadaver.

Mutilated, the Commissioner lay spread-eagled on the blood-soaked floor. The aroma of skatole permeated the air. Several years of experiences with deceased human bodies hardened Dutton to the nauseating discovery more than most of the others present. Body parts littered the room.

"Who in their right mind would butcher another human being like a hunter guts a deer?" Ballister asked.

"Adler's not in any mind, right, left, or somewhere in between," Dutton replied, He wondered what eradicating the Commissioner meant to the perpetrator? "Adler did this in mere minutes. He's even crazier than I suspected the lunatic to be."

"Everyone of his victims have met a similar fate. Adler's got to be incredibly strong," Ballister commented.

"To perform this heinousness without morgue tools," Dutton finished his thought.

Dutton stared at the Commissioner and contemplated why Adler destroyed the man so viciously? Spectral silence filled the house. Ballister leaned against a wall. He looked like a cross between the middle of pallid and haggard.

"How does Adler keep slipping away?" Ballister wanted to know.

"Because Adler was once one of us. He anticipates everything we do," Dutton responded.

"He used to be your partner," Ballister stated.

"About fifteen years. I've never seen a more dedicated detective," Dutton confirmed.

No matter how gruesome a case grew, Ballister had not seen Dutton so cheerless. He gave him an intentional impassive glance.

"We should have exterminated Adler a long time ago. The department held a governor-approved sanction on him. I talked them out of it," Dutton said.

Ballister shook his head in disbelief.

"The Governor didn't like the notion one of his finest was crossing the line. There's no pattern to his insanity, Mark. At least, nothing to follow. No real way to trace him or where he will attack next," Dutton remarked.

"Adler likes to be superior to everyone else. There's got to be a lot more to this," Ballister commented.

Since the complicated case begun, Dutton had considered the possibilities of some sort of artistic flair behind Adler's kills. Each murder was different and appeared to be arbitrary. That made Adler almost impossible to snag. Dutton knew he could never walk away from the Adler case. He also realized there was no way to predict how the madman would act.

A concerned Ballister stated, "We're not going to nail Adler. He'll be much more careful now. Or, maybe he'll just drop off the face of the earth like some murderers do."

"Not going to happen, Mark. Adler is going down one way or another! Let's roll," Dutton vowed.


Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.









Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette, click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


Chapter 19
Shape Shifter Part Nineteen

By Brett Matthew West

Karl Adler hot-wired a powder blue Trans Am on the Crowne Pontiac dealership lot. Right under their upscale, snobby noses. Pleased with his accomplishment, Adler slapped the steering wheel with the palm of his right hand and let loose a hearty guffaw.

"You are so good!" He praised himself.

Adler chose the Firebird for its acceleration and frigorific handling. Overqualified for such tedious scut work, Adler drove at a medium speed to the Pine Ridge Parkway before he turned east.

Ever since he was a youngster, music played a huge role in Adler's life. He discovered pleasure in the Seattle Sound's fusion of punk rock and heavy metal, and its distortion of the electric guitar in what became known as Grunge. Adler also favored the rhythmic beats of Hip Hop, a style he first encountered in his Big Apple Bronx days. Ninety minutes later, Adler arrived at his destination.

He smiled and said, "Congrats, maestro, you're right on time."

Adler grew pleased by the showy finery, the inner city's grime, and the evilness he observed around him among the people of the street. His people. Their dispair and hopelessness brought gratification. Adler appreciated the lack of humanizing qualities, sensitivity, and nobility of the down-and-outers. Feeling as if he was home, Adler wondered if Dutton, and his fellow geniuses, realized his whereabouts?

Checking into the chic and audacious penthouse, Adler stood at the canted bay window overlooking the harbor. He wondered why he always had to be so misunderstood? Why no one could figure his patterned murders out?

At three a.m. sharp, Adler struck again. Satisfied with his midnight stroll, Adler sent a message about his attack to Dutton's computer.

Dutton was on the immediate move. Thirty officers raced to Carver Heights in hopes Adler was still there.

Shop was established in the local police precinct station. Not considered average torchbearers, three officers manned the facility. They were unprepared for the savage carnage Adler left behind.

The Times and Daily newspapers piled high on a conference table. Headlines continued to have a calvacade with Adler's kills. Dutton noticed a couple that read "Monster On The Prowl" and "Karl Adler Strikes Again."

Deep black circles under his droopy eyes, Ballister looked frazzled. "Adler is a split personality."

Dutton shook his head in disagreement. "Adler's in control of his cunning shrewdness all the time. The question is what is the flipping purpose for all his kills?"

"He's had us chasing him around this state, and we still are. No one has ever beguiled us like Adler," Ballister stated.

"As a complete whack job he's in a class by himself," Dutton agreed, "but, he's communicating in some quirky way. Presuppositions? Spiels? Unbearable frustrations? What benefits drive him?"

"Maybe Adler's trying to make us totally insane," Ballister suggested.

"What we need to figure out is Adler's rationale. Why is he killing so many people?" Dutton questioned.

"It can't be anything simple," Ballister stated.

Dutton sensed Adler was nearby.

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.






Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers on the top of the page.


Chapter 20
Shape Shifter Part Twenty

By Brett Matthew West

Obsessed with stopping Adler's rampage, Dutton could not muster any sympathy for the cold-blooded murderer he despised much more than any other cruel killer he ever brought down. A state of rage consumed Dutton. He knew wrapping the Adler case up would be dicey, at best.

Dutton understood the number of lives that hung in the balance, not to mention those already slaughtered. Sound psychological analysis was not required to reach that conclusion.

"Maybe we've finally concocted a winning game plan to capture Adler," Ballister stated.

"None too soon," Dutton replied, "I know we can't lose this one, Mark. We'll never get over ourselves if we do."

The walls in Dutton's office were covered with theories, notes, and what-nots that pertained to Karl Adler. A procession of push-pins took over the partitions. Dutton felt he had a myriad of clues to solve the dilemma, and yet he didn't have a clue. Nothing up to this point worked. Still, he considered several different perspectives.

Sunk, almost to the bottom depths of unsatisfied, heavy heat fell on the detectives. For all they knew, Adler could have already grabbed another victim. It would have fit the psycho's M.O. Was an autopsy, or worse, to be performed today? They simply did not have the answer. Nor had Adler sent any messages. That could change in an instant.

Searching for the proverbial smoking gun, Dutton re-read his notes. The opportunity to capture Adler persisted, if he was smart enough to figure the killer out.

Dutton continued to play various word games with the clues he had. He turned to Ballister and wondered, "What are we missing, Mark?"

"Could the series of tragedies that befell him, before he became the beast he is now, be the secret to Adler's code?" Ballister asked.

Dutton considered the question. Was his young partner on to something? If Adler's intention was to drive them insane, he was successful.

"Bingo!" Dutton blurted out loud, "The obviousness of Adler's pattern is transparent."

Dutton's heart pounded in his chest. Adler had left a series of subtle clues along the trail. What appeared on the surface to be patternless crimes rang crystal clear. Adler's mission of revenge began the day he was forced off the job as a detective. Had he desired to be caught all along, then vascillated about the prospect?

"Adler's goaded us from the beginning of his rampage," Dutton said.

"That's why his ferocious and bloodthirsty murders have continued," Ballister responded.

"The question now is how to finish Adler? We need to get out of this defensive mode we've been mired in and launch our own attack," Dutton reasoned. He grabbed his weapon from the rack it hung on. "Let's roll."

Adler was on the move. Parked on a quaint side street in the suburbs of the town, Dutton and Ballister fronted a trap set for the elusive phantom. A select few other law enforcement types were on location, waiting. Gun-shy, with reason to be, they feared tipping Adler off.

The morning passed. Early afternoon arrived. Every house on the street looked like they belonged on the National Register of Historic Places. The stakeout dragged on.

A call came over the radio, "Adler has been spotted. But, there is a problem. He turned towards Bogart Boulevard. Adler saw something he did not like."

In anger, Dutton smacked the steering wheel with his hand and said, "I told you he's careful, and good. He knows how the department works."

Solid evidence needed against Adler, they had wanted to allow him to enter a home before they took him out.

Another radio transmission sounded, "Adler is on Soileau Street, headed for the four-lane. He is on the run."

"He's gotta have a shortwave," Ballister remarked.

Dutton keyed his mike and stated, "Adler's intercepting our calls. No more talking on the radio. Adler's hearing every word. That's how he knew we were here."

The car's engine fired. Dutton raced away from the curb he had parked the sedan next to. In an effort to intercept Adler, Dutton shoved his speed up to eighty on the residential road. Dutton felt everything ricocheting out of control again at the inclination of a bedlamite.

"There's Adler!" Ballister shouted spotting his vehicle headed onto Dulcimer Drive.

Afraid of the progressing car chase, as Dutton sped on, other cars he catapulted past blared their horns. Departing the city limits with the pedal on the floor, Dutton sped to the thoroughfare.

Dutton knew this would be his best opportunity to apprehend Adler and vowed, "The squirrel goes down now!"

He hammered a huge trough in the middle of the road. For a quick moment, the car left the pavement and landed with a vibrant clonk.

Ballister kept hollering, "Adler's going down!"

Thirty feet separated the hunter from his prey. Dutton pulled alongside Adler. They exchanged quick peeks. Animated, gratification pumped through Dutton's body.

Adler flipped Dutton an erect one-finger salute and called through his opened window, "We finally meet again, Compadre!"

For a fleeting instant, Dutton was as demented as Adler.

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.






Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


Chapter 21
Shape Shifter Part Twenty-One

By Brett Matthew West

Serene, Adler squealed a high-pitched yell above the rustle of the wind through his rolled down window, "I know about the department's sanction. Go on, Dutton. Take me out, Mr. Big Shot. I want you to do it for old-times sake!"

Dutton vociferated back, "Pull over, Adler! There's no sanction in place."

Urbane in his grey Armani, Adler scintillated his best killer's coy smirk. He threw his head back and bayed with laughter, "Terminate me, Dutton. That's the reason you wanted me in that house!"

Adler's hysteric apish chatter grabbed Ballister's attention. He commented, "That's the craziest sound I've ever heard. His body language, and the expression on his face, dares us to shoot him at 110 miles an hour on this two lane. The monster wants to burn."

Pinned on Adler's tail, Dutton flew by a tall stand of knotty pine trees that lined both sides of the blacktop. "This would be a good place to fire your weapon, Mark."

"Adler's slaughtered at least two dozen people we know of. He's never going to stop," Ballister responded.

With a thunderous bellow, Dutton screamed again at Adler, "Pull over, you worthless piece of putrid garbage!"

"I can't quit killing indiscriminate, transient, skanks, Dutton. I like the act. You heard me, Dutton? I said I can't stop killing," Adler responded.

Dutton understood Adler's confession. He'd honed in on the chilly message the first time Adler slew a victim. Dutton also realized if Adler escaped he would strike again and again.

Adler's Camero Z28 Sport Coupe rocketed down a chuckhole-filled gravel side road. At the speed he traveled, Dutton was amazed the butcher succeeded in the maneuver. Now behind him, Dutton lost sight of Adler's whereabouts.

A bedraggled choreography stopped Dutton's sedan. He cut a sharp U-turn as the car's tires and brakes droned their defiance. Hellbent for leather, Dutton beelined back to the location where Adler exited the county lane. He found Adler's vehicle three miles from that point.

The car abandoned, fast pulpitations from a quick sprint pounded in Dutton's chest. He noticed how abundant the overgrown woods around them were. Getting through the impenetrable underbrush became impossible.

Adler vanished.

Frustrated by the dead end they encountered, Ballister, his discouraged tone apparant, asked, "How does Adler keep disappearing like he's channeling some kind of Houdini-like imitation?"

Gridlocked in heavy traffic that crawled along the main drag back towards town, Dutton watched an exuberent profusion of vehicles pass by.

"Once again, Adler has rubbed our faces deep into our pathetic failure. The whole hunt for the worst killer I've ever chased. But, I have another idea, Mark," Dutton moaned.

"Flying around in your own parallel universe?" Ballister wanted to know.

"If we stay in place we'll only be stuck in the middle of a mess when we need to follow up on this hair-brained notion floating through my mind," Dutton reasoned.

"That would be?" Ballister inquired.

Dutton turned onto the exit ramp out of the flow of snarled traffic surrounding them. He said, "There's one final angle we haven't tried."

"Care to enlighten this tunnel?" Ballister asked.

"Depends on what you believe of my wild goose chases. We need to head north. There's too much stress in life these days," Dutton told him.

Ballister snatched his protective vest off the car's backseat and assured his partner, "I'm in this stew up to my eyeballs. You go down, I fall beside you."

"Get ready to stir the kettle, Mark. I saw in Adler's eyes earlier he's ready for his murder spree to end. But, like he's always been, Adler needs to feel like he's in control all the time. I have no doubt Adler's known all along how he wanted his rampage to cease," Dutton replied.

A blank expression crossed Ballister's face. He questioned, "You know how Adler wants this to end?"

"Adler's going to place himself in harm's way one last time. He's that insane. I bet my career on it," Dutton remarked.

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.









Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


Chapter 22
Shape Shifter Part Twenty-Two

By Brett Matthew West

Parked in a melange around the front stoop's small companionway, at least a dozen police vehicles collected at Karl Adler's residence. Dutton flashed his detective shield. He and Ballister moved at a quick-step pace. No one could have prevented them from reaching their destination. The end of the chase rapidly approached.

A blue suit Dutton encountered commented, "A homicide in progress was called in. The perpetrator's surrounded inside."

Dutton told Ballister, "This is how Adler wants to end his spree."

In drifted thought, Ballister replied, "I'll never know what to make of Adler."

"There's nothing logical about him, Mark," Dutton responded. "I've never seen a killer even come close to Adler's fierce savagery. When we began this case, I was convinced Adler could not feel anything at all."

"He's a ruthless wing nut with unmethodical murders," Ballister stated.

"I don't think so. Adler's felt every one of his butcher jobs. That's what drove him loony and kept him slaughtering so many times. Adler's psychotic, but he does not lack the ability to elaborate on his misinterpretations of reality," Dutton stated.

"Now, he's blockaded himself inside his own house. You know how much I despise this dweeb?" Ballister asked.

"We've sweated this case from Adler's initial murder, and we've seen what Adler's done to all his fatalities. Now, the powers in charge of the final decision are trying to determine if we should enter the house? What kind of horse malarky is that crap?" Dutton questioned.

"Adler's never explained his actions to drudgers like us. No, he calls the station and swears he's going to commit hare kari. I say let him," Ballister responded.

Dutton burst through the front door. "Adler! It's Dutton. I'm coming in!"

A frosty chill filled the house. Adler feebly yelled from the bedroom.

Dutton turned to Ballister and remarked, "Who knows what we're walking into?"

"John, for one time let it go," Ballister replied.

Dutton told him, "I wish I could. But, it's gone too far already. I can't let go."

His weapon drawn, Dutton pushed his way upstairs to the room at the end of the narrow corridor. He crept into the open room unsuspecting what he observed.

Cut open like a dissected frog in a high school biology class, Adler lay on his back on the king-sized bed. He clutched a blood-soaked knife in his hand. Barely alive, Adler's upper torso was ripped apart. Dutton thought it incredulous he remained conscious.

Somehow, Adler managed to speak, "Unlike those I attacked, you've never seen my artistry before up close and personal."

Dutton shook his head. He'd never witnessed anything of the essence. Never, not in all his long years in Homicide. Exposed tendons, muscles, and rib bones gazed at the appalled, nauseated, and aghast detective. Undoubtedly, Adler was his own final victim.

"Stay where you're at, Dutton, and take a real close look at what I've become," Adler insisted.

Dutton refused to argue the finer points of life with the crazed butcher.

Adler raised the knife to cut himself again. Trance-like, he disclosed, "I murdered Doris in this same bed."

Dutton forced himself not to look away. His eyes scrutinized the room. "Everything's come to a full circle."

Adler said, "I anguished for Doris."

"I thought so. At first. When you began killing. Then, I unraveled your plan, Adler," Dutton replied.

"Tell me what you resolved, Dutton. I left you enough clues. All you had to do was put the pieces of the puzzle together," Adler derided the detective's comments.

"You never wanted to kill your other victims, Adler. You murdered each one of them to constantly suffer Doris' death," Dutton told him.

Adler raised the knife higher.

"Don't!" Dutton thundered.

He rushed Adler and threw himself at his nemesis. Dutton yanked the bedspread off the mattress and pressed the cover against Adler's chest with force. Resisting Dutton, Adler floundered around wildly.

Dutton fired his revolver point blank. The deafening explosion rocked the room. Adler's corpse quivered with rapid motion on the bed. His eyes rolled back in his head.

Dutton told his partner, "Party's over, Mark. Adler won't kill anybody else ever again."

Author Notes usa police car, by Hagan W, selected to complement my novelette.

So, thanks Hagan W, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my novelette.








Should you desire to read the previous parts of my novelette click on the blue numbers at the top of the page.


One of thousands of stories, poems and books available online at FanStory.com

You've read it - now go back to FanStory.com to comment on each chapter and show your thanks to the author!



© Copyright 2015 Brett Matthew West All rights reserved.
Brett Matthew West has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

© 2015 FanStory.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Statement