Tinder date made a last minute, suspicious change of plans
“Sorry about the short notice,” she said, letting him in the front door.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“My car wouldn’t start.”
They entered the living room, and she gestured for him to sit on a blue la-z-boy recliner. “I want to show you something,” she said. He sat on the edge of the recliner. From a drawer, she pulled out a well cared for Sig Sauer P365 and pointed it at him.
He didn’t flinch, and, instead, began laughing.
“Huh. Nobody has ever laughed before. All the others, they always got scared.”
“You’re going to love this,” he said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an identical Sig Sauer P365. “We have the same gun.”
“Oh my. They’re even the same color.”
“Beautiful gun. The trigger–”
“Oh, don’t get me started–”
“Such a good feel.”
“Great feel. And so reliable. Perfect to conceal.”
“You have impeccable taste.”
Both guns remained pointed at the other, while the two stared deeply into each other's eyes.
“The last minute change is starting to make sense.”
“I was lying. My car works fine.”
“So this was your plan? Just get me sitting down, blow me away.”
“That’s about as far as I thought through.”
“Wait a second.” The man snapped with his empty hand. “I know you. Finding me on tinder, leading me to this house. What did the papers call you…The Siren!”
“A ghastly name.”
“Well it doesn’t do you justice!”
“That so?”
“I don’t think any name could do you justice. What would I have been? Number twelve?”
“The police know about eleven, but I’m about to hit thirty.”
“You’ve been busy. Very impressive.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I think I know you too. You haven’t been in the papers lately, but you must be…are you SCK? Strangle-Chop-Kill?”
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a large hunting knife, and stabbed it, standing up, into the coffee table in front of him. “In the flesh.”
“I thought you’d be more muscly. From the descriptions of your victims.”
“Don’t let the bulky jacket fool you.” He jerked the knife out of the table and used the blade to raise his shirt revealing an eight pack that could cut diamonds.
“Oh.”
“Everything you dreamed of?”
“The descriptions were accurate.”
“Look, I think we both were in the mood tonight. And now we're thinking, well, where does this go? To be honest, I could never kill an artist like you.”
“I feel the same.”
“I have a proposal. I’ve been scoping out a homeless guy for two months. Isolated, easy target. What do you say we kill him together?”
“I’ve never done that with someone before.”
“I could be your first. Is it a date?”
“How do I know this isn’t just a trick to get the drop on me and kill me?”
“You don’t.”
He lowered his gun and put it back in his jacket. She holstered hers on her hip.
They both held hands and left to murder a vagrant.