14. fletcher

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

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detective fletcher had seen people like oliver before, people who came in to the station to offer to help the police find missing children - usually a particular missing child whose story was in the media, but sometimes, like oliver, just offering general help. she suspected that many such people must be child abusers and abductors themselves, and she never turned them away, but always spoke to them personally. so far she had never found anyone who showed definite signs of being such of person, but she always questioned them closely, and had their backgrounds checked as thoroughly as she could. fletcher had become a police person primarily because she wished to track down and apprehend such persons. people who she believed were part of a vast network of pedophiles and child pornographers that not only existed just below the surface of civilized society but whose members ruled the world. her experience in the domestic violence unit had been mostly with drunken and drug-addicted lowlifes and not with the kind of powerful white men she sought to expose. she had had herself transferred to the homicide unit, where she thought herself more likely to encounter such persons, whose existence she was more convinced of than ever. but she continued to take an interest in anything that might lead her to the powerful ones, and also to people like oliver when they showed up. her first impression of oliver was that he was the most unlikely candidate she had ever seen come in. although he professed to have watched a great deal of television and read stories in the newspapers and national magazines about missing children, he hardly seemed to know what a missing child was. he talked about them as if he were talking about lost cats and dogs who could not find their way home. at the same time, fletcher’s suspicious nature was aroused. oliver couldn’t be as vacant as he appeared to be - could he? she decided to look into his background herself if she could find the time. big if, with the homicides piling up, including a few that looked like they would never be solved. after letting oliver talk a while she gave him the standard speech. she told him that his good intentions were appreciated, but that in most cases the tracking down of missing and abused children and the apprehension and prosecution of their tormentors was best left to professionals. oliver protested mildly that he had read of cases where volunteers assisted in “widespread searches” of missing children. was there not a list he could be put on, to be called in such cases? fletcher explained that there was no such list but that if he saw in the media of any particular case where the police were looking for volunteers he could offer his services “at that point in time”. and with that she took down his name, address, and phone number - oliver seemed to see no contradiction in this - and politely sent him on his way. she added his name to a list she was keeping of people to check on. she noticed the list was getting a little long and resolved to stay late that night and work on it. as always, she felt a pang of frustration on looking at her list, because it reminded her that she had never found anything on any really rich or powerful person. the state of nebraska had a governor and two united states senators and five accredited billionaires. surely at least two or three of them were members of the world wide child abuse cabal! * disappointed but not crushed - nothing ever really affected him much - oliver wandered out of the police station into the sunlight. there was a mcdonalds across the street. he decided to treat himself to a burger and some fries. seated in the window of the mcdonalds, morley had seen the man he called “gorbachev” exit the police station. morley put his half-eaten crispy chicken sandwich down. he started to get up, so that he would be outside when gorbachev made his move, to the parking lot or the bus stop or just walking away. but he quickly sat back down when gorbachev turned and headed straight for the mcdonalds. that he would do this had not crossed morley’s mind! morley just caught himself from staring too obviously at gorbachev when he entered. oliver went to the counter and quickly ordered a big mac, small fries, and a coke. he was always slightly bewildered by the large number of choices and ordered the simplest things. morley felt like he was dreaming when gorbachev took his tray and moved to an unoccupied table right beside morley’s! morley glanced around. the place was somewhat crowded, and the table gorbachev had chosen was one of the few empty ones. so there was nothing suspicious there. but - he was close enough that morley could speak to him. and they were facing in opposite directions so that neither would have to turn completely around to speak to the other. was this fate? was this morley’s chance? should he just wait and follow gorbachev out when he finished? that would be a little riskier now that the guy had probably seen him and might recognize him. or should morley try to start some sort of conversation? about what? should he lean over and say something like “hey, pal, blah blah…” ? people only did that in the movies and tv - morley had never seen anybody do it in real life. but this might be the chance of a lifetime! seen up even closer than he had been in the station, gorbachev looked creepier than ever. and also like a guy capable of just sitting there and staring into space for a while… what to do? life was like that. it just went along, and went along, and went along. and then suddenly you were faced with a decision that you never saw coming… and no time to think it through... 15. mitch

13. just like him

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

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rick was not much of a reader. reading the book about hitler started to give him a headache. he found the opening pages confusing. there was stuff about alois hitler, alois hitler jr, and adolf hitler, and he had trouble keeping them straight. adolf hitler was the famous hitler who was like the devil, right? yes, the life and death of adolf hitler, that was the name of the book. he started skipping through the pages looking for the parts underlined or highlighted, of which there were one or two on almost every page. during his first year adolf did appallingly badly. his moral conduct was only “adequate”, his diligence was “erratic”, and he failed in mathematics and natural history. although he enjoyed drawing and sometimes thought of himself as a potential artist, the teachers did not share his enthusiasm for his work. other boys had their drawings hung on the walls for all to admire, but no one hung adolf’s drawings. this caught rick’s attention. other boys had their drawings hung on the walls for all to admire, but no one hung adolf’s drawings. that was just what had happened to him in school! except that it was other boys and girls - mostly girls - who had their drawings put on the wall. it was in the fifth grade. rick had made some drawings of police and soldiers protecting people and he thought they were pretty good but the teacher, mister ramsey, who all the kids thought was a fag and probably was, just looked at them and made some suggestions about “contrast” and some such shit. but the kids - mostly girls - who did drawings of martin luther king or rosa parks or che guevara - mister ramsey never gave them any grief about “contrast” or “shading”. and their pictures always got hung on the wall. but what really should have opened rick’s eyes was when he really took his time and made a really good picture of a bunch of navy seals rescuing some american soldiers and nurses who were getting their heads cut off by some muslims in the desert. some of the soldiers and nurses had already had their heads cut off and rick drew the heads lying in the sand in pools of blood. mister ramsey had been horrified and had called rick’s mom, ellen, and she had to go in to the school and talk to him. ellen had gone in, and with rick there, had listened to mister ramsey suggest that maybe rick needed some help or “counseling” and she had just listened in that way she had, never arguing or contradicting him but with her eyebrows raised just a little bit with that yeah-right-what-an-idiot look she had with all human males. on the ride home, ellen had laughed it off, and told rick to just be careful, don’t get people pissed off about nothing. it was the kind of advice she always gave. “you can’t fight the city boat, especially when it’s rocking.” rick blurted out that the kids all said mister ramsey was a fag, but ellen just laughed at that too. “i would have thought he admitted it. he seemed the type.” “well, that’s what everybody says,” rick insisted. “he doesn’t go around grabbing kids’ asses, does he?” “no!” rick was used to ellen and his aunt grace talking about sex and men in front of him. “then, what’s the problem? he’s probably got a boy friend just like himself with a scrunchy little beard just like his and they stand naked in front of the radiator when the sun goes down.” but with all that, ellen hadn’t really stuck up for him, rick thought. she wasn’t going to make him get “counseling” but his picture of the navy seals kicking ass on the muslims wasn’t going up on the classroom wall either. later, rick would look back on this as his first real encounter with political correctness and the liberal establishment. but now, sitting by himself at the table in the library with the hitler book, rick had a thought he had never had before about anybody. famous or otherwise. he was just like me. rick realized he was never going to read the whole book sitting in the library. he decided to get a library card, so he could take the book home and read more of it. he returned to the front desk with the book. the young woman who had been there before had been replaced by another young woman, a young black woman who looked about fifteen. she did not show any surprise or anything else when he said he wanted a library card so he could take out the hitler book, but politely explained that he needed a drivers license or passport and a couple of pieces of mail to verify his address, etc. before he could be issued a card. rick was a little disappointed that he couldn’t take the book home right away, but he had a little headache from reading as much as he had so it was no big deal. he thanked the young woman and left. on the way home he had another thought. maybe he could buy the book. he wasn’t sure how or how much it would cost. maybe there was a bookstore in town that had every book that had ever been written. he could ask eddie about that. actually he could ask ellen or grace. rick had a sudden felling that maybe his whole life was going to change. but the feeling did not last, and by the time he got home he was feeling like his usual self, like a piece of shit. 14. flercher

12. life and death

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

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eddie was leaning on the counter reading a book. rick had never been much of a reader, but he asked eddie what the the book was about. eddie picked the book off the counter so rick could see it. the book was called - “the life and death of adolf hitler" rick had heard the name hitler many times but he was not sure who he was. or if he was a real person. was hitler another name for the devil? he did not want to look stupid and say something that showed he didn’t know who hitler was so he just nodded. but eddie looked like he expected rick to say something about the book. rick was given a respite by a customer coming in. an old man in an old-fashioned suit - but not so old-fashioned as to be wearing a hat or tie - who looked like he was not quite a bum. “just coffee?” eddie asked the old man, like he recognized him and was familiar with him. eddie’s tone wasn’t friendly or unfriendly. the old man just nodded. eddie put the book face down on the counter and went to get the coffee. he got rick’s coffee too and gave it to him after he gave the old man his. another customer came in - a woman neither old nor young, who looked like she probably worked in one of the office buildings in the area. eddie greeted her politely, like he didn’t know her. she started ordering something and eddie began writing it down on a little pad. then a third customer came in - a bag lady. then two more, a young man and young woman together, both well-dressed. rick decided he better get going. eddie would be pretty busy and rick didn’t want to hang around taking up space in the little diner. also, rick wouldn’t have to admit to eddie that he didn’t know anything about hitler even though eddie seemed to think he would and should. rick finished his coffee - it was not that hot or that good - and left his money on the counter and left. eddie was busy with the young couple and rick did not try to get his attention. outside the air was bright and cold. it was almost noon, and the streets were filled up with people. rick decided to go to the library. he often went there to pass the time. sometimes he read the newspapers if they were available. he read the sports page - even though he was not that big a sports fan and never bet on games or played in fantasy leagues. and didn’t really give a shit who won or lost the games. he would read the comics, even though they almost never made him laugh. he liked the old-fashioned comics with continuous stories, like the phantom and mary worth. he wished there were more of them. he liked them better than television. the want ads in the papers were useless. if he forced himself to look at want ads, he used a computer terminal, if he could get one. what he spent most of his time in the library doing was reading the magazines, especially ones with pictures. like the national geographic, his favorite. sometimes he would kind of nod off, just looking at the brightly colored pictures in the national geographic. once, at home, he had mentioned that he liked to look at the national geographic and grace had laughed. rick wanted to know what was so funny about that, and grace had finally explained, in a very roundabout way with a lot of eye-rolling, that she thought national geographic was filled with pictures of “native women” with their boobs hanging out. rick had been looking at national geographic in the library for at least three years and never seen a single bare tit. he tried to explain this to grace, but she just rolled her eyes, like, yeah, right. why did people have to be so ignorant, and so mean? rick never forgot grace laughing at him. he never forgot anybody laughing at him. anybody, for any reason. but today, he decided to do something different. he decided to look at the hitler book eddie had. it was a big library, it had a lot of books. rick figured it must have every book that was ever written. there was a young woman , not half-bad looking, at the front desk. rick had seen her before but never spoken to her on his way to the periodicals room. “i’m looking for a book,” he told her. he wondered if that was a dumb way to ask, but she smiled politely enough and asked , “yes, sir, a particular book?” “a book about hitler.” did he see a flash of contempt in her eyes? if he did, it was quickly gone, and she asked politely again, “a particular book about hitler?” she swiveled a computer terminal towards herself and hit a key on it to bring up the screen. “uh, yeah.” what was the exact name of eddie’s book? “the life and death of adolf hitler.” the young woman pecked at the screen. “by robert payne?” “yeah.” he guessed that was it. “i’m afraid that’s out. and it has a couple of holds on it.” rick wasn’t sure what that meant . he nodded. “we have some other books about hitler. would you like one of those?” “sure.” “there is one by ian kershaw - that is out too. it is kind of new.” she scrolled down on her screen. “here is one by john toland, it’s in two volumes. that is in. oh, wait! here is a paperback copy of the payne book, that is available.“ “i’ll take that.” the young woman pointed. “the paperbacks are off to the left, behind the large print books.” when rick looked a little uncertain, she added. “they are in a rack. they are supposed to be in first letter order, but are kind of jumbled up. ask at the reference desk. if you can’t find it.” “thank you.” that wasn’t so tough, rick thought, as he moved away. he found the book by himself after spinning the racks a few times, and took it to the furthest table, where nobody else was sitting. rick opened the book to the first page and immediately saw a couple of sentences highlighted in bright pink. he was a law unto himself, and unlike other men. very early in his life he saw that he was alienated from other men, shared few of their enjoyments and ambitions, and could dispense with their company. he lived alone, cherishing his loneliness and his singularity, reaching out to other men only when he needed to use them. 13. just like him

11. carter

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

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carter mcdowell williams was a disgusting person . one day, after cleaning his apartment to remove the traces of his recent disgusting behavior, he was walking down the stairs when he encountered the building superintendent. the building superintendent was a fellow named bill, and carter had up to this point found him to be agreeably able to mind his own business. “good morning, mister williams, “ bill greeted carter. did the fellow want something? carter merely nodded. “do you mind if i ask you a question?” bill continued. i surely do, thought carter, but he answered evenly enough, “what is the question?” “has your wi-fi been giving you any problems?” wi-fi? that was something to do with computers, was it not? “i don’t have any wi-fi, thank you.” “but of course you do! didn’t you see the memo i sent around last year? the whole building has wi-fi and has for over a year.” carter was not sure how to respond. “i do not have a computer, so it is - it is not relevant to me.” “oh.” bill looked mildly bewildered. “oh yeah, i think you mentioned that before.” he gave carter a big smile. “well, sorry to bother you. have a nice day.” and he stood aside to let carter pass. “have a nice day.” carter detested the phrase, but he had learned to use it. carter continued down the five flights of stairs to the street. outside, the day was bright and sunny, but did little to lighten his mood. carter never went anywhere without a destination, and his destination was the large supermarket on the corner of the next block. how he hated the supermarket, and how he missed the good old days when one did business face to face with an honest tradesman, or at least one whose honesty one could then judge for oneself! entering the supermarket, carter availed himself of one of the horrible brightly colored plastic baskets and headed for the produce department, to select some ingredients for a salad. carter had for some time been subsisting on fruit and vegetables, not out of any namby-pamby vegetarianism but because it was no longer possible to find a decent cut of real beef. suddenly he heard a voice behind him. “that’s him!“ carter did not turn around. although he was naturally suspicious of his fellow humans, and acutely sensitive of what he took to be their instinctive contempt and revulsion for him, he had learned to be cautious in his reaction to perceived insults or accusations. more than once in his younger days he had blundered into uncomfortable situations when he had reacted to something either intended jokingly or harmlessly, or not addressed to him at all. then he heard easy laughter behind him. as he leaned over to inspect an almost acceptable looking cucumber, he stole a glance behind himself and saw a trio of youthful humans of indeterminate sex laughing and punching each other on the forearms. it was obvious that “that’s him!” had referred to some interchange of sensibilities among themselves, and nothing to do with him. carter did not breathe a sigh of relief. he was too old a hand for that. instead he deposited the cucumber in his red plastic basket and calmly moved a few feet away to inspect the lettuce. did he need to buy salad dressing? he had completely forgotten to check before he had left his apartment. he decided to buy some dressing if it were on sale, otherwise to take his chances. immersed in his calculations, carter was unaware of the young man standing to the left of the prepared salads section, who was eyeing him intently. such was the life of an outlaw. * 12. life and death

10. gorbachev

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

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morley had been waiting patiently to talk to detective fletcher. besides his book about norris spencer carston, he was researching a book about larry landsdowne, a little known serial killer who had been convicted of murdering seven young woman but was thought to be guilty of murdering as many as a hundred more. . morley had first approached the police about larry landsdowne a few months earlier. he had found them polite and helpful, despite his lack of credentials and qualifications. detective fletcher had been especially helpful, answering many of his questions - which were mostly general questions about police procedure and not specifically about larry landsdowne. but when morley returned a second time he did not feel he was so welcome. he thought detective fletcher had seemed a little impatient, and not so friendly, especially when he tried to ask more specific questions about murders possibly involving larry landsdowne. later he found out that a reporter for an omaha newspaper was also researching a book about larry landsdowne. could that have been the reason for detective fletcher’s coolness - that she had promised, or been forced to promise, exclusive information to the established reporter? he had hesitated about returning for a third time. but had decided to, at least to get an idea of where he stood. also, he thought he had discovered a couple of good leads, which the police might appreciate his sharing with them. he had been cooling his heels waiting for detective fletcher when the flabby guy in the old fashioned suit had come in and told the young officer at the desk that he wanted to help find missing children. the flabby guy was told politely to take a seat - and he took one on the bench on the other side of the room from morley. the young woman who had been at the desk disappeared into the back of the station. morley got a good look at the guy on the bench. and morley knew. he just knew - that this guy was the real deal. a serial killer if there ever was one. morley’s heart beat a little faster. he almost forgot about larry landsdwne and detective fletcher and whether she would be polite and helpful. he had to find out who this guy was! unfortunately he had not given his name to the young woman at the desk. morley could not very well ask her to give it to him. even less could he go over and ask the guy himself for his name - that would get him suspicious right away. morley thought. if the flabby guy had driven over morley could get his license plate number and find out his identity from that. there was a mcdonalds across the street from the police station. morley would wait in it by the front window and when the guy came out, if he got in his car morley would get his license plate number and if he walked away or waited at the bus stop morley would follow him. this was the real deal! the newspaper man in omaha could have larry landsdowne, and if detective fletcher blew him off, well, wouldn’t she be surprised when he solved this brand new case all on his own! morley continued to glance unobtrusively at the flabby guy - who was waiting expressionlessly on the bench across from him. what a creep! he had probably killed a hundred hookers or young men or whatever and buried them on an old farm about ten miles out of town. suddenly detective fletcher appeared, accompanied by the desk officer. she did not look over at morley but at the flabby guy. she asked the guy to come with her. that was quick! morley thought. maybe they already have a line on this guy. but he pushed away the thought that maybe he was too late to catch this guy on his own. the guy had not identified himself, or indicated he had been asked to come in to the station. what could the police kmow? detective fletcher turned and saw morley on the other bench. she gave him an are-you-still-here? glance. morley stood up . “i can come back later,” he told her. “if it’s not convenient right now.” “yes,” she answered politely. “that might be best.” morley smiled and left, secretly delighted. now he could go ahead with his plan to follow the guy. the flabby guy needed a name until morley found out his real one. gorbachev. that was a good name. morley had heard the name somewhere but was not sure where. it had a serial killerish sound. except for serial killers and rap stars and porn stars, morley was a little shaky about history and who famous people with famous names actually were. outside the police station, the sky was blue and the sun was shining. morley checked out the cars in the parking lot an in the street, wondering which might be gorbachev’s. an ancient ford mustang - about 20 years old? - streaked with dirt, looked like a good candidate. morley went into the mcdonalds. he bought a crispy chicken sandwich and a cup of cofee and took a seat by the window and waited for gorbachev. * 11. carter