9

She came back into her house, the screen door squeaking and sticking a little. She brushed the dirt off her face , looked at the screen door and said "I've got to oil those hinges someday! " She placed the shovel, against the wall in the mudroom, took off her gardening gloves and shoes and rinsed them off with the hose. She looked at the remaining plants; six flats of violets, 1 shrub and 2 more rose bushes to plant. She smiled, this should take two more days to finish. there was something so satisfying about gardening. The smell and coolness of the dirt, the colorful flowers when in full bloom . She turned and looked out at her garden. She frowned. She forgot about the hole for the shrubs. It had to be deeper. She went outside and measured it again. It was only four feet wide and two feet deep. She needed to make it six feet wide and six feet deep, to give the shrubs plenty of growing room. She shrugged; it's going to be at least four more days. this was the boring part, measuring and remeasuring, standing up inside the pit so she could see how deep it actually is. It was supposed to rain tomorrow so she would have to put it off another day. She sighed and went into the kitchen. She had made chicken salad and was looking forward to having tea sandwiches this afternoon. She opened the refrigerator and reached for the container of chicken salad. Where was it? She moved some of the containers around but still couldn't find it. Did she forget to make it? No, maybe after that last big digging she did yesterday she ate all of it. She was puzzled, something didn't seem right. Well, she went upstairs to take a shower and start the washing machine.

"People always feel better after a shower" she smiled. She put on fresh clothes and put a load in the machine. She went back to the kitchen and walked over to the bulletin board and uncovered it. Clippings of violent murders were pinned everywhere. She looked at one of the clipping and sighed angrily. "It doesn't go in that row. This clearly is a murder committed by the Neighborhood Watchman! It belongs on the left side". She unpinned it and placed it in a different section. She opened her scrapbook and looked over the pages. She had a collection of murders that spanned over 10 years! Each in it's own separate category, each committed by a different serial killer. She smiled. She was quite proud of her collection. Very unique! She often thought about what it would be like to actually know one of them . It would make for interesting dinner conversation! She laughed. That reminded her how hungry she was. She opened the refrigerator again. If she couldn't have chicken salad, eggs and toast would have to do, She grabbed the eggs , bread and butter out of the refrigerator and closed the door.

"Hello" he said. He was dressed in a uniform and was holding a knife.

She turned to him and said, "Oh, I didn't hear you come in. Who are you? "

"I'm here to kill you." he waved the knife.

"Oh. Why?" she asked.

He blinked and choked on his words "Because. . you left the door open. "

"Oh, that screen door sticks all the time. " she placed the food down on the counter. "I was just about to eat. Do you want to join me?"

"Uhh...I could eat.."

"Then go and wash your hands. Lunch will be ready shortly. " She started to heat up the eggs. "Scrambled is ok?"

He set the knife down on the counter and started washing his hands. "Sure." he wasn't positive he knew what was going on. He saw her look at the knife. "Leave it lady! Don't try anything. " he picked up the knife again.

"Heavens! I wouldn't think of it! Who knows where that has been?" she said. "Here, now sit down and eat. I'll make us some tea"

He sat down and started going through her scrapbook. "What's this?" he asked.

She picked up some toast and started to butter it " It's a hobby of mine." She smiled. "Isn't it a hoot? No one else collects what I do" He stared at her. "Well, it's the history of murders committed by serial killers over the last ten years. " He took a closer look. " You're on page 25." she said.

"What?" he looked at her, shocked.

"You are the Neighborhood Watchman aren't you? "

"Uh..no, no you have me mixed up with someone else."

"Don't be ridiculous! I have your picture, see?" she walked over to the bulletin board and pointed at it. "That is you, isn't it? I admit it's not a very good picture but it was taken last year. You've gained some weight since then."

He walked over to the bulletin board and stared at the picture. "Do you always display these crime scenes?"

"No, silly. They are for my own personal use. Consider yourself lucky to see them. "

"Uh..lu..lucky? " he stammered.

"Yes, I look at the pictures, study the motivation of the murderers and try and understand how they think! I find serial killers fascinating, don't you? I mean, how does it feel to be one?" She bit into her eggs.

"I..uh.."he sat down at the table.

"Now, sit up straight, don't slouch. Let me go get us some tea. Finish your lunch!"

"Oh, uh, I., don't want any tea. I'm kind of in a hurry."

"Nonsense! You came into my home at lunchtime so you should have enough consideration to eat with me"

" Uh, I came in to kill you, in case you forgot."

"Really? Here, drink your tea. " She sipped her tea, "Out of curiosity, how many would I be?"

"What?" he took a sip of tea.

"The last I read, you had murdered 8 people, right? so unless I haven't kept up, I Would be number 9, right?"

"Uh, I guess so. I sortof lost count."

"Oh, you mustn't do that! 8 murders make you a very gifted serial killer! Especially since you keep changing uniforms!"

"Excuse me?" he dipped his toast in the last of the egg and swallowed, finishing with a swallow of tea. He grimaced.

"What's the matter with the tea?" she asked.

"It's a little sweet. I don't like so much sugar. "

"Sorry, I grew up on sweet tea. It's my favorite. What I mean about the uniform is, you change into a different type before each murder. Look at these pictures..this woman here has been stabbed 9 times but, part of your uniform is torn. It says ..'security'. This next one, here..see? She was stabbed 9 times but the piece of uniform got torn off, probably when she was fighting you off. It says 'sanitation'. And this last one, see? The shirt ripped and it says watchman. I admit, the press wasn't very original with your nickname but we can't have everything"

"How do you know that is a neighborhood watch uniform?" he started gripping the knife tighter.

"Because we all chose dark green as a color for the uniform. Each month, a different person takes over as a neighborhood watchman. When we see the person watching our homes, we don't worry about calling the police because we know it's not a peeping tom. You must have known that, otherwise, why would you have chosen dark green? It's not exactly a good color for you. More tea?" she offered.

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Now you understand why I study this! I follow the serial murders and eventually, I figure out the mistakes the serial killers did that got them caught! You really need to be careful. Letting your uniforms get torn is careless." she pointed out.

She poured him a fresh glass. "Would you care for dessert? Fresh strawberries from my garden. You want to see it? I'm proud of it." She walked over to the screen door.

"Now, wait a second, lady, don't try nothin'! " He stepped over to the door and looked out at the new flowers. "What's the big hole for?"

"I'm planting a big shrub tomorrow and it needs space to grow." She started to turn away. That's when she felt it, the prick of the blade. She bent over, holding her side tightly. "Oh, dear. You mean you are going through with it after all?"

"That's the first one." he said as she fell to the ground. "Why are you smiling?" he asked.

She started to laugh as she reached for a towel to staunch the bleeding "It's been thirty minutes." she said.

He looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" he stood over her, feeling woozy "What's happening?" He stabbed her again, this time in the arm.

"Haha, you missed." she said, growing weaker as the blood started flowing freely.

He was confused. He didn't like feeling that way. "Stop it, Now!" she felt two more pricks, this time she couldn't stop the flow.

He leaned over her, tried to grab her, to plunge the knife in one more time so he could tell her goodbye, but he lost his balance instead. He tried to pull himself up but stumbled again. He kept looking at her, she kept smiling.

"I won." she said, weakly.

"What are you talking about?" he mumbled.

"It's very simple. I may be number 9 but you are number 10."

"What do you mean?"

"If you can pull yourself over to my board, you'll notice part of it is still covered. Go and read it, your questions will be answered. And just know, that I will always be better than you..." she breathed her last breath.

He dragged himself over to the wall, pulled himself up holding on to the counter. He managed to pull off the cover, he remained conscious long enough to read: The Gardener strikes again. The 9th victim died of a lethal poison that is used as an herbicide. He is identified as Morton Gable, the neighborhood watchman. He is the 9th watchman to have been poisoned. Apparently, the poison was added to sweet tea. The killer was identified as Mabel Gardiner. She is one of a few female serial killers, the usual method is poisoning their victims. She escaped police custody and has not been found since.

He fell against the wall and said, "You're not better than me, lady. I'm the one who found you. " he breathed his last breath.