Johnithan Kellerman – Bad Love

He talked on for a long while, slipping into a drone, like a surgeon dictating operating-room notes. Giving me details I didn’t want to hear. I tuned out, listening to the dog thump and bark, listening for sounds from the bedrooms that never came.

Silence. Sighing. He said, “I found my life’s work.”

“Rodney Shipler,” I said. “He didn’t work at the school, did he? Was he a relative of Delmar’s?”

“Father. In name only.”

“What was his crime?”

“Complicity. Delmar’s mom was dead, Shipler was the only member of Delmar’s family I could find. Delmar told me his dad was named Rodney and he worked for the L.A. schools–I thought he was a teacher.

Finally I located him over in South Central. A janitor. This tired old asshole, big and fat, living by himself, drinking whiskey out of a Dixie cup. I told him I was a lawyer and I knew what really happened to his son. Said we could sue, class action–even after the bitch, I was still trying to work within the system. He sat there drinking and listening, then asked me could I guarantee him a lot of money in his pocket. I told him no, money wasn’t the issue. The publicity would expose Hitler for what he’d really been. Delmar would be a hero.”

Jab. “Shipler poured himself another cup and told me he didn’t give a shit about that. Said Delmar’s mom had been some whore he’d met in Manila who wasn’t worth the time of day. Said Delmar had been a fool and a troublemaker from day one. I tried to reason with him–show him the importance of exposing Hitler. He told me to get the hell out.

Tried to push me out.”

Coburg’s eyes flared. The gun seemed fused to his hand.

“Another good German. He tried to push me out–real bully, but I taught him about justice. After that, I knew the only way was swift punishment–the system wasn’t set up to do the job.”

I said, “One form of punishment for the underlings, another for the high command.”

“Exactly. Fair is fair.” He smiled. “Finally someone catches on.

Mrs. Lyndon was right, you are a clever piece of work. I told her I was a reporter, doing a story on you. She was so happy to help. .

.

her little A student.” The gun tickled my ribs. “You deserve something for paying attention–maybe I’ll knock you unconscious before I roll you over the cliff outside. Such a perfect setup. ..” Head cock toward the front door. “Would you like that?”

Before I could answer: “Just kidding! Your eyes will be taped open, you’ll experience every second of hell, just like I did.”

He laughed. Droned some more, describing how he’d beaten Rodney Shipler to death, blow by blow.

When he was through, I said, “Katarina was high command also. Why’d you wait so long for her?”

Trying to buy time with questions–but to what end? A longer ordeal for Robin-why was it so quiet in there?

My eyes shifted downward. The damn gun arm wasn’t moving.

He said, “Why do you think, clever boy? Saving the best for last–and you messed me up royal. You were supposed to go before her, but then you started snooping around, sending your queer police buddy snooping, so I had to do her out of sequence…. I’m pissed at you for that.

Maybe I’ll put your girlfriend on the barbecue. Make you watch that with your eyelids taped open.”

Smiling. Sighing. “Still, she-beast got done, and what’s done is done… do you know how she handled her fate? Total passivity. Just like the rest of you.” Jab. “What kind of person would want to spend his life just sitting there listening–not doing anything?”

He laughed.

“She got down on her knees and begged. Her she-beast throat got all clogged up like a toilet full of shit…. She was eating breakfast, I just strolled in, put this gun to her head, said bad love, she-beast.”

And she just fell apart.”

Shaking his head, as if still not believing. Slight shift of the gun.

“Not an ounce of fight. No fun. I had to stand her up and order her to make a run for it. Kicked her butt to get her to move. Even with that, all she could do was stumble into the garage and get down on her knees again. Then she snapped out of her trance. Then she started begging. Crying, pointing to her stomach, telling me she’s pregnant, please have pity on my baby. Like she had pity. .. then she pulled a card out of her pocket, trying to prove it to me. A sperm bank.

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