Arsenic would have been too obvious because the effects would have been too horrific for his work, so instead, he settled on belladonna. The poison mimicked the effects of being drunk or on XTC, or both. That worked for him. There was no need to give away too many clues, at least not in the beginning.
Eventually, they might figure it out. Maybe. Poison was traditionally a woman’s choice for a murder weapon. Lucas would know that, and that overly important Aislinn Cain would know that as well. Not that she would have used poison. Oh no, the great sociopathic crime fighter was more inclined to kill with a blade. Even with witnesses, she had disemboweled her last victim.
An attractive young lady out with a group of friends stood at a table near him. She would be his first, the first of many. He needed at least five even to think about catching the attention of the SCTU. Also, he had to worry about the VCU catching the case instead, and that would be problematic.
However, he had a plan. One that would shock them all. A single event, claiming the lives of several women. That would get someone’s attention.
He had chosen this bar because it was special. There were no cameras because he knew the owners. He had once investigated them.
As he watched, a waitress in a short skirt and a top that was too small, began to sashay over to the young lady he had singled out. A fresh round of drinks for her and her friends that were no doubt bought by some man looking to dip his stick in one of their holes tonight. The guy was out of luck. Other plans had been made for the ladies.
All he had to do was wait. Wait for the table sentinel to wander off, leaving their drinks unattended. The sentinel was growing uncomfortable in her chair. She was shifting more. Soon, she would have to go to the bathroom. While they had taken turns dancing and using the restroom, the lone sentinel had yet to go. She had been in the club for more than two hours, and now the time was coming.
Her eyes darted around furtively, checking to see if someone was giving her table or friends too much attention. The look landed on her friends out on the dance floor. They were too involved in the music to realize that she wanted their attention.
She waited as long as she could. Finally, she gave in, leaving their table unattended. He got up, walked to the table quickly and squeezed the dropper he had filled into their drinks, and was back at his table in less than a minute. No one had noticed him. He had touched nothing except his glass of whiskey on the rocks. He left a twenty to pay for his last drink and tip his waitress, then left.
The ride home was uneventful. Once there, he stood in front of the mirror. It was amazing what some rubber and make-up could do. First, he pulled off the dark brown wig. His long, naturally black hair shined in the light. Second, he began to peel away the base of his disguise. The rubber skin was lighter than his real flesh. As it peeled away, it revealed reddish brown skin that kept a perfect tan all year. Then, he removed the contacts, changing his eyes from a deep blueish grey to the more natural brown. He washed his hands, removing the make-up that covered them, making them pale. Next came the tips of his fingers, peeling off the fake fingerprints. Finally, he moved from standing in front of the mirror to sitting in the wheelchair that supposedly confined his body.
It had taken three hours to become the man he saw in the mirror and it took less than an hour to make him disappear. It was disposable. Alejandro Gui went into the hallway where he ditched his disguise and picked up the trash bag. He rolled through the house to the back door, taking the trash bag out and tossing it into the fire pit, it didn’t take long for the coals to heat up. He threw a few pieces of wood onto it as the flames roared to life, melting the evidence of his crime.
Next, he tossed in several types of plastic: two milk jugs, three two-liter containers for soda, a few Gatorade bottles, and some empty cleaning supply bottles. The smoke that billowed up was pitch black. Alejandro rolled away from it.
“Burning your trash?” His sister’s voice startled him.
“Yeah, I decided it was about time to get rid of some of the stuff that had been piling up for recycling. The bottles with chemicals make interesting colors,” he answered.
“And toxic fumes.” His sister moved him back a little further from the fire. “I thought I saw you pull up. Did you have a good time tonight?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s always so much fun to check the fences. It’s the most exciting part of my life.” He smiled at her.
“Hey, it could be worse. You could be stuck in this house doing nothing.” She pointed at the house.
The nation built it to accommodate his physical condition. In return, Alejandro checked the fences that held the nation’s large herd of cattle and their stock of goats. It wasn’t a great job and the pay sucked, but with his disability from the government, he didn’t really need any money from the nation. However, they didn’t want him to think he was living off their charity. They understood the pride of a man.
What they didn’t understand was his anger. Emotion dominated his entire life. The hatred ate at him, swallowing his soul.
The source was Aislinn Cain, the little know-it-all college student that liked to play with monsters, had ended his career. She had put him in this chair; the chair that he had overcome only out of sheer determination. She might not have injected him with the arsenic, but she was at fault. Her fucked up family’s pedigree was what had led him down the path to exposure to the poison.
Now, she was the media’s sweetheart. She was the hero. She was the one they liked to splash on the front page of newspapers. She had not only nearly killed him, but she had stolen his spotlight. It used to be him, with his beautiful hair and perfect features that graced the front page of newspapers. The reporters had wanted to interview him with his great voice to get sound bites to air on the major news.
Now, they wanted her. She acted as if she didn’t want it. She acted as if the media was a chore, a nuisance, something to be avoided. However, Alejandro had been there, and he knew how wonderful all that attention was. There was no way that she actually disliked it.
With him gone, she had managed to put a puppet in charge of the SCTU. That FBI agent with the sexy lips and red hair, a real smooth talker. Aislinn Cain had enthralled him. There was no doubt they were sleeping together. She probably dictated which serial killers they were going after while the two cuddled at night.