SURREAL KILLER 4
by Laurie S.

Can a serial killer have a conscience? Conclusion to the story.

Warning: if you are under 19 or pure of heart or squeamish, do not read this tale. It is filled with gratuitous violence. Do not try the dangerous acts depicted in Surreal Killer at home or anywhere else.

Chapter 18

For Ukrainians, Easter is the big celebration on the calendar. Bigger than Christmas, it drew the Dobriansky family together.

From Ash Wednesday to Easter, traditionally Ukrainians did not eat meat, eggs and butter. They abstained from dancing and other frivolous activities. Lent was a serious time meant for soul cleansing and penitence.

Thankfully, for Arthur and Lydia, those traditions were not followed as strictly.

A lot of the Ukrainian Easter customs were based on pre-Christian pagan traditions. These revolved around the stars, sun, moon, rain, fire and wind. The coming of spring heralded the revitalization of life after a long, bitterly cold winter.

One of the many traditions Arthur enjoyed was the creation of the Easter eggs, the pysanky. These colorfully decorated eggs would be placed in the Easter basket along with sausage, horseradish, Easter ritual bread, cheese, butter, salt, a candle and a serviette. Each item had a symbolic meaning for inclusion in the Easter basket.

At his parent's house, Arthur sat at the dining room table with his sister Lydia, decorating the Easter eggs.

"Do you remember how Baba taught us to do this when we were very young?" Lydia asked.

"Yes," Arthur said, "she was a very patient person."

"She had to be with us as her grandchildren."

Using a pencil, Arthur was drawing a flower onto the egg's surface. "I was so anxious to learn how to decorate the eggs, but because the process took so long, I remember I threw a little tantrum."

"Baba was such a gentle person, but firm with us," Lydia said.

"After I decorated my first egg," Arthur began, "when I was trying to drain away the yolk, the shell collapsed and I started to cry."

"Yes, Baba hugged you and kissed you and then she pointed out that we had decorated so many all at the same time, there was no reason to cry. There were still lots of eggs left."

"You teased me. You called me Humpty Dumpty."

"Arthur, Baba quickly put me in my place. She reminded me that I had broken a few eggs the first time I decorated the eggs too."

"With a little luck today, maybe we won't break any." Arthur felt sad. He wished his grandmother and grandfather were still with them, but they had both passed away by the time Arthur was eleven.

Arthur and Lydia were silent for a moment or two. While Arthur continued drawing, Lydia used a kistka to apply wax, following the straight line created by an elastic band around the egg surface.

The electric kistka was a long narrow cylindrical tube filled with beeswax, with an electrical wire at one end for heating the wax and a metal stylus at the other. When the egg was dipped in dye, the dye would not stain the egg wherever the wax had been applied.

By starting with the light dyes and progressing to the darker dye colors, the eggs built up layers upon layers of colors.

At the end of this procedure, the egg was placed in a candle flame. All the wax melted, revealing all the colors that had been protected by the wax underneath.

"It feels like Baba is still here with us." Lydia's eyes were misty.

"I miss her." Arthur nodded. "She taught us all the great Ukrainian traditions."

Arthur enjoyed creating the endless variety of colorful flowers, shapes, swirls, patterns, symbols and lines on the eggs. Arthur loved the intricate designs. When finished, the pysanky were so beautiful.

There were two dozen chicken eggs and a dozen goose eggs on the table. There would be plenty enough eggs to place in the Easter baskets of Arthur, Lydia and their parents.

"Arthur, do you ever think about Tom Spencer and Frank De Rossi?" The question from Lydia came out of left field.

"Not much," Arthur said warily. "Why do you ask?"

"You know Lent is meant to be a time of reflection, so I couldn't help but think of people that had passed away recently." Lydia put down the kistka for a moment. "I admit that when they both died, it seemed like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders." Lydia paused. "But now I feel a little guilty for reacting that way."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Why should you feel guilty?"

"Feeling good about the death of another person…Don't you think that's wrong?"

As Arthur placed the egg he was decorating onto the newspapers that covered the dining table, he looked directly into Lydia's eyes with concern. "Do you not think they deserved what happened to them?"

"I know the Bible says 'An eye for an eye.'" Lydia paused. "But I'm not sure that sort of retribution doesn't just lead to more violence. I feel sorry for their parents and siblings."

"What about the effect the rape had on you? Don't you remember how it changed you? You were afraid of your own shadow. You were devastated. You lost all your confidence."

"A person is a person. Even if he was evil. I know it's difficult to find forgiveness in our hearts, but when I think back at how much I wanted revenge, I think it wasn't doing anybody any good."

"Tom and Frank raped you." Arthur had an incredulous look on his face. "You couldn't very well expect them to be raped in return? They didn't serve a day in jail for that. And what about how they almost beat me to death when I was just entering my teens? I knew if I squealed to the police, I might've ended up dead the next time they caught me alone."

Lydia could see that Arthur was getting upset, but she still wanted to get out her point. "The Buddhist have this idea about karma."

"Yes, I know… It's not just the Buddhists. You reap what you sew." Arthur frowned. "What goes around comes around." The Dobriansky family was Eastern Orthodox.

"Don't you think if you do good deeds in your life, you'll create a good karma? And if you do hurtful things to others, you'll create bad conditions for yourself?"

Arthur nodded. "It seems to work that way for people who have a conscience."

"Even Pope John Paul said there is no hell in the afterlife. The conditions you create by your actions in this life can create a hell on earth." Lydia paused. "Okay, I'm paraphrasing, but that's essentially what he said."

"Lydia, do you really think life is fair? Is there an angel up above who keeps track and balances everything out so you get your fair share of breaks?"

Lydia shook her head from side to side. "Not really."

"I doubt that Tom Spencer or Frank De Rossi ever had a second of remorse for anything they did." Arthur paused, as if to set up his final point. "After all, they became drug dealers...They sold date rape drugs to anyone who wanted them." Arthur wanted to believe killing Tom and Frank was the right thing to do. "I wonder how many other girls were raped as a result?"

Lydia was almost in tears. For her to feel sorry for Tom and Frank didn't make sense to Arthur.

He wrapped his arms around his older sister and held her tight. "Don't cry for those two guys. They were bad people. Pond scum. They got what they deserved." Arthur pulled back from Lydia for a moment so he could look into her eyes. "I think the difference between a criminal and a compassionate person like you is that a criminal doesn't have a conscience. You have a conscience. You feel guilty when you do something wrong. You consider the effects of your actions on other people…I don't think criminals have any regrets other than they shouldn't ever get caught."

Lydia broke into sobs. Arthur held her tight once more in an effort to console her.

Maybe Arthur wasn't the right person to be the angel of death. Maybe he wasn't a good avenger. The problem, Arthur was beginning to realize, is that there was this little voice within him. It was starting to make him have doubts about his vigilante actions.

The essential problem was Arthur had a conscience.

Chapter 19

In Arthur Dobriansky's troubled mind, he reaffirmed what he was doing. He was an avenger. Yes, he murdered people, but he was careful to select only people that deserved to be killed.

Arthur felt somewhat guilty about the fact that he enjoyed killing people. According to the Psychology courses he had taken, he knew a feeling of great elation wasn't a normal human reaction to the act of killing. Arthur thought it was exciting. The rush of adrenaline! The thrill of the hunt! The kick of extreme danger — kill or be killed. Fight or flight? He chose to fight. Nothing came close to the feeling.

Most normal people felt regret for their actions. So far, Arthur had not regretted any of his well-publicized executions. He was merely the seeker of justice. They were all good kills.

It wasn't like there was a shortage of justifiable homicides in the world.

One of the well-publicized murder cases that went unpunished in New York City involved a diplomat at the United Nations. It was said that he had accidentally run over a pedestrian with his consulate's limousine. However, upon investigation, it turned out that car crash victim was also a diplomat — from a neighboring country. The two countries were deeply involved in a border dispute. Was it mere coincidence that the traffic victim was considered an enemy?

Diplomatic immunity prevented the NYPD from arresting the key suspect. But everyone knew his name. We'll call him Alejandro. It's not his real name, but close enough. It will have to do. America is in enough trouble because of Wiki leaks and many other revelations of atrocities spread by freedom of the press in Western countries.

When Alejandro returned to his homeland, Arthur Dobriansky was able to keep track of the murderer's career.

Alejandro wasn't punished by his government. In fact, he was given a promotion with a sizeable pay increase.

At a carnival celebration, Alejandro felt lucky that his country threw such great parties year after year. Tens of millions, maybe even hundreds of millions would dress up in fantastic, elaborate, colorful costumes. There'd be dancing in the streets, competitions for best costumes and most entertaining shows. Expenses be damned. There'd be feasts that delighted the palette and pleasured the senses. The partying would begin early and last through the night. Intoxicating music would fuel the dance. Alcohol would fan the fires of passion. Love embraced the entire celebration, unifying the people. Then the next day of festivities would extend carnival into the next day and the next. It was a week of unadulterated ecstasy.

The beautiful dancing girls delighted Alejandro's insatiable sexual appetite. The fact that some of the most amazing dancing girls in their fabulous costumes happened to be transsexuals didn't disturb Alejandro. It was carnival. What did it matter? Masquerades were a big part of carnival.

For a price, even tourists could join up with a group, sometimes known as a samba school or a house. The fee would grant them a colorful plumed costume and provide them with dance lessons so they could experience the thrill of carnival.

Arthur Dobriansky found it easy to blend in with the samba school of his choice. With any luck, he'd find Alejandro and assassinate him.

However, in order to avoid international repercussions, Arthur planned every detail of the assassination carefully. He wanted it to look like an accident.

The instructors at the samba school demonstrated how to dance to the Latin rhythms. It was as if these women had been born with the dance gene. Their bodies reacted to the music; their arms flared; their booties wiggled; their legs stepped, shook, and pirouetted effortlessly with wild abandon.

The magnificent feathered costume made Arthur feel like he was a glorified Las Vegas showgirl on crack cocaine. One couldn't help but feel beautiful in the daring dance attire. "Anna" as Arthur chose to call himself/herself was feminine pulchritude personified. A tremendous plumed headdress, stupendous tits stuck out to there, a tiny sculpted waist, a barely there thong that showed off his magnificent ass cheeks to wonderful effect, and delectable dancer's legs that screamed out SEXY!

On about the fourth day, Anna spotted Alejandro and, for the diplomat, it was lust at first sight.

The two happy celebrants danced up a storm. They groped each other, they kissed, they cuddled, they hugged and they ground their bodies together. Then, when they took a break from the gayety, they drank enough champagne to get falling down drunk.

When they retreated to Anna's hotel room, they both struggled to hold each other up long enough that they could fall into bed instead of falling onto the carpeted floor.

A few hours later, Anna awoke from her stupor. She was delighted to find that Alejandro was spooning her — his crotch pressed up against her rear end — an arm and hand draped over her chest, feeling her large breasts.

Careful not to wake Alejandro from his alcohol induced haze, Anna rose from the bed. She tiptoed over to the bathroom, and then closed the door. She quickly relieved herself. There was a steady stream of urine. At the same time her bowel movement came easily and quickly. She-he wiped her rear end with toilet paper.

Thinking she needed to freshen up, she ran the water at the sink and soaked a facecloth. Adding a dab of hand soap, she used the facecloth to remove any left over smudged makeup from last night. She rinsed out the facecloth, added another dab of soap, then she cleaned off the tip of her cock and wiped her rear end. She wanted to be as clean as possible for sex with Alejandro.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she stepped over to the dresser and opened a drawer where she had placed her handbag. Reaching into it, she retrieved a small plastic case. The case wasn't for makeup. It had small perforations - little air holes for the Banana Spider that lay entrapped within.

She walked back to the bed, placed the plastic case in a convenient spot behind Alejandro, and resumed her position in front of his toned muscular body. She playfully pushed her rump up against Alejandro's cock, wondering if that might wake him up. Although he was still groggy, she could feel his manhood responding. His magnificent cock grew larger and larger. She heard a groan. Was Alejandro awake?

She felt a hand on her breast. He began to feel for the teat. His fingertips gently rubbed her teat as if they were a baby's lips searching for nourishment.

Another groan and now she knew he was awake.

"Anna?"

"Alejandro, you wonderful man."

"Mmm, you feel so good."

Anna turned to face him. She smiled.

His lips parted as they searched for her lips. They kissed softly.

Anna wondered what it would be like to awake to such a sight every morning.

It was unfortunate that this would be the last morning of Alejandro's life.

Anna pressed forward, rubbing her breasts up against Alejandro's chest.

"I think I'm in heaven," Alejandro mumbled, "my little Chiquita."

Anna extended her arm over Alejandro to the bedside table where she had placed the small plastic container. She opened it a notch and then withdrew her hand instantly.

A deadly Banana Spider emerged quickly. Anna rolled away from Alejandro and reached over the side of the bed, grasping for a shoe she knew to be there on the floor.

"Ah!" Alejandro jumped up suddenly from the bed. He tried to look toward the source of the sting behind him. He could feel something crawling on his back. He swatted at it wildly. Luckily, he knocked whatever it was off him. It fell onto the bed.

"A spider!" Anna squealed.

"Merda!"

It moved very quickly, seeking refuge under a pillow.

Anna's shoe flashed down upon the spider just before it could hide under the pillow. The spider innards splattered onto the white sheet and pillowcase.

Alejandro looked over to Anna. "Thank you. You reacted very quickly."

"I was scared."

Alejandro and Anna hugged.

"Are you okay, Alejandro?" Anna asked as she reached behind Alejandro and pushed the little plastic case off the bed. It disappeared from view onto the carpeted floor.

"I think it bit me."

"Turn around. Let me see your back."

Alejandro complied with Anna's request, twisting around from the waist up.

"Yes, there's a red mark. Will you be all right?"

"I don't think there are any dangerous spiders here in the city." Alejandro paused. "If this had happened in the countryside, I'd be worried."

"Well then, crisis averted."

Alejandro and Anna hugged each other once more. Then they kissed. He inserted his tongue into her mouth hungrily. She responded passionately.

Anna was such a beautiful woman, even if she was a travesti. What a shame that she wasn't a real girl! She was as beautiful as any girl he had ever known.

She wondered how quickly the venom would take effect. One strange, highly unusual effect of the Banana Spider venom was that it caused the victim to have an immediate erection. The venom was like instant Viagra! Up to four hours of stiffness, if the victim lived that long.

Anna reached over to the drawer of the night table. She withdrew two condom packages. Using her sharp fingernails, she tore apart the packaging. Then she withdrew a lubricated rubber and reached for Alejandro's throbbing member. She unrolled the condom and placed it over the head of his amazingly hard erection. She had seen five inches grow to ten inches within about a fifteen-second span. The latex fabric of the condom stretched to its limit.

Hurriedly she repeated the condom capping procedure on her own rising cock. However, it was nowhere near as big as Alejandro's.

Anna got on all fours and invited Alejandro to penetrate her rear end doggy style.

There was some pain as he inserted the enlarged tip of his cock into Anna's ?virgin? asshole. Her sphincter seemed to loosen enough that the tip of Alejandro's amazingly hard penis could enter, but just barely.

Alejandro withdrew his throbbing cock for a minute. Using a finger, he tried to rub it up against the surface of the condom. He wanted to lubricate Anna's tender sphincter. Then he inserted the slimy finger into Anna's opening. Slowly he pushed a little further. Then a little more. Anna could feel her own erection growing in response to the stimulus. Alejandro's sensitive fingers cupped Anna's testicles for a moment or two, and then reached a little further up to Anna's banana. It was a solid five and a quarter inches.

In rhythm, he started moving his huge cock in and out, in and out.

Anna was thankful that she had eliminated the wastes from her colon earlier.

Alejandro picked up the pace a little bit. Back and forth. Back and forth. Was this what Third World doctors did in place of a colonoscopy?

As Alejandro's cock moved deeper and deeper, Anna could feel it come in contact with something. "Oh!" Anna yelled. Was that her prostate?

These feelings of penetration were pleasurable to Anna. "Oh…oh…oh…oh. The pace of the fucking picked up. Faster and faster. Back and forth. Faster and faster. She loved it. Anna was panting, mouth open, tongue practically hanging out. "Yes…yes…yes." She knew she would climax at any moment.

Eruption! Erotic bliss! Her cum shot into the latex sheath, spurt after spurt. Her orgasm came as a huge relief. But the high couldn't be maintained, even though Alejandro kept humping her. Dribbles reduced to a trickle, and finally individual drops of sperm dripped out.

Although Anna's cock was quickly shrinking, Alejandro kept pumping. Working his hard cock like a piston in an automobile engine, up and down, up and down it continued.

Unfortunately, Anna noticed that Alejandro was having problems breathing. It was getting highly irregular.

She knew he would soon lose consciousness.

"Are you okay, Alejandro?" Anna twisted her neck to look back into Alejandro's face. "Was the spider bite poisonous? Are you all right?"

Alejandro looked like he was in serious trouble. He pulled his cock out of Anna's asshole abruptly. Then he fell back onto the bed. "Call emergency," he gasped.

Anna picked up the phone from the night table. She punched in Operator on the key pad.

"Hello, front desk, please call the hospital. We have a medical emergency."

"Anna," Alejandro began. "I'm feeling so sick…The spider bite… poison."

"Don't worry, Alejandro. Help is on the way."

She looked at Alejandro's naked body lying on the bed. His breathing was very erratic. He was drooling. He had lost control of his muscles. He was slipping into unconsciousness. But his lower body was absolutely amazing. The erect cock seemed to jump out a good twelve inches from his crotch. If scientists could ever extract the penis-stimulating ingredient within the spider venom, it could rival Viagra or Cialis.

That's if and only if the poison could ever be separated from the all-natural tonic for erectile dysfunction.

Anna sobbed as Alejandro slipped into an unconscious state. She shook his body, trying to wake him up. But try as she might, he remained oblivious to the world.

Suddenly Anna looked up and she smiled evilly. "Oh Alejandro, I'm such a phony." She flicked a finger at Alejandro's gigantic cock. She swore she could hear a boing-boing sound as it vibrated slightly.

"I never really called the front desk. There is no help coming, unfortunately. You will asphyxiate within a few minutes. Once I flush the condoms down the toilet, there won't be much left to indicate that you died by foul play. They'll find the remains of a squashed Banana Spider on the sheets and pillowcase. There will be a spider bite on your back." Anna/Arthur paused for a moment. "I wonder if, when they find you, will you still have that huge erection? I guess they'll have to call it something scientific sounding like…rigor mortis erectus." She laughed hysterically. Killing was so much fun.

Alejandro, for all his magnificent gifts, was still a killer. He deserved his fate.

Chapter 20

Arthur was thinking that a Ph.D. in Psychology or Psy.D. could quite possibly lead to a future career as a psychologist. He regarded work as a flight attendant merely as a way to pay for his education while it also gave him an opportunity to see the world.

The difficulty with becoming a psychologist was the length of time in school. First, Arthur needed to complete his undergraduate degree. However, since he was working as a flight attendant full time, Arthur was carrying a reduced course load. It would take at least six years instead of four to complete his undergraduate degree — and that was with taking additional summer courses. Secondly, a doctoral degree required five to seven years of graduate study. The end product of the original research would be a dissertation. Thirdly, since Arthur was interested in school psychology, there was an additional one-year full-time internship.

Young Arthur was uncertain that he should commit to spending twelve to fourteen years of his life to getting the qualifications to become a school psychologist.

At the beginning of the Abnormal Psychology course, Professor Lipshitz had told his students that he welcomed inquiries from his students. He provided an email address, a phone number for his office, room number, and announced his regular office hours. Arthur decided he needed some advice.

So Arthur sent Professor Lipshitz an email requesting a meeting to discuss possible employment opportunities for psychologists. Lipshitz emailed a reply, giving a date and time for a meeting at his Hofstra University office.

In the discussion with Professor Lipshitz, the professor described different areas of psychology: clinical, cognitive, forensic, developmental, health, social work, and school counseling. When Arthur expressed an interest in school psychology, Professor Lipshitz told Arthur if that was his area of interest, the professor could arrange for Arthur to observe school psychologists at work. In essence, Arthur could do some job shadowing. It was strictly voluntary. Arthur would not be paid. Professor Lipshitz could contact some school psychologists that he knew. He was sure that someone would be agreeable. It would be an opportunity for Arthur to see a psychologist at work. Arthur jumped at the opportunity.

North Hempstead Elementary School was located in the North Shore area of Long Island. Due to its affluence, the area earned the nickname "the Gold Coast." New York's 19th and 20th century old money was located here: the Roosevelts, the Vanderbilts, the Whitneys, J.P. Morgan, F.W. Woolworth, and Charles Pratt. In popular culture, the North Shore was the setting for F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel The Great Gatsby.

The arrangement with Dr. Michelle Huckabee was for Arthur to come in every Wednesday morning and observe the doctor at work with the students. The thirty something doctor was quite affable and charming. Pretty too. Arthur had already observed her at work in the two previous Wednesdays. He was fascinated by the counseling work.

In the North Hempstead Elementary School counseling office, Dr. Huckabee met with Arthur a half hour before the start of classes. She informed Arthur that counseling notes had been placed in the teachers' mailboxes the previous afternoon. These green slips were to be passed on to the students who were scheduled for morning counseling appointments.

Arthur glanced around the room. The furniture in a school counseling office is usually old, minimal and functional. Dr. Huckabee had spent a few dollars to add a few colorful modern art posters up on the wall to help lift the spirits.

Dr. Huckabee had pulled the case files of the five students scheduled for appointments. She spent the next ten minutes briefly describing the problems of the students she was helping. Within each folder, there were photos of the children. The age of the students ranged from six to eleven years old.

When Arthur glanced through the files, he stopped dead in his tracks.

This was unbelievable. He held the file of Howard Stevenson, age 9. Howard was the son of Benny Stevenson, the infamous pro tennis player Arthur had murdered.

Dr. Huckabee noted that Howard Stevenson, the first appointment scheduled, was suffering from depression. She quickly summarized the case. She simply stated that poor Howard had lost both his parents by violent means. His mother, Diane, was shot to death and, about a half-year later, his father had been asphyxiated. Young Howard, under the care of the paternal grandparents, was not coping very well. His sister, Megan, also was having problems. It was a terrible tragedy.

Howard, normally a talkative confident kid was now sullen, silent and withdrawn. He showed signs of low self-esteem. He seemed to have lost interest or pleasure in activities that he had previously enjoyed. He suffered from a depressed appetite and had trouble sleeping.

In previous sessions, Howard had been reluctant to talk. But, Howard was normally talkative. That was his true nature. In their previous meeting, Dr. Huckabee had established a rapport with Howard. At least he trusted her enough to discuss the problems he was having with other kids and his sister. In today's session, she hoped that Howard would discuss his past relationship with his deceased parents. Dr. Huckabee suspected that, because Benny Stevenson's infidelity had been revealed publicly, Howard might be feeling guilty about harboring feelings of hatred for his father.

Arthur glanced at the clock. He didn't have time to read over Howard's file. The doctor's usual morning routine included having a cup of coffee. One of Arthur's minor duties as a voluntary observer, the least he could do, was to get the doctor her morning cup of coffee — double cream, double sugar.

The doctor thanked Arthur as she continued perusing her files.

As the starting time for classes approached, Dr. Huckabee and Arthur headed down the hallway to Mrs. Belanger's classroom. Howard, now nine, was in Mrs. Belanger's grade four class.

When Dr. Huckabee approached room 18, students were still coming into the classroom. Fortunately, Howard had already arrived. Mrs. Belanger summoned Howard from his seat. Greetings were exchanged. Dr. Huckabee introduced Arthur Dobriansky to young Howard Stevenson, and then they headed back to the counseling office. Students were scurrying through the halls to get to class on time. The three of them stepped into counseling just as the bell sounded, signaling the start of classes.

The three of them stood near the doorway as the national anthem played over the speaker system. Then Dr. Huckabee led Howard into her office and offered him a seat. Arthur and the doctor quickly took seats as well.

"Howard," Dr. Huckabee began, "I introduced you to Mr. Dobriansky before, but I think we should explain why he is here."

"Yes, thanks Dr. Huckabee." Arthur looked at Howard Stevenson. He looked a bit scared. "Like you, Howard, I am a student, a student at Hofstra University to be precise. I am studying psychology and the reason I'm here today is simply to observe Dr. Huckabee and how she interacts with the students. I am here to learn what a school psychologist does." For a moment, Arthur thought about describing his own experiences with a psychologist following his brutal beating at the hands of Tom Spencer and Frank De Rossi, but thought it would take too long. "I hope to become a school psychologist someday."

Howard nodded his head.

Arthur noted the strong physical resemblance between the young boy and his father. Howard certainly had the same piercing blue eyes. He had his dad's brown hair and similar jaw line.

"How are you doing in class?" Dr. Huckabee asked. "Are you doing any better since we met last week?"

Howard shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. We've only had one quiz since then."

"How did you do?"

"I passed."

"What was the subject?"

"It was a math quiz. I got 6 out of 10." There was no smile or sense of satisfaction in his answer.

"Are you pleased with the result?"

"It's okay. I passed."

"Are you able to pay attention or are you still finding it difficult to concentrate on the lessons?"

"I feel bored, especially when it comes to reading stories." Howard appeared annoyed. "Yesterday we were reading something about a lost dog. It was boring. Who cares about a lost dog?"

"Have you ever had a pet dog?" Dr. Huckabee asked.

"No."

"Perhaps if you did you would feel differently." Her tone was soothing. "Have you ever had a pet?"

"Yeah, we had a cat."

"You had a cat? What was its name?"

"Cleo."

"How would you feel if Cleo got lost?"

"Sad…but we no longer have Cleo."

"What happened to Cleo?"

"Cleo died. She caught a disease — feeling leukemia." Howard paused. "My mom and dad had her put down."

He meant feline leukemia.

"Do you miss Cleo?"

"Not as much as I miss my mom and dad."

That was the crux of the matter. Howard missed his parents terribly. He wasn't coping very well.

"What happens when the school day ends? What do you do?"

"One of my grandparents picks me and my sister up. We drive home. That takes about fifteen minutes. Then I play computer games until it's time for supper."

"You don't participate in any North Hempstead after school activities?"

"No."

"No track and field, soccer, baseball, basketball or tennis?"

"No." Howard seemed to wince in pain when Dr. Huckabee mentioned tennis.

"Don't you like sports?"

"I used to."

"You don't like sports now?"

"I don't know." Howard looked away from Dr. Huckabee to the colorful print on the wall by Gustav Klimt. "I just don't feel like doing them anymore."

"I see." Dr. Huckabee had a very sympathetic expression on her face.

Arthur was beginning to feel claustrophobic. There were no windows in Dr. Huckabee's office. The fluorescent lights above were a poor substitute for natural light.

"What sports did you play before?" she asked.

"Tennis mostly."

"Did your dad teach you?"

"At first, yeah. We had a tennis court at home when I used to live in Forest Hills Gardens. My dad and mom taught me at first." Howard looked down at the floor. "Then I learned from instructors at the tennis club."

"Why don't you play tennis now?"

"After my mom and dad died, my sister and I moved in with my grandparents — my dad's parents. They don't have a tennis court at their house. It's just not as easy to do it anymore."

"We have courts here at school. Why don't you play here?"

"I guess I could." Howard paused. He looked very dejected. "Things just aren't the same," he mumbled.

"It's been hard since you lost your mom and dad."

"Yeah." Howard was almost in tears.

Dr. Huckabee gave Howard a moment or two to compose himself. "There are very few things worse for anybody than the loss of their parents."

"The night my mom died," Howard began. "I always think back to that night."

"Do you have trouble getting to sleep?"

"Yeah, but it's not just that. I can't stand it anymore. It hurts too much." Tears were forming in Howard's eyes.

"You were home that night?"

"Yes."

"What were you doing?"

"I was playing a 3D computer game — Star Blaster: Disaster Zone."

"What's involved in the game?"

"There are a lot of levels. First, there are targets you blast when you're at the academy. If you pass that test, you progress to flying simulators and destroying fighter ships."

"You're good at this game, I take it."

"Yeah, I was supposed to be asleep, but when I play computer games, I have a hard time getting to sleep. So I got up and resumed playing SBDZ. Then I got hungry, so I sneaked away to the kitchen. I got a drink of chocolate milk."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that," Dr. Huckabee assured him.

"I knew there were some Skittles and chocolate bars in the den. My dad has a craving for them."

"I like Skittles too," Dr. Huckabee said. Then she looked at Arthur.

"Me too," Arthur nodded.

"When I entered the den, I didn't want my mom to know I was there, so I didn't turn on the lights. There was enough light from the moon that night. I could see well enough." Howard wiped some tears away from his eyes. "I opened up the desk drawer, but there were only two chocolate bars and one Skittles left. I opened up the Skittles, but some of them spilled onto the floor. I picked them up as quickly as I could. I didn't want germs on them. A green one had rolled over to the safe. The safe was part of the wall shelves and things. There was a wood panel that hid it."

Dr. Huckabee could sense that Howard was dying to let something out. She didn't interrupt.

"I shoulda got out of there and gone back to bed." Tears flowed freely.

Howard needed a little more encouragement. "Remember last time we agreed that you shouldn't hold things back," Dr. Huckabee said. "Keeping things in isn't helpful."

"I had only seen my dad's gun on two occasions. I knew he kept it in the safe, but I didn't know the combination. Then I got an idea. I remembered reading on the internet, people often used important dates in their life for combinations. I couldn't remember which day was my parent's wedding anniversary, so I tried my birthday: 11-30-02. So I moved that little thing that spins around. Twice around to 11, backward once around to 30 and then the opposite way to 2. Then I pulled. It opened. I was so surprised. My parents had set the combo to my birthday!"

Dr. Huckabee said, "That was very clever of you, Howard."

"My father's gun was there." Howard looked away from the doctor. "There was a package of bullets too."

Dr. Huckabee closed her eyes. She knew what was coming next. So did Arthur.

"I held up the gun. It looked awesome — a real gun." The tears were flowing freely as Howard blubbered on. "I fiddled with the gun. I must've pushed a button that caused the bullet thingy to fall onto the floor. I picked it up. Then I figured how the bullets would fit. I got some bullets out of the box and I jammed the bullets into that metal thing. Then I stuck it back into the handle." Howard wiped away some tears. Then he held up his hands as if he were gripping a gun with two hands. "I held it up and then pretended to fire the gun. It looked so cool…Pow! Pow! Pow!"

Dr. Huckabee was aghast.

"Then suddenly the door opened. I swung around as the light flicked on. Somehow the gun went off. It was my mom."

Dr. Huckabee reached forward to hug Howard in her arms.

"I shot her in the chest."

The doctor squeezed him tight.

"I'll never forget the look on her face. Fright. Shock. Then she fell to the ground."

The doctor pulled back to look at Howard's face.

"I went over to her as fast as I could, but she wasn't breathing…I knew I should call 9-1-1, so I picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1."

"That was the right thing to do."

"I told them my mom had been shot. I gave them my address and told them to hurry." Howard looked numb as if he had replayed the scenario over and over again in his mind, but the outcome never changed. "Then I started thinking about what I did. I had killed my mom. I'd go to jail for life."

Dr. Huckabee looked over at me. It was a tragedy.

"I ran outside into the backyard. I had the gun in my hand. If the cops came and saw me, they might arrest me. I had to get rid of the gun. What could I do?"

To Dr. Huckabee and Arthur, this was a surprise.

Arthur remembered that no gun was found at the scene of the shooting.

"I ran over to the garden. There is a little pond at the back of the yard, close to the tennis court. I put the gun in the pond. I took one of the flat rocks that surround the pond and I placed it on top of the gun in the water. Then I hurried back into the house. I went over to my sister's room and woke her up."

"It's okay, Howard."

"My father didn't kill my mom." Tears poured onto Howard's cheeks. "I did."

"Don't you see, Howard? You didn't mean to kill your mom. It was an accident."

Howard didn't seem to hear Dr. Huckabee's words. "It was terrible. A few days later, the police arrested my father. It was horrible. I knew he didn't kill my mom."

"It was an accident, Howard."

"Then my father was in court. The cops thought he killed my mom." Howard's body convulsed as he choked back the tears. "I was so worried. I shoulda told the police I did it. I was so worried that he'd go to jail. But the cops couldn't prove my father killed mom because he was in a tennis tournament." Howard shook his head over and over again. "It was all so stupid. My dad loved my mom. He wouldn't kill anyone."

Once the dam broke, it was hard for Howard to hold back.

"I was so happy when the court case ended. My dad came home. He was free. I knew it would be hard without mom." Howard's eyes flashed with anger. "I didn't think things could get much worse, but then somebody killed my father."

Dr. Huckabee was almost moved to tears.

But when she looked over at Arthur Dobriansky, she could see that he was moved too by the heart-wrenching story. Arthur buried his head in his hands.

What had Arthur done? He had killed an innocent man! He had destroyed the lives of Benny's children and their grandparents.

Chapter 21

After spending the rest of the morning watching Dr. Huckabee deal with the repercussions of Howard Stevenson's confession, Arthur drove home to his apartment.

While driving, Arthur had time to think. The doctor and Arthur agreed informing the police that Howard Stevenson had shot and killed his mother was not a good idea. It was an accidental shooting. Howard was suffering the consequences of living without his parents. Dr. Huckabee and Arthur would keep the confession confidential in the best interests of the child. If young Howard was having trouble coping now, having everybody know he killed his mother would be absolutely unbearable.

But what about the consequences for Arthur? He had killed Benny Stevenson — an innocent man. Could Arthur atone for what he had done?

Bloody unlikely.

Arthur knew what he had to do.

When he arrived at his apartment, he packed all of his clothes, both male and female, into suitcases and plastic garbage bags. All he had left was the T-shirt, shorts, jogging pants, sox and sweatshirt that he wore. Then he loaded up his car and drove over to the nearest Salvation Army. He dropped off all his garments at their second hand clothing store.

Back at home, he packed up his female transformation accoutrements: his wigs, makeup, jewelry, shoes and accessories. Then he took all of the girly stuff over to the garbage room and shoved all of it down the chute. His secret life would be kept from his family.

Sitting in front of his computer, he began typing a document that, hopefully, would pass for a will, although there wouldn't be a witness for his last will and testament. As to the contents, he kept it pretty straightforward. Arthur didn't have much of value to give away anyhow.

Using the camera on his laptop computer, he recorded a video will, to verify the legal status of his paper document.

"I, Arthur Dobriansky, am recording this message as my last will and testament. I give all my worldly possessions to my sister Lydia Dobriansky. There really isn't much of value here in the apartment: my television, stereo, iPod, books, shelves, bed, dresser, sofa, and other furniture. My bank assets and my old beat up Toyota Corolla should go to my sister. There is just one exception for my possessions. I would like to give my laptop computer to my girlfriend Ellen Parker. Goodbye mom and dad. Goodbye Lydia. Goodbye Ellen. May God bless all of you."

Arthur debated the merits of writing a suicide note. If he confessed to killing six people, he would bring shame to his family. It also might further traumatize young Howard Stevenson if he knew the person sitting across from him that morning was the person who killed his father.

A despondent Arthur knew that his dearly beloved girlfriend, Ellen Parker, would be devastated.

So Arthur decided to leave things vague.

Sitting down at his desk, he took out a piece of paper and a pen and began writing.

To Whom It May Concern,

The world is a cruel place. As one of those who has contributed to the violence, I do not think I deserve to live any longer. Rather than bring shame to my family by revealing my violent acts, let's just say I have done some despicable things. I've made mistakes. I am truly sorry and I beg forgiveness.

I love my mother, father and sister. They are very dear to me. Also, I love my girlfriend Ellen very much. They should not feel responsible in any way for what I am about to do. The choice is mine and mine only.

Goodbye cruel world!

Arthur Dobriansky

Arthur re-read the suicide note. It was good enough.

He had a little time to reflect, but he wanted to kill himself before his instinct for survival might convince him to do otherwise.

There was just one other thing to figure out. What was the best way to commit suicide?

He had never given it much thought.

Lots of women liked to take pills — an overdose of something or other. Although it might be relatively painless, Arthur didn't have any barbiturates handy.

Some people died from carbon monoxide poisoning. He could go over to his parents' place. He could drive into the garage, close the garage door, keep the motor running, sit in the car and fall unconscious. However, did he want to put his parents through the grief of discovering his body? Even worse, they might actually find him in the garage and rescue him before he died from the carbon monoxide.

Death by poison was a possibility. Then he thought of the slow suffering Donald Fuchs went through. Arsenic was definitely out.

He could always resort to a knife. Cut an artery — slash his neck or wrist, and he would bleed to death. However, that would hurt, at least the knife cutting into the skin would sting. Also, it would leave a messy pool of blood, although if he did it in the bathtub, the blood could be cleaned away easily.

Arthur had watched some Japanese samurai movies. There was seppuku or ritual hara-kiri. Ideally, as in the movies, there was an assistant close by to chop off the samurai's head right after he disemboweled himself with a short sword blade. Disembowelment? That was very messy.

If he was working a flight, maybe he could open a hatch and jump out of the airplane. However, he wasn't scheduled to work until the weekend. If he opened a hatch at a high altitude, there was the possibility the change in air pressure might suck innocent people out of the plane or cause catastrophic problems for the pilots. Besides, Arthur was too impatient. He wanted to end his life right away.

Arthur belonged to a gun club. He could always shoot himself. He could drive over to the Long Island Shooting Center and put a bullet in his brain. Or his heart. However, it just didn't appeal to him.

How else did people commit suicide?

He could go to the closest subway station. When the train rolled into the station, he could jump in front of it. That was simple, messy, but very effective.

Death by hanging. All Arthur needed was a rope. He could pick that up at a hardware store. Then he could drive over to a large park, find some privacy, locate a huge tree with a suitable tree branch, toss the rope over the branch, put a noose around his neck and then dangle until dead. Very tempting, but that could take quite awhile — maybe fifteen minutes before one was brain dead. Arthur wanted something quicker.

Decisions, decisions — what should he do?

He thought back to a scene from an old movie, Saturday Night Fever. In the movie's most suspense-filled scene, one of Tony Manero's friends commits suicide. The thought intrigued Arthur. That was how he would do it.

A resolute young man got into his Toyota Corolla, and started driving toward Brooklyn.

Within minutes, Arthur was on the Hempstead Turnpike. A few minutes later, he turned onto the Cross Island Parkway and then very quickly over to the Long Island Expressway, Interstate 495. The busy rush hour period was over, so the traffic was fairly light. In any case, during the evening rush hour on Long Island, the heavy traffic flowed in an easterly direction, away from New York City.

Arthur stayed on the Long Island Expressway for quite awhile. Eventually, straight ahead he could see some of Manhattan's tall buildings in the distance. Instead of opting for the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, Arthur chose the Brooklyn Queens Expressway.

Arthur was lost in contemplative thought. This would be the last time he'd ever see New York City. As he neared the Brooklyn Bridge, Arthur had an excellent view of the Manhattan skyline. There was the Empire State Building, the tallest among NYC's buildings, at least since 9-11, but he veered away as the expressway turned south. A few minutes later, he zipped past the Columbia Street Waterfront District. Governor's Island, the Upper Bay and the state of New Jersey were off to the west. Now he was on the Gowanus Expressway. Some large patches of greenery lay to the east, such as Mt. Prospect Park and Green-Wood Cemetery.

Some of the familiar names of places, like Gowanus, reflected the native influence. Others, like Leif Ericson Drive, honored a Viking explorer, and the Verrazano Narrows Bridge was named after Giovanni da Verrazzano, an Italian explorer — the first European to enter New York Harbor and the Hudson River.

The traffic slowed as the vehicles approached the tollbooth plaza of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge. Arthur reached for his wallet and extracted a $20 bill. Others with the E-ZPass zipped through their toll lanes quickly. Arthur's car inched forward.

When he handed over a $20 bill to the tollbooth attendant, he received $7 back. The light turned green and Arthur quickly proceeded forward toward Staten Island.

On the upper level of the bridge, Arthur accelerated to 50 mph and kept to the right.

He always found that the bridge didn't really offer a good view of the surrounding area. There wasn't pedestrian access, a bike path, or a scenic lookout. One had to focus on the traffic rather than the scenery. However, tonight would be different.

When it was opened in 1964, the Verrazano Narrows Bridge was the longest suspension bridge in the world. It has a center span of 4,260 feet. The Akashi Kaikyo Bridge in Japan is the longest one at the present time.

After passing the first of the huge towers that supported the steel cables, Arthur put his suicide plan into action. He started to decelerate. He turned on his blinkers as the vehicles following him did their best to change lanes to avoid him.

Approaching the highest point of the span, Arthur's Toyota Corolla came to a full stop. He checked his rear view mirror, then the driver's side mirror. A few cars whizzed by. He saw an opportunity to open his door and get out. After shutting the door, he quickly ran forward and to his right, over to the guardrail at the side of the bridge. Arthur grabbed a hold of the metal rail atop the concrete barrier.

It was windy up there. Arthur was buffeted about, but he wasn't that concerned.

What a fantastic view! The evening sun was setting, a magnificent bright orange ball just above the distant lands to the west. To his left he could see Staten Island. Straight ahead, maybe five miles away, was New Jersey. Was that Liberty Island and the Statue of Liberty in the distance? Yes, it probably was Lady Liberty. The haze limited visibility a little bit. He thought he could see Ellis Island and its Immigration Museum and beyond that was Liberty State Park. Brooklyn was to his right. Beyond and above Brooklyn were the skyscrapers of Manhattan.

There were a few tankers in the distance, some small pleasure craft, sailboats jibing, but nothing immediately below him.

The orange ball of the sun shimmered off the waves of the Upper Bay. It was mesmerizing–so beautiful!

Behind him, on the bridge, a vehicle had slowed down. Was somebody going to get out to try to help him?

Frantically, Arthur looked to the water below. He had to act fast. Somebody might be calling the police about a stalled car on the upper level of the bridge.

With one hand on the metal rail, he lifted his right leg on top of the three-foot high concrete barrier. He lifted his other leg to the top of that concrete ledge, then he tried to step over that narrow ledge to stand on the bridge truss.

Here at the middle of the bridge, on the west side, Arthur looked at the steel suspender ropes that hung from the two huge cable spans, joining the cables to the bridge's cross trusses. Arthur grabbed onto a suspender rope and stepped out onto the truss. He then reached forward to the outer cable and its suspender rope.

It was a precarious view. It was a helluva long way down to the water. If Arthur recalled correctly, the upper level was about 260 feet above mean sea level.

For a moment, he thought of BASE jumping — the sport where thrill seekers jump off buildings, antennas, spans and earth (cliffs). Except he didn't have a parachute. What would it be like to drop from the sky like a…stone?

"Hey, what are you doing?" a man's voice yelled from behind Arthur.

Now or never.

"Hey, don't jump! Whatever you do, don't jump!"

Arthur didn't turn to look in the direction of the concerned do-gooder. Arthur swung his arms back, then as he brought his arms forward, he leapt out into the wild blue yonder.

He was airborne…and falling fast.

He spread his arms and legs out, hoping that his loose jogging pants and sweat top could catch some air — might as well enjoy the moment.

The strong westerly wind seemed to provide lift. His clothes flapped loudly, caught by an updraft. There was a noticeably warmer temperature to the air as he continued his free fall.

What falls faster–a pound of feathers or a pound of lead?

Could he soar like an eagle? Or glide like a flying squirrel?

Neither.

He could see the choppy waters below approaching quickly.

If Arthur had second thoughts about suicide, it was too late.

Instinctively, Arthur pulled his arms and legs in, straightening out, pointing his feet down, just before impact.

The smack as his body hit the water sent up a tremendous splash, a vertical column thirty-five feet high, as Arthur's body plunged far below the surface.

The tremendous impact knocked Arthur unconscious. It crushed numerous bones in his feet, lower legs, upper legs, pelvis, vertebrae, hands and jaw.

Drawn up by the body's natural buoyancy, Arthur eventually floated back up to the surface.

If he was still alive, there was a good chance that he would drown. Also, since it was late April, the water was cool. He could die of hypothermia. Or, even if he was fished out of the water quickly, it was likely he would die from the severe head trauma and other injuries sustained in the 260-foot fall.

Back on the upper level of the bridge, the man who saw Arthur's suicide attempt could not believe what he had just witnessed. Bobby Cee slumped down to the pavement in disbelief, leaning his back against the concrete barrier, burying his head in his hands.

He reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone. Then he dialed 911.

There wasn't much else he could do.

The End

Actor Christopher Morley played a cross-dressing killer in films and television series. Here are a few YouTube addresses where you can see him in action:

VEGA$ - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrC0OharNlI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvbnsbOSl6U&feature=related

Magnum P.I. - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9eBAxxPgcw

Freebie and the Bean (1972) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=blagKZ_vGUY&feature=related

General Hospital - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4JOdwIyqII&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yNpdCorBIAc&feature=related