CHAPTER 15
THE KILLER WATCHED the butler with interest. The servant’s hands, both the one holding the fry pan and the one with the cell phone, shook with dramatic intensity, his eyes wide and darting like a cornered animal. The poor fellow could barely stand. As if repetition could make it so, the butler stammered out his pronouncement again.
“I’ve called the police. Any minute they’ll be here.”
The killer came out of his stance, dropping his knife hand to his side.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, letting out a big sigh. “I’m so tired of this. It’s too hard lying to my friends, trying to act like everyone else, hiding what I am. I just want it to be over.”
The butler’s head thrashed in a frantic nod. “Well, good. It’s over.” His head continued bobbing, as if he’d lost control over i
