Murder by Advertisement

One dark day in the newspaper of the suburban city appeared an announcement that shocked everyone. It came out in the "dating" column - as if the editor could not come up with where to place it, and chose the first entry. The announcement sounded like this:

“If you are tired of a neighbor, your own wife or a boss not paying a salary, call +XXXXXXXXXX, and I will with sincere pleasure save you from the problem.
The everlasting parks.

The man, nicknamed the “Eternity of Parks,” has troubled the city for three months since his first victim was found in the central square. In three months, the maniac killed six people. The victims were found suffocated, cut, shot or struck by a dumb object. The weapons were always different, but the places of crime - parks, squares, landings - combined a series of brutal deaths. Thus was born the nickname, which repeatedly sounded on the pages of local newspapers.

Before the maniac appeared, the town was so boring that a series of murders shook it to the ground. Like any small town, it was doomed to inflict on its inhabitants a grim grief, sometimes bordering on confusion. The fact that he led someone to murder was not surprising — but it was scary. And so dull streets plunged into despair. Children were not allowed to walk, adults stopped having fun. They hid in houses, kept crowded places and diligently avoided parks. The shadowy alleys were empty, and even if the maniac continued to run through them in search of victims, he could not find anyone.

The police were looking for the murderer, and he seemed to lie down to the bottom, giving the city a quiet, as suddenly this ad appeared in the newspaper.

The editor only shrugged his hands. The leaflet with the text was found in a envelope without a signature, left on the threshold of the editorial office, there were no imprints on it. On the specified number did not respond, and only the auto-responder carefully recorded each message to pass on to someone unknown. The city wandered - alarmed, frightened, then outraged by the criminal's resentment, then calling what happened someone's evil joke. The misunderstanding grew. Everyone was looking forward to what would happen next.

The newspaper came out on Saturday. And on Monday, Carlotta disappeared, carrying letters around the houses.

She disappeared during the morning delivery, when, whispering, delivered the mail. Her bicycle was found a few steps from the grown Utin Park. The body was not found. While the police were looking for some witnesses, Rose Marble came to the area, the same one who divorced her husband a year ago because of what he changed her with Charlotte. Tears suffocated the woman, and, sitting in front of the guard, she whispered through the whispers that she did not want it, did not believe it, considered it a joke and called on emotions. At the end, having stopped crying, Rose stretched the phone to the police with shaking hands. In the call journal hanged out on the number from the advertisement.

The excitement turned into a roar. The woman was condemned by everybody; she hid her eyes when she walked through the street under the sight of other people. Every resident of the city felt it necessary to emphasize that he himself would not have done so. Two people disappeared on Wednesday night.

Robert, an old teacher who had long been a burden on the family, left alone in the evening. On the table they found a note in which an old friend appointed him for a meeting, and at the specified meeting place - traces of blood, spotted grass and prints of two pairs of shoes. The old woman's friend swore that it was nothing to do, her relatives were silent, and only Robert's niece's eyes were strangely shining. The second disappeared was Lewis, a young man who worked as a builder; colleagues told him he had a big quarrel with a friend the days before. Lewis disappeared on the way from work as he passed through the landing. His broken hand was removed from the tree and added to the witchdocks.

Murders were on the rise. The old six victims seemed to be kindergartens when eight people were missing by the end of the week. The street was lacking. A small number of policemen of the town flocked from one crime site to another, and the citizens went crazy. All the grievances — old and new — flooded out, and more and more often the phone in someone’s trembling hands responded with the mechanical voice of the auto-responsor.

In the new newspaper on Saturday, Forever thanked the citizens and promised to consider numerous appeals in order.

*** by
These days, Stephen, the detective responsible for capturing the Everlasting, has had a unpleasant time. The chiefs hanged all the dogs on him, and the citizens accused him of holding the pants bought for their own money. The newspapers repeatedly stressed that the perpetrator was not found, and asked: What is Stephen doing? All the anger of the quietly frightened city fell on the poor, and while the citizens tried to be more polite with each other, no one spared the keeper of order. But it didn’t seem to touch Stephen.

Taking on the way a glass of cocoa from a cloudy baker, he entered the area. A subordinate was waiting in the office. As soon as he greeted, the young man handed Stephen a paper with someone’s number.

He called.

Stephen was fine. His quiet, gentle face sharpened gambling.

and when? He quickly asked.

The subordinate nervously licked his lips.

an hour ago.

Stephen stumbled, thinking, and then sharply sneezed.

Call the guy, the father of the first victim. I hope you are not mistaken.

The subordinate sneered and left. Stephen looked at the sheet with the number. His lips moved slightly, repeating the numbers, the name attributed below.

In the evening, Stephen came to the right park. Checked the ration, selected a successful observation point. It only remained to wait. The wind moved the crowns of the trees, the light of the lanterns pushed the darkness of the new moon. Finally, in the distance appeared a lonely dog, quietly walking out the spitz. The policeman stumbled, straining his sight. A moment later, a dull figure appeared behind the dog’s back.

“Fighting readiness,” Stephen whispered into the rack, not taking a pair of eyes off.

A suspicious citizen sat down, pulling out a speck from a package dropped on the trail. The prosecutor stood by. From Stephen they were in a couple of steps.

Can you tell me how long, Mr. White? The persecutor spoke.

The dog freezes. And then, jumping up, stumbled on the persecutor the bride with a knife from where it came.

Take him! Stephen shouted, falling from his place.

When the subordinates arrived, the policeman had already turned Mr. White into a pair with the second man. Mr. White broke out, wildly turning his eyes, and the dog next to him walked in a desperate loudness.

*** by
The capture of the maniac at the scene of the crime brought the city into a state of euphoria. All with relief dropped the burden of the usual already tension, congratulated each other, fearlessly resumed the riot in the rows and quarrels with relatives. In Mr. White's house, newspapers with the names of the first six victims were found, and in the cache - all the weapons of crime. The city rejoiced, and decent citizens demanded the most severe punishment for the murderer.

Stephen was eating at a restaurant near the police station when his old friend Thomas sat down with him.

Tell me, Steve, how did you check it out? Thomas asked, dropping his glass of beer on the table. No one yet understands what forever gave.

Stephen nodded and sent a piece of the branch into his mouth. As always, he was calm and kind.

He betrayed himself. The plan was risky, but let me just go to the bottom, we’t have that chance. “Stephen swallowed a beer and, catching a friend’s incomprehensible look, explained, ‘It was I who left an advertisement in the newspaper.

So like you? Thomas was suspicious. The dry palm climbed up in a disregarding swing. Do not say nonsense. The victims...

“I lived all this time in my country,” Stephen concluded. “Today they will return home, and tomorrow the police will tell the truth and pay them a reward for their cooperation.

Thomas misunderstood it. His scratched face scratched out of surprise.

“But blood, a broken hand, evidence...” he blasted.

“It’s all butaphoria,” Stephens shrugged his shoulders; douching, he pushed the plate to the side. We had to bring the murderer to clean water. The man who made himself such a name within the city must have been interested in those who imitate him. My guys and I made ads, prompted several citizens to participate in the hunt, made the appearance of abductions — and everyone believed it. Even forever myself. While everyone was calling the site thinking he was talking to a maniac, he alone knew someone was stealing his fame.

Thomas watched Stephen confusedly. He drank a beer and called the waitress.

We had to provoke the murderer to some stupidity, to make ourselves surrender. So I checked all the calls, calculated the customers, their victims, periodically instigated kidnappings and waited. Yesterday morning, an unknown man called and ordered Mr. White’s harmless dog owner, who was walking his pet in the same park in the evening. After the inspection, it was discovered that Mr. White himself was calling. I realized that he was a maniac who wanted to meet the imitator, and with the help of the guy who suffered from his hands first, prepared a seizure. That is all.

“Well, fortunate,” Thomas nodded, looking respectfully at his friend.

The waitress took the money. Stephen was already up when Thomas suddenly held his hand. The old man’s eyes shone strangely.

“So all this time the citizens asked you to die for each other,” he said quietly. How many calls were there?

Stephen smiled. He remembered each of the “orders” dictated by the trembling but ruthless voices of the peaceful inhabitants.

“Fifty-seven,” he replied.

Thomas trembled in horror. His lips opened helplessly.

How will we live with this knowledge? He quietly asked.

Stephen shrugged his shoulders and carefully released his hand. He dropped his coat. I checked if the collar was turned.

“Like before, Thomas, as before,” he replied with a bitter smile and, after saying goodbye, left the restaurant.