-Zalampas, 1990- Adolf Hitler: A Psychological Interpretation of His Views on Architecture, Art, and Music- Popular Press, pg 48

"Well…haven’t I seen you guys already yesterday?" The friendly waitress greeted them. Actually, she greeted Elijah who gave her a vacant stare that was not encouraging at all. However, a big bright smile masked whatever uneasiness Elijah must had instilled in her as she poured ice water into Isaiah’s glass after she was done with Elijah’s. Isaiah smiled warmly at her, trying to make up for his brother’s lack of social graces.

"Yes. Well…everything we’ve tried is so delicious we just have to come back a second time pronto…"

"Ah…customers like you are extremely good for our small town…with the murders and stuff." She replied, clucking her tongue. Her head was cocked to one side and her pitcher was hovering over Lynn’s empty glass. She did not seem to have any intention of filling it up.

She was the sunshine sort of girl about twenty with very light brown hair- bleached by the sun- and very minimal make-up that enhanced her sun-kissed cheeks and full lips. Her uniform was a green dress with a white, lacy apron tied around her waist.

Lynn, who was left out of the friendly waitress attentions, raised a brow in question and tapped on the table near to where her glass was. When the waitress did not get the subtle hint and was about to walk away, Lynn rolled her eyes and coughed.

"Hey, my glass."

The waitress was startled and she gave Lynn a megawatt smile. "Oh, sorry…I’m very forgetful- with two handsome guys here- it’s so easy to miss out one of my own kind…" She poured water for Lynn who gave her an extremely strained smile. Isaiah chuckled slightly. Elijah was incomprehensible because there was nothing to be understood about his non-existent expression.

"Oh yah…the murders…I heard they're pretty bad…rocked the little town huh?" Isaiah sipped his water and asked very casually, trying to lead the girl into small talk. It was always good to gain some feedback- test the atmosphere of the murders, maybe even attain some information.

The girl set her pitcher down and leaned a little forward. "I’m just glad Momma didn’t send me off to college when she could…no way…I hate studying…I’m going to be an actress. Three deaths in that place in less than four months. Someone said it’s the work of…" with flashing eyes and a hissing tone she continued, "Satanists and witches!"

Isaiah exchanged a brief, bemused look with Lynn. Suspicions were high. He was a little afraid if he did not crack the case soon, people spending too much time with their brooms would be burning at the stakes.

"Well…that was interesting…"

"Not something we like to talk about…I’ll be back with the order you’ve placed earlier…good day!" She sauntered off, like the conversation that had clearly disturbed her a little never occurred. Lynn nodded her head, still looking at the girl.

"Ah! Competition." She mused, a little annoyed by the effervescent girl who totally ignored her.

"Not to me…" Isaiah joked, it could have two meanings. Lynn took the better one and threw him a sultry smile as reward. The two of them had forgotten Elijah was sitting right next to Isaiah.

"Three deaths. I thought there were two. Who’s the third one?" Elijah’s question kept Lynn and Isaiah from becoming too preoccupied with each other. With a look in embarrassment owing to his earlier distraction, Isaiah recounted the death of Alvin Skyner to Elijah.

"He’s the Polish girl’s boyfriend. Goes by the name of Alvin Skyner. Died from an insulin overdose three months ago. They met via a students’ message board. He was asking for help on some thesis…"

"On Hitler." Elijah finished. "I have his thesis in my briefcase."

"How did you… Never mind…what did he write about?"

Now it was Elijah’s turn to study the waitress’s retreating back. "She might be right. It could be a satan of a different kind."

Lynn drummed the side of her head with two fingers, a sly sign of hers that she always used when she thought someone had a screw loose somewhere. "You know, you can stop being so cryptic and just tell us."

"I always just tell it as it is." Elijah replied. Reaching into his briefcase, he took out a set of printed notes which was Alvin Skyner’s thesis. Isaiah glanced at it and his stomach churned.

"Cult of Hitler?" He read the title, already feeling sick to the very core of his guts.

"Yes. In it, he wrote about a lot of things- Hitler’s skewed religious beliefs based on intolerance and genocide of all the parasites. Wagner’s Parsifal as well as victims that were involved in the Holocaust who are not Jews. Maybe Skyner was too close to the truth when he wrote that Hitler was actually a religion unto himself. Maybe there is really the Cult of Hitler but we just don’t know about it."

"Mix in religion with political aspiration. And once a country is in chaos…" Lynn began.

"The people scream for a savior…A time will come when the world scream for a savior." Elijah muttered to himself and an uncomfortable pregnant pause followed. Elijah was unflinching, his eyes glazed over in silent contemplation. Isaiah sensed that Elijah probably had something else to say and so he kept quiet and indicated for Lynn to do the same.

"This is not the first killing either." Elijah’s blue orbs became focused again. "FBI actually had records of a crime committed approximately a year ago. A paraplegic had been killed in the same manner- his blood was drained. Homosexuals, Poles, Jehovah witnesses were but a few other groups that the Nazis persecuted against. The forgotten 5 million. The killer was caught but he shot himself in the head. His last words were ‘There will come a time when the world…’ and he never finished. I think we have just completed his last sentence."

Isaiah was impressed, not only with the content but also the fact that Elijah had reiterated the whole speech in one still, uniformed monotone. His longest dialogue ever and done so perfectly bland. Feeling an irreverent suddenly, he thought he should clap but thank goodness his hands did not obey his subconscious commands.

"So what are we looking for?" Lynn inquired. Isaiah leaned back against his seat and smiled lazily at her.

"Lesson no. 1 Lynn, remember? We are not looking for a psychopath. The fact that there are no struggles with the first two victims meant that they probably knew this guy or girl well enough to let them come close. The message board is our main clue, not only because of the contents, but also the participants. The starter of the thread is dead, so is his Polish girlfriend. We will have to check out on the Jehovah’s Witness guy later today."

Elijah nodded, absorbing in every single word. "A serial killer will also like to leave messages behind in sorts. Most of them kill to create an impact, even if it is done for pseudo-religious purposes. I think he or she wants to make a statement but being so Nazi-influenced, it’s a little strange to find that there’s no sign of the swastika anywhere. I think there’s a game we have to play…The note left behind in the killing a year ago had a swastika drawn in blood on it. This time, it is lacking. It must be somewhere. I don’t think any followers of Hitler would go without the swastika."

Lynn reached across the table and took Isaiah’s hand. "Are we running out of time?"

Isaiah threw a glance over at Elijah who shook his head.

"The killer does not seem to have fix pattern about when to kill. If the insulin overdose is actually a murder, we’ll have a three months hiatus followed by a two weeks interval. We can’t take the two weeks interval for granted, even if we discount the first death. But there is something we can look out for. The killer’s car would most probably be modified because the victims were clearly transported from their original locations of death. Modified to be able to contain the bodies with ease."

Isaiah nodded in agreement and squeezed Lynn’s hands. Though she was acting cool, he knew what was going on in her mind. She had a great capacity for empathy as well. Wordlessly, with only a tender look, he assured her.

Isaiah caught the expression. He brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it.

***

Elijah knocked on the door of the house of the first victim. His name was Leonard Sanders. The house was a rundown one storey erection in the poorer parts of Eaeshore- one of the many in that long stretch of dilapidated structures. Eaeshore was a very rich town to begin with. The paintwork seemed to have peeled off eons ago. Though when the door opened, a very clean and exceptionally neat interior was presented to him. It was sparse, definitely not by choice. A woman in a baggy blue dress with graying blond hair greeted him with a shaky and yet warm smile. Giving her a quick once over, Elijah gathered that she should be in her early fifties but looked a little older because of emotional duress.

His own ageless mien did not break into a smile. Flashing his ‘FBI’ identification card, he asked, "May I come in?"

She glanced at the card and then at him and back at the card again, no knowing what to think. Elijah thought maybe he should try to smile but he had forgotten how. The muscles were already numbed from lack of use, so he dropped the idea. If she did not allow him in, he would have other ways.

The thought almost made him laugh. He hardly had thoughts that were made up in jest. If he did, he kept them to himself. They were morbid and he did not like to share any part of his world with anyone.

Silently, she nodded and gestured for him to enter. He bowed very slightly in quiet greeting and thanks before stepping inside the small, organized house- with a dark gloom hanging over every square foot since the lights were not switched on the windows were facing the wrong position such that the sun’s ray missed it.

She signed for him take a seat and he realized that she was mute. Her signing and his recognition caused Lijah to try to come alive again but Elijah mentally pushed the dead boy down. His spirit was becoming gradually annoying by the day.

He signed thank you to her and she smiled more warmly this time round. He sat down on the couch and noticed that there were sheets of bills after bills on the badly scratched wooden coffee table. A mortgage notice was lying in the pile as well. He caught a glimpse- if she did not pay her rent by the next ten days, she would be evicted. Looking at the cartons lying around, he could reach a deduction.

The woman came out with a cup of coffee for him and again he thanked her. Something about her caused Elijah to actually want to feel for her and again he drowned the thought.

The boy stopped screaming. Elijah regained his mental composure. All these transpired in his mind while his face was as blank as a slate. Out of politeness, he sipped the coffee and it was sweet. Smiling tightly, he set it down and brought out his memo and pen.

The woman’s eyes immediately glazed over with unshed tears. Elijah waited; there was no sympathy on his face. There was no sympathy in him for those who could die young and not have to drag themselves in the world for a day more.

Magdalene. She spelled out her name for him and he sucked in a deep breath. Blinking once, he willed his mind to remain empty until the feeling that was twisting his stomach passed.

It passed after a short pause, or rather, he chased it vigorously away.

Reaching inside her dress’s pocket, she took out a photo and passed it to him. It captured a dark brown hair teenager with a very cheeky face and an engaging smile. He must have taken after his father. Elijah bitterly thought the boy was lucky before shaking his head slightly to control himself.

Isn’t he handsome? He’s gone…left me all alone…The woman’s pale hazel eyes started to well up again and this time she let the brimming tears fall. Elijah saw a box of tissue on his side of the coffee table- drew out a piece of the fragile pulp and passed it to her. She took it gratefully and dabbed her eyes.

But he attended Church with me. Now, no one attends Church with me. She tear again. Elijah took the tissue box and passed to her. She nodded with a slight smile and placed the box on her lap.

Elijah jotted the name down. Dan Oswick. Campus’ internet café.

He followed her into Leonard’s bedroom and saw that it was a typical youngster’s bedroom. Pictures of his favorite rock stars covered the walls, including a blown-up picture of Britney Spears in her more innocent days. But the boy was confused as well, because though there was the chaos on his wall, there was a tiny corner which he placed three different types of Bibles and a stack of Buddhist Sutras. A translated Koran was tucked behind the Sutras. A chain with a cross was laid across the three Bibles.

There was no computer in his room. Elijah walked over to Leonard’s study table which was very ordered. His school files were neatly labeled and he saw that he pasted his timetable on every single file. Using a penknife he found on the table, he very delicately sliced away the plastic covering on one of the files and took out the timetable which would inform Elijah of the classes the victim took. Leonard’s mother timidly walked up to him.

Elijah gave the room another once over and spotted nothing of interest. Perhaps Leonard’s best friend would be more useful. Elijah stepped out of the room and Magdalene followed behind.

Magdalene nodded and Elijah very softly walked over to the coffee table. He saw what he wanted, almost seized it in his hurry and crumpled it inside his pants’ pocket.

She re-emerged after a few seconds and he gestured to the cartons.

Her face fell again.

He took the glass, downed the clear liquid and returned the glass to her. Thanking her with sign language, he indicated that he would be leaving.

She saw him out but before he could exit from the door, she gripped his hands in hers.

He gave her as warm a smile as he could muster. A reflection on the glass doors of a cheap display case facing him showed him that he looked extremely faked and grim when he tried to smile so he wiped it off immediately and extricated his hands. Giving a nod in respect, he walked to his rented car and drove off into the night, back to New York City. The air-conditioning in the car was full blast. He needed the chill to remind him never to thaw Lijah’s body.

And to keep his mind from wandering during the long drive back.

***

He was back at home, seated at his desk again. It was eleven at night when he took out his seldom used cheque book. Looking at the rent notice, he scribbled down the figure the woman owed multiplied by two. That would tide her over for the next six months. It was not a small sum but after some cold calculation, he concluded that he could live without the money.

Sealing up the cheque and the reply slip torn from the notice into an unassuming long brown envelope, he reached into his desk drawer for a stamp and pasted it on the right hand side of the envelope. Switching off the table lamp, the house was once again shrouded in familiar darkness- his best friend. Steadily, he made his way to his bedroom to get ready for bed.

There was no afterglow from a good deed done. There was no pride. There were no emotions at all. He just went about his routine and then slept. The next morning, he woke up without much fanfare. Before leaving for his office, he picked up the envelope.

On the way to ‘Tech’, he dropped the envelope into a mailbox. The deed was done. It meant nothing to him.

But a lot to the poor mute lady who had lost her son.

***