“I would never kill four people!”
What about one?
“That wasn’t the question.”
I’m asking a different one now.
“Listen, you said it yourself; these murders are clearly linked. Four innocents slain in the prime of their lives in uncannily similar ways. I can’t even fathom the inner-monster that would compel someone to take four lives!”
Did you kill any of the four victims?
“Do you really think I’m a serial killer? A serial killer? That’s ridiculous”
No, I’m asking if you’re a killer.
“That’s hardly relevant. You said you’re looking for a serial killer.”
You do know how guilty you sound right now, right?
“All I know is that you’re moving the goalposts mid-game. That’s illegal, you know.”
I am asking follow-up questions. That is how interrogations work. Also, I don’t know if its an official rule that you can’t move goalposts.
“Of course it is! What kind of world are you liv-“
Has anyone ever really tried to do that? There’s no way they would need to actually write that in a rule book.
“Its an unwritten rule.”
An unwritten rule is a norm, its not an enforceable law of the land. Did you kill Joseph Wilcox?
“No. I did not. I was too busy.”
Too busy?
“Yes.”
So, the only thing stopping you was your schedule?
“Also I wouldn’t do it.”
What were you too busy doing?
“Can you at least tell me the exact number of questions you’re going to ask?”
This isn’t a game!
“Because if it were, you’d cheat.”
Well, it’s not. Did you kill Ilana Gonzales?
“I would never kill these four people”
Why do you keep specifying four?!
“Because four people were killed!”
Were you in any way involved with the victims?
“I’m neighbours with Abdullah, Ilana and I were in a book club, and Joseph and I played cards together.”
What about the woman killed at the Revere harbour last Tuesday?
“No idea.”
Did you ever have any issues with them?
“None that would lead me to kill four, including those three people who I knew so well.”
Can you please just be direct with me?
“Direct. Hmm. Have you ever heard of Paolo Francesco?”
No. Is he someone you know?
“He’s what some may call, an urban legend. You see, there once was a man named Paolo who followed a routine and was very strict with it. Wake up one second before his alarm, leave home at 8:30 in the morning, work for a number of hours, drive home, watch the news, and go about his leisure. It was all fairly well documented by his wife. But the more she noticed how faithful he was to his schedule the more she began to realise that her life was scripted till its end. Every day exactly the same. Forever. So she signs them up for a dance class. Paolo doesn’t like this. But he goes along. So when Carla -“
Carla?
“His wife. Obviously. Carla begins signing them up for more events till one day Paolo snaps-“
He killed her?
“No. He said ‘For two hours every day I will do my own thing and you can do whatever random new niche you’ve discovered for yourself’. Which is something she doesn’t mind at all to be honest. But she gets more and more curious. What does he do for two hours and why did he specially request it. He didn’t say he would go back to his original routine. Why did he word it that way? She asks him one time and he answers her vaguely. The second time, he answers differently but still vague. One day she asks one question too many and -“
He kills her?
“Holy shit no. No, he gives in and tells her that he’s joined an occult.”
Occult?
“Yeah, it’s something witchcraft related. That sounds bizarre right? How could boring old Paolo not only be having a secret life but one that’s this absurd and extraordinary? She begs him to take her along and he relents. When they arrive at their rendezvous point, they’re greeted by the creepiest shit you’d ever see. I’m talking hollowed out skulls, people with tattooed eyeballs, pentagrams drawn on the floor, the works. A part of her thinks she’s gotten herself into a night she won’t escape from -“
And they sacrifice her to Satan?
“What the actual hell is wrong with you? No. Paolo steps up and undoes his robe only to reveal he’s wearing a full three-piece suit. Then pulls out a 1000 page book and starts reading from it in Latin. He then proceeds to begin stirring a pot while they watch. Is he making some sort of potion that will grant them perpetual youth? No, he’s making them an avocado drink. Because in the end, he’s just boring old Paolo.”
How did this become an urban legend?
“Okay so it’s less ‘urban legend’ like a ghost story and more like a commentary on how people don’t change, they adapt. Someone spread some gossip decades ago and we just continued talking about it to this day.”
All right, so you’re telling me this because his wife asked all these questions about what she suspected to be a nefarious secret and it turned out to be a dull version of what she had in mind. So, I’m asking you whether you’re a murderer when the truth is you were probably making bread at the time or something. Am I right?
“Wow, thats way better than what I had in mind.”
What were you thinking?
“Now I don’t want to say, lets go with what you said.”
You brought this whole story up!
“Okay fine. It was just a connecting word. You asked whether I can be ‘direct’ with you and I immediately thought of Paolo who could have been direct with his wife. I didn’t have a moral behind it.”
To be clear. You told me that whole story because of one word that was loosely related?
“I can’t control what urban legends I remember and whether or not they’re related to anything!”
Nevermind. Where were you on Tuesday night between 8 and 10 pm?
“At the Revere harbour.”
At the…at the what?
“The Revere harb-oh. No not there.”
The Revere harbour. And did you happen to see the third victim?
“Did I say Revere harbour? I meant -“
Answer the question.
“Question. Hmm. That reminds me of Old Man O’Greaves. You heard of him?”
Let’s say ‘yes’. Did you kill the third victim?
“I don’t think you actually have heard that story. It’s about this really old man and -“
I don't know where this is going either.
The Ipe Collection 