FAKE-NSTEIN’S MONSTERS
The Gay Detective: The Potato Head Killer
Lend me your ears. C’mon you’re dead, you don’t need ’em
Early morning sun slanted across the blush-tinted mist rising from the bay. Gilded the red-brick façade of the disposal facility in russet and gold. Snowy plumes from eighty-foot smokestacks atop the low building scudded across a brilliant blue sky. Beauty in the unlikeliest place.
The chain link fence surrounding the compound shimmered in the waking light. Silver armor to ward off intruders. But no amount of rose-fingered dawn could pretty up the body hanging on the padlocked gate. At first glance, another victim of a serial the press had dubbed “The Potato Head Killer.’
With one big difference.
Up ‘til now, he’d replaced his victim’s facial features with the nose, eyes, ears, and lips from other victims. And left only the head.
This time, he’d left a whole body.
I shivered in the chill breeze off the water. Warmed my hands round my steaming coffee container and took a sip of the fragrant brew.
The M.E. beckoned me over. Harry was already on the phone with his team.
