12-2-95

�We got another one!� I groan, put down my coffee on the cluttered desk and look across the squad room at my fellow officer.

�Andy Warhol killer?�

�Girl. 18 to 25. Men�s room. Public restroom. Third Street bus station.�

�Pool of blood, mutilated body, imprint of shoe soles with the name Warhol in the tread? Nobody�s seen a thing!�

�You got it!�

Scene change to the crime site. I am going over the evidence and at the same time running the crime in my head on my private projector using the physical evidence to script my movie.

The camera angle is under the floor looking up through the tile. The grout appears at a black matrix through which I view the bathroom through a clear tile screen. I see the 2 drugies in the far stall lighting the crack pipe in extreme foreshorten detail. The killer finishes with the girl and cuts her throat. I can not see his face through the blood but his shoes press �Warhol� into the red mass leaving a smeared window into his sole/soul.

I think back to my step father�s ranch in the old west. He is talking to me about chores, my chores. I am at ease and thinking of him as my father, not thinking of the lack of blood ties between us, and then he says some thing and I go mad dog.

Overlaying the verbal onslaught is the replay of the rape of my mother in a Jack Elam, Earnest Borgnine, John Ford western. Me shooting my father�s rifle as Jack and Earnest all trail dirt laugh and wrestle the gun from me, just a kid still, and far off my step father, somehow linked to the bus station killer, is holding down my mother and laughing as he rams his thing into her again and again.

She is naked now and her belly is full of my stepbrother and he is still here on my father�s ranch and I know who the killer is, as the water breaks and the child is born, I know who killed the girl in the restroom. I see him pulling the door closed and using a string to pull the bolt closed from the outside.

It is my step father, the killer is always my step father. Now all I have to do is find out what body he is wearing in this century.

NOTE: I do not have a step father.