Serial Love

Prologue

Sitting down at the computer, James Henry Whitehall sat down at his computer with a cup of black coffee and clicked on an icon on the bottom of the screen.

"BODY AT THE BUTCHERS! Locals have an unidentified body of a man was found leaning on the southeast side of dumpster in the alleyway between the butchers and grocers. The body was discovered at 7:35 in morning on Tuesday, September 13. No current suspects arrested, police are closing off area, stores may close down for some time." Read the text on the screen.

Opening a police file, the details of the crime were more detailed.

The body had found leaning on the Butcher's dumpsters by garbage-men as they were picking up the spoiled food from the dumpsters. The body was found having the stomach torn open by rats that had eaten many of the internal organs, including the liver, intestines, and heart.  The face had also been eaten, with the mouth, eyes, and nose torn off by the mice, leaving the face unrecognizable.

The northern approach was blocked by the dumpster and the southern approach of the alley way was blocked by a boarded up fence. The dumpster was against the wall of the butcher's store, but it was also further south, possibly to prevent any one from spotting the body.

The police had had roped off the area, and stopped any one from leaving, the butcher, a man named William A, Branson, was the first witness, the next was the Grocery store owner, a woman named Justine Pierrepoint. These two would have the most access to the alley way, along with the a shared key that is used on trash pick up days. They were asked if they had noticed anything strange had been seen in the last week, in order to find possible suspects in the investigation.

The Current situation was rough, the body rough shape, hard to tell how long the body has been dead, now, he had to see what he could find on the body. The file was closed, and the detective got up, and walked towards the police cruiser. As he got near, he saw a young officer standing next to the car.

"Hey, Are you detective Lawrence Knight?" The young man asked.

"Yes, I am." the detective answered.

"I'm your new partner, David Allen, I got assigned the case, the chief said they wanted me with someone who had experience." David cheerfully explained, getting to work with the rather infamous Detective Knight, for his first murder case.

"I'm only saying this once, I don't do that good cop bad cop stuff, if you have a gut feeling, we won't just go after it out of random. I am to show you the ropes, get a feel for what to expect, and how to think like a detective, Ya got it?" Lawrence explained, as he climbed into the cruiser to go to the crime scene.

"Understood sir." David said, as he followed and sat in the passenger seat. 

James Henry Whitehall stood up from his computer, smiling, this was the start to his next story, which currently was untitled, just Book 3. He took off his reading glasses, placing them in his pocket, before putting on a long coat, and looking out his window, seeing it was cloudy.

He walked outside and down the side walk, it was still the morning, and James was going to pick up his mail from the post office. As he walked, he passed by a jogging woman, who smiled and waved at him, as she passed. James returned the gesture with a smile and wave back. After a few minutes, he reached the post office, and picked up his mail and packages.

He opened his umbrellas, seeing that it was beginning to rain. He began to walk home. By the time he reached home, and sat down. He opened the package was a fairly old police revolver recreation. James smiled, placing it in a display case. Opening the mail, he saw most were average, advertisements, bills, notes from the editor.

As he sat back, he would look at his phone, before seeing a online tabloid article.

"Artist "Grotesque" debuts with new horrifying creation."

Clicking on the article, James Henry raised an eyebrow.

"Upstart Internet Artist, only known as "Grotesque" online, rather infamous for their sculptures of horrific creation, including highly detailed works of human-like artworks, has come under flak for creating a Human Chair, in which they claimed "Was created to show that the gods we worship are just monsters who will use us as we use our resources, to elevate themselves over us."

Attached was a blocked image that after tapping, James Henry understood why it's viewing was optional. The image was of a chair, but it was like a human bodies had been taken and stitched together, the seat and back rest looked to be made from a skin, with bones and muscles acting as the frame. The top of the throne had 3 heads, each with a pained expression on their face, a mix of horror and fear, pain, it was rather disturbing to say the least. It was not helped by the large pool of blood that surrounded the pedestal made up of human like bodies that the throne sat upon. 

Sitting on the throne, side ways, was a man, with a mask, the mask was stitched together faces, with a crown of bones, standing tall. He wore fairly normal clothes besides the mask of faces and crown, but it was clear, this was the artist.

"I see why he is known as "Grotesque". He said, closing the article and shaking his head.

"I swear, some people just go an try and make shock art, or do something so stupid and claim it has meaning, where is the effort?" James Henry asked.

 He didn't know what's worse? A room with crumpled up trash spread around it randomly claiming it's representation of consumerism, or a tower of buckets overfilled with sand and waiting for it to collapse. There are those who made art he could respect, street artists were a mixed bag for him. Dedication to a project that takes time, and planning, that is what he loved, that's why he's an author.

He looked through the advertisements, just seeing what they were. Car dealership, realtor, The Holmes Hotel? He had heard of it, but it was vague information. 

The Holmes Hotel, a modular floor plan to fit any need. The Holmes Hotel is here to serve, and will make room for you. James Henry looked at it. He set it down, maybe he would at least see the place when he was in town later, just to see the lobby.

The Last advertisement was for a coffee shop, "The Autumn Nook Cafe". Shrugging, he smiled and set it down, and went to the living room, to sit down and see what was on the news.

Across the way, looking through a window, and a telescope at that, a person watched the author, breathing heavily as she spied on him. He could see him.....he was so close, if only he would notice her.....if only he would see her.