“Tell me again. What is it you want from me?”

“Fifty million dollars. Tops.”

Mrs.Bosche arched a grey eyebrow. She’d need to talk to Pamela about this. She’d warned her before about filling her schedule with small fries. It was, after all, her job to vet these things and screen the rif-raff. No bait this tiny could hook her a big enough fish to warrant her time.

“Modest.” She said. “Lay it out.”

The man smiled wide, doing his best at charming. “Do you mind if we talk about something else a bit first? It’ll help provide some background.”

She glanced at her itinerary on her computer screen. “It’s your ten minutes Mr…”. She squinted at his name.

“Bonadona. Jimmy Bonadona.” He said, pronouncing the o’s with an exaggerated ‘ah’ sound. “I apologize in advance. It’s bit macabre, but I think you’ll see where I’m going with this.”

“Tick tock, Mr.Bonadona.”

He set a briefcase onto the side table of his chair and clicked it open. “Are you aware that, at any given time, in the United States, it’s estimated that there are well over a hundred active serial killers?”


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