by Cherry Kelly

Created on: April 17, 2008

THE INTERVIEW

They told me that he wanted to get his story for the records, before they hauled him off to jail. They sent me with a recorder into the room where he remained cuffed to the chair. He was still in the bloody clothes they'd found him wearing.
He cocked his left eyebrow as he started to talk to me. "Dey tink," he started slowly. "I got dees," he paused looking at the corner, "dees - aff leek jun."

"Mr. Chambers," I hesitated only momentarily, "you killed," I paused until his eyes turned back to where I sat. "You murdered twenty-seven people."
"Jess deww," he stared at me, his tongue sliding out the side of his mouth.
"Twenty-seven," I corrected.
He shook his head and held up two fingers. "Deww."
"Sir, you asked for someone who could write your story, but if you aren't going to ...."
"Deww," he insisted. "Dey deed em."
I started to turn off my tape recorder to leave. This was not going to work. I'd just have to inform my boss that he'd have to get someone else to get the story.
He stood up suddenly, the chains pulling tight against the restraints. "DEWW!" He attempted to reach across the table that separated us. "DEY DEED EM!"
"Please," I tried to speak calmly. "Sit down." I waited slowing my breathing. "Tell me about the two." I flicked the switch on the recorder.
He pulled his tongue from his lips, sitting back down on the wooden chair. "Deww bad."
"Bad?" I prompted.
He nodded. "Dey keel."
I watched him grope for the words. "You are telling me that you killed only two people?"
His mouth opened as he looked off to the small window, "yeeessss."
"Okay," I agreed. "Tell me about the two bad people."
He continued to stare out the window. "Dey keel."
"They killed the others?" I asked.
His head jerked toward me, the pale blue eyes rolled upward to the ceiling. "Dey keel mur."
"More than twenty-five?"
"Yeeesssss," he hissed. "Dey keel," he paused looking at his hands. "Hunds."
I shook my head. "Hunds?"
He opened and closed his hands several times, "hunds."
Taken aback by his outlandish figure, I reached down to the briefcase and pulled out the grotesque pictures of the twenty-seven dead people. I placed the photos on the table where he could reach them. "Which two?"
He cocked his head as he discarded one picture after another until two remained. "Deww."
I looked at the two dead men and sighed. "Mr. Chambers, all these people died same way. All were found bound and gagged with their throats slit with the same knife - your knife."
"Dey keel," he started pointing first to the two men, then to the other pictures. "I keel dem," he pointed back to the two.
"Sir, it was your knife."
"Yeeeeeessssss," he half nodded. His hands rose to the top of his shirt collar. "Dey keel me firs." He pulled down the shirt to where his throat gaped open.

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