Two suspects were clean, now only the last remained. But Arthur was tired, surveilling two individuals and breaking into private properties was hard work enough for one day. Arthur was driving back to the motel. It felt weird, leaving the city area and going back to his forsaken resting place – the motel.
Arthur now knew the route to the motel; he was driving without paying any special attention to the road. Like people drive from their office to their homes. Your brain and muscles work behind the scene to take you to your regular destination. No need to look at signs or maps. You are kind of on auto-pilot mode.
As the city lights started to fall behind and the darkness of the highway engulfed Arthur's car, he thought would this be my life from now on? Sneaking around people and crashing in a rundown motel at the end of the day? "I want to go home!" he said to no one.
Arthur took the turn, and he was on the rough road that led to the motel. Last night he had taken this road without knowledge of what lay ahead. He was scared, he was escaping. It didn't feel as depressing as it did today. His bald tires, parting the gravel beneath as a ship parts wave.
But today he was not rejected by a stupid publisher, not enraged by a mean wife and was not being chased by a serial killer. Today going this road felt like an act committed with full knowledge and no outward circumstances. This road was a sign of defeat that Arthur had accepted.
Arthur parked his car in front of the motel, he was ready to go into his room and cry. But today something unusual happened. As Arthur walked in front of the office, the owner greeted him with a smile, "Hello!" with warmth, as much warmth you can wrap in his gruff voice.
Arthur was surprised, he looked behind him to see if this hello was meant for someone else. There was nobody there and that meant the motel owner was talking to him. Even such a hello coming from the door thrashing motel owner would be surprising if it meant for someone else.
But this affection however small, coming from the motel owner towards Arthur was not comprehendible for him. He just stood there confused until the owner waved a copy of tumbling in the throes at him. "Oh ok!" said Arthur. He was not expecting to meet a fan in this place.
Or anywhere else to be true. His fans were long gone. But there was one now in front of his eyes and that meant a lot, especially today when Arthur was feeling more lost than ever. Arthur now smiled back, "Hello! Mr.…"
"Mr Martin!" said the owner with enthusiasm. Arthur extended his hand and said, "I'm Arthur…" Martin took Arthur's hand a shook it a little too strongly. "I know who you are, the first time I saw you I knew you from somewhere, but then I wasn't expecting my favorite author to just turn up at my motel.
"Favorite Author!" exclaimed Arthur. "I have only written one book," he said humbly. "It's not about the numbers, kill one deer or ten you are a hunter and will always be," said Martin. Arthur had never felt such happiness in a long while. But Martin was not done yet, he invited Arthur for dinner.
Arthur accepted; it had been days since he had a proper hot meal. Martin was a good cook, Arthur fed himself without restraints. He felt contended while laying on the bed. "Maybe this place is not so bad," he said half asleep and then he drifted into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Arthur was already on the third suspect. He didn't want to waste any more time. This third suspect was his last hope. The motel Arthur was staying in was on the north edge of the town and the address of the third suspect was on the south edge.
Arthur had to cross the whole town to reach this place. There was a swanky pharmacy on the address mentioned on the website. Arthur double-checked the screenshot he had taken. The address was right. Maybe the owner of the truck stayed in some room or basement of this pharmacy.
Or there was a home here that was pulled down to construct this place. And the truck owner was out of his hands. Arthur's usual luck hinted towards the second option. But Arthur kept looking around for the truck. If the truck was here the killer would be here too.
But Arthur found nothing in the parking lot. Maybe the truck is parked away or is hidden, he thought. Or he was on the wrong path, maybe he never encountered the autopsy killer and the truck and the carpet belonged to a hippie who might be God knows in which town by now.
Arthur had wasted his morning driving to this other edge of the town. He decided to get in the pharmacy and check the last time before giving up. The pharmacy was well kept. It was brightly lit and clean. Arthur spotted only one customer in this big pharmacy. Moving around with a red basket in his hands.
He found it strange that such a big place has only one customer, "but then who will drive outside the town to buy medicines? But then who will open a pharmacy at such place?" thought Arthur. His gut feeling told him he was at the right place.
Arthur turned to the main counter, there was only one man there, nobody else. Such a big pharmacy and only one man to handle it. Arthur's police sense was on high alert. The man behind the counter was wearing black glasses. He was watching the news on a mini tv, which he kept by the counter.
Arthur went ahead and handed the man a prescription for headaches. The man had a look and told Arthur to wait for a few minutes as they are just about to be delivered. He also called someone to check where the delivery guy has reached. The only customer brought his almost filled basket at the counter and the pharmacy guy started billing and packing his stuff.
While Arthur waited as elementary kids wait in the school's office for their parents after faking a stomach ache. The news of the serial killer was on the tv. "Autopsy killer is yet to be found!" said the reporter. Images of the girls' dead bodies are reflected in the black glasses of the pharmacy guy. Arthur couldn't help himself and he kept starring towards his glasses.
The pharmacy guy noticed Arthur and lowered his black glasses, revealing the cold grey eyes. There was a scratch around them. Arthur recognized those eyes. He started to feel a chill. "I have a cat," casually said the pharmacy guy pointing towards his scar and handing a bag and bill to the only customer.
Arthur was looking at the customer walking towards the door. "Your medicines will be here shortly," said the pharmacy guy. Arthur panicked he didn't want to be alone with this guy. He ran towards the door and left the pharmacy with the other customer.
Arthur got in his car, he spotted the pharmacy guy coming out in the parking lot and looking at him as he drove away.