Cereal Killer

Rosebriar Lane. Tell them to send a patrol car, to get in touch with Sergeant Dirk Coulter and get him over here, too. And I want you to go upstairs to the guest room, go inside, and lock the door. And you don’t come out till I come and get you. You got all that?”
    Marietta’s mouth fell open; then she seemed to recover herself and began to punch buttons furiously on the phone. “Yeah, okay. What’re you gonna do?”
    “Don’t worry about it. Just make that call and walk upstairs like nothing’s going on, okay?”
    For once, Marietta actually did as she was told and with remarkable efficiency. Once she was upstairs and locked into the guest room, Savannah tucked her purse under her left arm and walked around the living room, straightening a cushion, rearranging the magazines. “What’s he doing now?” she asked Tammy. “Watching you. Taking your picture.”
    “Taking my picture?”
    “Yes, he’s got some sort of a little camera with him.”
    “Now isn’t that lovely,” she said through gritted teeth. “I think I’ll take that camera away from him and use it to perform a colonoscopy on him.”
    She left the living room and walked into the window-less foyer, where she would be out of his sight for a moment. Placing her purse on the entry table, she reached inside and pulled out her Beretta.
    Before walking back into the living room, she slid the gun into the waistband of her slacks and covered it with the tail of her shirt.
    “He’s still looking in the living room window,” Tammy said.
    “Okay, here’s what I’m going to do,” Savannah told her. “I’m going to act like I’m going into the kitchen again, but I’m going to slip out the back door and through the garage before he can figure it out.”
    “Gotcha. Go. And good luck.”
     
    Less than two minutes later, Savannah pressed the barrel of her Beretta against the back of Ronald Peeping-Tom Tumblety’s neck and said, “If you move, I’ll blow your head off. And I’d hate to have to do that; I just cleaned the outside of my windows.”
    He jumped and started to turn around, so she jabbed the gun even harder against his neck.
    “I’m not kidding,” she said. “I’ll kill you. Drop that camera on the ground and put your hands on top of your head.”
    After a couple of seconds, he complied.
    “Lace your fingers together.”
    Savannah was still holding the phone in her left hand. “Tammy, you still there?” she asked.
    “I’m listening.”
    “Get up here and bring those handcuffs I gave you for your birthday.”
    She tossed the phone onto the grass, reached up, and grabbed the little finger of his right hand. She pulled it back just enough to cause him some minor discomfort—and enough to remind him that it could become major pain very quickly.
    Lifting her leg, she shoved her knee into the small of his back while pulling on his hands. He leaned backward, off balance—just the way she wanted him.
    “Don’t you even twitch, you peeping perv,” she said, lowering her leg but keeping him in his uncomfortable position. “Look in my window, will you? I oughta shoot you just for trompin’ down my flower beds.”
    “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice quivering. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I saw you at the shoot the other day, and I really like you.”
    “Gee, why don’t I find that flattering?”
    “I think you and me could get along really good if you just knew me. If we went out a few times and spent some quality time together...”
    “Oh, we’re going to spend some time together. But we’re not going to be watching a movie and sharing a popcorn.”
    Tammy came running up, holding a pair of handcuffs out in front of her. “Here they are!” she said.
    Savannah gave Tumblety’s pinkie a tug. “Put your right hand behind your back,” she told him. “Do it!” She told Tammy. “Cuff him.”
    Tammy stared at Savannah, mouth open. “Me?” she asked.
    “You’re the one with the cuffs.”
    “Oh... okay.” Her hands were trembling, but Tammy quickly snapped the first cuff around his right wrist and held it tightly.
    Savannah tugged on his left hand. “Now this one. Bring it down.”
    In seconds, Tammy had that one secured as well, and Ronald Tumblety was in the unofficial custody of the Moonlight Magnolia Detective Agency.
    As though on cue, a radio car came around the corner and stopped in front of her house, lights flashing. A uniformed patrolman got out and came running up to