There he was, Dale Gibner, all dressed up like a Christmas package playing Santa for the kids. Look at them, laughing and giggling, sitting on his lap, not knowing Monster Claus had come to town. And all the local college coeds had apparently been bad this year judging by the trail of dead bodies that kept washing up on the Miami shoreline.
How ironic he should be running a toy and magic shop, Dexter thought. It was going to be perfect. He would play with Dale and then make him disappear! If all went according to plan, he, too, would disappear, the mark of a true magician. His thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of his cellphone. In two smooth moves the phone was in Dex's hand.
"Hey Deb, what's up?" Her timing always seemed incredibly inconvenient.
"We have another one, spotted face down just offshore about an hour ago by a jogger." "Guess what else?"
The tone in his sister's voice seemed eager all of a sudden. Before he could say a word a reply came from her Dexter never wanted to hear, "The media is blaming it on the Bay Harbor Butcher."
Dexter said he was on his way and irritably flipped the phone shut , jamming it into his pocket until the contact of his knuckles on its seam made the fabric stretch. Fantastic. Dale had inadvertently put the cops onto him. That didn't piss him off nearly as much as the fact Dale Gibner was a hack compared to him though. Allowing bodies to be found in plain sight was sloppy and dangerous. While danger came with the territory he was never sloppy. Dale's doom would be sealed in a much darker package now.