The Perfect Crime: An Asher Benson Short Story: Asher Benson, #1.5

By Jason Brant

The Rules have allowed Andrew Phillips to commit the most heinous of crimes for decades. He meticulously plans and executes kidnappings, murders, and other unspeakable acts to children. No one has ever come close to solving the atrocities he perpetrates every few months.

Phillips thinks he's successfully committed the perfect crimes.

And then he meets Asher Benson.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Brant
• Release date: Nov 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781393269557

Jason Brant

"JASON BRANT" is an anagram for Bas Trojann, a former Bigfoot hunter who, after being abducted (and subsequently returned) by aliens, decided to hang up his ghillie suit and enter the world of professional arm wrestling. Despite back-to-back first place finishes in the South Dakota World Championship League, Bas receded from athletics to invent cheese and give Al Gore the initiative to create the internet. Nearly a decade after writing the bestselling self-help series, Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese (Cut into Four Pieces) for the Soul, Bas has left his life of notoriety and critical acclaim behind him to write existential, erotic poetry. His wife washes their clothing on his abs.

Book preview

The Perfect Crime

After folding the comforter and sheets at precise, military-style angles, Andrew Phillips finished making his bed and sauntered into the bathroom. The oscillating head of the electric toothbrush remained on each tooth for exactly twenty seconds before moving to the next.

He gurgled mouthwash for ten seconds.

Spit.

Rinsed.

Wiped out the sink.

Phillips showered next, carefully scrubbing every square inch of his fifty-year-old skin. He lathered his face with shaving cream and used a small mirror hanging from the showerhead to ensure he sliced off every whisker. Leave-in conditioner worked at his hair as he shaved.

When he finished the cleansing ritual, Phillips sprayed the glass shower enclosure with a disinfectant and wiped it down.

Patted his skin dry with a towel, never wiping.

Used the hairdryer while naked.

Because he didn’t have an excursion from his home on today’s itinerary, Andrew dressed in a white t-shirt and pressed khakis. That ensemble was the closest he ever got to slumming it, as one of his adopted children was wont to say.

Two cups of cereal, one cup of skim milk.

He read the paper from cover to cover, paying special attention to the police blotter.

At a quarter to seven, Phillips went to the window of the front room and sat in a chair bequeathed to him by his mother. The neighborhood children meandered their way down the sidewalks, coalescing under the canopy of a maple tree.

Sleep still had its tendrils in most of them, their eyes droopy and vacant as they all stared down the street to their left. A few spoke, their voices inaudible from the distance and glass between them and Andrew.

What they said was of little consequence to him.

None would become one of his children.

Two years ago, Andrew had taken one of them.

One from such a small group was enough. Two would bring too much heat, too much suspicion upon the neighborhood.

Upon him.

But that didn’t stop him from watching and dreaming. He could practically see the round-eyed, teary expressions on their faces. Smell their fear-laden sweat. Hear their lamentations.

His expanding appetite concerned him. It had only been a week since he’d last satiated his desire, and the longing had already settled in the pit of his stomach again. No matter how unbearable that hunger became, however, he refused to satisfy it again.

The rules were important.

They kept him safe.

Secret.

Andrew would only allow himself to adopt twice a year. Any more than that and the attention became too