May the Best Killer Win

By Benjamin Kalb

What if there was a $1,000,000 winner-take-all-event for serial killers? Who would get the top seed? Dahmer? Bundy? Gacy? Ramirez? Wuornos? "BTK?" "Dr. Death?" Pick a killer, any killer.  

 

Enter a rich anonymous benefactor who was in search of not one but two serial killers-one male

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cobblestone Blue Press
• Release date: Apr 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088110706

Book preview

May the Best Killer Win

Benjamin Kalb

Cobblestone Blue Press

Copyright © 2023 Benjamin Kalb

Copyright © 2023 Benjamin Kalb All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.

Cobblestone Blue Press—Las Vegas, Nevada

ISBN: 979-8-218-18548-0

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023906954

Title: May the Best Killer Win

Author: Benjamin Kalb

Digital distribution | 2023 Paperback | 2023

This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

About the Author

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my godson Leo and my goddaughter Adelyn, who continue to amaze me every day at the new things they learn as they grow up into young adults.

"I was born to rock the boat.

Some may sink but we will float.

Grab your coat, let’s get out of here.

You’re my witness.

I’m your mutineer."

Warren Zevon

Chapter 1

SERIAL KILLERS ‘R’ US

W

hat if there was a $1,000,000 winner-take-all-event for serial killers? Who would get the top seed? Jeffrey Dahmer? Ted Bundy? John Wayne Gacy? Richard Ramirez? Aileen Wuornos? Dennis BTK Rader? Harold Dr. Death Shipman? Pick a killer, any killer. What if the contest was set up like the college football or basketball championships? A single elimination tournament. One loss and you’re out. One slip up with the victim surviving or escaping and you are gone. The event would be sponsored by the popular new no-deposit-no-return on-line retail outlet—Serial Killers R’ Us. Pretty sick, wouldn’t you say? But if nothing else, it would get good TV ratings. And the killers would come away with a pretty good payday.

There is no web site called Serial Killers ‘R’ Us but if you want to find people with that kind of occupational expertise you certainly can with a little digging. Enter a rich anonymous benefactor who was in search of not one but two serial killers—one male, one female—to compete against each other and he was willing to offer $50,000 per kill up to five million dollars total to get rid of the some of the nation’s most deserved scumbags.

This was a competition of sorts. Mr. Anonymous would select the subject, victim if you prefer, and the competitors would search him or her out and attempt to make the kill. The person who made the kill would earn $50,000. Both the competitors would receive the same information on the subject and neither would get a head start. But no kill, no payoff. After a kill was completed, the anonymous benefactor would pick out the next potential victim within three days.

Mr. Anonymous put his notice in to whatever web site or message board where he normally finds these types of people and received dozens of potential suitors, some with a lot of experience, and some with no experience who were just dying—pun intended—to get in on the action. A photo accompanied each two-page application. Mr. Anonymous ended up receiving 133 responses before choosing Briana Barrington, a beautiful model type, 27-years-old with long legs that were waiting to be stared at. What Mr. Anonymous liked mostly about Ms. Barrington’s application was that she made it clear that she would not kill with guns, knives, or saw blades.

She was not into violence and would kill in her own unique way and provide proof once the kill was completed. Ms. Barrington lived in Las Vegas, although traveled often to Los Angeles, and had over a dozen previous kills on her scoreboard.

Ms. Barrington’s opponent was Hunter—appropriate name, one would say—Richards, a 6-foot- 2, 44-year-old former pro football player (he played one season) who had over 20 kills to his record. The interesting thing about Richards was that he loved to wear disguises. He never wore the same look for a kill. He had a full head of light brown hair and he wore blue eyeglasses. But he could make himself bald with a bald cap, dye his hair jet black or add fake tattoo sleeves on his arms if he wanted to. He had no problem using a gun, or a knife or anything else that would get the job done. He lived in Los Angeles. One of the rules was that Mr. Richards and Ms. Barrington would not speak to each other if they ever found themselves in the same location, and they couldn’t combine forces, kill someone and split the money unless he approved it. This was competition and would remain as such.

May the best killer win.

The first potential victim was Dick Kirvan, a 50-plus guy with a penchant for little boys. He had been convicted of molestation of two children under 10 and served 10 years total in prison. When he got out he was added to the sex offender’s list, so he moved to Las Vegas where it’s easier to disappear. He was a former public relations executive, and not a very good one at that, but after he was convicted he, of course, found it hard to get a new job.

For their first assignment, Mr. Anonymous gave Bri and Hunter a location—Silverado Ranch Park in Southwest Las Vegas—which is where Dick hung out two or three days a week. Even though he was still on probation, he wanted to be around young kids. If there was a chance to molest one of them, he would try. A couple of moms reported him to the cops because he was looking weird at their children whatever that meant. Bri had the advantage on this one since she was already in Las Vegas and Hunter would need at least a day to get to Las Vegas.

Silverado Ranch Park had a basketball court, three baseball diamonds, swings and slides for the kids, picnic tables, and a lot of different walking paths. If you walked around the park twice that was akin to one mile. Many people would walk their dog in this park. It was a friendly park, people would normally say hello if you passed by them. Parents would take their kids on the swings and slides and you could hear the kids having fun and enjoying themselves. This was where Kirvan did most of his hanging out. If he noticed a little boy headed to the bathroom, he would follow him.

The next day Bri decided to dress up in a costume of her own, a replica of a bear, in case Kirvan decided to show up. She drew a crowd. The kids came over and their moms took photos of the kids with Bri in her bear costume. She would also hand out lollipops to the kids. After about an hour, Bri noticed a boy about 10 years old walking into the bathroom. And sure enough Kirvan snuck into the bathroom a minute or so after the kid went in. He had been waiting in his car. She walked into the bathroom in the bear costume, confronted Kirvan and asked him what he was doing there.

I’m just going to the bathroom, he said. And I’d like to do that in peace.

We’ve had complaints about you watching little boys, even touching them, said Bri, motioning for the little boy to leave.

That was over 10 years ago, he said. I’m a changed man.

Then why do you hang out at this park two or three times a week.

This is a great park to get some exercise.

Wash your hands, and then I’m going to give you a special lollipop. Here is a nice large green one for you to suck on, said Bri. Then I want you to walk out of here and stay away from the swings and slides.

OK, no problem, he said.

But Kirvan wouldn’t get far. After a few licks off the large green lollipop, he dropped to one knee, started choking, then convulsing and fell back and died. Bri had put a deadly poison on the candy, and it was all over for the sleazy Mr. K.

She took photos and video as he lay there dying. She checked his pulse. He was gone. And then she walked out. She placed a yellow police tape across the entrance, in effect closing off the bathroom.

She then called the police, reported a dead body in the boy’s bathroom and walked back to her car still in her bear’s costume and drove away before the cops arrived. $50,000 richer. Bri 1, Hunter 0.

Chapter 2

LYING TO A JURY IS NOT GOOD FOR YOUR HEALTH

M

r. Anonymous wired the $50,000 to Bri’s account and set up the next potential victim in Los Angeles. Since Bri was still in Las Vegas, and Hunter was living in Los Angeles, Hunter had a day advantage to make this his own kill without worrying about Bri horning in on his plan.

The victim to be was Heather Hackford, who had killed her husband with a gun while he slept in bed but got away with it in a trial claiming self-defense and that she had been abused several times. She had never reported the abuse to the cops, but she did take a few photos of her bruises. Most people figured she had faked the bruises, embellished them with professional studio makeup and used some good acting talent to convince the jury she was innocent due to self-defense. She was found not guilty and went on with her life. Oh by the way, she collected $1.6 million from an insurance policy.

Mr. Anonymous had hired a female private detective to follow Ms. Hackford and after a couple of weeks she had overheard Ms. Hackford telling her new fiancé that the abuse she suffered was barely noticeable and she just enhanced it for the purposes of photos and to get an acquittal. That is why in the eyes of Mr. Anonymous she was to be victim number two.

The next day was slightly cloudy, unusual for Los Angeles. But anything cloudy would help hide Hunter’s silhouette even just a little. Hunter had his plan to get rid of Ms. Hackford that night but before he put his plan into operation, he decided to change his appearance. Enter a bald cap, easy to put on with some glue and tape. Add that to a mask that covered most of his face, and he was ready.

The night was still cloudy when Hunter drove up Benedict Canyon to Ms. Hackford’s house. First he cut the wires from the alarm system, and opened her house with a skeleton key he had acquired as a gift many years ago from a friend who was a former burglar. He took off his tennis shoes, snuck upstairs in his socks, added a silencer to his pistol and shot her in the head. The fiancé was not in the house at the time. The fateful shot came at 2:30 am, fairly close to the same time she had killed her husband exactly two years earlier to the day. He took photos and videos of the death scene, walked back to his car, and sent them off to Mr. Anonymous. The $50,000 transfer was in his off-shore account within an hour.

Mr. Anonymous sent Bri and Hunter each a text the next day congratulating them on their first payoffs.

Now, it may get a little harder, he said. And sometimes I will want to send you out of town. Please note, any out of town experiences are your own expenses.

A day later both Bri and Hunter received an e-mail. The next victim was located in Eugene, Oregon. This gave Bri home field advantage since she went to school and was a former cheerleader for the University of Oregon.

The subject of the next kill was Diana Morse, a professor in the journalism school who had lied about a fellow professor mentally abusing a female student. The male professor was eventually fired and couldn’t get a job at another school for 18 months. It seems Ms. Morse and another instructor did not get along with this male professor and created a fake scenario which forced him out.

Again, Mr. Anonymous hired a female private detective who shadowed Ms. Morse until such a time that she overheard her talking to another journalism instructor saying, I got Whatshisname out of this school. I can do that with any instructor you don’t like.

Bri and Hunter both questioned Mr. Anonymous as to why this person needed to die. Why couldn’t they do something to get her fired instead?

I don’t like people lying, said Mr. Anonymous. The guy who got fired was divorced by his wife, lost his house, and was on the verge of homelessness before he found a new position at a junior college. This woman in effect almost killed him, and she lied to do it.

Bri flew into Eugene, took an Uber to the Best Western Inn on Franklin and began researching where Ms. Morse lived. She called former journalism teachers she knew and found out Ms. Morse’s school schedule. Another couple of calls and she learned of her home address.

Hunter, who booked himself at Inn At The Fifth in downtown Eugene, also found out the same information just by calling the journalism school and pretending to be a long lost student who wanted to say hi to his past instructors.

Bri planned on going to Ms. Morse’ home in the evening after all her classes were done. At around 7 pm on a chilly evening, she knocked on the front door. Ms. Morse, I don’t know If you remember me but I was in your advertising class maybe 10-11 years ago. I’m Brianna Barrington.

Oh hi. How have you been?

Fine, thank you. I live in Portland now, she lied. And I’m in this advertising club and we want to invite you up to Portland at the end of the semester and give you an award.

Come on in, and tell me about it, said Ms. Morse.

Bri entered the house to find some advertising awards on the wall for Ms. Morse, along with some sports memorabilia. Football helmets, baseball jerseys and a new sport, ice hockey. The furniture was old but still in decent shape.

Are you a hockey fan? Bri asked.

"I’m a season ticket holder for the school ice hockey team. So they gave