Read Spider's Web: A Collection of All-Action Short Stories for Free Online Page A

I’m an embarrassment, a reminder of what lies in store for them. For everyone.’ He shook his head sadly, then stood up and reached for his stick. ‘I’m going to make myself a cup of tea. Now don’t you boys go anywhere.’
    He shuffled out of the room, muttering to himself. Dobbsy struggled with his bonds but the washing line wouldn’t give. He tried rocking from side to side but the chair was heavy and barely budged. After a few minutes he was exhausted, and he looked over at Jacko, gasping for breath.
    Jacko’s face was bathed in sweat and his eyes were wide and fearful. He tried to say something to Dobbsy but the gag muffled it to a series of grunts.
    Dobbsy shook his head, trying to let Jacko know that he couldn’t make out what he was saying. Tears began to run down Jacko’s face. Dobbsy tried to scream but whatever the old man had stuffed in his mouth meant he couldn’t do more than groan. He tried flexing his arms again but no matter how hard he strained, the bonds held fast. He slumped in the chair, panting.
    Eventually the old man returned, holding a blue and white striped mug in his left hand and his walking stick in the right. He walked slowly over to the table, carefully put down the mug and stick and then sat down. ‘Now where was I?’ he said. He looked at the two boys in turn as if he expected them to answer. ‘Oh yes, keep moving. I had to keep moving. And changing. That’s the important thing. You boys watch television, don’t you? Of course you do. That’s all you lads do these days, isn’t it, you watch TV and you play video games. Because there’s nothing else, right? No bloody jobs, not any more. Not for the likes of you. So you watch all those detective shows? CSI ? Criminal Minds ? Silent Witness ? You know what they always talk about?’ He nodded expectantly.
    Dobbsy looked over at Jacko. The old man was crazy, no doubt about it. Tears were streaming down Jacko’s face and his head was bobbing up and down.
    ‘Profiles,’ said the old man. ‘It’s all about profiles. That’s how they catch serial killers. They look at the victims and they look at the way the killer kills them and they build up a profile. Like the Yorkshire Ripper. He killed hookers in Leeds. Or that Fred West. He killed young girls. Once the cops work out the profile it helps them narrow down the list of suspects. That was my epiphany. If I kept it random, I’d never fit a profile.’ He chuckled. ‘It was as easy as that. I preferred to kill young women – I mean, that’s only natural, isn’t it? You want them pretty and you want them young. But I killed men. And middle-aged women. And pensioners. And I did it in different ways. I liked to use my hands, I always preferred it to be up close and personal, but sometimes I’d use a knife. Or a hammer. Sometimes I used a tie and once I used a dog’s lead. And I moved around. I never killed in the same city twice. That was my goldeon,was my n rule. Once I’d killed I’d move to another city. I was a chef. Well, that’s what they call it nowadays. Back then I was a cook. A cook can always get work. You turn up in a town, any town, and you can get a job the next day. So that’s what I did. I moved to a town, got a place to live, got a job, and waited for the urge.’
    He sipped his tea. ‘That’s what it is, an urge. And the urge gets stronger and stronger until you can’t resist it. The longest I ever went was three years. I had a girlfriend then and I guess that’s why, but eventually the urge got the better of me. I didn’t kill the girlfriend, of course. I killed a traffic warden. A black guy. Killed him with a knife. Killed him and disposed of the body and left town.’
    He reached out to the collection of rings and pulled out a gold band. ‘This was his,’ said Duns. ‘He had a wife and six kids. Six, can you believe that? That’s just stupid in this day and age. Even back then.’ He looked at the ring and shuddered and Dobbsy instinctively