Andrew Carson was a small time crook and an arsehole. The day he found out uncle Harry had died and left him a fortune he walked out on his wife without a word.
He had never been close to Harry and was surprised at the inheritance. The lawyer handling the estate told Andrew that he was Harry's only remaining relative and that Harry had left the house to him. He handed Andrew a letter from Harry and the keys to the house.
"This still has to go through probate," he said, "but it's straight forward and there is no reason why you cannot use the house right now. Besides, Harry specifically asked me to give you the keys and the letter immediately after his death."
Harry's letter told him there were two hundred thousand dollars hidden in the house and how to retrieve it.
Andrew did not want to share his new found wealth with his wife. She wasn't really his wife, just a cheap junkie whore he lived with. She worked the sleazier establishments in town. They lived in cheap flop houses, moving whenever they got too far behind with the rent. He had been living off her earnings for the last three years and if she found out about the inheritance she was sure to demand her share and take off with it. She would get it too. She knew enough heavies that would give Andrew hell until he paid up. He told her nothing about it.
The house was a simple two bedroom brick dwelling with an attached garage set on a quarter acre block in a working class suburb. Virtually all the neighbours were Asians who kept to themselves and left their houses only to go to work or to go shopping. This suited Andrew nicely.
After about three days in the house Andrew's kitchen tidy was full and he was looking for the garbage bins to empty the bag into. There were no garbage bins anywhere on the property. While looking for the bins at the back of the garage, Andrew discovered a trap door in the floor.
When he lifted it all he could see was a perfectly circular hole of about three feet in diameter in the garage floor. It seemed to go deep. Andrew was puzzled. He went outside and came back with a brick, which he threw down the hole. He could not hear a report from the brick. The hole had to be very deep. He tossed his garbage after the brick and closed the trap door.
Intrigued about this he went to a boating shop and bought a packet of hand held flares that burned for 30 seconds. Back home he lit a flare and tossed it down the hole. It was still falling when it burned out. This meant the hole was well over one kilometre deep.
I could hide a multitude of sins in there, he thought.
It must have been an old ventilation shaft for a mine, Andrew reasoned, old Harry had found it and rather than covering it with concrete decided to keep it as a garbage chute.
Andrew salivated at the thought of the possibilities. Here was the solution to his problem. He called his wife and apologised for his four day absence knowing she would not find this unusual; he had done it before. He told her he had made a good score.
"I've got enough money to last us for a while," he said. "Meet me in Dixon Street Mall in Chinatown and I tell you all about it over a drink.
After some complaining she agreed to meet him.
When they met he told her about the inheritance, showed her some papers. and apologised for his abrupt departure.
"I didn't want to tell you about it until it was all settled," he explained. "Until the last minute I still had doubts that it was real. Come with me, I want to show you our new home."
They walked two blocks to the new car with the tinted windows he had bought with Harry's money. She was so impressed that she did not find it odd that Andrew opened the door for her, something he had never done before.
When he arrived home, he drove straight into the garage, pushed the button of the remote that closed the garage door, and hit his wife on the head with a hammer he had within reach before she could unbuckle her seat belt. There was little blood. Andrew dragged his unconscious wife out of the car.
He took her cash and credit cards and threw her down the shaft before she regained consciousness. He threw the hammer after her.
To his surprise the act of killing his wife excited him sexually. For the first time in years his dick was as rigid as a baseball bat. He unzipped his fly and masturbated. The thought of his semen dropping down the hole and landing on his wife's smashed up body got him undone. A massive orgasm shook his body as rope after rope of the teeming fluid shot down the hole. At that moment Andrew realised he had never had a proper orgasm before. For the first time in his life he felt complete.
He had found his calling. He was liberated. He was God!
Andrew masturbated twice more that day. While the sensations were still good, they were nothing like the first time. The next day he felt even less, and on the third day he was again trying to squeeze a few drops of come from a semi rigid dick; like he had done all his life. He needed a new victim.
In spite of his many character flaws Andrew was not stupid. In fact he could be quite methodical and meticulous when the situation demanded it and when something caught his interest. If he was going to be a serial killer he would need to study the craft.
He did his research in the various internet cafes around town, never going to the same place twice. He was not interested in what the various killers did to their victims, all he wanted to know was how they got caught. He quickly found a pattern.
The first group, and by far the largest, were caught because there was a trail of bodies that eventually connected up to them. The trail of bodies was established by similarities in the method of killing, patterns of mutilations, evidence of fetishism, leaving evidence that pointed to the killer, and so forth, as well as other peculiarities such as victims being gay, prostitutes or children. Andrew's hole meant he wouldn't be leaving a trail of bodies.
Another group was caught trying to dispose of, or being in possession of, goods belonging to the victims. But here police had to know, or suspect, there was a victim.
The third group of killers were caught because they bragged about their deeds, they took photographs as souvenirs, or they kept detailed diaries of their crimes. Someone inevitably turned them in.
Well, Andrew was quite sure he would not make these same mistakes! In fact, the whole endeavour seemed fairly safe as long as he stuck to a few simple guidelines.
