Charlie watched the little girl with the blond pigtails, so young, so innocent, skipping along on the sidewalk. He could see no adult supervising, but imagined that the girl's mother looked out from a kitchen window now and then. Neither knew that Charlie lurked nearby. Oh, the little girl may have seen him standing at the bus stop, but she probably thought nothing of the strange man in the old, worn clothes. He fingered the talisman under his shirt and smiled.

Let the police try to find him; he had protection. Let them profile him; he knew their methods and how to outsmart them. Only the ghosts of his victims troubled his dreams. That was why he had scrounged and sweated and paid the witch's fee for the talisman of protection.

He watched the little girl move from the sidewalk to play in her front yard. Charlie cocked his head and smiled at the sound made by an approaching ice cream truck. The sun scorched down from a clear blue sky, cooking his half-bald head.

Charlie waved and the ice cream truck stopped. "You got a chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich?"

The woman looked in her freezer and pulled out a wrapped treat. "Yeah, one fifty."

Charlie handed her a five-dollar bill and took the frozen packet. "Give that little girl down there whatever she wants. Keep the change."

"Thanks." The woman in the ice cream truck eyed Charlie. "You want me to tell her who bought for her?"

Good, Charlie thought. The woman was more interested in money than any suspicions. "Just a friend." He'd never hunt in this city again.

The ice cream truck turned the corner and chimed its way down the street.

Charlie watched as the woman spoke to the little girl and gave her a cone.

The girl looked his way, smiled, and waved a "thank you" to Charlie.

The ice cream truck ambled away, rounded another corner, and moved out of sight.

Charlie's heart leapt in his chest when she started skipping his way. He turned as if he hadn't noticed, and crossed the street to sit on a shaded park bench where he ate his cookie sandwich.

Charlie guessed her age at ten or eleven--too young to be out alone when cruel men walk the streets.

The little girl looked both ways, then crossed the street and came near, but not too near. This one was cautious. "Thank you for the ice cream, but I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. Or accept ice cream or candy."

"That's a good rule." Charlie smiled. "Very smart. Your mom teach you that?"

"And my daddy." She had a waffle cone, and she stayed on the sidewalk, several yards away.

"Your dad's smart. But you must've seen the ice cream woman around here before. She's no stranger."

"She told me you bought this for me." She licked the ice cream with her very red tongue. Her lips shone almost as red.

Charlie could almost taste her ice cream. "So I did. Hot day, isn't it? Good day for ice cream."

"Yeah, it is." She wandered closer, into the shade of the tree. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm waiting for the bus," Charlie lied.

"You just missed it. It only comes by once an hour." She sat down on the grass, that red tongue licking away the white dribbles as her treat melted in the heat.

"My bad luck." Charlie looked left and right, noting the otherwise empty street. Most people stayed inside their air-conditioned homes. "I think I'll wait here in the shade a while rather than stand in the hot sun. I can see the bus way before it gets here. When I see it, I'll get up and walk to the stop. Is that okay with you?"

She looked at him as if she wondered why he had asked her permission. "Sure. You live around here? I've never seen you here before."

Charlie smiled. So young and curious. "Not far. I walked to the bus stop." Both were true. He lived in his car, mostly, which he had parked just on the other side of the park. "Do you live near here?"

"Oh, yes." She had finished most of the ice cream and started nibbling on the cone. "Just down the street. Which street do you live on?"

Charlie shrugged. "All of 'em. Say! Have you ever seen a Studebaker?"

She scrunched up her face. "What kinda baker?"

Charlie laughed. "A Studebaker. It's an old car. They don't make 'em any more, but I got one. Wanna see it?"

"Sure." She looked around as she finished off her cone.

Charlie smiled. It had not occurred to her why he would wait for a bus if he had a car.

"It's on the other side of the park, not too far. There's a trail through here -- cool and shady." Charlie waved at the paved trail in the trees. "It's a really neat old car."

She thought about it a moment. "I'm not supposed to go with strangers."

"Am I a stranger? I'm Charlie, the guy who bought you the ice cream. What's your name?" He gave her his most winning smile.

She grinned back at him. "My name's Bea. It's actually Beauty, but everyone calls me Bea." She made a funny face. "I guess it'll be okay. It won't take too long, will it? My mom will come looking if I'm gone too long."

"Beauty's a pretty name. Not many girls named that nowadays." Charlie shook his head. "It won't take long at all. It's just a short walk through the park. You're not afraid of the park, are you?" You should be. He arched his eyebrows at her.

"No." She gave him a disgusted look and stood, brushing some grass from her yellow sundress.

"I've been in the park lots of times. They have swings 'n' slides 'n' monkey bars 'n' stuff on the other side. I play there a lot."

"I bet you have fun on those," Charlie said, stood and walked to the path. He looked back to be sure Beauty followed. "So. Would you like me to call you Bea or Beauty?"

She caught up to trot beside him. "You can call me Beauty. No one else calls me that anymore."

Poor kid--such a short life. "Beauty it is, then. Who used to call you Beauty?" He walked at his normal pace.

She had no trouble keeping up, skipping along beside him. "My daddy used to call me 'my Beauty.' That was a long time ago."

A long time ago? Must be all of a year or two.

"Why did he stop?" Charlie kept looking down at her. So pretty. So young.

"What number am I?" She looked up at him, face curious.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"What number will I be? It's thirteen, isn't it? Twelve before, each in another city, and thirteen today? I like thirteen. It's my lucky number." She grinned at him.

Charlie stopped and stared at the little girl. How could she know?

"Come on, Charlie! Bet you can't catch me!" Beauty took off running towards the swings and slides visible through the trees.

Charlie gasped and stared. She knew. How? He ran after her.

She turned and looked back at him. "Run! Run! As fast as you can! You can't catch me, you dirty old man!" She squealed, turned, and ran for the monkey bars.

"Old?" Charlie yelled. He felt his face redden and wondered whether it was the exertion of running or her taunts. Someone must have told her about him, but who? Why? He glanced around, but no one else was in sight--just the little girl and him. Charlie smiled as he reached the monkey bars.

Beauty climbed high within the bars.

"I used to be a champion at monkey bar climbing when I was younger. I'll catch you, my Beauty!"

He climbed up the outside.

"No, you won't." Beauty laughed and climbed bar-over-bar, moving around, evading him.

Watching her move, Charlie banged his forehead on a steel bar. "OW!" He held one hand up to his head while the pain flared and then faded. Seeing Beauty move away from the monkey bars, he climbed back down.

"How many children?" she called.

"Who told you that lie?" Charlie yelled back at her. He ran around the monkey bars and towards her.

"Sally!" Beauty climbed up onto the giant, curved slide. "With the long, wavy brown hair, and the red dress." She disappeared into the covered slide.

Charlie paused. Sally? he thought. Dead, strangled Sally? A ghost? He felt the talisman under his shirt, and then moved to the end of the slide. I've got you now. Come to Charlie. He crouched at the end of the slide, arms out, ready to catch Beauty.

She didn't come out.

Charlie stood and looked at the ladder and top of the slide, then bent over to look up the tunnel formed by the plastic cover.

Beauty flew down the slide, both feet raised.

Charlie's eyes flared.

She slammed both heels into his nose.

Charlie groaned where he lay. Memory flooded back, and he tried to sit up, but couldn't. He couldn't see in the dark. And his hands had been tied behind his back. It was cold, frigid. A tune chimed, faint to his ears. The ice cream truck! It jostled as it turned and stopped.

A door opened. Light flooded in.

Charlie blinked. He saw Beauty and the ice cream woman.

"See, mommy? I caught him, even though he had this." His talisman dangled in Beauty's hand.

"Good work." The woman opened a cupboard in the side of the freezer. Knives and other cruel-looking utensils lay within. He recognized some of them--the other witch whom he had dealt with had similar paraphernalia--the tools of her trade.

"Can I play first?" Beauty took a surgical scalpel from the cupboard.

"Sure," the woman said. "Remember, go slow. We need him alive for the sacrifice."

Beauty grinned and stalked towards Charlie. "Now the fun begins."

Poor Charlie! He met his match in evil at last. Strange he should enjoy his ice cream before he got his 'cold cuts.'(Ouch . . . these "Crypt Keeper" comments get more and more lame. Let's hope that yours are better. Send them to the BBS, please) - GM