Enchantress...Trilogy Of Evil Part 3 Poem by Shaun Cronick

Miss Goody Two Shoes.
No, not that one teen paedophile slicing slaughterhouse.
She's out of the country.
She's teamed up with The Lady Killer.
They're showing off their macabre blood fest worldwide.
Gone on tour you might say.
Sort of a busman's holiday.
Did you hear what they did to those six paedophiles in Paris.
Let alone that bloodbath in Belgium.
Unbelievable!
They'll never be caught.
My hunch is a fellow cop is tipping them off.
But that's another story for another time.
And that one who steals men's hearts.
The one called She.
There's more death and killers out there than cancer.
And they're all women.
I'm only saying that to lighten you up.
Bring your defences down.
But you know all about that already.
All about psychology.
Anyway.
Back to you.
Enchantress.
Just rolls off the tongue doesn't it.
I'll say it again.
Enchantress.
Us cops first nicknamed you Deadlier Than The Male.
Too long.
Then we called you Spellbinder.
We liked that one.
But it was the press who finally decided the matter.
With Enchantress.
And the name stuck.
Your name.
As I look at you here and now.
In this interrogation room.
Enchantress.
The uncatchable Enchantress.
Caught.
Still you haven't said a word to me.
Since you've been in this room.
But you love to talk.
Did you know that?
So much information.
So many intricate details.
A real chatter-box.
That's how I caught you.
So lets start at the beginning...
It's all about men.
Missing men.
Men who have just vanished off the face of the planet.
Fifty five to be exact.
All at night all of them never to be seen again.
Fifty five men over three years.
And we had no leads or clues.
Nothing to work with except.
We were seeking a woman.
A real mistress of disguise.
So slippery and elusive.
A real chameleon.
Any CCTV with you and your victim was so poor.
Hell we had it enhanced by NASA.
To no avail.
Again no clues to your real identity.
A ghost.
First we thought it was one of our own.
A woman obviously.
Forensics, scene of crime officer, a fellow detective.
Checked and double checked all records.
Then triple checked.
Every angle we explored led to nothing.
Nothing.
A big fat zero.
And still men disappeared.
So the old adage of this person started very young.
Starting off with local pets cats dogs etc.
Tortured and killed them blah blah blah.
Enjoyed doing it.
All that bollocks.
So we checked all arrest records and all news items.
Going back decades.
Again nothing.
And then you entered my life.
Just breezed into my office.
Me one of the leading detectives on this cruel case.
The most beautiful and beguiling woman I've ever met.
And an instant chemistry between us.
Or so I foolishly thought at that time.
Offering that huge reward for public information.
Information leading to the arrest of this Enchantress.
Simply because your editor was her recent victim.
You being a best selling author.
Your wealth was an understatement.
Anyway as you well know.
You truly captivated me.
One thing led to the other.
Sex with you was incredible.
But sleeping with you was horrifying.
But I had to do it.
And the last time.
I actually threw up in the bathroom.
I had to act quickly.
We easily found your underground bunker.
Bypassed all your security there.
That was the easy part.
Then we entered.
That was the not so easy part.
We had found the missing men.
All of them.
All your chosen victims.
And we were horrified.
All of us thought we'd seen it all through the years.
Nothing could prepare us for what we found.
Then I found that empty display cabinet.
The one with my name on it.
You sick bitch.
All of them with their innards guts vital organs removed.
And fed to the over weight dogs in the other room.
All of them named and behind individual glass cabinets.
All of them stuffed and embalmed.
Like shop window dummies on display.
A real charnel house.
A Madame Tussauds from Hell.
Such bible black evil on display.
All for you to admire and gloat over.
Because simply you hate men.
Because you really hate me.
And so we laid a trap.
We waited for you.
In your chamber of horrors.
Waited in the dark.
Surrounded by evil.
And we waited.
With the patience of Job.
And you turned up.
The shock on your face was only fleeting.
Then you said well done congratulations.
And then you smiled.
You sick bitch!
Men.
The ultimate hunt.
Murder.
The ultimate thrill.
A real player of the game.
A power game.
You the predator.
You sick bitch.
Never in your wildest dreams or crime novels.
Would you dream of getting caught.
That's not exactly true though is it.
I'm a good detective.
But no genius.
No Sherlock Holmes.
Truth is we would never have caught you.
You're too good.
Too perfect.
As I said to you at the beginning.
You love to talk.
And that's how I caught you.
Enchantress.
Because...
You talk in your sleep.


Copyright Shaun Cronick 2019. All Rights Reserved.