Crypto Murders: Seventh

He tapped the screen. He kept tapping until he found a girl. She didn’t have a face. It was obscured but he could see her yellow skin and jet black hair. She wore a periwinkle sundress and leather sandals. Her name was Helen, 35, no kids, loves sunsets. He didn’t even look at her other metadata.

He tapped the heart icon. She immediately matched up with him.

“So, what cryptocurrency are you in now?”

“What?” she replied. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because you’re yellow and you live in Boston and you must be running a scam.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I—”

“Wait, wait. Let’s back up. My name is Scottie. What’s your birth name?”

“Jia.”

“Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere. You’re going to try to get me into crypto aren’t you?”

She smiled behind her phone. “Sure. I work in a laundromat but I have crypto on the side. I haven’t made enough to get me off the nine to five but I’m working on it. And yes I can bring you in as well.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s scammy.”

“No it’s not. This is real deal. I can show you.” She sent him a receipt of the earnings. It showed four thousand dollars.

“Alright. I’m going to fly out and we can have a beer in a real Boston pub.”

“What?! No way! I don’t drink.”

“Then you can eat pretzels. I want you. I need you. I must have you. I’m purchasing my plane ticket now.”

Jia smiled in devastating fashion. She sent him emojis of smiling faces as well.

“Okay, but you’ve got to sign on with me. You are going to be only soul mate. You will make me happy house wife and take care of me.”

“I’ll do everything you want. As long as I can get those panties.”

“What?!” The conversation came to an abrupt stop like a car idling in traffic.

“Don’t you know I’m Asian. We are conservative girls. We don’t talk that on the Internet. Are you rude are you a white man or black man? Your profile only shows shadows.”

“I’m white. But that doesn’t matter. We’re going to meet and have a good time I promise. I’m gonna change plans. Why don’t you come here?”

“You pay for plane?”

“Yes. I’m going get you flewed out.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about it. Just know I’m going to Cash App you eight hundred dollars. That should be enough to cover your expenses. I’m going to have a car service to take you from Philly to here in Delaware.”

“Ooooh, that sounds nice.”

“It is just tell me when you get the money.”

“Got it.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“I’m glad we met like this Scottie.”

“I am, too. we should be able to talk face to face soon enough.”

“Yes. I look forward to our union.”

“Okay.” He logged off and cleaned his bowie knife. The delicate precision of using CLP (cleaner, lubricant, protector) allowed Scottie to consider when she would come to his lair. He had already amassed six other women and had embalmed them and placed them in a meat locker at his job at the butcher. There was a separate compartment where the bodies remained frozen. Jia would be the seventh victim. If Kim didn’t stop him first.

She sat back in her recliner with a non-alcoholic spritzer in one hand and her phone the other. Not the best mixture, she thought to herself. She looked at the news on one of her apps. It broke that a seventh woman had gone missing from the Northeast. First it was the New York metropolitan area now Boston. “The women were all of East Asian descent” the article read.

“Jesus,” Kim announced only to her four walls.