Lexington, KY August 25, 2020, 4:32 a.m.

      The best treatment for insomnia, at least if you search online, consist of everything from an exam by your doctor, to sleep studies, to herbal medications. If you have chronic insomnia, as I do, one of the ways I deal with it is to search insomnia treatments online. I’m also learning to play five-string banjo, am teaching myself Latin, and taking online courses for both a culinary degree and to become an ASC Certified mechanic.

      The benefit of not sleeping, and I’ve told myself it is a benefit, is that I can get my police work done as completely and quickly as possible. This morning, I’ve been up since shortly after two, I’m on my second pot of coffee, completed my morning exercises and wrapped up the paperwork on my last two cases.

      Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays are calisthenics days. I have a small weight room set up in one corner, next to my treadmill. I do pushups, sit-ups, and the treadmill on those days and weights on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Today I did just over five miles. I sipped my coffee, my music on shuffle. Currently, John Coltrane’s Acknowledgement played softly beside me.

      Central Kentucky is home to the Bourbon Trail, thirty-seven distilleries that manufacture bourbon. The horse farms that surround me are too numerous to mention. I live in one of the richest areas of the country. But I personally have very few possessions. I don’t write this for sympathy. I had everything I wanted as a kid, but I found when I watch Dad fade a little at a time that what I wanted was more time with him. Which brought me to Lexington. One of the contacts Dad had made was with Chad and Pam Williams. The Williams own a small horse farm in Versailles, a town just west of Lexington.

      Coltrane was replaced by Bob Dylan’s Gonna Change My Way of Thinking.

      Chad and Pam opened their home to me. They offered to build a second home on their estate Williams’ Ramble, what I asked for instead was a room over the stable. The Williams don’t have a large collection of horses, just a colt from a recent Derby winner and an older one, Mags, that more or less belongs to me. Though not wealthy, they doubled the stables, and built me an apartment over them which includes a washer/dryer, a kitchen and an office.

      Sundays I had dinner with Chad and Pam, unless I’m working. I go riding on Mags as often as I can.

      Dylan ended and Waylon Jennings’ If My Harley Was Runnin’ began.

      Why do I need anything more?

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                                          Hollywood, California January 15, 1947

      Cain had created some shadows in the alley way so he could observe his latest handiwork. On this foggy west coast morning, a young mother and daughter discovered what they first believed to be a store window mannequin. As they got closer, they saw the body of a nude woman cut in half. The body would later be identified as Hollywood starlet Elizabeth Short

      Cain had discovered the biggest problem he had when stayed begin to observe what followed his murders was staying silent. ‘It’s showtime.’

      The scream of the mom, Betty Bersinger, was so loud and frightening it drew the attention of the few on the street on that Wednesday morning. Picking up her daughter, she ran to the home of Jack and Noble Clark and called the Los Angeles Police Department. Within minutes, three cars seemed to appear from every direction.

      The next ten minutes reminded Cain of one of those old silent earth movies. It was pure comedy to watch the three, then five, then ten cops, stumble all over the crime scene corrupting any potential evidence. No longer able to contain himself, he grabbed the loose bundle of papers beside him and entered his ship.

      By now Thing recognized Cain’s routine and had become a desk. Cain was finally able to release the laughter he had been holding in. Putting his head on the desk he laughed for a long time as tears rolled down his cheeks. After several minutes Cain began his latest letter.

                        ‘Detectives,

                  Fame is fleeting, none knew this better than Elizabeth Short.

      She chased it in life and found it in death.  Betty is posed with a

      Glasgow Smile.

      She never looked lovelier.’

      He had carved short notches into either side of her mouth, giving her a grotesque smile. In the envelope Cain included Short’s birth certificate, some business cards she had collected as well as an address book with the names and dates of several of her influential and married lovers.

      The only evidence ever found at the scene was a heel print on the ground amid the tire tracks, and a cement sack containing watery blood.

      He made a mental note to revisit this. Cain enjoyed killing the apes.

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                                                        Domi-ium

                                                    Augtine 19, 347

      It was night. QMark was reading a bedtime story to Ian. It was a routine she had started upon Cain’s birth several years before.

      The younger Gra was watching an old memory, it flicked before his eyes like a movie. The memory was so old that he had no recollection of it at all. It was hidden in the recesses of his centuries old infant self. They lay on a golden blanket beside Ian’s crib. The blanket would disappear along with his mother.

      “These times I can be myself, little moo. The rest of the time I must be the other one. The wife of the Ambassador. From the time Quin wakes me in the morning my day is scripted until I’m able to get in here with you moo.”

      “Some days were all social events. Those days were her least favorite as she was on-display all day. Every word was scripted. Meetings, ceremonies, interviews.”

      “But these,” she indicated this time with him, “these are what feeds me. These enable the other one to undertake everything else.”

      Adult Ian shifted his focus to the picture of his mom. “You lost your identity because of him, didn’t you? I only found your name by stealing files that he had had locked away.”

      Many of the stories were fairly common. But many of them had the same character.

      As he paused the memory, he studied her. She had the tell tell marks of fading bruises. The two most outside fingers on one hands stood out at odd angles as if broken and never reset.

      “Muah was there at the beginning,” the story always began. Ian heard her gentle voice as he relived the story. “No being knows how Muah was created. They say that all of the evil in the universe joined together and that Muah was the result.” She stopped, not sure she wanted to go on. “I know you are very young, too young to know of such evil. You may not remember any of this story.” QMark began to cry. “You may not remember me at all.” She grab a small pendant that hung around her neck. As she began to rub her thumb lightly across the top, she seemed to relax.

      Ian remembered the pendant, but never saw it after his mom disappeared. The dark green stone glowed as QMark held it. As he leaned closer, the younger Gra saw an image inside the stone. It wasn’t large enough to see clearly. Ian blinked, capturing an image of the pendant. He would manipulate the picture later, hoping to unlock any puzzles inside of it.

      Once QMark was calmer, she was able to continue. “In the beginning, Muah created his own corner of the galaxy. In that corner, he created others in his image. A few of those decided to stay with Muah. However most of them chose to roam the universe and create images of their own. They were murder, chaos, greed, manipulation, and all that came from them.”

      She rubbed the pendant harder. QMark lowered her voice. “Little Moo, I don’t believe I will be here much longer. The Ambassador needed two sons. He now has two sons. He has fulfilled his obligation, which means I have fulfilled my usefulness.”

      She began to cry, silently. Ian leaned forward, sensing she knew that noise would have provoked a response from the Ambassador. “I meant to pass this on to you, Little Moo,” she said indicating the pendant. “Your brother is very much like his father. So eager to punish those who cross him. I had thought you would inherit more from me.” She leaned forward, looking into his eyes. “I can see the person you will become. I don’t see him in there.”

      Ian looked at Frank, sleeping in his cage. “I told you once Frank you were the only family I had. Living with the Ambassador was  . . .” he stopped, unable to find adequate words. “In the few hours a week I was by himself, I luxuriated in the quiet.” He turned his gaze to the ceiling. There he saw Cain’s ship, in relation to his own, along with the galaxy and stars that surrounded them.

      “But as bad as it was being trapped with the Ambassador, it was worse still being trapped in that room with you.”

      With one last glance at his mom, he unfroze the image.

      She disappeared.

      After that last night with Ian she would never been seen again.