Serial Killers: Confessions of a Cannibal Read Free

house, but I’ll sent my daughter to fetch him.” Then, as Howard shuffled into the apartment at an awkward gait, she called out to 5-year-old Beatrice and told her to fetch her brother from his friend Willie Korman’s apartment.
     
    Howard’s eyes lit up when he saw the little girl. “Why you remind me of my own granddaughter,” he said, ruffling the child’s hair. Then he fished around in his pocket and came up with a nickel, which he placed in Beatrice’s palm. After muttering a shy “thank you,” Beatrice went dashing from the apartment to fetch her brother.
     
    By the time Edward arrived minutes later, with Willie Korman in tow, Frank Howard was seated in an armchair sipping from a glass of lemonade. He ran an appraising eye over the boys and half-raised himself to shake hands as the introductions were made, wincing with the effort. Then he settled himself back into the chair and began to describe his situation.
     
    According to Howard, he’d spent most of his working life as a painter and decorator in Washington D.C. He had been decorous with his earnings, so that when he was no longer able to keep up with the physical demands of his trade, he had enough squirreled away to buy a small farm in Farmingdale, Long Island. His investment though, had come at a price. His wife had hated country life and had deserted the family, leaving him to care for his six children alone. Still, it was a good life. He had chickens and milk cows that provided him with a steady income, allowing him to employ a cook and five farmhands. Now came the crux of his problem. One of his workers had decided to move on, and Howard was looking for someone to replace him.
     
    “I won’t lie to you,” the old man said. “The work is hard. But you look like a strapping young man and I am sure that you will do just fine. I am prepared to pay $15 per week. What do you say?”
     
    “I say yes,” Edward responded immediately. This sounded too good to be true. $15 a week was more than generous. “I was wondering though Mr. Howard, if you wouldn’t have another position available. My pal Willie here is also looking for a summer job.”
     
    Howard appeared to consider that for a moment, all the while eyeing Willie. “Alright,” he said eventually. “There’s plenty of work to keep the both of you out of mischief.”
     
    A few minutes later Howard was on his way, having instructed the boys to pack their oldest clothes and to expect him on Saturday afternoon, when he’d arrive with a car to drive them to Farmingdale.

Chapter Four:
Gracie
     
    Frank Howard didn’t show up on the Saturday, like he was supposed to. Edward and Willie spent the day hanging impatiently around the Budds’ apartment, becoming more convinced with each passing hour that the old man had duped them. To what purpose though, was a mystery. Then, late in the afternoon, there was finally a knock at the door.
     
    The boys rushed to answer it, fully expecting to see their new employer on the doorstep. To their disappointment, it was only a Western Union delivery boy. The note he handed over, was from Frank Howard. “Been in New Jersey,” it read. “Call in morning.”
     
    Eddie and Willie were disappointed at the delay, but pleased that their initial suspicion, that the job offer had been some sort of hoax, had been unfounded. So they’d have to wait another day. It wasn’t the end of the world. They’d waited this long.
     
    Over in his apartment on East 100 th Street, the man who called himself Frank Howard was also frustrated at the delay. He’d had to push back his plans by a day in order to complete his preparations. There were tools to be bought and he found them at Sobel’s pawnshop on Second Avenue. There was also the question to be mulled. Could he go through with this? Edward Budd had not been what he’d expected. He was bigger and stronger. And now there was the added problem of the Korman boy. Could he handle both of them? Howard thought that