could help myself I’d posted a reply on GOB’s behalf: “Errol, I’d love a Danish, Barney’s Boy’s Boy.”
I spent the next ten days going out of my mind waiting for a response, when all of a sudden there it was in timeless black and white. “BBB, Do you like Chicago? Take a flight if you want to know more. Warmest Regards, Errol.”
Chicago? That was at least two thousand miles away, maybe more. I was devastated. What sort of person travels two thousand miles in the hope of making a new friend?
No one’s that lonely.
No one.
I can still remember the gorgeous woman I sat beside on the Chicago-bound flight; she must’ve been a film actress, although despite my repeated questioning she never actually came out and admitted to it. She was beautiful, though, easily the most stunning woman I had ever set eyes upon, and as I sat there telling her my life story, I knew that my luck had changed. Being in the presence of a creature this compelling was like a message from the Great Above; she was an angel guiding me along my path, and to this day I sincerely regret taking down her phone number wrong. The one she gave me turned out to be a fish factory on the outskirts of the city, and I guess in all the excitement I didn’t hear her right.
So there I was, all of four years ago, setting foot in the Windy City for the first time, not knowing where my life was going but knowing instinctively that something good was about to happen.
There was a message waiting in the personal ads as soon as I touched down: “GOB, The Club awaits you. Bring plenty beer money. As Ever, Errol F.”
I quickly posted another ad, just something like “I’m here, now what?” The reply I got threw me because this was from none other than Tony Curtis: “Gobby, Let’s meet, let’s eat. Tony Curtis.” I hadn’t been expecting someone else to be involved—let alone another movie star—and then remembered that there was mention of some club and couldn’t imagine what sort of club would let me—in the guise of a world-famous serial killer—join up. Then it dawned on me—this was some sort of police operation; they were trying to entice Grandson out into the open with promises of pastries and Hollywood celebrities, just waiting to pounce the moment he showed. I felt pretty pissed off, I can tell you. Two thousand miles for this?
But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed pretty crazy to lure Grandson all the way to Chicago, where, according to his news clippings, he hadn’t actually killed anyone and would therefore possibly be outside the Chicago Police Department’s jurisdiction. So maybe that wasn’t it after all.
I still couldn’t figure it, though. Why invite a killer to a club? I’d heard about women writing to, and then eventually marrying, serial killers while they sit out their days on death row, and I wondered if maybe some sort of fan club had sprung up to honor Grandson-of-Barney. Now wouldn’t that be something? I admit the idea excited me, and I kind of got carried away with it, thinking it might be fun to pose as this killer and maybe even find a future wife into the bargain. When you spend a lot of time on your own, you tend to find yourself grabbing at things without really thinking them through. And I guess I was up there grabbing with the best of them.
I posted another ad, Tony replied, and a coded small ads dialogue started up over the next month or so. I was still wary, though, trying to ask as many veiled questions as I could, and eventually discovered that there were not two but eighteen members of the Club, both male and female, which boosted me no end, and that they were very, very keen to meet me.
While this was happening, I managed to find myself some work at the city zoo of all places, cleaning out the cages and generally making the life of the imprisoned jungle cat that little bit more comfortable. This turned out to be the job I was born to do and would find hard to replace should I ever get fired—or mauled.
I also rented a small furnished apartment—a place where the landlord had taken it upon himself to bolt every piece of furniture to the floor—and started to settle into the Chicago way of life, which is