In The Matter of Ray Foster

He hung the newest corpse up beside another one he'd kept around for a couple months. After taking a moment to admire his handiwork, he turned back to the old, beaten up table he used to store thing on. As was his custom, he emptied the old woman's purse onto the table. Her name had be Edith Craig. She'd been fifty eight years old and had been living in Ventura, California. He always kept the pictures he found on his victims and the recently widowed Ms. Craig had left him several pictures of herself with young children who must have been her grandchildren.
He'd found her checkbook and credit cards, but little hard cash on the woman. Not that it mattered to him. Hell, he wasn't in this for the money. There were more important things in life than money. Hunting was one of those things. And this hunt had yielded him a lonely old woman.
This was life for Ray Foster. He guessed he must have made thirty or more kills by now. He'd collected photos from all his victims. Now there were enough photos to cover one living room wall. There were photos of men, women and children. Ray Foster made no distinctions about whom he hunted. Indeed, he hunted people from all races, nationalities and sexual preferences. Every hunt posed a different challenge.
Ray smiled and took a swig of black coffee from his thermos. A cigarette always accompanied his morning coffee. In a while, he'd go back into town and see who his next hunt would be. Ray Foster leaned back in his chair, oblivious to the stench of the fresh corpse in the next room.
Ray Foster was the ultimate hunter. He'd known that for years. But now, he'd found the ultimate prey. He chuckled when he thought of those wimps who'd said they were big game hunters. If only they knew.
After chugging down the last of his coffee and smashing his cigarette out on his table, Ray had to get busy again. The old woman's car was still on his lot and he'd need to dispose of it before anyone came looking for it. That wouldn't be a problem, since he knew some guys who ran a chop shop in town. They'd appreciate his business.
Yes, life was good for Ray Foster. He wondered if it could get any better.