CHAPTER 20
The man cracked his window slightly as he took a measured drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke slowly curl out of the corner of his mouth, rising to escape to the outside air. Since watching the drama unfold at the discovery of Kenny’s body, the man had then driven across town, settling into the parking lot of a Food Lion grocery store. He had pulled a stained ballcap out of the duffel bag in the back seat that he had brought from Oregon, and slipped his shades on over his eyes, in the event a snooping passerby were to look into his car.
Taking another drag, he took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, and returned his attention to the building across the street. The building was new, three stories tall, and built with white concrete and with large, paneled glass windows that reflected the emerging sunlight as the clouds began to recede for the day. His focus was on the employee parking lot, which was off to the left of the main lot, separated by a strip of manicured grass and three flowering dogwoods, North Carolina’s state tree.
Reaching forward, he fingered the radio knob, turning to the local news in the hopes of learning more about the events of the past two days. As he was turning the volume up, a car slowed and pulled into the employee lot, it’s top down and music blaring from its speakers. The car was a late model electric blue Ford Mustang, and the driver was a woman who was wearing large sunglasses and whose deep red long, curly hair was wildly spilling over her shoulders.
Taking another drag of his cigarette, the man focused intently on the car as it pulled into a reserved spot with a sign marking the owner. The woman turned off her car, fumbled around for a minute or so gathering her things, then stepped out, her long legs sheathed in tight black skinny pants, and ending in three-inch stilettos. Wobbling slightly as she straightened and slung her Hermes handbag over her shoulder with one hand while thumbing a message on her phone with the other, she kneed the door closed. Striding quickly and confidently, she crossed the parking lot towards the main doors made of solid glass with brass handles.
As she swung the doors open, the man was able to see a pretty receptionist sitting at a polished steel desk in the entryway. As the woman entered, the receptionist saw her and smiled and said something. The woman brushed by her desk, ignoring her as she went farther into the building. Slowly, the door closed, blocking off the man’s view of the interior.
You may be able to ignore that nice young lady and get away with it, the man thought to himself, but soon, you won’t be able to ignore me. Soon, you’ll know what it’s like to be ignored, to be abused. Sins that must not go unpunished.
The man stubbed his cigarette out angrily, rolled down his window, and tossed it out onto the pavement. Now, I have preparations to make, he thought, as hestarted his car and pulled out of his spot. But I will be back. And soon, you will understand.
CHAPTER 21
Twenty minutes later, we arrived back at the Wolf’s Den. I could still see the crime scene tape up at the alley entrance that led behind the strip mall. One police car was left, with an officer manning the post. Two media vans were parked outside the tape, one of which had the WOLF media logo on its side. Two sets of reporting teams were fanned out along the yellow tape, and after squinting for a minute, I determined that Angie wasn’t there covering the murder.
Boy, is she gonna be pissed, I thought, smiling to myself, recognizing the WOLF reporter as Brianna Carlisle, a young, blonde up and coming reporter who was nipping at Angie’s heels.
“What are you smiling at?” Medora had been watching me as I slowed down as we passed the scene.
Not realizing that I had actually been smiling on the outside too, I quickly hid my perverse pleasure and looked away. “Nothing.” I said. “Somebody’s just not gonna be happy.”
Medora looked at me quizzically, but when I didn’t elaborate, she turned her attention to the Wolf’s Den. “Beer signs are still dark. Doesn’t look like they’ve opened yet.” She glanced at her cell phone. “Five ‘til.”
“Perfect,” I said as I pulled in next to a worn Ford truck and sporty green Mazda with silver racing stripes. “Hopefully the bartender who worked last night is here.”
We got out and approached the front door. Pulling at the latch, I was slightly surprised when it creaked open, the hinges protesting the early work. Entering the dimly lit interior, I startled a young woman who was in the process of pulling the chains to turn on the Open signs.
“I’m sorry,” I said, as I held the door for Medora and reached for my badge. “Didn’t mean to scare you. My name’s Harper Jones and this is Medora Dunning. We’re detectives with the WHPD.”
The woman turned and smiled ruefully. “That’s ok. I’m a little jumpy after what happened to Kenny last night.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I’m guessing that’s why you’re here?” She asked as she nervously pushed a strand of her dark blonde hair back over her ear.
I nodded as Medora came in and closed the door. “Yes, as well as Alison Newton.” When she tilted her head with a questioning look, a lock of crimson highlighted hair fell over her brow. Pushing it back impatiently, she asked, “Who’s that?”
I looked at her with a faint look of surprise. “Alison Newton?” I asked. “About six months ago? The young woman who was also killed in your back alley?”
“What!” She exclaimed. “I just started here four months ago, but no one ever told me about this Alison!” She turned slightly and put a hand to her mouth. “Jesus Christ! When I took the job, I was already a little skeptical because of the…” she paused slightly, “clientele.” She finished. “If I had known that….” She trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.
Little Frankie didn’t want to scare away his pretty bartender, I thought to myself, casting my eyes around the room. I bet she makes him a lot of money.
The bartender turned and went behind the bar, flipping lights on as she went. She was dressed in a tattered black t-shirt advertising some metal band I didn’t recognize, with a long tear down the middle of her chest, advertising her ample, braless cleavage. An armed forces logo that I didn’t recognize was visible on her upper arm. Yep, I thought again, a lot of money.
She grabbed a wet towel and began to wipe down the bar as Medora and I took a seat on two creaky stools with cracked faux leather coverings. “So, what’s your name?” Medora asked, pulling out a pad.
“Karla.” She replied, distractedly. “Karla Bauer.” She continued to polish feverishly, then suddenly the sound of a door banging shut came from the back.
“Were you working…” Medora began, as Karla suddenly whipped around at the sound of the door.
“Victor! Is that you? C’mere!” She shouted towards the kitchen.
We could here some shuffling in the back, and then a large, bald head poked out of the kitchen door “Good morning to you too Karla, what’s up?” He asked brusquely. As his gaze went from Karla to us, he came all the way through the door, warily. Victor was a large, muscular, black man with hard eyes and a salt and pepper goatee. He was dressed in a camouflage shirt stretched spread tight over his hardened torso, army fatigues, and black combat boots. A white untied cook’s apron draped from his thick neck.
I pulled out my badge again as Victor began to puff himself up.
Karla looked at Victor looking at us, and then said “No, Victor, they’re fine. They’re cops, here about last night.” Then she glared at Victor. “And they also want to ask questions about an Alison….” She looked at me questioningly.
“Newton.” I replied helpfully.
“Newton! Someone who was apparently killed two months before I came here. In the back alley, same as Kenny! And no-one thought to tell me?” She paused and took a breath. “What the fuck, Victor?”
Victor took his eyes off of Medora and I and flicked them over to Karla. “I wanted to tell you Karla, but Mr. Manetti. He told all of us not to talk about it. Said it would be bad for business and all.”
“Bad for BUSINESS? How about bad for living? And now Kenny?” She yelled. Turning to me, she visibly attempted to calm herself. “So, who exactly was this Alison Newton?” She asked in a lower voice.
“She was a local.” I began. “Led a quiet life. Lived a short distance from here. Actually, she worked here part-time as a delivery driver.”
Karla’s brown eyes got large again as she processed this. “She worked here! Fuck, what the hell, Victor!” she yelled again as she spun to confront her large co-worker. But Victor, being the smart cookie that he was, had hastily retreated back to the kitchen when Karla had turned towards me.
Cursing under her breath, Karla returned her attention to Medora and I, with Medora trying to unsuccessfully hide a small grin at Karla’s use of colorful language. Catching my eye, I frowned, trying to convey the seriousness of the moment, and Medora quickly hid her grin.
Closing her eyes, Karla seemed to be thinking for a moment. Then she opened them slowly. “And how,” she asked softly, “was Alison killed?”
Looking at her frightened face, I briefly debated dodging the question, but that would only delay the inevitable. Karla could Google the answer on her phone in under five seconds. Besides, I thought, whatever loyalty she may have had to Little Frankie looked to be shot to hell now. We might be able to use her to gain some information we otherwise might not have had access to.
“Alison was stabbed also. Her body was found by the same dumpster that Kenny was.” I said quietly. “The scenes were virtually identical.”
Karla nodded silently to herself. She seemed to have calmed down after the initial shock and was now processing this new information.
“Were you working last night?” Medora ventured, looking over at me.
Karla shook herself out of her trance and looked at Medora. “Yeah, I was.” She replied. “I usually work nights. Victor bartends days. The only reason I’m here now is because of….” She swallowed, “…of what happened to Kenny. I can’t cook, so Victor moved to the kitchen today, and I guess Andy will work tonight, and maybe Liv…” Karla stopped, as if realizing that she was rambling.
“Did Kenny seem nervous or upset?” Medora continued. “Anyone pay particular attention to him, or cause him trouble last night, or recently?”
Karla cast her eyes upward, thinking. “Not that I can think of. We were pretty busy last night. Kenny usually just stays back in the kitchen, unless, like last night, if we don’t have someone working the dining room, he’ll bring plates out to the tables…” Karla’s voice suddenly trailed off, and I sat up sharply, glancing at Medora, who had caught the sign also.
“What?” I asked. “Do you remember something?”
Karla shifted and directed her eyes towards me. “There was one guy. Big, scruffy, kinda dirty. He was sitting down there.” She nodded towards the end of the bar by the kitchen entrance. “Kenny came out, brought his food to him. Burger, I remember, very rare. Kenny looked kinda nervous around the guy. We were watching the news about…wait a minute!” She suddenly shouted. “Newton! The one who was dug up on the news! That’s the same one that was killed back here?”
Karla turned and fired the rag into the sink below the bar and reached behind her on the counter for her keys and her phone. “Fuck this! I am NOT getting stabbed and then dug up and raped! I’m outta here! Victor!” She shouted. “You’re on your own today, I quit! Tell Little Frankie he has to find another cute bartender to keep in the dark!”
Karla stormed around the corner of the bar, picking up steam as she headed past us. Hastily, Medora and I got up to follow her out as Victor came bursting through the kitchen door. “Karla, c’mon!” he called to her. “Don’t leave me like this.”
“Sorry Victor, this is just too fucked up. Tell Frankie to get his fat ass in here and bartend. And tell him to wear a skirt, he’ll do better!”
“Karla!” Victor called again.
Karla ignored Victor and yanked the door open as an older man with long gray hair and wearing a Devil’s Jesters biker’s jacket stumbled through door, arm outstretched for the handle.
“Sorry Cal.” Karla snapped as she stepped past him. “Victor will get your Coors.”
I steadied poor Cal as he straightened, turned around to watch Karla leave, then looked at me.
I shrugged at Cal, then took off after Karla, with Medora following.
“Karla, wait!” I shouted running, as Karla reached the green Mazda and began working her keys.
She paused as I pulled up next to her with Medora right behind. “Please. The man. Can you tell us anything more about him?”
She looked at me, looked over my shoulder at the Wolf’s Den, then back at me, then took a deep breath, and sighed. “Not much. Like I said, it was pretty busy. Little older, maybe late thirties. Tall, big, but not fat. Big-boned I’d say. I caught him looking at me once, and he had this mean look, kinda smiling, but not in a good way, you know?” I nodded, and she continued. “Anyway, I stared hard back at him, and he looked away. I don’t take shit from anyone.”
I smiled slightly. “I can tell. You learn that in the army?” I asked, guessing as I nodded at her arm.
“Air Force, but yeah. I did eight years. When you’re a woman there, you have to learn how to deal with shit-mouthed grease monkeys and arrogant flyboys. I learned to give as good as I got.”
I nodded as I realized I was warming to Karla. My kind of girl. “Any idea why Kenny was afraid of him?” I asked.
Karla shook her head. “I’d never seen the guy before. He said something to Kenny when that...” she shuddered, “reporter was talking about the Newton grave thing. I said something about ‘who would do something like that’, and the guy looked at Kenny and asked him what he thought. Kenny turned white, muttered something, and went to the kitchen.” She looked at me. “It was just odd, like Kenny was afraid of him.” She stopped. “I guess he should’ve been.” She said quietly, drawing another deep breath.
“Anyway, the guy finished his burger, paid, and left. That’s it.”
I looked at Medora. She asked, “Kenny mention anything about it the rest of the night?”
Karla shook her head. “Nope. He mighta been a little shook up, but it’s so hard to tell. He’s so quiet and timid. He finished his shift, somewhere around midnight, popped up front to say goodbye, and left out the back. He does that sometimes, if we have a particularly rough crowd.” She brushed at her suddenly moist eyes. “Guess he should’ve chanced the crowd last night.”
I nodded, having the same thought. “Anything else you can think of?”
She shook her head again, and I said, “Okay, thanks for your help. Can we get your address and number, if we think of any more questions?” I looked at Medora, who was reaching for her pen and pad, and handed them to Karla.
Karla scribbled her information on the pad, then ripped the paper off, folded it, and handed it to me. “Yes, call me, I’ll help any way I can.” She said, looking me in the eye, her hand touching mine, possibly a tad too long. “Kenny was a nice boy. He didn’t deserve that.”
“No, he didn’t.” I replied somberly, pocketing the note. “Here’s my card, if you think of anything else.” I handed her my business card. “Say.” I suddenly asked. “Kenny’s mother said that he worked a double yesterday. Who worked with him during the day?”
Karla looked past me at the Wolf’s Den. “Victor did. He worked with Kenny yesterday.”
Great, I thought. He’s going to be in a splendid mood now.
Karla opened her car door and began to get in. Feeling I had to say something, I tried, “Karla.” She looked at me questioningly. “I’m sorry about…” I spread my hands helplessly, “your job.”
Karla smiled briefly. “That’s ok, Detective. Who knows, you may have saved my life.” She closed her door, rolled down her window, started her engine, and looked at me one last time. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
I watched her roar away in her souped-up Miata, then turned to see Medora looking at me, a knowing smile on her face.
“Oh, shut up.” I grumbled. “Let’s go see if Victor knows anything.”
“Oh, yeah.” Medora replied, falling in beside me. “He’ll be a great help. Right after we ruined his day.”
While we had been talking with Karla in the parking lot, the bar’s patronage had increased to six, all men, perched on barstools. Victor had discarded his white apron and was now finishing setting up the bar. Somebody had put Waylon Jennings on the jukebox, and the television was on, tuned in to the news.
When Victor saw us come in, he paused, shook his head slightly, and went back to pulling bottles from cabinets and putting them on the display shelves.
Medora and I went to the end of the bar where the man had sat, right below the television. Looking up, I saw a replay of Brianna Carlisle reporting this morning from the entrance to the back alley.
“Victor.” I called out. “Can we have a moment please?”
Victor paused, put down the bottles, checked the bar briefly, then came over, an unhappy look on his face.
“I know you’re just doing your job,” he began, “but today, you just made mine a helluva lot harder.”
“I know, and we’re sorry about that.” I replied. “But we’re trying to find Kenny’s killer, and possibly Alison’s too.”
Victor just sighed and said “I know, I liked the kid. Quiet, just did his job.”
Medora asked, “Karla said you worked during the day yesterday with him. Did he seem nervous or out of sorts?”
Victor rolled his massive shoulders, thinking for a minute. “Only thing I can think of is, right before we opened, Kenny came in after taking out some trash from the night before. He said there was some guy poking around the dumpster behind the salon. He said the guy glared at him, then walked away.” Victor paused. “We sometimes get vagrants and whatnot coming back there and dumpster diving, making a mess, you know?” I nodded. “So, I went back to take a look, maybe scare him off. Looked, but the guy was gone. Went back inside, got back to work. That was it.”
“Kenny tell you anything else about the guy?” Medora asked.
Victor shook his head. “Nope. Just that. Rest of the day went like normal.”
“Kenny ever mention anyone harassing him or giving him a hard time?” I tried.
“Not that I can think of. He didn’t say much. Lived with his mom, I think. Somewhere around here, cause he walked to work.”
Just then, the front door creaked open, briefly illuminating the dim bar, and a group of four men in construction attire walked in, talking amongst themselves. Victor saw this and turned to us. “Guys, I have to cut this short. We’re gonna get our lunch rush real soon. Mr. Manetti is on his way, but I’m on my own til he gets here.”
I looked at Medora, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing. That we probably did not want to be here when Manetti arrived, as I’m sure as hell he’ll blame us for Karla’s defection, and he’s going to be cranky because he’s been pulled away from his opulent little enclave.
I slid a business card across the bar. “Thank you, Victor. Please, call us if you think of anything else.”
Victor grabbed the card, sticking it in his back pocket. “No problem.” He said. “Bit of advice. You may want to get outta here before Mr. Manetti comes. He was yelling when I called him, told him Karla had quit after talking to you.”
“Our thoughts exactly.” I replied, pushing through construction workers, on the way to the door.
CHAPTER 22
Heading back to my car with Medora, I was feeling at somewhat of a loss. Turning to her, I leaned back, and closed my eyes.
“Great day so far.” I began to summarize. “We catch another murder, get to inform the grieving mother, piss off an ex or not-so-ex Mafia guy, and cause a nice young woman to make a career change. And it’s, “I looked at my watch, “not even noon yet.”
Medora grinned mischievously. “But you did get the nice young woman’s phone number.” She pointed out.
I colored slightly at that and changed the subject.
“So, we have a mean-looking guy coincidentally poking around the dumpster where Alison Newton was killed the day after she was dug up and violated. He’s seen, which bothers him.” I speculated. “So, he kills Kenny.”
Medora picked it up, “And he poses Kenny for what? To taunt us?”
I thought for a moment. “Or is he a serial killer with that signature? He killed Alison six months ago and propped her up. He revisited his crime scene, as killers sometimes do to relive their act, got caught, had to clean up his mess and kill Kenny, then saw the perfect opportunity to pose Kenny like Alison.”
Medora looked at me. “That could work.” She said. “What about the whole digging up Alison thing, then?”
I shook my head. “Not sure. And Anders being killed. How does that fit in?” I mused, then “Maybe Maya has something from Alison’s grave.” I snapped my fingers. “And the cigarette butt I found in the parking lot!”
Pulling out my phone, I began punching in numbers, then put it on speaker so Medora could here.
Maya picked up her phone after three rings. She didn’t have any earth-shattering news from the gravesite scene. No fingerprints, indicating that the perp almost certainly wore gloves. The footprints that were cast proved to be come from a work boot, approximately size 11 mens. Judging by the depth of the prints, the perp weighed somewhere north of two-thirty. The gelatinous substance on Alison’s forehead was determined to be a Vaseline knock-off, common enough to be purchased in any pharmacy or big box store. The rape kit came back negative for fluids. However, there was tearing around the vagina, which had not been present when she was autopsied six months ago, indicating that some sort of penetration had occurred. I asked her about the cigarette butt that I had gathered in the parking lot, but Wilmington hadn’t sent the results back yet.
“Anything you can tell me from the Brainwell scene from this morning?” I asked.
I could sense Maya shaking her head in frustration. “Nothing so far. Very clean scene. The only thing I can tell you with certainty, is that the knife used to kill Alison was not the same knife used to kill Kenny.”
“Based on…” I asked.
“Based on the wound patterns of the two victims. Kenny’s wound is ragged, indicating the likelihood of a serrated blade. Alison’s wound was a clean cut, most likely coming from a smooth blade. I’ll know for sure when I open him up and examine the cuts on his internal organs.”
“Okay thanks Maya. Anything else you can tell us?”
“Not right now.” She replied. “I’ll call you when I’ve finished looking at Kenny.”
“Sounds good, thanks again,” and I hung up.
I flipped my phone into the cup holder and blew my cheeks out in a frustrated breath.
“Two different knives.” I muttered. “Not conclusive, but certainly entertains the likelihood of two different killers. Which trashes the serial killer theory. Not that we’ve had any serial killers around here lately anyway.”
“You told me that someone looked up Alison’s grave site a few days ago.” Medora recalled. “And you saw someone leave in a car from the graveyard the morning after she was dug up.”
I nodded. “And perps sometimes revisit their crime scenes.”
“Do you remember anything about the driver, or the car?” Medora asked.
I shook my head. “Just a tan sedan, and it was too far away, leaving the lot. My gut just went off when I saw it. Went back inside, that’s when I found the search log showing someone looking up Alison.”
“So someone who wanted to visit her grave, but didn’t know where it was.” She said. “No relatives that you found, no friends.”
“Assuming it was the perp that was looking her up. If he was local, and he was the one who killed her, then if he likes to revisit scenes, he presumably would have known where her grave was. Not needing the grave searching thing.”
“But if that’s the case, then something triggered his violent reaction to dig her up and rape her.” Medora suggested. “What’s the trigger?”
Ignoring Medora’s question, I continued on my train of thought. “And if he wasn’t local, and wanted to find the grave, but not deal with Frannie, he would have done exactly as he did. But then what was his connection with her?”
“And my same question.” Medora asked. “Something had to trigger him to suddenly come here then and look her up and then attack her. What?”
I shook my head. “He was looking through obituaries? But what, across the United States? No. Something doesn’t fit. We need more information.” I started the car.
Medora was silent, then “as long as more information doesn’t come in the form of another murder.”
I looked over at her and nodded in agreement. “Let’s get some lunch, clear our heads.” I put the car in gear. “After that, let’s see if there’s any records of serial killer on the loose that stage their victims by dumpsters. Then, see if there’s any connection between Kenny and Alison. Dig into Franco Manetti, since they both worked at Wolf’s Den. There’s gotta be something to find.”
Medora gazed out the window pensively. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Something.”
199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRaI35q8zLV
CHAPTER 23
Two hours later, with the sun blazing down now in an uncommonly hot day for October, the man was laboring under the cooling canopy of trees in the North Carolina forest.
When he had gotten here five days ago, he had searched the town outskirts, looking for ways up into the foothills, then the mountains. After hours of looking, he had come upon an old logging road that had been chained off to the public. After going down to a hardware store in Wolf’s Hollow, he had gone back, cut the lock, then repositioned the chain as it was. Proceeding up the beaten path in his car, he had passed a large overgrown clearing that had rusting carcasses of old logging equipment scattered about. Continuing up the trail, after a mile or so, he came upon another overgrown clearing, also with some rusting equipment, but this one also had a small shack. Parking, he had examined the shack, possibly for the logging foreman, and had discovered that it was approximately twenty feet square, with an old, rotted desk and rusted filing cabinet. In the filing cabinet were some faded green files containing old yellowed and crumbling papers. Near as he could determine, the most recent papers he found were dated ten years ago. Suits me fine, no one coming back anytime soon, he thought. This should do perfectly.
Now, back from a trip to a few different stores, the man was in the process of taking apart two large dog cages, and with chains and fasteners, was re-building them into one large cage. Scattered on the ground around him were an air mattress, stakes, handcuffs, and more chains. On the front hood of his car, he had spread out an assortment of canned goods, bottled water, two dog bowls, and a single jar of Vaseline.
The man paused from his work for a moment, and wiped sweat off his brow. Looking around at his assorted purchases, he closed his eyes briefly, and thought back.
The room was dark and dank, and smelled of mildew and urine. The only sound he could hear was the whimpering coming from his own throat. His eyes could barely make out the metal mesh that made up his small prison. Shifting slightly, his foot knocked a tin bowl in the corner, sloshing rivulets of dirty water onto his metal floor. Shivering slightly, he wrapped his arms around his legs, the light tee shirt and underwear offering scant protection against the pervasive chill in the air. Staring ahead at the thin line of light by the floor, he fearfully waited for the shadow that he knew would come.
Some time later, when he had just nodded off into a troubled sleep, the sound of a lock being undone awoke him. Suddenly, the door swung wide, and he raised his hands and squinted his eyes to ward off the blinding light. A shape came through the door, then squatted and fumbled with a key in the front of his cage. Trembling, he turned away as the cage door swung open, and a hand reached in, grabbing his shoulder and dragging him out.
‘Come on,’ a voice rasped by cigarettes growled, ‘it’s time for lessons.’
He struggled against the grip, but to avail. He was simply too weak. Shaking his head, he muttered, ‘no, no, please, no’, but his cries, as always, fell on deaf ears. Stumbling down a short hallway, he was thrown into a small room. In the room was an old bed with a corroded metal frame. On the frame was a lumpy mattress covered by a threadbare sheet. Each of the four corners of the bed had attached short metal chains that ended in handcuffs. Turning, he saw on a scratched table by the bed an assortment of canned foods. Propped against the table was a short broomstick, with dark stains on one end. On the floor, a jar of Vaseline.
The man suddenly started, and shook himself from his disturbing memories as anger began to well up inside him. Soon, he thought to himself grimly, soon, it will be time for lessons.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
