The paper later recounted that the Napa Police Department received a phone call shortly after the stabbings, and a man claimed responsibility in a hoarse but proud voice; the killer had also left a note on the door of Bryan’s car, along with the Zodiac Killer’s symbol.
Vallejo
12-20-1968
7-4-1969
Sept 27-67-6:30
By knife
The police found size-ten-and-a-half Wing Walker Military boot prints around the car but no other clues.
“Now, where do we start?” asked Watson as he looked upon Holmes’s puzzled face.
“Well, if this killer runs true to form, there should be a letter coming soon. That’s where we’ll most likely find the clues. I will be sure to check in the morning, my friend. I am sure you are tired and need to get your rest,” Holmes told Watson.
“Yes, I am a little tired. I wanted to help you, though.”
“Well, we’ve been over what we have. Nothing more to do now. Thank you for being here with me, old chap.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Watson went to bed and left Sherlock to ponder what he had read. This would be a big challenge. He knew there would be more murders before he could catch the killer, and it tortured him that the murders were happening as a direct result of his own failure to take Jack the Ripper to the authorities so many decades ago. He had been trying to protect his friends, and his loyalty to them had resulted in so many innocent lives lost. Holmes was filled with urgency to find the Zodiac and stop the monster’s spree before he got any more blood by association on his hands.
Chapter 9
Unknown Victim
September 1969
Mary Ann’s face flushed red with anger. How dare my boyfriend flirt with that girl in the restaurant during our date tonight! Just seeing him make the tramp giggle had made Mary Ann want to throw plates across the room. She and John had been going together for almost a year. She had given up her virginity to him—something she had always meant to save for her husband. She had even thought John might propose eventually; everyone thought they were serious, herself included. And now he had the audacity to flirt with a girl right in front of her. She had stormed from the restaurant and gone home without him, filled with fury. Maybe I’m making too much of it, Mary Ann thought now that a few hours had passed. Maybe that girl was coming on to him, and he was just being polite. I need to think about what I want to do before I start yelling at him.
Nothing cleared Mary Ann’s head like a late-night drive, and soon she had slipped behind the wheel of her car and driven to a winding back road where she was sure there wouldn’t be much traffic. The road curved over near the lake, and she decided to pull into a grassy area on the shoulder and clear her head. After a few minutes of listening to the crickets chirp and the lap of the water on the lakeshore, she walked down to the shore itself. It was so peaceful. She sat down and stared out over the water. If only life could be this peaceful, she thought. John was a good man, but she was having second thoughts now about spending her life with him; she had been having those thoughts even before she saw him with the other girl. Mary Ann felt so young, too young to be tied down.
Mary Ann didn’t notice the man who was sharing her view over the lake. He had noticed her, though. She was pretty in a girl-next-door way, and he felt a familiar urge stirring. He stood and thought about what he wanted to do. He had not come there to hurt anyone and had planned on just enjoying the stillness of nature.
He always carried clothesline in his pocket in case he needed it. He fingered it as he looked at the girl, and as soon as his fingers stroked the cool, thin line, her fate was sealed. He started walking toward her. She heard him and turned to look, wiping the tears that had been gathering in her eyes.
“Hello,” she said. She was too distracted by her current woes to feel any panic, and she thought he looked like a normal guy.
“Hello. You look a little sad,” the man said.
“I have a lot on my mind,” Mary Ann answered.
“Well, maybe I can help to distract you,” the man said, his voice lowering almost to a growl. “I can promise you that nothing you’re thinking about is as bad as it’s about to get.”
As she tried to process his words, he swiftly grabbed her hands and tied them with the clothesline.
Shock spread over her face. “What are you doing?”
“You just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.”
“But what do you want?” she cried as her mouth quivered and tears streamed freely down her face.
“I have problems of my own, but unlike you, I don’t need to think about what to do to make myself feel better. I figured that out long ago.”
He’s going to rape me, Mary Ann thought with horror. I should never have come out here alone.
The Zodiac had no interest in taking a woman by force, though Mary Ann couldn’t have known that. He wanted to take more than his victims’ innocence and dignity; he wanted their lives, the ultimate prize.
“Lie down,” he barked. “Flat on the ground.”
Mary Ann complied. If I do exactly what he says, she told herself, maybe he’ll do what he wants and go away. Then I can go to the car and get help.
Her hopes of surviving the night were crushed when she saw him pull a sharp knife from his sleeve and raise it high above his head. Its wicked, pristine metal glinted in the moonlight. He plunged it into Mary Ann’s chest not once, but twice. She made a little gasping sound, and her eyes grew round with pain.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because I can,” he said as he plunged the knife a third time into her chest. The blood spurted, but he twisted his body away from the gore. He knew that last wound had killed her. Now her troubles were over. He thought he might have even done a good deed; he felt better, at any rate.
He got up and returned to his car, which was parked in the tree line. Soon enough, someone would find her. He didn’t feel the need to call the police this time; the girl’s murder probably wouldn’t even be blamed on him. He didn’t care. He had killed many others without recognition and would likely kill in a similar fashion in the future. He controlled what the police thought and wanted to lay a careful trail for Sherlock Holmes—a killing that seemed to fall outside of what the authorities saw as his signature might muddy the waters too much.
The Zodiac started the car and left the peaceful lake behind. He felt much better, but he still had a lot to do to get to Holmes. He was the master of this game, not the bird-dog detective. He could do anything he wanted to do. He could murder without compunction or fear of retribution.
He remembered the murders in London long ago. At the time, he had seen those killings as a work of art. Now he realized they were just the start of his career. It wasn’t enough to kill prostitutes, who few cared about or would miss. Those women were hard, jaded, and the look in their eyes as they died told him they almost expected their fate. As the Zodiac Killer, he got the satisfaction of seeing bright young men and women lose their futures before his eyes. They didn’t understand who could do such a thing to them; they hadn’t yet realized the world was a cruel, brutal place where monsters walked.
And if Holmes does not catch me this time, I may even evolve again, the Zodiac mused. Who knows what transformation awaits me?
As the Zodiac drove off, Mary Ann lay lifeless in the woods; John would be frantic looking for her, and he would regret his moment of indiscretion in the restaurant for the rest of his life.
Chapter 10
High School
Holmes knew there were not many suspects in the Zodiac case, and it didn’t really matter. He knew who the killer truly was, no matter what alias he now went by. Holmes was sure the monster looked a little different now, but the man couldn’t change those pitch-black eyes. The police really didn’t have a clue who they were looking for. Holmes knew they would not believe him anyway—there was no place for a potion of youth and a serial killer who had survived
for generations in today’s science-based world. It was all going to be left to Holmes. Maybe the police could help Holmes track the Zodiac down, and maybe not.
He and Watson were eating breakfast. They were having scrambled eggs with cheese, thick slices of bacon, homemade sourdough toast, and jam. They also had their steaming cups of black coffee. Holmes had to say one thing for this future he found himself in—the variety of food was astounding and delicious.
“What’s the plan, my friend?” asked Watson.
“I don’t know where to start. The attacks are spread out over lengths of time. It is hard to piece them together,” Holmes said. “But I feel the Zodiac is preparing to go on a spree, to reveal the true barbarity of his nature. Maybe it’s because he thinks he has my attention, but I believe he wants to put on a show.”
“Yes, I think you are the driving force behind his actions now,” answered Watson. “After all, you cut short his morbid career in London, and he does not seem like one to let go of a grudge.”
“I think I will start with the first girl’s murder and investigate any witnesses to seek out clues that have been overlooked. The Zodiac may even be living in the same area,” Holmes commented. “Often killers start out close to home.” As the years passed, Holmes had availed himself of every study and book he could find on the criminal mind and criminal profiling, a technique started by his old friend the Count of Monte Cristo, and now he was an expert himself.
“When do you plan to start going to the crime scenes?” Watson inquired.
“Today, if you feel up to it. I’d like you to come along; we do work better together than separately.”
“Yes, I feel fine. Having something to investigate again makes me come alive, and your oil is making me stronger every day. Dare I say I even look a bit younger?”
“I am glad you decided to take the astralagus. I just wish you had made that decision sooner,” Holmes told him. “In time, though, you will still appear to be quite an old man, but you should be in the fittest of health. Just don’t draw any attention to yourself by being too spry!”
Holmes gave his chauffeur the day off and had the Rolls warmed up as they got ready. Then the pair headed off to the community college Cheri Jo had been attending at the time of her murder. They hoped to find some of her friends, if any were still around three years later, and visit the library.
The dean of the college, Lucy Mayberry, was very nice. “I will be most glad to help you, Dr. Greystone,” she said when Holmes explained he was helping the police with the case. “Most students spend about two years here before they move on, but Cheri Jo’s best friend, Marsha Townsend, still attends. She had to take a leave after the tragedy and only came back recently. Let me send someone to fetch her from class.”
Within a few moments, a pretty, blond girl appeared in the office doorway.
“Hello, Marsha,” Dean Mayberry said warmly. “These men are investigating Cheri Jo’s murder, and they want to ask you some questions. I know it will be hard to bring up those memories again, so if you need to take a break, I’m sure Dr. Greystone and his friend will be most accommodating. I’ll leave you alone in my office.”
Dean Mayberry let herself out and shut the door. Holmes and Watson arranged the chairs so that they could all face each other.
“I don’t think I could tell you anything I didn’t tell the police three years ago,” said Marsha. “And it’s been a long time since that day when Cheri Jo died.” She choked on the last word, still obviously upset by the loss of her best friend.
“We’ve opened the case back up, and we realize you’ve been asked some of these questions before,” Holmes said. “We also know it must be very hard to talk about these things, but perhaps we’ll learn something new that will help find your friend’s killer. No detail is too small to share, I promise you.”
“I will tell you what I know, but like I said, it’s not much. I wish it could be more, but it’s not,” Marsha answered.
“Did you see Cheri Jo on the day of her murder?”
“Yes. We were at the library together. We went over together in her car, but my parents were going to pick me up so we could all go to dinner. Cheri Jo left me waiting for them at the library. I stayed inside to study some more. When my parents picked me up, I noticed that Cheri Jo’s car was still in the parking lot, but I didn’t think anything about it. She could have met a friend or even just decided to walk somewhere nearby and eat on her own.”
“Was there anyone around the car?” Watson asked. “Even someone passing through the parking lot?”
“No, sir. I didn’t notice anyone.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?” Holmes asked.
“Yes, she did, but they were fighting a lot over little things, and she was trying to decide on whether to break up with him or not.”
“Did the police check him out that you know of?” Holmes knew they had, but he wanted to get Marsha’s take on it.
“Yes, they did. He was with his parents at the time of her disappearance. He would never have hurt Cheri Jo, though, not in a million years. They had been friends since they were young, and their parents knew each other too,” Marsha said. “Even if he and Cheri Jo weren’t in love like they used to be, they still loved each other as friends.”
Holmes looked back at his notes and saw this was right. “Did Cheri Jo ever feel like she was being watched?” he asked. “Did she ever mention anyone who made her uncomfortable?”
“No,” answered Marsha. “I mean, all of us girls turned down dates at one time or another or brushed guys off, but there wasn’t a time I remember where Cheri Jo felt like one of them was creepy or crossed a line.”
“Can you think of anyone else we may want to talk to about this?” Watson asked.
“Maybe Mrs. Johnson, the librarian, could tell you something. I’m not sure. I know the police talked to her too.”
“Well, thank you, Marsha.”
“You’re welcome, and I hope you find the monster who did this. I’m trying to get my life back on track, but it’s hard sometimes, knowing Cheri Jo doesn’t have the same possibility.”
They parted ways, and Holmes and Watson strolled over to the library. It was hard for them to imagine that murder could ever tear apart the peaceful green campus where so many students were hopeful about their futures.
“Mrs. Johnson, we were told you were working here the day of the murder,” Holmes said to the elderly woman at the counter in the library.
“Yes, sir, I was, but I am afraid I can’t be of any help to you. I remember Cheri Jo being here with her friend Marsha because they were such bubbly, pleasant girls. And I do remember seeing her talking to a man down by her car. I didn’t even notice what he looked like, though. I assumed he was a friend or a boyfriend. It’s not usual for students to stand and chat in the parking lot since they have to be quiet in here. I could slap myself for not paying better attention.”
“Is there anything else you can remember?”
“I do recall the police finding a note in here a day or two after, so the killer had to have been here. I had to have seen him. That eats me up too,” she said with tears in her eyes.
“You couldn’t possibly have prevented the murder.” Holmes tried to comfort her. “These killers—they look like you and me. I’m sure you see so many people wander in and out of the library that you can’t possibly remember them all. Can you point us to where Cheri Jo’s car was parked?”
She did, and they bade her farewell and walked outside. The car had been parked at the bottom of a hill a short distance from the building. They walked around the space, each lost in his own thoughts.
After a moment of silence, Watson pointed to the trees and said, “Someone could easily have been hiding there, waiting for a victim.”
The two men then walked to the alley where Cheri Jo’s body had been found—it was only about a hundred feet from the car.
“This had to have been a calculated murder,” said Holmes, “not one of passion or c
ircumstance. He must have seen Cheri Jo go into the library, or else he wouldn’t have known which car to disable. Then he waited for her and somehow got her to trust him; otherwise there would have been screams or signs of a struggle. Perhaps she knew him or had seen him around campus. It would have taken only seconds for him to drag her body into the alley and flee. If only someone had walked by!”
Watson and Holmes had nothing new to add to their notes on the Cheri Jo case, but at least they had been to the scene and had a strong visualization of what had happened. They were backtracking, trying not only to understand the mechanics of each murder but also to get into the killer’s head.
The next attack they would investigate would be that of David Arthur Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen. It was late in the day, so they planned to start bright and early the next morning.
Zodiac Killer: Newly Discovered Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Page 4