“Have you seen the sketch drawing of the man in question on the news?”
“I work a lot of hours, ya know, then I sleep, and what little personal time I have, I spend with my dog down at the beach. So, no, I did not watch the news, nor has anyone mentioned it to me. Sorry. I haven’t been of great help. I hope you find this sick creep.”
“Well, thank you. Please take my card and call the police station if you, or anyone here, remember something else.”
Chapter 29
The rain died off, allowing for a brush of sunstrokes to streak the gray sky; it looked like a piece of art created by one of the masters. Derelict’s tail wagged at high speed as his paws hit the sidewalk on my usual route. We made a left turn at the corner and entered a nearby park. He happily lifted his hind leg, peed on a fire hydrant and then the swing set pole. I was glad it was early morning because there weren’t any kids outside playing while he did his duty. “Well, today boy, I’m going out to a sanctuary, a place called The Grotto. So, I expect you to guard the house until I get home.”
* * * *
The tour bus parked in front of a brick wall where an elevator was built into it. I walked over to the painted sign, which read: Up for Grotto. I entered. The door closed and the small elevator zoomed upward.
The door opened to a lush green paradise. I stood still, gazing over the grounds, in awe of its beauty.
A spiritual garden lay before me. It was adorned with shrubbery, flowers, and trees. Many large statues interwove throughout the grounds that created a haven of peace. The Stations of the Cross was done in bronze; it represented the walk and falls of Christ as he carried the cross up the hill on his long road to death. Just beyond that, a statue of St. Christopher depicted him holding a child. It was crafted in marble with several statues of animals surrounding his feet. Angel statues were placed everywhere with cement benches for visitors to sit near pools of water. Immediately, I felt captivated by its peaceful grace, and sat on a bench to mediate.
With my eyes closed, I yearned for the ability to believe in oneself, and goodness in mankind. The air beckoned softly, as light breeze blew over my skin in preparation for what was to come. I clasped my hands together and prayed.
Afterwards, I phoned Kari. Several rings and no answer so I left a message: “Kari, I miss you so much. The Grotto was amazing. I hope you are able to stay at my house tonight.”
On my drove home, I noticed how tired I was, so very relaxed. When I arrived, all I wanted to do was go to bed. Sleep came quickly for me.
A loud knock on my door and I was awake, and startled by the length of time I had slept. Kari stood outside my front door. In her hands were flowers and Chinese takeout. I reached to hug her, and my lips devoured hers. But my body crushed the boxes of food which leaked Chinese sauce all over my shirt.
“You really did miss me. Wow, I like that kind of welcome.” She smiled and walked into the kitchen to set the smashed boxes on the counter.
I approached her from behind and wrapped my arms around her waist, the food now forgotten. I unsnapped her pants, and slid my hand into them, feeling her moisture—my erection pronounced itself. She took advantage of that and pushed her backside onto it. Pants dangled at her ankles, when I bent her over the counter, caressing her buttocks while she teasingly swayed from side to side.
Our excitement mounted fast. Like a mad animal, I penetrated her with such force that my actions surprised even me. Her cries of pain and pleasure enticed me more, so I forced myself deeper inside her. Moaning in pleasure, I pulled out of her, and teased her body to beg for more. Heightening my arousal, at the sound of her rapid pants, this time I penetrated her with ease.
Kari slid away and faced me; we embraced each other and slid onto the floor in unity. I was nearly out my mind with ecstasy.
Sweaty, slippery, sensual skin, the aroma of our sexual freedom exploded. Kari arched her back, craved my deep pleasures. She squeezed my butt, dug her nails into the skin. I thrust faster into a strong rhythmic motion that enhanced our arousal, and finally brought us to climax.
I saw the euphoria in her eyes—with a heavy breath, I whispered, “That was beyond amazing.”
“My body is tingling. Steven, my love for you is like magic, a fantastic epic journey.”
I stood up from the bed, put on my jeans and went to the kitchen to warm our Chinese food. With plates and a bottle of wine, I tried to create a dinner for us on the patio floor. Shadows on the walls from the candlelight flicker images that glow on the windows. The light shone dimly on a blanket that lay on the floor where I sat waiting for her. Kari came in wearing a silk blouse with only the last two buttons buttoned, and no panties. She kissed the back of my neck, and rubbed her hand on my chest, then walked past me. Her touch was arousing.
Our small Asian table with decorative inlays allowed just enough space for two plates and glasses. “I love eating here, Japanese style, it brought out the flavors of the food, enticing awareness of two people who enjoyed dinner,” Kari told me.
I reached over my plate with my chopsticks; I picked up a piece of shrimp and glided it onto her lips. Kari opened her mouth and sucked in the piece. Mimicking me, she repeated the act, and licked her lips while she watched my mouth open. Pleasantly wanting more, when my lower body erected towards her, she dropped the chopsticks.
Chapter 30
“Captain Clark, line two for you. A Mr. Johnson from the crime scene at the pier—he states he has further information for us.”
Clark sat at his desk and hit the telephone button. “This is Captain Clark. I understand you’d like to speak with to me.”
“Yes, could you please come to the pier? I have something to show you which may be helpful in the Radcliffe case.”
“I’ll be there with a couple officers in about thirty minutes.” Clark motioned at a young rookie to join him.
A small wooden door painted black was the entrance to Mr. Johnson’s boathouse, the rookie knocked on it twice. A large elderly man appeared and invited them inside.
“Mr. Johnson, thank you for calling. What do you have for us?”
Clark pulled out a chair and sat at the small dinette, as Mr. Johnson scattered photographs on top of the wood table. The rookie stood behind him viewing the photos of people in swimsuits, tourists looking at sailboats through the binoculars, and other pictures with couples kissing. Clark picked up two photos from the pile: one of a man wearing a baseball cap looking towards Radcliffe’s boat. The man had dark hair showing from under his baseball cap. Although the shot was taken from his backside, the slight turn of his head clearly displayed an M.
“Is this a hobby of yours, Mr. Johnson?”
“I am just an innocent amateur photographer enjoying what nature has to offer. Sometimes I admit I zoom in a bit on the feminine body; however, it’s for my pleasure only. I don’t bother anyone, nor do I display these pictures outside my home. Would you like some coffee, Captain?”
“I’ll take these two photographs and decline on the coffee. We’ll be on our way now, thank you again for your interest and help in the case,” Clark responded.
Back at the police station in the photo lab, our technical people weren’t having any luck enhancing the dark haired man’s face for identification. They agreed to work it from another angle; however, that was going to take some time, so Clark left them to their skills.
Then he went to the forensics lab where there was always a pleasant greeting from Sue. Without knowing it, she gave him that little bit of personal sunshine that helped balance out his days of hell. “I just need to sign out for the Mariners baseball cap, and bring it to the guys in the technical department to see if it’s an actual match to the photographs.” Clark told her.
He could have easily sent an officer down for it, but felt compelled to stay close to all the evidence on this case. The killer had transformed from a needy son of a bitch to a violent psychopath in merely a few months. Clark wasn’t taking his eyes off anything that pertained to the cas
e for fear of someone contaminating evidence or accidental losses.
From there, his day progressed to the worst. Outside Clark walked to the parking lot, only to find that his car had a flat tire and small dent on the driver’s front panel. “Who the hell would do something like this?” There was nobody in sight, no note left on the windshield. “Damn. Screw this!”
Clark decided to leave the disaster and walk to the coffee shop. He ordered a cup of black coffee, and then proceeded down the sidewalk pretending life was good and peaceful.
A clap of thunder banged above, followed by a downpour of rain, hitting him like bolts of ice as balls of hail struck his head.
What the hell kind of a day is this? Maybe God is aware that his people need a severe cleansing.
Just two more steps to go when his foot hit the doorjamb. “Damn it!” Clark pulled open the police station’s front door.
His cell phone buzzed with a text summoning him back to the technical lab. All eyes were upon Clark when he arrived. The rain drenched his clothes; his hair was a mess; he looked like he just came in from a tornado. He glared at them, and no one said a word. However, one officer threw a towel at Clark when he passed by and entered the elevator.
Stacks of paper and videotapes lined the desk table where two techs were busy working.
“What do you have for me, Dale?” Clark asked.
“We were able to determine your suspect’s height and shoulder width, which makes him five foot ten inches tall. The facial view captured one eye, brown in color, Caucasian, with slight facial hair. The baseball cap was a definite match to the cap in the photo, which showed the exact dirty areas. Sorry to disappoint you on any facial recognition, but that was all we could conclude from the photograph. I also have a copy of an enlargement with the enhancements completed for you to take,” Dale finished.
Clark responded, “Dale, you guys in the lab did a great job analyzing this photograph. You offered some real hope in narrowing our search.”
Exhausted, Clark stepped outside onto the pavement; the rain had finally stopped. He was relieved seeing an officer sitting in a patrol car ready to drive him home.
Chapter 31
This time Kari wanted to pose for the pictures, sending me flirtatious smiles and fun banter as I shot several of her standing in front of the Hoyt Arboretum. Her enthusiasm depicted that of a child’s first time touring someplace new. We were on her grounds now, which gave her the satisfaction of sharing her botanical knowledge. My eyes opened wider when I saw this amazing flowering plant.
Hoyt housed a collection of more than eight thousand trees and plants. Its environment represented over a thousand species from around the world. It was virtually Portland’s living museum. On the grounds, the big leaf magnolia tree produced leaves up to three feet long. Its flowers have been known to grown up to a foot in diameter.
The first trail flowed through an array of flowers that bloomed in colors from white and cream to pink and purple. The red and yellow magnolias amazed Kari so she stopped to observe them in detail. She was beautiful and I shot pictures of her basking in this breathtaking atmosphere.
The trail ended where another one began, with maple trees majestically lined in our path. Large yellow-green ones, lobed-leaf ones swayed above us. They stood bold amongst their branches. A rare species brightened the area as we came upon another maple with deep green leaves that shimmered in tones of scarlet paint, which made it my favorite plant thus far. I observed the trees while listening to Kari read their description and life expectancy.
I followed her into the home of the mighty oak trees, and we sat along the path on a wooden bench breathing in their glorious oxygenated air. Overwhelmed by Kari’s interest with plant life, I found myself mystified and in awe of her. Slowly I moved away from her, trying to capture a close-up picture, as I zoomed in on the silhouette of her face. It spoke volumes to me, reflecting how she felt at this very moment.
Then the sun lowered its glow over the land, the grandeur of warmth for the day was about to end. Our thoughts remained on the arboretum while we dined at the local steak house. Quietly we admired each other with a newfound respect.
Today was about intimacy in many different forms. It pronounced the beauty of our time spent together, which gave a deeper meaning to our relationship.
Chapter 32
When Fike and Jones approached the first two cabins they saw nothing out of the ordinary, just the basic fishing gear and a pile of firewood. The third cabin was totally exposed, the window drapes open, which allowed them to view the entire interior. A wooden plaque hung above the front door: Johnson Life.
A meticulous property for a wooded cabin, the internal and external grounds were quite impressive. It was easy to make out a blue and white striped couch with an overstuffed chair in the living area, and matching seat cushions on the kitchen bench. The bedroom colors were done in blacks, browns, and reds, and several large pillows were on the floor. Whips, handcuffs, and leather bonding lay in the middle of the bed. Every item was displayed perfectly for their next sexual encounter.
“I think we’d better check further into Mr. Johnson’s background,” Jones said to Fike.
“Perhaps it’s kinky, but in my opinion they’re making a statement. I believe they enjoy the shock factor given to those who come upon it,” Fike replied.
Jones gave him a glance that signified; what the hell are you talking about?
“Of course we’ll investigate more, and look into Johnson’s lifestyle. But you have to agree this kind of set-up is for their hype, from seeing other’s reactions, and not a murderess sex cave,” Fike finished.
“Well. I honestly don’t know anything about those sexual things; I have little to no knowledge regarding couples’ fantasies. Let’s move on to the next cabin,” Jones said.
The fourth cabin, the one owned by the Straw family, appeared to be secure, with barely a crack of light showing through the window blinds.
The exterior of the cabin had a great deal of paint chipping that reflected neglect over the years. However, the grounds themselves were clean; even the stack of firewood was neat at the east side wall. There also was a small tool shed sitting on a cement slab about ten feet behind it. The doorknob turned fully; it was unlocked. A slight creak sounded when the door swung open. Inside we found shovels, fishing gear, an axe, and a small red tool chest.
Fike picked up one of many flashlights from a nearby bench. He clicked it on, beamed the light directly towards the back wall where two rifles hung on a gun rack. Below them was a long wooden shelf that held four hunting knifes. He swayed the flashlight slowly and scanned the small room, assessing the area while Jones stood beside him.
“Why wasn’t this shed locked up?” She pointed her camera at the shelf, ready to take pictures.
“He was probably in a hurry to get his knife and supplies and get the hell out of here.”
“Over there to the right, look at the floor,” Jones said.
A medium size box that resembled a tackle box sat under a green chair, the letter S was written on the top in black marker. Inside, we found: a yellow rope, four strips of blue material approximately six inches long, scented massage oils, a string of silver balls the size of marbles, and fifty or more baseball cards each in a plastic protective sleeve.
“Now this is what I’d call a little creepy with the potential to be dangerous,” Fike said.
“I totally agree with you. It certainly isn’t a box for fishing gear, but definitely a sexual toy box,” she added.
Two knives were missing from the rack, outlined indentations where slats were prominent where they once were held. After photographing the entire shed with multiple shots taken of the contents in the box, they left and locked the shed door.
Fike placed a call to Captain Michaels to ask him if he could obtain a warrant based on these findings along with the danger of exposed weapons, noting that a judge shouldn’t have any problem submitting one on these accounts.
His ce
ll phone rang just as they pulled into the driveway of the Straw’s main residence. “Hello, Fike here.”
“Hello, Detective Fike, this is Captain Clark here, from Portland. I’m calling to inform you of some new evidence found relating to our killer. A bag of clothes washed up on the shoreline about one hundred yards from Radcliffe’s boat. The clothes have a remarkable amount of blood splatter; the DNA matched our two victims.” Clark explained how the fisherman caught the clothes, and informed him that photos were being faxed to his office as they spoke.
In return, Fike informed Clark of their inspection and findings at Mrs. Straw’s cabin. After ending the call, he proceeded onto the grounds of the main residence where Jones was waiting.
The house sat on a couple acres of land with a beautiful vegetable garden to the right of it. A picket fence with a gate surrounded its edges for protection from rabbits and squirrels. Flowers brightened the pathway, which curved into the entrance.
“There must be four rows of flowers here.” Jones bent over, taking in their scent.
She paced the property. They observed two bird fountains; one stood five feet tall. Splashes of water trickled down the face of an angle. No sounds came from the house. It appeared to be empty, just as Michaels stated in his previous report.
Circling the house, Jones peered into each window then made her way around to the backyard. The basement window was the only one easy to see into. Fike shone his flashlight through it; he was able to view most of the floor. Everything appeared appropriate for the ordinary person’s clutter of basement life, with appliances and a large freezer closest to the wall next to the steps.
At the far back area of the house was a large double garage with the same small windows as the basement; however these were much darker and had plastic film covering them. The property showed no evidence of foul play that would require a warrant. Fike and Jones confirmed this. “Our day here is done.”
With a Tilt of My Hat Page 10