With a Tilt of My Hat

by Mary Matuskey

  Medical examiner Mark Franks stood over the body when Jones and Fike approached him. He looked up from the bottom of the hole. “Hello, Detectives, just in time for my summary.” He turned back to the body. “Dark blackish red blood dried at her left lower quadrant. Sliced skin about two inches long with a wide opening caused by the insertion of a sharp straight object, most likely a knife. Her neck was cut deeper and the incision long, almost in total circumference with her head. Large amounts of blood formed a pool around her chest, neck and the ground beside her. It appeared as if the killer sliced her throat with one fast cut, then slowly with some kind of sick enjoyment, took his time cutting through to the lateral aspect of her neck. I would say with almost certainty it is the cause of death. Mud smears are present on her face and arms with noted indentations of the assailant’s fingerprints.”

  Mark stepped backwards, examining her legs. “Here on her legs are bruises with a small area of raised skin with imbedded gravel. Her vagina is swollen with, signs of harsh brutality from sexual intercourse. Tears are noted at the anal area where he penetrated her until she bled. This girl was sexually tortured and killed.”

  Mark stared at Fike. “There is one more relevant detail.” He held up an evidence bag that contained a string of metal balls. “The killer’s favorite sex toy, as I recall from the Oregon crime scene. That’s all I have for now. I’ll be taking her to the morgue in a few minutes for further studies.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” Fike extended his hand to help the medical examiner climb out of the hole.

  The team placed her on a hard board with ropes wrapped beneath it and slowly pulled her to higher ground.

  “This is definitely Beth, Sal’s accomplice. It’s so sad to see her young body destroyed like this.” Jones spoke with sad emotion.

  They waited until her body was bagged and moved from the site before they made the climb down the ladder, which was placed in the hole by the crime team for easy access.

  The ground was outlined in a formation shaped like Beth’s body, indicating she had been lying there for a long period of time. Adjacent to that were small holes where it appeared she dug her fingers into the ground. A white speck of debris shone through the dirt. Jones bent to investigate and discovered it was a broken fingernail. Blood and dirt covered the ragged edge. She bagged it into evidence. “This could be the killer’s fingernail, I’m anxious to see the findings of the DNA results. Even though Beth’s body has the killer’s semen in her, plus his hair and his skin, one more fingernail could be of further help in convicting this bastard,” Jones stated.

  From there, Jones and Fike followed the hiker’s path, which led to the cabins. Elizabeth Straws’ cabin was furthest back from the road. It was more isolated than the others. Numerous footprints covered the surrounding ground, which made it difficult to determine which ones were the killer’s. Police were instructed to photograph and mold each print in hopes that one would match the ones found at the base of the grave.

  Fike peered low and tried to stay out of sight of the cabin windows. He noticed the shed door was slightly ajar. He motioned to Jones to cover him so he could check it out. Fike looked into the crack of the doorway, unable to see anything with the dim light. He listened for sounds of movement. All was quiet and dark; he slid his gun into the crack, pushed open the door with his shoulder and barged into the shed. Nobody was inside; his flashlight beamed on the workbench to a bloody rag and knife.

  Two officers approached from the cabin to inform Fike that the place was clear. The inside seemed to be clean with no sign of anyone being there recently.

  “Bag and tag these items. Get them to the lab fast,” Fike ordered the young officer.

  Jones observed the items while the officers wrote the description. “It appears our killer was a bit sloppy this time, discarding his knife.”

  She smiled at Fike while they scouted the area.

  “Yes, which happens to be great for us, but tell me why he faltered this time. In all other cases, he left no fingerprints, and never a weapon, just his usual toys,” Fike said.

  “True, but this time he knew his victim; he needed her. This Sal or Jay, or whatever the killer’s name is, he most certainly was enraged with Beth. We have a bloody rag, a knife, and who knows what else he has hidden in that cabin,” Jones replied.

  “Furthermore, this is his comfort zone. Remember Fike, his familiar place. Michaels is on his way here with the ‘search order’ from the judge, so let’s start digging through the inside of the cabin,” Jones finished.

  “Has Michaels notified Mrs. Straws of the situation here?” Fike asks.

  “Don’t know as of yet, but Michaels told me he thought it would be best to speak to her in person,” Jones said.

  Several hours passed before Michaels arrived. Upon entering, nothing seemed to be out of the norm. Fike turned to an officer and instructed him to photograph its contents then lock it up and tape it off. The front door of the cabin was left wide open and they crossed the threshold into the living room.

  “I want floorboards removed, closet walls searched for cavities, cabinets and bathrooms meticulously searched, and so on…you all know the routine!” Fike ordered.

  So far everything was clean and appeared to be in its proper place, except for two throw pillows and a blanket that were lying on the couch.

  “Someone definitely slept here—spent the night or napped, that’s for sure,” Jones commented. She added that Mrs. Straws had listed it with a realtor several months ago.

  Just then a young officer approached holding a washcloth he had found in the bathroom sink. There’s wasn’t any blood or dirt on it; however, it was wrinkled and damp.

  “He was here,” Fike said. “He wiped his face upon awakening then went out to the shed, and gathered his knife and whatever belongings he wanted. That grave he dug must have been dug many months ago; he was just waiting for the right opportunity.”

  “I recall Beth’s statement: she said Sal liked his sexual play to happen near a stream. Also, that he felt most comfortable in his actions when he was with her. So, he made his way to Washington, full circle of killings through Oregon and back again. He called Beth, needing that comfort and sex that only she could provide. She agreed to meet him at their usual place by the stream for what she assumed to be a moment of kinky sex. She probably informed him of our investigation in hopes Sal would trust her and please her even more. Unknown to Beth, Sal had become more disturbed over the past year. He would have no choice but to kill her to keep her quiet,” Jones said.

  Fike moved into the kitchen as another officer approached carrying a small box. “Found this way back on a top shelf in the master bedroom.” He handed the box to Fike. Inside were two pieces of blue material, a cold compress, and a pocketknife.

  With nothing else found in the cabin, the team locked the cabin doors and taped off the grounds.

  His phone rang and Myrna’s number appeared on the caller ID. Fike answered on the second ring. “Hello, this is Fike.”

  “Detective Fike, I was just wondering if you are still at the crime scene,” Myrna said.

  “I’m leaving the cabin now. What do you have for me?”

  “The fingerprints on the knife are a match to Beth, and Beth only. The DNA on the anal balls is a match to Jacob—that young guy whose father is a lawyer. And one more thing, the fingernail DNA matches Beth also.”

  “Don’t tell me there is nothing on this Sal guy?” Fike asked.

  “Sorry, nothing else so far. I will be comparing the fluid samples from Beth with the samples found on the trench coat we obtained from Oregon, and will inform you right away with the result,” she told him, followed by a friendly goodbye.

  Fike informed Jones of Myrna’s findings and explained his assumptions. “I believe Sal called both Beth and Jacob to this place. After all, from what Beth told us, it was always a party of three. Maybe Sal and Jacob did their thing, and then Sal proceeded to take his aggressions out on Beth. While she scratched h
is thighs with the knife, an act Beth said Sal enjoyed. He then made her hold the knife while together he cut into her side, and then forced her to cut her own throat. My analogy is whether she thought it was sexual play or not, she helped him kill herself. As for Jacob, if he truly was involved he probably observed the entire scene, enjoying Beth’s abuse in his own sick humorous way. My guess is, Jacob didn’t expect Sal to slit Beth’s throat and that woke up the son of a bitch, which caused him to hightail it out of there.”

  “Possibly, however, all the sex toys would have Jacob’s DNA since they were always together. Believe me, Fike, I’m not ruling out your theory, but my gut tells me Sal did this on his own. Jacob seemed pretty shaken up the last time we saw him. He appeared to be cooperating with us,” Jones replied.

  Back onto the path with her head tilted to the sky, Jones added, “The sick, distraught bastard took it too far this time. Torturing Beth—his so-called girlfriend—she didn’t deserve this! Beth wasn’t a bad girl; she was just confused. I’d like to convict that snotty-nosed kid, too, as Sal’s accomplice in these murders. But in reality, I believe he was too much of a pansy to actually do the killings. He has alibis for the year gone past, and he stated to us that he was afraid of Sal’s mental disruptions. That’s what I gathered from interrogating him.”

  Jones, Fike, and Michaels had now gathered in a huddle discussing this in private.

  “I must admit, Jones is right on this one,” Michaels said. “That little shit Jacob is all about his gains. I don’t see a murderer in him. I want a perimeter of armed officers at the cabin. Place one sniper high above in a tree aiming at the front door. This cabin is where Sal seeks his refuge, so I believe he’s wearing down and will return soon. Radio me when you have a visual on him. Do not fire a shot unless he is armed or moving outward. Then shoot only to wound him, if possible. Got it, boys?” Michaels shouted.

  “We’re going back to the station to see if more information has been obtained from Myrna, also to review any witness call-ins there may have been,” Jones said.

  “Let’s all stay focused and in the loop!” Fike added as they walked to the car.

  Chapter 63

  Elizabeth Straw’s house had a serene atmosphere, which opened brightly into the foyer hall.

  “Thank you for inviting me into your home.” Detective Jones smiled at her.

  “I really felt I had no choice with all the horrible things the police say are happening at my cabin.”

  “First of all, Mrs. Straws, I must inform you that the police force strongly feel that one of your sons may be responsible for these murders. It is highly probable he is the one who visited your shed. Items have been introduced into evidence and are currently being tested at our police lab,” Jones informed her.

  Elizabeth moved away and slowly bent to sit in a wingback chair that faced a beautiful front bay window. “Please come into the living room, detective, and take a seat. I haven’t seen or heard from either of my boys in a very long time.”

  “Your home is very nice.” Jones positioned herself in a chair.

  “My sons have never been violent or in any kind of trouble with the law,” Elizabeth offered. “While I was cleaning and removing things from the cabin, I purposely focused on everything just in case one of them had been there. But honestly, I found nothing to be out of place.” She sighed.

  Jones observed the well-decorated room, and wished her visit was of another nature as her eyes took in the softness of the floral drapes that adorned the bay window. The house had an ambience of country style decor with added touches of old Victorian charm. The Straws family home was quiet and endearing, just like her image of historical southern charm.

  A small, framed photograph sat on a drum table between them. “Is this your son and husband?” Jones pointed to the photo.

  “Yes, that was taken a few months before my husband had his heart attack. That is my eldest boy George.”

  “May I have a photo of both your sons? It could be very helpful in our investigation.” Jones asked.

  “Give me some time to go through my personal things and I’ll email some to your police station. But for now, Detective, I’m tired and I must ask you to leave,” Elizabeth replied.

  “I completely understand. Thank you so much for your hospitality.” Jones stepped outside.

  She sat in her car, shook her head in disbelief, and hoped that this beautiful Mrs. Straws hadn’t raised such a disturbing man as they believed her son to be. At that moment her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. “Hello, Jones, here.”

  It was Fike informing her that Michaels was headed to the XXXLadies Club where the first murder took place. “He is going to alert the club owner to what may be coming their way. If Sal/Jay—whatever the guy’s name is—shows up there, the owner is to allow him in and call us immediately,” Fike said.

  “Perfect. That sounds good to me,” Jones said.

  That’s just where Michaels fits in, she thought.

  “One more thing, here’s an update on my visit at Mrs. Straw’s house. She will be sending photos of her sons to our office sometime tomorrow. She was a bit nervous, however, quite cooperative so I saw no need to push her,” Jones added before ending the call.

  Fike didn’t hear the last bit of her conversation for he’d already closed his phone. The elevator doors slid open as he hurried into the morgue, anxious to see the M.E.

  The Oregon detectives were glued on this one in hopes of finally nailing the sick bastard. They hounded the Washington police department on a daily basis.

  Fike felt he needed more concrete information before calling Clark in Portland, which could be the key in expediting this case. So far, all the evidence had proven to be conclusive with each of the other four murder victims.

  The medical examiner motioned Fike towards Beth’s body, pointing at the piece of blue material inserted deep within her vagina.

  “Damn it, we got him! I know it’s Sal! You call me with each speck of evidence that arises, even if you call every few minutes, I don’t care. The momentum is flowing like clockwork and we’re headed right to a conviction. Now we just need to locate this Sal guy. I’m going out for coffee to pump up my energy. We are definitely going to catch him soon,” said Fike.

  Fike phoned Jones. “That gypsy jazz musician is playing at the Blue Waterfront tonight. Remember the jazzman in Portland we wanted to hear perform? I could use some down time to balance out my sanity. Why don’t we go there, have coffee and listen to him play while we wait for updates?”

  Chapter 64

  Kari emerged from the taxi her eyes beaming at me with pure delight. I rushed to the curb, took hold of her and smothered her with my body. There was a wave of excitement that swept over me the minute she said, “I’ve missed you, Steven, it’s been too long.”

  Her scent was intoxicating and all I wanted to do was take her right there on the street. “I love you Kari, I love you with all of me.”

  There was a momentary lapse of reality when her mother brought me back to the now, and came in for a group hug. I had forgotten they planned the weekend trip to Seattle together. It was a mother and daughter bonding time, with me Jazzman as their host.

  “Oh, Steven, what a thrill this is. I’m so happy to be back in Seattle,” Joanne said. Her memories filled the space between us when she shared stories of the times she and Paul had visited. She spoke so vividly, I felt like I was viewing an animated film.

  Once the ladies were settled into their hotel room, and rested for an hour we went out for a bite to eat. Joanne asked if I had contacted my mother yet. “I spoke briefly to her prior to our excursion on the road here. However, I haven’t called her on updates; however, I will call her in a couple hours and invite her to the club.”

  It was an awesome day to be outside, so we decided to walk everywhere. I talked about the kindness of the Seattle people I’d encountered thus far. I shared my experience at one of the record stores where our music was being sold. I told them about the d
ay Bo Bo and I went to the Space Needle, about the Jazz Club where we were performing, and the great food we ate.

  It was an amazing fun time exploring the city with them. We stopped often so Kari could take pictures of us as we blended into the city skyscraper background. I posed for several funny pictures, too. For example, there was one I thought was cool, with me sitting on a statue of an old fisherman that had seagulls resting at his feet.

  The city seemed more alive now that Kari was sharing it with me. She made me feel so happy and childlike. We just didn’t observe things, we were on an adventure together. Man, I’d missed her spirit more than I realized.

  I strode down the sidewalk with Joanne on one side of me, and Kari on the other, strutting arm in arm. “There it is, Kari, that’s the nightclub Blue Waterfront.” Music played in my mind, my guitar, and song filled my thoughts when I opened the large wooden door.

  I introduced them to the members of the club. I pointed out all the specifics on the walls. I took pride in showing Kari and Joanne the historical pictures and explained each one in depth of an era gone by. The patrons of jazz music today are more open to the gypsy jazz sounds with an alternative tone like VitalWinds.

  “Steven!” Bo Bo shouted. “Kari, don’t you look beautiful, girl,” he said with a huge hug. “Sit, sit down everyone and I’ll order cocktails for us.”

  “Thank you, wow, it’s awesome to see you,” Kari told him. “You are a perfect fit here, Bo Bo, it’s as though your presence creates the magic.” She hugged him again.

  “Yes, that’s for sure. He has found himself a home here. When we aren’t performing, he’s taking care of the place. You’ll often find him reminiscing with old Kurt Jackson. Kurt’s a grisly, gray-haired type who traveled by train; he lived the life of a hobo for decades. Old Kurt reeks of soulful history. He once was a regular trumpet performer who played mainly in Old Town Chicago, and did backup stunts for vaudeville acts and so forth. He also traveled many tours all the way south to Florida. Often, when he tells a story to patrons and friends, he hums or sings songs of days long ago.”