Cleansing

by Roy A. Teel, Jr.

  John pulled out his tablet and started recording the interview. Chris laughed and said, “I already have it all documented for you, John.” John laughed and said, “But, of course, you do. Go on.” “The second case was a year ago in Hopland, California. In that case, a small group of teenagers and early twenty-somethings splintered off a small Pentecostal church in the town and started their own religion. Five children were murdered, and it was a kidnapping and murder ring that they started in order to get their human sacrifices. That group was actually ratted out by one of the members who came to his senses and called the sheriff. They only lasted about a year; however, those two murder rings tie in to our case. The manner of execution of the children was exactly the same as the manner we have here. Psalm 26 was used and left behind at the scenes and altars for sacrifice. The altars were constructed in the exact same manner as what we have here.”

  Chris handed John a file with his report in it. He flipped through it and asked, “Okay Mr. Wizard…how are we going to catch these freaks?” “I have no idea. This is a much more organized group, and they are going to great pains to do their killings. What I can tell you is that the two groups up north believed that human sacrifice and cleansing themselves in the blood of their innocent victims and consuming their hearts would help usher in the second coming of Christ and cleanse them of their sins before his arrival.”

  John stood up and walked over to the office window and looked out over the veteran’s cemetery and the cars rushing up and down Wilshire Boulevard. He put one hand under his chin and said with his back to Chris, “This case is only going to be broken by dumbass luck.” Chris sat silent. John’s cell phone rang, and he answered it and put it on speakerphone.

  “Swenson.” “What the fuck? You have my ass on speaker on your cell? Who the fuck is listening to me?” “I have Chris in here with me. He was giving me his research into the baby killings.” “So…what the fuck did he learn?” John was holding the phone out in front of him and told Chris to tell Jim what he found. When Chris was finished, Jim said, “Well, that’s some fucked up and really shitty news. However, John, we may have a break in the case.” John and Chris got confused looks on their faces. “Okay…we’re listening,” said John.

  Jim coughed a couple of times and then said, “I was down in Van Nuys this morning and stopped to see my old friend Judge Robinson. While I was in his courtroom, I happened to see Lisa Farmer on the defense side of the table. She was arrested early this morning over in Panorama City for breaking into the home of a woman who she claimed was a friend.” John had a thoughtful look on his face. “Farmer, Farmer. She’s involved with Erick Walton.” “You got it, and get this, when she was arrested, she was wearing a nightgown with nothing on underneath it. But the cops found a black hooded sweatshirt and black sweatpants that she acknowledged were hers in some bushes at a park only a few houses from the break in.” “Interesting,” said John.

  “It gets better. She also had a small pen knife on her, which she also claimed was hers, and she had used it to pick the lock on her friend’s house.” John said, “While all of this is interesting, Jim, it doesn’t prove that she has any connection to the killings.” Jim laughed. “Yea. I thought the same thing until I read the report and learned that the victim, a Ms. Estelle Martinez, has two children. A son, Brandon Martinez, who is four years old, and a newborn daughter named Tina, who she gave the last name Martinez but claimed in an interview with police that she didn’t know who the father was. Ms Martinez also told police that she knew Farmer, that she was her nanny several years ago, and that she only recently saw Lisa again a few days ago in a park. That park is three doors down from the Martinez home.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line, and Jim said, “Are you two motherfuckers still there?” “Yes…what happened with Farmer?” “Well, the plot thickens. Howard Cohen was in court as her attorney, and he managed to get her released on a $500 bond. Most likely, the matter will be dismissed.”

  John sat down and put the phone on his desk. Chris had a blank look on his face, and John said, “Why is it that every time I turn around Howard Cohen is in the middle of my cases?” “Because someone with a lot of money is paying him.” “It’s not the girl or her boyfriend. We know they don’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. Someone else is behind this. Does the name F. E Arnest ring any bells with you?” Jim was silent on the other end of the line for a few seconds, and John and Chris heard the sound of his Zippo snapping shut and a deep breath being taken.

  “Yeah…the guy owns a funeral home somewhere on the east side, I think. Why?” “We need to meet.” Jim looked down at his watch. It was one p.m. “Well, there’s only one place that I can think of where we can meet, eat, and drink. Santiago’s. We can have lunch and a beer and try and sort this thing out.” John asked what time and heard Jim start his car. “Last one there buys lunch.” Jim hung up, and Chris and John left the office for Santiago’s.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Fuck. What the fuck

  is he doing here?”

  It was half past one p.m. when Lisa pulled into the church parking lot. She looked around but didn’t see any other cars or activity. The fenced playground on the backside of the church daycare was empty, and she didn’t hear any voices. She got out of the car and walked into the foyer and down to where Erick had been given a small office. She knocked on the door and then tried the knob, but it was locked. She turned to walk out when she heard Arnold call out to her. “Lisa, Lisa, where have you been child? Erick is worried sick.” “I have a friend who is ill, and I stayed with her last night. I forgot to tell Pastor Erick. I know he is going to be so angry with me.” Arnold looked at her haggard face and could see she was exhausted.

  “Lisa, you look exhausted. Have you slept?” She shook her head. Arnold took her hand and walked her down the hall to his office. His secretary was typing on her computer when the two walked in, and she said nothing, only looking up to see them go into Arnold’s office where he shut the door behind him. Nancy Harris had been working for Arnold since he founded the church. She knew all of his dirty little secrets. She also knew what Lisa didn’t – that Arnold was a pedophile and a misogynist, and that he was going to use his influence and power of suggestion to get her out of her clothes and onto his cock.

  Erick Walton was on a field trip with the kids from the daycare since Lisa had not come home. His cell phone rang, and it was Arnold telling him that Lisa was safe, and that she was at the church. Erick listened as he explained Lisa’s absence, where she had been, and the name of the friend. “Do you know Ms. Martinez, Erick?” Arnold asked. Lisa was sitting on a couch in the corner of his office. “Yes, Arnold, I do. I was not aware that she was ill, but if Lisa says that’s where she was then that’s where she was. I will talk to her tonight about calling me if she is going to be away for an extended period, but thank you for the call. I’m glad that she is alright.” “The poor child is exhausted. I’m going to let her nap on the couch in my office until you return with the children. It’s just one fifteen by my watch. What time do you think you will be back with the kids?” “Oh, we just got to the beach, so I would say six. The parents signed permission slips for that time, so we will be back between five thirty and six.”

  “In that case, I will take Lisa over to your parsonage, so she can take a nap, if that’s okay with you?” “Oh, yes, Pastor. That would be wonderful. Thank you for the help, and I’m sorry that we are being a bother.” “Nonsense, you’re not being a bother at all. I will take care of Lisa. You take care of those little ones.”

  They said goodbye, and Arnold asked Lisa if she had the keys to the parsonage. She nodded. He took a decanter off his desk and poured a glass of red wine for her. “Here. Drink this. It will help you relax, and it’s good for your health.” She took the crystal glass from Arnold and drank the liquid. “Well, let’s get you home. You can leave your car here. I will drive you.” She thanked
him and got up and followed him to his car. When she got in, she said, “Phew…it’s hot today, Pastor. It’s really taking a toll on me.” Arnold was driving down the road with the windows open and said, “It is, Lisa, but you will be fine.” He pulled the car up to the house where Erick and Lisa lived and opened the car door. She tripped getting out of the car and fell on the grass near the curb.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, reaching to help her up. “I think so…I’m feeling really light-headed.” Arnold followed her to the front door and helped her to get in. Lisa had no sooner shut the door when she fell to her knees. Arnold picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. “What’s going on, Pastor? Why do I feel like this?” He didn’t say a word. He just laid her on the bed and then stripped off his clothes. Lisa looked over at him and said, “I can’t move. You drugged me!”

  He slowly took off her clothes, and when she was fully nude he said, “Yes, Lisa, I did drug you. The good news is that you will not remember the things I’m going to do to you by the time you see Erick. But you are going to feel them in the here and now.” He spread her thighs and sank his face between them. After five minutes, he lifted his sweat-covered face, dripping with sweat, saliva, and Lisa’s vaginal juices. “You might think that was for your pleasure, but I assure you it was for mine.” Lisa closed her eyes as Arnold mounted her and began grunting on top of her.

  Arnest Funeral Home had been in the family for six generations. F. E. had inherited it after the passing of his mother ten years earlier. As an ardent adherent to his Christian faith and a strict follower of the religious tenants set forth by his spiritual leader, he ran a very tight ship in the funeral business. Every ‘I’ was dotted and every ‘T’ crossed. He had his price lists on display in the home and online and had a long-term team of sales professionals as well as undertakers and funeral directors. One of his employees came walking out of the embalming room, and Arnest asked if there had been any calls.

  “Yes, sir,” said Carol Holt, the head manager of his home. “Pastor Erick Walton called for you. He sounded quite upset and asked you to call him as soon as possible.” “Little or Big Erick?” “Big Erick, sir. He was very upset and wouldn’t leave a message.” “Thank you, Carol. I will give him a call right now. Everything has been taken care of for the Swan child?” “Yes, sir. The family was in this morning, and they have chosen to have her cremated, which is being done as we speak.” “Do we have everything in stock that they chose for their child?” “Yes, sir. The urn is at the crematorium. They picked a beautiful wood carved urn with an angel on the front on her knees with her hands folded in prayer. They gave us the inscription that they wanted for her, and I had it rushed. It should be here this afternoon. We will have the poor thing back with her family by morning.” “And the memorial service for her?” “Eleven a.m. tomorrow. We have set up the large chapel. Everything has been done according to your orders and their specifications, sir. We have handled the little one with extra special care.”

  Arnest turned to walk back to his office when Carol said, “F.E., is everything okay? You haven’t been here for a few days.” He nodded and put a bony finger on Carol’s shoulder. “I have been doing the work of the Lord, Carol, and that never stops. Now, let me go, so I can call the pastor back and make sure he’s all right.” She smiled sadly and nodded as he walked into his office.

  John and Chris arrived at Santiago’s, but, as always, Jim was sitting at a corner table with a bucket of beers, cursing Javier because he wouldn’t let him smoke in the bar. They came over and sat down. Jim looked at Chris and asked, “Are you fuckin’ legal to drink?” “Well, I am of legal age, but I don’t think you want to drink…do you?” John laughed, and Jim shot Chris a look and said, “Fuck you, smartass. Let me guess. You’re a fuckin’ faggot?” “No, sir. I’m straight, but I thought maybe you were!” That got a roar out of John and Jim as Chris took the beer that Jim was handing him across the table.

  “Okay…so…John talked to Bruno Richards…” Jim looked at John and winked, “who I learned today has fallen deathly ill.” “He was fine when I left him yesterday.” Chris looked at the two men and said, “I’m missing something here, aren’t I?” Jim nodded, saying “Oh yeah you are, but that’s not your business. So what did Richards tell you?” Jim asked, finishing off his beer and cracking open another as Javier walked over with their lunch.

  “He told me that his supposed wife, Charlotte Watson, and someone named Arnest are running his family on the outside.” Chris had just taken a bite of his sandwich and with a mouth full of food said, “Charlotte Watson? The executive secretary for ‘Our Keepers?’” John was eating his sandwich and asked, “Our Keepers?” “Yea. It’s a large not-for-profit outreach of several different churches in LA and the San Fernando Valley. It’s been around for years. I think that she’s been there for a long time.”

  “How do you know of them and her?” John asked, finishing his sandwich. Jim had only taken two bites of his lunch, and John and Chris were finished. He looked at the empty sandwich baskets and asked, “How the fuck can you two eat so goddamn fast?” Both men responded simultaneously, “The Corps.” Jim looked at Chris and asked, “You were in the Marine Corps?” He nodded as did John. “Jesus Christ. Do you know anyone that wasn’t in the Corps?” Jim asked, taking a bite of his sandwich and washing the ham and Swiss down with the beer. “Sure, but my close relationships are those forged in the Corps. I hired Chris because he was going to law school in Malibu, and he’s a certified trainer. It’s worked out well for the two of us.”

  Jim shook his head and asked, “So what about the Watson chick? You think that she’s behind these killings?” John and Chris took drinks of their beers, and John said, “I think that if Richards got his hands on her, there’s a good chance that she’s directly involved or knows who is.” “What about this Arnest guy? How does he fit into the picture?” John said, “He doesn’t, and that’s what’s troubling me. Richards brought up his name but gave no details on either of these people.” Jim swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and said, “And because Richards will be dead soon we will never know?” “No. I think the three of us need to split up and each of us take a person. Chris, since you seem to know Watson I want you to go down to her office and speak to her. Jim, I want you to try and follow up with Erick Sr. and find out about the break up between him and his son. I’m going to speak to Lisa Farmer. She is the most interesting link in the chain, and I think I will be able to get more out of her.”

  Jim was wiping his hands with a napkin and asked, “And what about Arnest?” Chris said, “I did a little research on him before we got together, and he’s an interesting guy. He was one of Richards’ followers in the early seventies and was arrested in the killing spree that Richards and his followers did but was later released for lack of evidence. If he is in this, he is WAY OUT on the periphery. He took over the family business when his mother died nearly a decade ago and has been as clean as a whistle.” John and Jim looked at each other, and John said, “If there is one thing you are going to learn and learn fast, it’s that no one is as clean as a whistle. Everyone has secrets, and sometimes those secrets are terrifying.”

  Jim laughed under his breath and said, “You can fuckin’ say that again.” Chris looked on with a quizzical look on his face. The three men finished their beers, and John and Chris headed back to the federal building where John assigned him a car and a service weapon. It was three p.m. when the two split up to head for the destinations and interviews.

  John pulled up and parked a few doors down from the home that Lisa Farmer shared with Erick Walton and several other church members. He noticed a black compact car parked in front of the house and flipped open his laptop and typed in the plate number. He was very surprised at the name on the registration – Arnold Espanza – and the car was registered in his name to his church. He checked for wants and warrants and found that he had a long history of sexual deviance and allegations of sexu
al assault and abuse, but he had never been convicted. John highlighted the complaints on his screen, took a small black bag from the back of his truck, and put it over his shoulder and walked up to the house.

  He was about to knock when he heard a female groan and the sound of leather on bare skin. He walked around to the side of the house, and there was a side window open, and the blinds were up. He looked through the window to see Espanza standing over Farmer’s nude body, which was tied to a chair. Arnold was standing nude in front of her, and he was beating her breasts with a small leather whip. John watched for a few more seconds as Arnold moved around the young girl, cursing her. “You’re nothing but a common street whore. I bet your pussy and asshole hurt now, you little bitch. God has no mercy for street walking trash like you. You brought all of this on yourself.”

  Espanza put the whip on a dresser next to the chair, which John could see was in the middle of a small bedroom. He watched to see if this was some kind of S&M or bondage role-play game, but when Arnold moved away from Lisa, he could see that she was bound and had a ball gag in her moth. Her head was flopping from side to side, and John knew immediately that she had been drugged.

  He walked back to the front door and knocked, but there was no reply. He could hear rustling around near the front door, but no one answered. He knocked on the door again, this time with more force.

  Arnold heard the knock and peeked out the curtains in the bedroom to see John Swenson standing at the door. “Fuck. What the fuck is he doing here?” he whispered under his breath as he moved to untie Lisa and lay her on the bed. He covered her up and then dressed, all the while, John’s knocking got more and more aggressive until Arnold heard him call out, “Ms. Farmer, this is Special Agent John Swenson with the FBI. I know you’re in there.” Arnold grabbed his things and ran for the back door in a panic, and in the moment forgot that his car was parked out in front. He shot out the back door and to a side gate that led to a rear entrance to the home through an alleyway. He was dripping with sweat but walked around the corner and headed back to the house. He walked past a black Silverado extended cab pickup in front of Lisa and Erick’s home. He looked over at the front door, and Swenson was gone.