Tracking the Butcher

by William Joiner

  “Hello, I’m Brandon.”

  “I’m Barbara.”

  “Why are you sitting alone, Barbara?”

  “I had some friends with me, but they left.”

  “I noticed your wedding ring. Are you still married?”

  “Yes, is that a problem?”

  “No problem for me if it’s no problem for you. In fact, you’re just what I was looking for.”

  Chapter Eight

  At two-forty-five Saturday morning, Jennifer Park was awakened by a phone call. She lifted her head gently and cautiously opened her eyes to look at the phone, then decided to pick up the receiver.

  “Who’s this calling me at this time of morning?”

  “Hello, Ms. Park?”

  “Yeah, what do you want?”

  “This is Ana, Michelle’s mom.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m leaving for Los Angeles now. Can you pick me up when I get there?”

  “Sure, just give me your gate number.”

  “Gate 12, arriving at eight your time.”

  “Okay, I’ll have a sign with your name on it so you can spot me.”

  “Thank you so much, Ms. Park. Goodbye.”

  “Yeah, bye.”

  Jennifer went back to sleep and got up in time to pick up Ana at the airport. They talked on the way to the hospital. Jennifer spoke bluntly.

  “I want you to know that the reason Michelle wants you to come to see her is so she can look you in the eyes and have you explain how you let her get molested for two years and do nothing about it. It’s okay if you want to turn back.”

  “No, I’ve turned my back on my daughter enough. I won’t do it again. She has every right to ask me whatever she likes.”

  When they arrived at the hospital, Jennifer noticed that Ana’s hands were shaking and she looked flushed. She thought Ana may turn back at any moment, but she didn’t.

  “You actually came,” Michelle said.

  “Yes, I came. You’re my only child, and you’re in trouble. Of course, I came.”

  “Do you two need some privacy?” Jennifer asked.

  “No, Jen,” Michelle said, “I want you to stay.”

  Jennifer took a seat against the wall, and Ana stood at her daughter’s bedside. Michelle barely looked at Ana and refused to look her in the eyes for most of the conversation. She was very blunt, and her tone was filled with hostility.

  “What should I call you?” Michelle asked.

  “You can just call me Ana.”

  “What’s your last name?”

  “I’m using the name Chambers now. I thought my last name should be the same as yours.”

  “I have two questions for you. Why didn’t you do anythin’ about Charles molestin’ me? And why ain’t I talked to you in ten whole years?”

  “I thought a lot of things—I thought that you were lying because you didn’t want to see anyone else take your father’s place. I also thought that if I confronted Charles about it, he would put us out and we’d be right back in that one bedroom with you sleeping on a pull-out sofa. Then I thought you had sex before. You had all those boyfriends when your father was alive, so I thought if you were being molested it couldn’t be that bad. I also felt alone after your father was killed. I needed Charles, both personally and financially. We were barely getting by, and I had to work double shifts a lot to make ends meet. I’m sorry, I did what I thought was right at the time.”

  “Is that really true? That you did what you thought was best or did you do what was best and easiest for you?”

  “You’re probably right. I did do what was easiest for me and justified it with lies. I just keep trying to fool myself into believing that everything would be okay. Until you left.”

  “So, why ain’t I talked to you in ten years?”

  “Probably because of that phone call when you first got here. I told you that I didn’t believe you about Charles and that I never wanted you, your father wanted you. I didn’t want a child complicating my life. I told you I wanted to abort you or give you up for adoption, but Michael, your father, said no. That’s why you were named after him. You were his child—I was your mother in name only.”

  “I remember that conversation you were a real bitch! You were rude and nasty to me after I told you I wasn’t comin’ back. And still, I warned you—I warned you that Charles would get rid of you. He’d get you out of his house and get you out of his office. I don’t have to ask how that turned out! But I must say one thing, Mother, and that is thank you,” Michelle looked her mother in the eyes for the first time during their conversation. “The nurse told me that strong emotions might bring back my memory and you definitely brought that on.”

  “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? I promise I’ll be a better mother to you.”

  “I don’t know, but for now. For now, I want you to stay the hell away from me. Go back home. I don’t think I can forgive you right now, but I can tolerate you, and one day maybe I'll be able to forgive you but not right now. Now I need you to be away from me. We can talk on the phone—you can visit if you want. One more thing, if I forgive you, that doesn’t mean I’ll ever trust you again. Because I’ll never forget what you did for yourself at my expense.”

  “Okay, Dear,” Ana said, “I understand, I know I don’t deserve anything more than you’ve given me. Probably less. Goodbye, Michelle.” Ana said as she turned to the door with tears running down her cheek. When she arrived at the door, she wiped her face and let the door close behind her.

  “Where’s my cell phone?” Michelle asked. “Oh, here it is right on the bed.”

  “What do you need your cell phone for?” Jennifer asked.

  “I’m gonna call Elgie and tell him I remember what happened to me and that I got a glimpse at the Butcher’s face.”

  Saturday, January fourteenth at approximately ten-twenty—Kenshi Hiroshi and his sister Hiroko were taking out the trash from the Japanese restaurant they owned when Hiroko noticed one of the dumpsters in the alley was open. All of them were supposed to be kept closed, so she walked down to lower the lid.

  When she arrived, Kenshi saw her look into the dumpster and heard her let out a terrified scream then called for him.

  “Kenshi, Kenshi, come quick. Come quick!”

  Kenshi ran from the top of the alley where he was waiting for his sister.

  “What’s wrong, Hiroko?”

  “Look, in the trash.”

  Hiroko pointed into the dumpster, and Kenshi saw a woman who was bloody and battered, and obviously dead. He could see, looking at the slashes in her blouse that she had been stabbed multiple times and she had duct tape over her mouth. Her eyes were open and unoccupied. Kenshi grabbed his sister, ran back to the restaurant, and called the police.

  When the police arrived, they asked Kenshi what he had seen. His sister had gone into the restaurant. Kenshi told them what happened then watched as they cordoned off the alley with police tape. After the paramedics declared the woman dead, Kenshi heard the first responders call homicide division to request a detective and the Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office to request an investigator. One of the officers went back to Kenshi.

  “Mr. Hiroshi, I’m officer McNally. Can you stay around, the detectives will want to talk to you.”

  “Okay, I be in restaurant. Second store to the right.”

  Elgie, Kim, and Connors responded to the call for homicide detectives. The Coroner’s Investigator was Andrew Long. It was yet another clean alley off Sunset Boulevard, only this time there was no rain to wash away evidence.

  “Hello Lieutenant Reynolds, Detective Kim, Doctor Connors, it’s good to see you again. Unlike before, this time the individual is definitely dead.”

  “That’s not funny, Investigator Long,” Elgie said.

  “Sorry, sir—shall we take a look at the body?”

  “Lead the way,” Elgie said.

  “I counted twenty-two stab wounds. The one below the belly button was deep, a
nd there was a stab through the breast bone and into the heart. I think there’s a gag in her mouth underneath the duct tape. She appears to have been dead for about three to five hours based on body temperature. Also, she wasn’t killed here. This is just the dumpsite. I haven’t rolled the body or looked for identification yet. I wanted to wait until you got here.”

  “Thank you,” Elgie continued, “Connors would you call SID and call for a photographer. Kim and I are going to talk to the people that found the body.” Elgie and Kim walked over to the officer standing at the police tape at the north end of the alley. “Excuse me, Sergeant.” Elgie looked at his nameplate, “Sergeant Waginbria, did you interview the people that found the body?”

  “No, we didn’t. I believe that’s your job, sir.”

  “That it is, Sergeant. Where are they?”

  “They’re inside the Japanese restaurant two doors down.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Waginbria.”

  When Elgie and Kim arrived at the restaurant, they found a woman crying and shivering leaning on the man’s shoulder while he held her hand.

  “Hello, I’m Lieutenant Elgie Reynolds, and this is Detective Quinn Kim. What are your names?”

  “I’m Kenshi Hiroshi, and she my sister Hiroko,” Kenshi spoke with a heavy Japanese accent.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” Elgie asked.

  “Me and Hiroko went out to take the trash, and she found that woman in the dumpster,” Kenshi said. “She called me, and I came and saw the woman in the dumpster. She was so bloody—it was all over her body and her face. It was even in hair. It was like something from a horror movie. I got Hiroko and came in here to call police.”

  “Did you recognize the woman?”

  “Too hard to tell. Her face all bloody and swollen like it was.”

  “Did you happen to hear anything before you found the body?”

  “You mean like a car?”

  “Yes, did you hear a car?”

  “Yes, I did, fifteen minute before we saw woman.”

  “What time did you find her?”

  “About twenty minute after ten.”

  “So, you heard the car shortly after ten, is that correct?”

  “Yes, that sound right.”

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Hiroshi.”

  When Elgie and Kim returned to the alley, the photographer was already there taking photos.

  “How did you get here so quickly?” Elgie asked.

  “I was at a crime scene nearby,” the photographer replied.

  “Investigator Long, you can complete your investigation as soon as he gets the pictures.”

  “I’m finished with the photos.”

  “Great, you’re going to need help getting the body out of the dumpster. We have gloves in the car. Let me go get them right quick.”

  The gloves Elgie retrieved looked like surgical gloves only they were purple and a little thicker.

  Investigator Long brought a tarp and laid it down in front of the dumpster to put the body on. Elgie pulled off his coat, turned it inside out, put it on the ground, rolled up his sleeves, and put on the gloves. Connors did the same. Elgie grabbed the woman’s ankles, Inspector Long grabbed her underneath her arms, and Connors lifted the middle. As they lifted the blood dripped from her soaked blouse. They brought her body out of the dumpster and laid her on the tarp.

  “Inspector Long,” said Elgie, “did you notice these rope marks on her ankles?” Elgie continued. “then there are marks on her wrists—they look like marks from handcuffs like the other victims.”

  “Yeah, the rope marks are different though,” Investigator Long said.

  “I think I see a purse in the dumpster,” Kim said. “Can I get a pair of gloves, Boss?”

  “Here you are,” Elgie said.

  Kim reached into the dumpster to retrieve the purse. She opened it, pulled out a wallet, and found the woman’s driver’s license.

  “It belongs to her alright,” Kim said. “Her name is Barbara McMullen.”

  “Let’s take a ride over to her address when we finish here,” Elgie said, “we’ll see if anyone is at home.”

  An hour later Elgie drove to the decedent’s home.

  “Any of our suspects could have committed this murder,” Elgie said. “Since, according to Inspector Long, she was killed three to five hours ago. Even Alexander Deorader or Paul Rodson could have killed her if they got bailed out. Kim, would you run Ms. McMullen for priors?”

  “Sure, Boss.” A few minutes later Kim spoke. “She doesn’t have any priors. According to her identification, she’s thirty-five. It’s unlikely that she’s a prostitute—she would have been busted at least once by now.”

  “You’re right about that,” Elgie said. “I was just thinking about what the Butcher said on the phone. He said he could find a woman that cheats on her husband in a bar and kill her. Maybe that’s just what he did. But why would he have waited to kill her between five and seven this morning, and where did he have her all that time?”

  “May I inquire about your meaning?” Connors asked.

  “He said he’d kill a cheating woman and he’d probably meet her in a bar. The bars close at two in California. Unless he grabbed her someplace else, he had to have had her for at least five hours. He could have had sex with her and let her sleep. Then again, he could have tied her up and tortured her for five hours. It’s more likely she was asleep. The next morning, he took his time torturing her, cleaned up the crime scene, and dumped her body.” Elgie pulled up in front of the address on the woman’s driver’s license, “We’re here.”

  The three went up to the door. Elgie rang the doorbell. A man answered. Elgie introduced them and got down to their unpleasant business.

  “Do you know a Barbara McMullen?” Elgie asked as Kim and Connors took notes.

  “Yes, she’s my wife. Why?”

  “What’s your name, sir?”

  “I’m Alfred McMullen.”

  “Do you know where your wife is, Mr. McMullen?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Do you know where she was last night?”

  “My wife likes to party. Go to bars and go dancing, that sort of thing. Sometimes she stays out all night. She says she goes to after-hours clubs, but I’m not so sure that’s the case.”

  “Do you believe your wife has been engaging in extramarital indiscretions?” Connors asked.

  “Yes, I do. Now, what is this about?”

  “I’m sorry to inform you, Mr. McMullen,” Elgie said. “Your wife was found dead about an hour ago.”

  “Dead? What happened to her?”

  “She was murdered, sir.”

  “Murdered? How can that be, she was just here last night. Are you sure you have the right person? She couldn’t be dead.”

  “We’re sure,” Elgie said. “It’s definitely her.”

  “Do you know who did it?” Mr. McMullen asked.

  “No, sir, not at this time,” Elgie said. “Do you know which bars your wife frequents?”

  “Yes, there are three that she goes to all the time—Jimmie’s in Hollywood, the Mack Shack that’s in West Hollywood, and the Catch Up is in Los Angeles.”

  “What kind of car does your wife drive and what’s the license number?”

  “She drives a red Dodge Viper. The license plate is a vanity plate that says 2HOTTT. Sometimes she leaves her car at the bar because she’s too drunk to drive. I have to either pick her up, or she makes it home on her own. Either way, I have to take her back to get her car the next morning. Are you sure it’s her? No mistake?”

  “Yes, sir, we’re sure,” Elgie said. “Do you have a recent photo of your wife?”

  “Yes, there’s one right on the mantel above the fireplace. I’ll get it.” Mr. McMullen returned with the photo. “Please feel free to take it out of the frame.”

  “Okay, sir. We’ll put an APB out on the car and check out the bars.”

  “Thank you, officer.”

  When they
got back into the car, Kim had a question for Elgie.

  “Boss, does next of kin notification ever get easier?”

  “No, Detective, it doesn’t. But with this case, we ought to get used to it. The Butcher’s not finished killing.”

  Chapter Nine

  “This is the first bar on the list Mr. McMullen gave us—the Mack Shack,” Elgie said. “This should be a good place to start since it is closest to the victim’s home.”

  The team went into the night club, and Elgie spoke with the woman behind the bar as he showed his badge.

  “Hello Ma’am, I’m Lieutenant Reynolds of the Los Angeles Police Department, and these are my associates Doctor Connors and Detective Kim.” Elgie pulled out the picture of Mrs. McMullen. “Do you know this woman?”

  The woman behind the bar took the picture and took a good look at it.

  “No, I don’t know her. Why are you asking me?”

  “Because she is supposed to be a regular in this club.”

  “If she’s a regular, then she comes in at night. I only work days. Wait a minute and let me call the manager. Sometimes he works the bar on weekends. He might know her.” The woman picked up the phone and dialed three numbers. “Hey Sam, there are some police here asking about a customer. Would you come down and take a look at her photo…I’ll tell them. He says he’ll be down in a minute.”

  The manager was at the bar in less than two minutes.

  “What’s this about a customer?” Sam asked.

  Elgie handed him the photo. “Do you know this woman?”

  “Sure, that’s Barbara she’s a semi-regular,” Sam said. “She comes in maybe once every two weeks or so—very sociable gal.”

  “What do you mean ‘sociable’?” Kim asked.

  “She likes sitting with the men if they’re buying drinks. She may leave with one at closing time—usually, the one buying the drinks.”