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Authors: Gary Whitmore

BOOK: Confession
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“Kinda nice,” Jimmy replied with a huge grin.

Ricky looked proud of his big brother.  “I’ll get rid of your old car.”

Jimmy rushed over to his old Ford.  He opened up the rear door and removed the camera and tripod.

He rushed it over to his new Galaxie and placed it in the trunk.  He looked at Ricky.  “Let’s get go fishing,” he said then slammed the trunk closed.

 

Ten minutes later, they were off in the lake fishing in the boat and Jimmy told Ricky all the details about Annette.

 

The weather was great while they spent two relaxing days fishing, camping and drinking beer.

Jimmy took his camera with him on a few trips in Ricky’s boat in the lake.   He snapped a picture of Ricky while his fishing line in the water then Ricky snapped a picture of Jimmy with his fishing line in the water.

 

It was morning and Jimmy and Ricky were ready to call it an end to another yearly tradition.   They started packing up all of their camping gear.

When they were ready to go home, Jimmy tucked all of Annette’s clothes, his bat, and
leather
gloves inside his tent. 

He set his camera and tripod on top of the tent then closed and locked the trunk.

He walked over to Ricky standing by his old Ford.

“Okay little brother, we’ll keep this a secret until the day we die,” Jimmy said while he approached Ricky.

“Until we die,” Ricky said while they locked pinkies to seal their promise.

Jimmy drove off in his new 1963 Ford while Ricky drove off in the old 1954 Ford.

But along the way back to Boldger, Alabama, Jimmy made two stops in Madison, Alabama located in the northern part of the state. 

His first stop was at Elmer’s Pawn Shop where he bought an old wooden chest. It had a hasp with a pad lock, and would be great to keep his souvenirs of his new hobby.

After leaving Elmer’s Pawn Shop, Jimmy drove over to Tad’s Tattoo Parlor down the street. 

He went inside as there was something he also had to do to confess his tale.

After his tattoo, Jimmy got back in his car and drove off south to head back home.

Jimmy turned on the radio and the song
Don’t Worry
by Marty Robbins started playing on the radio.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, it’s all over now,” sang out Jimmy along with Marty Robbins.

He drove down the road singing his heart out while taking an occasional glance in his rear view mirror for a cop car.  He never saw one.

 

Back to reality…

 

Sam jotted down some notes on a pad of paper after finishing this chapter.

 

Marty was so engrossed into the story he had to read the next chapter.

 

Billy was steaming mad while he finished this chapter.

 

Chapter 9

 

A
Killer’s Tale
story
continued…

 

It was early in the morning and Jimmy drove his new Galaxie down Route 123. 

He was three miles to Boldger and sang along to the
Country Girl
song by Faron Young.

He stopped glancing in his rear view mirror an hour ago and knew he was in the clear.

 

A little while later, Jimmy drove down his street then pulled his new Ford Galaxie into the driveway and turned off the engine. 

He stared at his home for a few seconds then he tooted the horn to let Betty know he was back home.

A few seconds later, and Betty walked out of the front door and saw the new car in the driveway.  It took her a few seconds to see Jimmy behind the wheel.  She looked a little bewildered.

Jimmy got out of the car and stood back with admiration for his car.

Betty walked up and looked at the beautiful new car.  Then she saw the grin on Jimmy’s face and got upset.  “We can't afford this on a Sheriff’s paycheck!”

“Don't worry.  Daddy said that since I don’t want to join the family business, he’d give me a new car each year.  It’s my inherence he’s giving to me early.”

She looked at him unsure she heard correctly.  “Did you say he’s giving you’re a free car every year?”

“Yep, now sit inside, take a whiff of that new car smell.”

Betty sat in the drivers seat and looked around the inside.  She took a whiff and that aroma of a new car was a sweet smell to her nostrils.

She looked over at Jimmy’s right bicep and saw a skull tattoo with the "A" letter below the right side of the jawbone.  “Why did you got a tattoo?” she said with a frown.

Jimmy rubbed his bicep and looked his tattoo with admiration. “Army guys gotta have tattoos.”

“You’re in the reserves.”

“I know, but I’m still a soldier.”

“What does the A mean?” she asked.

He thought for a few seconds to come up with a viable answer.  “Ah, Army.”

She discreetly rolled her eyes and accepted his foolishness.

She took the key out of the ignition and got out. 

Jimmy looked concerned when she walked to the rear of the car.

She stuck the key in the lock and Jimmy’s heart raced in a panic.  She opened the trunk.  He quickly slammed it shut and almost caught her hand.  She jumped back shaken by his behavior.

“What's your problem?  I just wanted to see how big the trunk was!”

Jimmy glared at her.  “I have secret Army Reserve files you're not authorized to see,” he lied through his teeth.

Betty looked at Jimmy’s standard serious look and got intimidated.   

She discreetly roller her eyes while she walked away from the car.  “Bring me your clothes and I’ll do load in the washer,” she said when she got to the front door.

Jimmy stared at the trunk while Betty went inside the house.  He felt the coast was clear so he rushed over and opened the garage door. 

He rushed back to the rear of the car and opened up the trunk.  He reached inside and grabbed his folded tent. 

He rushed it into the garage and dropped it to the floor.

He rushed back to his trunk and removed that old wooden chest he bought at the Pawn Shop.

He rushed back inside his garage and set the chest on his work bench.

He rushed back to his car and removed his camera and tripod from the trunk then closed it.

He rushed back into his garage with his camera and tripod.

 

After he turned on the light inside the garage he closed the garage door.

Jimmy walked to a door in the end of the garage with his camera and tripod in hand.  This was a dark room he constructed two months ago. 

He opened up the door and placed the camera and tripod inside the room.

He went back into the garage and grabbed his folded tent.  He walked over and placed that inside his dark room.

He went back out into the garage and brought his wooden chest into his dark room.

He turned on the red light and locked the door.

He went to work on the film.

 

After a few minutes inside his dark room, Jimmy developed the pictures he took of Ricky and himself in his fishing boat.   “Pretty good,” he said while had the two pictures clipped to a line to dry.

He went to work developing the rest of the pictures.

 

Ten minutes had passed and Jimmy had the pictures he took of Annette developed.  He wanted to keep proof of his crime.

 

Jimmy reached under the developing table.  He removed that small locked box and opened it up.

He removed the twelve pictures he had taken of the naked colored girls he raped.

He opened up the wooden box and dumped the pictures of Annette and the twelve colored girls.

He unfolded his tent.

He removed Annette’s clothes, Corvair car key and drivers license from the tent then dropped them inside the wooden chest.

He grabbed his baseball bat from the tent and saw the bloody tip. 

He left his dark room with the bat and headed back into the garage.

 

He looked at the access panel in the ceiling of the garage that led to his attic.  He knew that would be a perfect hiding place.  It was perfect as Betty got the creeps going into the attic after she saw a mouse and spiders up there years ago. 

He rushed over to his workbench and grabbed a small jar with screwed on lid.  He opened it up and dumped the nuts and bolts onto the bench.  He reached in his pocket and removed Annette’s teeth.  He dumped them into the jar and screwed on the top. 

He rushed back into the dark room and placed the jar inside the wooden chest.

He rushed out of the dark room with the
leather
gloves from the tent.

 

He rushed over and powered up a power saw on the one wall of the garage.  He immediately sawed the bat into numerous pieces and dumped it in his trash can except for the bloody stained tip.  He stared at the pieces of the murder weapon in the trash.  He decided to quit raping young colored girls.  Killing white girls would now satisfy his sick desires.  He dropped the gloves in the trash on top of the pieces of bat.

He rushed back into the dark room.

 

As soon as he got into the garage he dropped the sawed off tip of the bat that had Annette’s dried blood on it and the jar of her teeth into the chest.  He locked chest with a pad lock he previously set on his developing table last week.

He grabbed the wooden chest and rushed out of the dark room.

 

Jimmy set the wooden chest on the floor of the garage.

He rushed over to the other side of the garage and grabbed his stepladder.

He rushed it over and placed it under the access panel to his attic.  He climbed up and opened the access into the attic.  He climbed down and grabbed the wooden chest.  He climbed back up the ladder with the wooden chest and went inside the attic.

 

Inside the attic, he placed the wooden box ten feet away from the access hole.  He reinstalled the panel and climbed back down the ladder.

He secured the ladder and went back inside his house with some pictures.

He went back inside the dark room and grabbed the two pictures of Ricky and him on their fishing trip.

He left the dark room locking the door.

 

Once inside his house he showed Betty his pictures of Ricky and himself during his fishing trip at the lake.

 

Later that night during dinner, Jimmy talked in more detail about his annual trip with Billy.  Betty knew better than to ask what he was doing in the garage.

 

Two days later, in the woods outside Oak Hill, Alabama, two young hunters stumbled upon Annette’s naked dead body still tied to the tree.  They had killed lots of animals but seeing a dead naked woman sicken them.

They immediately ran back to their pickup truck.

They raced the pickup truck back into town and contacted the Sheriff.  

 

Twenty minutes had passed.

FBI Agent Robert Fillert sat behind his desk drinking a cup of coffee while he read a case file. 

“Fillert,” said Agent Johnny Moore, his superior while he walked up to Robert’s desk.

“Yah boss,” replied Robert.

“The Sheriff down in Oak Hill, Alabama wants help.  Some hunters found a dead naked girl tied to a tree out in the woods.”

“Dead naked girl.  They’re a dime a dozen,” said Robert not excited about this news.

“What ever.  Take Meyers with you and go down there and see how we can help,” said Agent Moore then he turned around and walked away.

“I’ll have this case solved and the killer behind bars in no time,” said Robert while he set down his case file then got up from behind his desk.

 

Four hours had passed.

Out in the woods outside Oak Hill, Alabama, sixty-year old Sheriff Jay Rollins had the area roped off and two of his deputies guarded her body.  He contacted the FBI for assistance because he knew Annette from the bar.  He waited.

One of the deputies, that guarded the area, was named Ernest Booker.  Ernest had been a member of the KKK for the past twenty years.  He had a big mouth and loved to spill his guts about police activities.  It was the only way he could feel important.

Then a few minutes later, a black 1962 Chevrolet Bel Air government car drove down the dirt road and stopped behind the Sheriff’s 1960 Chevrolet squad car.

Robert Fillert and Carl Meyers, a younger FBI agent got out of the Bel Air.

They walked over to Sheriff Rollins and both flashed their FBI identification cards. 

“I’m agent Robert Fillert and this is agent Carl Meyers,” Robert said.

“Sheriff Rollins,” he said while he shook hands with Robert and Carl.

“Well, Sheriff, you did the right thing by calling the FBI.  Watch and learn, as I'm the best,” Robert said with an arrogant tone in his voice that did not impress the Sheriff.

The two deputies that guarded the crime scene also rolled their eyes not impressed with the government agent.

“The scene was spotless.  No tire tracks.  No footprints and no clothes.  But we know her as a bar maid at a local bar outside town.  Her name is Annette Boyer,” Sheriff Rollins said.

Robert and Carl walked up to Annette’s naked body where flies now buzzed around her dead flesh.

“Who found her?” Robert asked while he looked her over for any clues.

“Two hunters.”

“I want to talk to them,” Robert requested.

“I can arrange that,” Rollins replied.

“The killer sure beat the hell out of her with some blunt object.  But what's with the black mark on her stomach?” Robert said while he moved in closer to examine it.

“It smells like axle grease,” Rollins replied.

Robert looked at Rollins and noticed his eyes welled up.  “You okay Sheriff?”

“I’ve known Annette ever since she was born,” Rollins said while he tried to fight from crying.

“Well, fear not Sheriff, I'm like a Canadian Mountie.  I always get my man,” Robert replied with a cocky tone.

Carl rolled his eyes as he’s heard this cocky attitude too many times.  

Ernst noticed Carl when he rolled his eyes.  He chuckled, as he was not impressed with Robert.

“Go get our camera.  I want tons of pictures,” Robert ordered Carl.

Carl nodded in agreement and rushed off toward their car.

He came back and snapped fifteen good pictures of Annette and the area.

After the pictures were taken, Robert and Carl headed out Sheriff Rollins.

Robert and Carl followed the Sheriff into Oak Hill so the two hunters could be interviewed.

After the interviews, Robert and Carl headed back to Atlanta.  Robert knew he would have this case solved within months.

 

Three days later, Buster’s Bar in Oak Hill was packed with patrons who came to pay tribute to Annette. 

Ernst was the center of attention while he told the story of the arrogant and cocky FBI agent who swore he would catch Annette’s killer.

“It’s one of those uppity colored boys if you ask me,” one guy yelled out pissed.

“Let that sissy FBI agent identify him then we’ll take care of justice ourselves,” another guy yelled out who was a KKK member with ties to KKK chapters in Mississippi.

One of the other KKK members simulated a black man being hung.  Half of the patrons in the bar, including Bruno, nodded in agreement.

 

A week later, and the news Ernst’s told at the bar had migrated over to Boldger through the KKK gossip channels. 

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