Serial Separation (15 page)

Chapter 43

The task force meeting had finished. Mercedes and I were headed over to dig out her car.

“Mercedes, you were awesome today.”

“Thanks, Scott. What part did you like best?”

“There you go again. You make everything I say have a double meaning.”

“You said it . . . I didn’t. I like to tease you. But did you enjoy it?”

“Yes
,
I enjoyed you, and you know it. I was talking about what you did in front of the task force. That was awesome.”

“Thanks, Scott.” She turned, our noses almost touching. “Scott, my intent to have us spend time together worked out better than I imagined. I like how sensitive you are . . . even if it relates to Lisa. You are one of a kind.”

She took a deep breath and continued. “I’m so glad I met you and we were able to spend time together. There are some things you don’t know about me and my family, but I can share those things later. What I want to know is this…can we see each other again?”

My mind was already confused enough about our time and Lisa’s problems. It took me too long to respond. She turned around quickly and fell. I tried to reach down to pick her up, and she just waved me off.

“Lisa, I mean, Mercy, don’t do this.”

“You gave me your answer.” She jumped up and resumed walking to her car. I was following now, instead of walking with her.

When we got to what she thought was her car, I noticed it was completely buried with heavy packed snow from the plows. The rest of it was completely covered in more than a foot of powder.

She tried her key in the passenger side lock but couldn’t get the key into the lock. I thought I was on thin ice, so I just watched her.

She went to the trunk and managed to get that open, but the large amount of snow made it very heavy to open. Mercedes took out a shovel and quickly started to shovel the car out.

I took the keys out of the trunk and continued to try to get the car door open. I blew on the lock and within a minute I had managed to get the key in and unlock the door.

I figured it would be hard to start, so I climbed over the console, pumped the gas a couple of times, and it started right up. I realized the car was a new Thunderbird. Nice—real nice.

I exited the passenger side again, and, as I did, a pile of snow slid off the roof, engulfing me.

I could hear her laughing. When she came around to my side, I was still wiping off the snow and clearing my face.

She was quickly right in my face. She was wiping away some of the snow with her bare hands. We were close enough for me to get the gardenia fragrance again. She held my face and kissed me. There were tears running down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Scott . . . I overreacted. But I still need an answer.”

* * *

By the time we got her car out of the space, we were both warm enough for the ride home, or whatever. We left on a good note. I said we would be seeing each other again. Mercedes was so much different than Lisa.

When I got to my apartment, the landlord had already managed to get the walk and car spaces cleared. My apartment was cold, so I kicked up the heat. I opened the fridge, finding only leftovers and hot dogs. I decided the best thing to do was to take a nice hot shower and deal with food later.

I stripped off my clothes and started the shower. The pipes started to bang, so I knew the hot water was coming. I started cleaning and realized I could still smell gardenia. How did she do that? She was miles away, but . . .

I thought about my call with Lisa and her comment about not caring what I did with the task force. I really needed to get her some help. Maybe my absence or her being with her parents would help.

I thought about the many showers we shared and how we had first become intimate. Then, it was Mercedes’ image I saw. The hot shower was subsequently replaced by cold water, but I continued to think about two women in my life.

Getting dressed, my reflection in the door mirror reminded me of the torso killings and what those men experienced. Mercedes’ profile on the killers sounded so on target. How did she put all that together? It was hard for me to think about young women torturing men, mutilating their bodies, removing their extremities, and dumping their bodies.

I remembered how Lisa reacted to my task force commitment. I also saw how Mercedes quickly reacted to my calling her Lisa. I think Mercedes was right about women being able to commit these kinds of killings.

What could these men have done to warrant this extreme treatment?

Chapter 44

She had trouble getting into the building due to the snowstorm. The plowing service contracted for the occupied side of the building must not have been working due to the holiday. That wouldn’t be a problem. She would just park along the street and walk to the building.

It was harder than it looked, and when she tried to open the wooden gate it was frozen at the bottom. Since the area was pretty much deserted, she just climbed over the gate. Climbing the gate reminded her of the one around the state hospital where she had been confined. She hated everything about the ‘funny farm.’

When she passed the required tests to be released, she vowed never to return. They thought she was crazy, but she knew she wasn’t.

Just because she had done some strange things didn’t give anyone the license to have her committed. Trying to burn down her next door neighbors’ house one night was what they called the final straw.

None of them could imagine what it was like to receive constant taunts by Bob and his friends at school.

Once inside the building she turned on the lights. The blackened windows kept the building very dark and private. It was the perfect place to carry out their revenge.

Her mind drifted to their last victim. He had been hers. All of her frustrations over the last several years were unleashed on Bob. She couldn’t wait to visit the trophies, but first, she had work to do.

The walk in the cold, through the deep snow, and the climb over the gate had tired her. She sat down on one of the chairs. The only time they spent at this place was on revenge weekends.

She looked over at the small office area that served as their sleeping area. Fortunately, their activity created enough heat to keep from freezing to death. She never really paid much attention to the inside of the building. She wondered what each of their victims would see and when they would realize their end was near.

She went over to the guillotine platform. She climbed up, stretching out on her back. She studied the large room around her. Their victims would have looked through the hole to the second floor and seen the guillotine contraption hanging from the ceiling.

She couldn’t remember if they had left the lights on upstairs. She realized the men were shown the trophies, so the lights would have been on. Good
.

The vertical support posts for the second floor and the elevator were used to tie the men to the platform. The only other thing the men would have seen was the whitewashed brick and rustic wooden beams. She noticed they had not cleaned all of the sprayed blood on one of the posts. She would need to tend to that.

The rustic posts and beams were a sharp contrast to the smooth surface of her bedroom ceiling. She had had hours to study it during her rape.

* * *

Earlier in the day, her parents had visited the Sullivans next door. However, it was not to wish them a Merry Christmas. They went over to say they were sorry to hear about their son’s body being found.

She had made an excuse not to accompany them; even she couldn’t pay her respects after what she had done. Her sister would never have to worry about what Bob would do to her.

She couldn’t stand just looking at the building details and needed to visit Bob. She jumped off the platform and rushed up the stairs to the second floor.

She turned on the display case lights, but closed her eyes. She wanted to open them to the first trophy. She opened her eyes to take in their first murdered man. She felt her body react to the display case content; her breathing quickened.

She took her time and slowly walked from display case to display case. When she finally reached Bob’s trophy, her heart was beating wildly and her breathing even faster.

“It wasn’t so much the rape itself, it was how you guys made me feel—so dirty—like some kind of rag doll,” she yelled to him. However, Bob couldn’t hear her, but he had heard her tell him before she killed him.

She couldn’t forget her torment as it had continued every day at school. “You made me lose my self-respect. You changed my life forever. Until the day you and your friends attacked me, I thought you really liked me, but you told me what you thought of me that day.”

She spoke as if he could still hear her. “You son of a bitch. You deserved what you got! You’ll never rape anyone again! For all of those you did rape, I only wish my knife had been rusty and dull. They should have all been here to watch your final moments, hearing you beg . . . beg like I had.”

She looked through the glass and realized the magnitude of what she had done. “I’m so sorry, Grandpa, I really let you down . . I wish I was never born.”

Minutes later, she studied her reflection in the glass, angrily wiping her tears away. “We don’t need that wimp getting in the way of what we need to do. We’ve got another one to take care of—this one is Carole’s, and she will have the reward of adding JJ to our trophy case.”

She smiled at what was left of Bob. “Good night, my lost love!” she said, feeling the cold glass against her lips.

Chapter 45

I slept well last night but never did get anything to eat. Yesterday was a Christmas to remember and forget, but hopefully I can make today memorable.

I thought about Mercedes’ input to the task force yesterday, wondering what was she going to do today? Since it was Saturday, I found a convenient parking spot near the task force office. When I entered, Colleen was at the reception desk, something I hadn’t expected.

“Hi Scott, how was your Christmas?”

I thought about whether she was asking a trick question but decided she was too innocent to know. “Hi, Colleen. It was very memorable, but today’s a new day. How was yours?”

“It was great! It was nice to spend time with my family.”

“That’s what holidays are all about.”

That reminded me, I was glad I had called my parents last night to explain most of what had happened to prevent me from making it home. They said they really weren’t expecting me due to the snowstorm, but they were glad I called and was okay.

“Scott, did you make it to Lisa’s parents’ house like you had planned? How is Lisa?”

I took a deep breath to figure out how to explain things and answered, “No, I never made it up there. Lisa is very upset with me at the moment.”

Fortunately, Mike heard my voice and came to say hello.

“Good morning, Scott, did you get any rest last night?”

Colleen had a questioning look on her face, but I answered him. “Yes, when I hit the bed I was gone. I never ate dinner last night. I’m starved.”

Mike smiled at me and responded, “There are some fresh doughnuts by the coffee pot if you’re interested, and I just made a pot of coffee.”

Just then the front door opened and Mercedes came in. “Oh look, am I late for a meeting?” she asked, looking at the three of us just standing at the reception desk.

Mike responded, “Good morning, Mercy. No, but when you get a cup of coffee we’re going to go over some things in the conference room. There’s only a few other people in there at the moment.” He turned and headed for the conference room.

I looked over at Mercy while she took off her pea coat; she was dressed in black ski pants and a bright red sweater. When she turned around, it made me turn away. She noticed I had been looking in her direction. “Scott thanks for the help getting my car out last night.”

“You guys were here . . . on Christmas?” Colleen immediately questioned. “What did I miss?”

“Paddy called a meeting to go over some things, even though it was Christmas,” I answered.

Colleen gave me the impression she was still processing, looking at both of us. She took a sip of her coffee but didn’t say anything else. I took the opportunity to head to the coffee pot.

Mercedes asked me, “So how did you sleep last night?”

I thought it strange that everyone wanted to know about that. “I took a shower and hit the bed, and that was the last I remember. I never ate dinner last night . . . I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

She responded, already drinking her black coffee, “Interesting. Thanks for asking how I slept last night.”

“Sorry, how did you sleep last night?” We were close enough for me to smell gardenia again, and my mind pictured her sleeping at the cabin.

“I was very restless for some reason. Maybe it was my input to the task team that made me restless—or maybe it was sleeping alone.”

I could tell she was baiting me again, so I decided to head to the conference room. “Mike and the others are probably waiting on us. You look very nice today.” I was now moving toward the conference room.

She grabbed my arm tightly, stopping me. “Thanks for the compliment, but sleeping alone isn’t what it used to be. Have you given any more thought to my question?”

I quickly searched my brain for what question was outstanding. “I have.”

My response was interrupted by Mike, peeking around the corner. “Are you two coming in so we can get started?” She let go of my arm, but gave me the…I’m expecting an answer look.

I resumed walking. “We’re coming.”

She whispered, “Don’t I wish!”

* * *

I knew my face was red when I entered the conference room, but I decided to let it pass. Mike was indeed ready to start and began when we were seated.

“What has not been made public about Cathy Palmer’s murder is she had been mutilated. ‘Lily’ was carved into her right breast. We believe the meaning is ‘Lily White,’ which leads us to believe the kidnappers were not white.”

He continued. “Mercedes provided an outline yesterday that females might be behind the killings. Cathy Palmer unfortunately was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bob Sullivan was the target of the kidnapping, and the kidnappers just kept the girl. They must have dropped Sullivan off at a location near the water. Two Boston detectives are pulling a list of all waterfront properties in the Boston Harbor area to narrow down the potential buildings.”

He took a sip of coffee. “We’re going to interview Cathy Palmer’s mother again. She was taken to the hospital when notified Cathy’s body had been discovered. She might be able to give us an idea where they went after Bob picked up Cathy. Sullivan’s parents had no idea where Bob was or where he was headed.”

“Boston police detectives have not found any leads from canvassing the area where Bob and Cathy would have been abducted. We’re going to continue that effort this afternoon.”

“Scott and Mercedes, if you care to join the party, you can accompany us.”

He walked to the blackboard, which still had Mercedes’ and Paddy’s input, adding “Slum Gang” to the list. “Boston P.D. has asked their gang task force to inquire with their snitches to see if they can dig up anything relating to who might be involved in the kidnapping.”

“Well, that’s the update. Does anyone have questions before we take to the street?”

No one asked any questions. I enjoyed my participation on the last task force, assisting Mike with questioning people. Mike gave out the assignments, saying I would be working with him; Mercedes would be working with Paul Brosque and another detective.

I was happy Mike had split us up. However, I tried not to let it show.

* * *

Mike rang the bell for Palmer 2C while we stood in the Beacon Street apartment entry hall. The speaker in the hall came to life with a woman’s voice. “Hello?”

“Yes, Mrs. Palmer, this is Detective Mike Miller. I’m with a task force investigating the recent cases, including Cathy’s.” Without another word, the entry door buzzer sounded. Mike was tactful with his choice of words.

We let ourselves in, climbed the stairs to the next level, located apartment 2C. The door opened to the limit of the safety chain. Mike held up his badge. Mrs. Palmer closed the door to remove the safety chain, letting us enter.

“Mrs. Palmer, this is Scott Tucker, who is helping with our investigation. We would like to talk with you about your daughter. We are very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. Please come in and have a seat.”

Mike and I both noticed she had been crying.

“Is there a Mr. Palmer?” Mike asked.

“No, he was killed in World War II. It’s just Catrina and me. I’m sorry, her friends call her Cathy.”

We both sat down after she did, and Mike said, “I know you were unable to provide any details about Cathy, since you were heavily medicated at the hospital. Let me explain why we want to follow up with you.”

“We believe Cathy was kidnapped with Bob Sullivan on Friday night the seventeenth. Can you walk me through that evening?”

She dabbed her eyes with the tissue she had been holding.

“Yes, I can tell you what I know. My daughter lives here with me and goes . . . I’m sorry . . . went to Northeastern University during the day. After dropping off some material Friday, she came home and said she had a date with her boyfriend.”

“That was Bob Sullivan?”

“Yes, Bob was attending Boston University.”

“Please continue, Mrs. Palmer.”

“Cathy said they were going to a Christmas party nearby with some of her classmates. They have an apartment across from Newman Prep. Bob picked her up just after seven o’clock.”

She started to cry. “I’m sorry.”

Mike offered, “Mrs. Palmer, we appreciate your helping us, but if you need a few moments, please feel free.”

“Thank you. No, I know what you’re doing is important to find out who might have done this. Let me continue.”

“They were going to take a cab to the party, even though it was only a few blocks away. I don’t think they planned on walking, but I’m not sure of anything after they left here.”

“Do you have any idea who was having the party, or an address, or even a phone number?”

“Yes. I believe Cathy had a number, now that you mention it, but let me check her room.”

When she left, I noticed the pictures displayed on the wall in the hall. She returned with a slip of paper that had some phone numbers on it.

“I believe the phone number at the bottom is the one where she was going, but I can’t be sure.”

“Can I have this in case I need to check out the other numbers?”

“Yes, you may have it. She was expected back Friday night, but when she didn’t come in I thought maybe she decided to stay over at the party. However, when she didn’t come back on Saturday and didn’t call to tell me when she would be home, I got really worried.”

“It’s not at all like Cathy. She knew I would be worried.” She resumed sobbing.

“I called the police late Saturday. They took a brief report and asked me to fill out a missing person’s report, which I did Sunday morning.”

“I’m sorry about your daughter, but we want to find the people who took her. Do you know, or did you see, what cab company they used?”

“No, I’m sorry; I didn’t check to see, but most likely it was either Checker or Yellow Cab.”

Mike asked, “Could I use your phone to call this number?”

“Yes, certainly, it’s in the kitchen.” Mike went in the kitchen. I heard him dialing the number.

I brought Mrs. Palmer the box of tissues.

* * *

Mike knew Mrs. Palmer was really hurting and wished someone was with her. He was going to ask if she had someone coming to be with her. The phone rang at the other end, and he heard a young woman’s voice. “Hello?”

“Hello. This is detective Mike Miller with the Boston Police Department.”

“Yes. I’ve already talked with some detectives.”

“I’m with Mrs. Palmer right now; I would like to talk with you further about your party and Cathy’s attendance. I understand you live close to Cathy?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can we come by to talk with you?”

“Yes, did you want to do that now?”

Mike knew investigations can sometimes include multiple questionings. “Yes, if we could, it could really help us.”

“My name is Pam Dexter.”

“Ms. Dexter, I’m only around the corner, so we could be there in just a few minutes.”

“Okay. Let me give you my address and apartment number.”

He wrote the address down and thanked her. He returned to the living room to find Mrs. Palmer weeping with her head bowed. He showed the address to me, whispering, “We’re going over to see her now.”

Mike waited for Mrs. Palmer to regain some composure. “Mrs. Palmer, we thank you very much for your time and the information you provided. Do you have any family coming to be with you?”

“Yes, detective. I thought it was them when you rang the door bell. They should be here shortly.”

“Good. Do you want us to stay with you until someone arrives?”

“No, detective. It was nice of you to ask, but I’ll be okay. Cathy would have wanted me to help in any manner I could.”

“Thank you for talking with us, and, again, we are so sorry for your loss.”

* * *

Pam Dexter’s apartment building was only a short distance away. What we learned from Pam, the other detectives had already been told. Cathy and Bob were both at the party, but left Friday evening shortly before ten o’clock.

There were about twenty people at the party, some coming and leaving during the evening. Cathy and Bob told her they were going to walk to one of the Irish pubs in the neighborhood, but they hadn’t indicated which one.

Ms. Dexter said that it couldn’t have been far away, since neither was dressed for walking outside on such a cold and windy night.

Mike left his card and told her to call if she or anyone at the party remembered anything else. Mike made a call on his car radio to find where the others were on the canvassing.

* * *

We met up with them; they were only a few blocks away. Mike and Paul split up the remaining apartment buildings. Mercedes and I made eye contact. She seemed to be enjoying the process.

When we got back in Mike’s car, he told me that we were starting with the apartments at the far end of the street and working our way back toward Paul and the others.

Mike said we needed to go up to Beacon Street and work our way down Exeter. I drew a map of where Mrs. Palmer’s apartment was located, where Dexter’s party was, and the possible directions to Irish pubs.

Mike was not a slow driver. My map didn’t have many straight lines. He parked at the corner of Beacon and Exeter.