Serial Separation (18 page)

Chapter 50

I couldn’t stay in my apartment any longer. The walls seemed to be talking back to me. Should I call Lisa? Will she still be upset? Maybe she’s back to her dorm, and I could drive over.

I thought about Lisa and our many happy times together—our trip to the Balsams, the surprises we gave each other. She had been so innocent but so open to sex—and the joy of giving and receiving.

She has been so cold these last few months. I knew it was not me that was driving her away from sex; it was Jimmy. Mike concurred that she needed help. Maybe she talked with her mother about her problem.

Should I call Mercedes? I asked myself. No, no, and no
.
That would be the wrong move. Remembering our time in the cabin, I was too much the gentleman. Mercedes is probably still laughing.

I was like a teenager who doesn’t know how to be with a woman. I just couldn’t make love to her. I know my body wanted to, but I belong to Lisa.

I went back over that scene. I considered what I had done, and what she had purposely done to provoke me. She’d had it all scripted. She just pulled the strings to make me jump.

Had I not had the nightmare, maybe things would have been more discreet. Waking up naked certainly didn’t help my situation. Why was I spending time thinking about this . . . and how about her Christmas gift to me? That was it; I had to call Lisa.

If I went to her dorm, we wouldn’t be able to have the kind of conversation we needed to clear the issues.

* * *

I tried her number. It just rang and rang.

Finally, someone answered. “Hello, Chase School dorm.”

“Hello, is Lisa Anderson available?”

“I saw her earlier. Can you hold and I’ll check her room?” I could hear the thumping of someone running up the stairs.

A minute or so later, the same voice acknowledged, “No, there was no response to my knock. I don’t see her around anywhere. Can I have her call you?”

“Yes, please. This is Scott Tucker. She has my number at my apartment. Thanks.”

* * *

I waited about an hour and decided I had to do something else.

I caught a streetcar and headed to the North Station. I had decided to go to a Bruins game since I hadn’t been this year. The Montreal Canadians were in town. It promised to be a good game. I thought taking in a game would get my mind off everything else.

The streetcar was sparsely populated. Everyone was spending time with their families. I hoped they weren’t all going to the game. Now that I had money in my wallet I could buy tickets.

That caused me to think about the cabin scenario and not having any money. Why hadn’t I brought more money with me? I was going to leave from the task force office to go to Lisa’s parents’ house. So why didn’t I bring enough cash with me?

I had no idea what possessed me to leave without more cash. If I had money with me, the situation at the cabin would have been totally different—or would it?

The constant jerking of the car almost put me to sleep. The noise of the engine and the squeals were hypnotizing. By the time the car got close to North Station, there were many more people dressed in yellow and black.

The seats I could afford were second balcony, center ice. I could see the ice surface, but to see it all, I had to strain my neck. My stomach was finally happy with a couple of dogs and fries.

I looked at the people around me and saw all types: fathers and sons; fathers and daughters—die-hard fans from how they were dressed—and couples.

When I saw the couples, my thoughts went to Lisa again. We should be here together to enjoy the game, better yet enjoying each other.

I heard a loud cheer as I watched the Bruins come on the ice to take their warm-ups. When I saw them, I thought about the hockey league I belonged to—and the murdered men.

Why were these men being killed? What was the connection?

Soon the game started. I was paying partial attention. My mind was racing on other things.

Later, the game was tied; Bobby Orr made one of his patented circles behind his own goal and was streaking up the ice. The whole house erupted watching his progress as the defensive players made futile attempts to block him.

When I thought he would have shot on goal, he passed to Phil Esposito. The Canadians’ goalie had no chance. Goal! The place erupted, almost everyone cheered, giving high fives to their neighbors.

Later, one of the Canadians was hit and knocked down by one of the Bruins. The crowd cheered and jumped from their seats. The Canadians player was very slow getting up, heading to the bench in obvious pain.

That’s when it hit me.

When we played hockey on game nights, there was a group of girls that went wild when certain players were checked. They reacted more noticeably when the guys that were killed were involved. Could that be a connection?

I remembered those girls. Their reactions increased the players’ hard-hitting intent. They were always seated in the last row, center ice—four of them!

Chapter 51

She was watching the Bruins game on the small television in her apartment. The reception was poor, but she could see the players. Being able to see the puck was another story.

She had always liked the game of hockey, because of the speed. It wasn’t like other sports, where there were consistent breaks in the action. She especially liked when players checked each other, and the crowd liked it too. She remembered those hockey league games she used to attend.

The images were vivid. She remembered screaming when Bob Sullivan would get checked by another player. She quickly learned some of those around her had similar reactions, but to different players. They were seated in the same area—last row, center ice. It was far enough from the players not to be seen, but close enough to be noticed.

Quickly, the girls developed a friendship during intermissions. Later, they shared their secrets about certain players, forming their own team.

They met away from the hockey rink, confessed their rage and need for revenge. It took a few years for the details to be worked out, but they succeeded, and the trophies were their victories.

They had confessed that, individually, they never would have taken revenge. Collectively, they had the will, power, and ability to ‘check’ these men.

She watched the game on television. A Bruins player checked a Canadians player, and she immediately jumped up and yelled. She was glad the camera had panned the crowd, which was reacting the same way.

The key ingredient for their plan to be put in motion was the unoccupied warehouse facility she managed. The facility provided everything they needed to carry out their vendetta.

They had talked about only torturing the men. However, when they considered the risk of the men being able to tell authorities about their ordeal, they decided to leave none alive. The dismemberment came by accident, when Carole inadvertently threw a switch and the blades crashed down.

The switch controlled some electronics between the weights for the elevator and the cutters. When she reviewed the property description, it indicated that the facility had been used to cut blocks of ice and store them for later distribution. She just assumed that the contraption was connected to that process.

When they perfected their plan, the use of the cutter played an important role in concealing the identity of the victims. However, Jean wanted to keep her stepbrother’s penis, to remind her of what he had done to her. They all agreed it was a logical extension to include the other body parts as trophies.  The cold storage capability within the facility provided the means.

When she periodically visited the displays, her body reacted to the sight every time—especially to Bob’s. She wondered if the other women experienced the same feeling.

She had limited sex with men since the rape by Bob and his friends. The stay in the institution didn’t help the situation either. However, since the earlier
sexcapades
with Bob, she considered taking his prize possession, and the others had helped her decide he deserved it.

She considered her sister, whom she saved from Bob’s threat. Has she had sex? She must have. She was certainly attractive enough.

She picked up the mirror; they were remarkably similar in beauty and stature. She brushed her long hair. Anger started to well up—her sister still didn’t know what she had done for her. Unfortunately, her sister had just kept her distance ever since her committal.
My family had tried to keep my committal a secret
, she thought,
but it had been difficult.

She thought about her other identity. She wished she had more control over ‘her other personality’ but had come to realize she just had to wait in the background until taking over. The therapist explained it much better than she could.

She wouldn’t be out now if her other personality hadn’t rescued her from the funny farm. She was much better with people.

The hockey game completed, she reconsidered what they had done. They had developed a great series of events for the men that inflicted the maximum physical and mental pain.

Her friends were all participants in the entire process, but the last step was owned by the woman who had suffered the most. She thought of their next victim—JJ—who would be Carole’s.

She thought about their mistake with the other JJ. He was their first and suffered only physical pain. They didn’t have the trophy case to inflict the mental pain.

She remembered Carole coming in at the end of the weekend and seeing JJ. Carole had brought them together to talk about the problem.

After much discussion, the consensus was to let him live. She still did not agree with that decision. He was their Achilles’ heel. If he ever told anyone about his ordeal, the authorities could end their game—prematurely and permanently.

Friday was the next planned abduction. The Calumet gang was very effective. She thought about how much the kidnappings cost. It was a bargain. Without their services, they would have only been dreaming of revenge.

Carole’s National Guard contacts provided the resources to get it done. However, this next kidnapping would be more difficult.

They had learned that JJ belonged to a gang in Lowell. He was always surrounded by his gang friends. However, the Calumet gang planned to go in Friday night, guns blaring if necessary, to take him away. The women told them if JJ couldn’t be kidnapped and was killed in the process, they would be upset but would still pay the fee.

Three down . . . one more to go.

Chapter 52

At eight o’clock on Monday morning, the Brattle Street office was a bustle of activity. Colleen greeted me with a big smile and a new outfit. I thought she did a nice job learning her lessons from Mercedes. The front reception area was bound to have more activity today.

I smiled back at her. “You look gorgeous today. Santa must have stopped by your house.”

Colleen’s smile widened. “Scott thanks for noticing, but I went shopping last week and decided to treat myself to an outfit or two.” She stood and turned at the side of her desk.

She really looked great, and I went over to her desk and whispered, “You better be careful going up the stairs; the team down here might think you’re Mercedes.”

She frowned. “Is it that noticeable?”

“Colleen, I meant that as a compliment.”

“Sorry, Scott, I didn’t think people would see what I was trying to do. It’s tough working with you detectives . . . but thanks.”

I decided to head over to get coffee. “I’ll see you later.”

The coffee pot was almost full and smelled wonderful. I poured a cup and headed for the office area. Mike was already on the phone, so I sat down and picked up the sports section of the newspaper. There it was: ‘Bruins Beat Canadians.’ I really needed to speak with Mike about the revelation I had at the game.

He ended his call. “Good morning, Scott. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing great; how are you?”

“Good. We’re going to have a busy day today. Did you go to the game last night?”

“Yes, that’s what I want to talk with you about. I recalled something at the game last night I think is important.”

He lifted his cup. “What is it?”

“The game was great, by the way. What I remembered from my hockey league days was when a certain group of guys were checked, a certain group of girls went crazy. Other people would do the same thing, but when the guys that were killed would get checked, they were louder than anyone around them.”

* * *

I know he knew where I was going with this but asked, “So, what is your point?”

“I think these women might be the ones committing these killings.”

He smiled. “I thought that might have been your point. I think we need to huddle up in the conference room with the others and recap what we have so far. I think you might be right, but I don’t know how we’re going to find out who they were.”

Mike gave the word that we were going to have a meeting in the conference room right away. We refilled our coffee cups. Going by Colleen’s desk I could tell Mike hadn’t seen her before. I winked at Colleen, who just radiated. On the way to the conference room, we heard the front door open. Paddy and Mercedes walked in.

Mike acknowledged them. “We’re going to have a meeting in the conference room, if you’re available.”

Mercedes hung up her coat. Paddy ran upstairs. I looked for Mercedes to make eye contact with me, but she ignored me.

We assembled in the conference room. Paddy came in with a notepad and coffee. Mercedes had hers as well.

Mike spoke to Paddy, but loud enough for all to hear. “Scott mentioned something to me this morning I wanted to have him share with the team. Paddy, I don’t want to take away from any plans you had, but I would like to recap everything we know so far. Maybe our investigation will benefit from it.”

Paddy responded with his own smile. “No, that sounds fine. I want to welcome everyone back, and I hope you had a Merry Christmas. For those who were here Christmas Day, I thank you for your help. Go ahead, Mike, it’s your agenda.”

Mike immediately stood. “Good morning everyone. What I want to accomplish this morning is to make a list next to Mercedes’ and Paddy’s, of what we have learned so far. On the other side of the blackboard, I want to make a list of what we think might be, and I underline the ‘might be.’”

“When we list those things, nothing is to be challenged until we have completed the list. We can challenge and revise later. I want Scott to start with what he told me a few minutes ago. Go ahead, Scott, you start this off.”

I stood and went to the board. “Thanks, Mike, and good morning. Let me start the list of facts with the following—the murdered men all played hockey in the same league together.”

I printed on the blackboard: ‘Men Same Hockey League.’

“I realized something last night watching the Bruins game. More specifically, watching one of the Bruins check a Canadians player—the Bruins’ fans went crazy. I played in that same hockey league with those murdered men. We also had a similar reaction at our games. Not so much when we scored, but when these guys were decked on the ice.”

“There was a group of girls who yelled louder than the others. They were in the back row, but everyone there could hear their screams over everyone else’s.”

I printed ‘Women Knew Players’ on the blackboard, along with ‘Women Wanted To Hurt Them.’

As I sat down, Mike took the chalk. “Thanks, Scott. That’s what I want to do today. Let’s add to what is on the board so far. Call things out, and I’ll write them down.”

* * *

Mike wrote the following from our inputs:

Mrs. Kelly Witnessed Abduction

Friday Night

Black Car

Black Gang

Cathy Raped, Stabbed, Dumped

Sullivan Played With Others

I interrupted. “Mike, would you please add something to the right side? Another player fits in with these three men—Jason ‘JJ’ Johnston. If the others were a mark based on how they played hockey, JJ fits the same caliber of play.”

Mike wrote on the right side:

JJ Johnston in League

Is JJ Next?

We spent the next hour adding items to the lists and then discussed what had been written. Looking at the list in my notebook, it made sense to prevent Johnston’s kidnapping.

Mike looked at the resulting list and asked, “Does anyone have anything else to add to the list?”

We studied the list for a moment, and then Mercedes spoke up. “What about the building itself? Can we speculate the building is currently a vacant building?”

“Let me say it a different way: If they torture the men all weekend and keep the body parts without anyone hearing or seeing, could we consider the building currently vacant?”

Paddy responded, “Mercedes, what a wonderful observation . . . excellent. There’s no other way, anything else would draw attention. That brings to mind . . . where could several women come and go without drawing attention? The building would have to be fairly remote. Let’s add those observations to our list.”