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  As both of our vehicles pulled off to the side of the road, I took out my cell phone to call Kim back. Andy walked up to the passenger’s side and climbed into the Explorer as Kim answered my call.

  “Kim, I think I have figured out the connection.” I blurted out like a school kid who thinks he has the correct answer to the teacher’s question.

  “Chief, Is that you? What connection are you talking about?” she asked.

  “The monkeys, Kim! The friggin’ monkeys! The guy who bought the monkeys, he’s our killer. See no evil; hear no evil; speak no evil. The monkeys represent the missing eyes, lips and ears taken from the dead girls. Do you see the correlation? It has to be him! He bought a keepsake to remind himself of who he is and why he does what he does. We need to get those composites ASAP. Call Ken Garber and tell him to get a second artist. We need to expedite those sketches so that we can get a look at this guy NOW!” I said with the first sense of hope I had felt since this nightmare began three days ago.

  “You got it, Chief. How long before you’ll be back?”

  “I’m not sure right at the moment. I’ll give you a shout on the radio when I finish up with Chief Stephens at Jerry Bickford’s condo.”

  Looking at me from the passenger’s seat, Andy said, “Well, it looks like you may have found the lead we need to get this investigation off of the ground. If the artist’s sketches portray a real likeness of this guy, we may be able to start looking through our records and the National Crime Information Center for a look alike with a previous criminal record.”

  “Ya know, Andy, something in my gut tells me we won’t find a record on this guy. I bet he doesn’t even have a parking ticket. Just a hunch. I’m not even sure why I’m so sure. But, even with this new information, I’m still at a loss as to why he would kill Jerry and try to kill Doc. It just doesn’t fit. There would have to be a specific reason for this guy to try killing two people in one afternoon, in broad daylight, one of his victims in a hospital morgue, for Christ’s sake!”

  Andy shook head in agreement. “Your right, there is no way anyone would come out into the open to commit two murders in one afternoon at a place like a hospital unless that person feared being exposed. There is somethng about our killer he thought Jerry and Doc knew. If this guy killed them just because he’s pissed off, then he’s crazier than we think he is! No, this guy had something to lose if he allowed Jerry and Doc to live. Exactly what that something is, is the real question we need to answer right now.”

  39

  Doing Doc was easier than Christopher thought it would be. The disguise worked perfectly and he was able to enter and exit the hospital without anyone giving him a second glance. He fit in like a car in a giant parking garage - just another car in another spot. His theatrics with the security cameras gave him a lot of satisfaction made him feel invincible, untouchable.

  Doc didn’t even have time to say a prayer. Christopher calmly walked into the morgue, into Doc’s office, removed his sunglasses, winked at Doc and then shot him twice without ever saying a word. Christopher relished the drama. Doc never knew what hit him, who shot him, or why he was going to die alone on the floor of his office.

  “They see me, but they don’t see me,” he thought as he drove back to the Baker Building without any worry of being caught. “I’m right out there in plain view, even touching some of them every day, and they STILL do not see me.” A smirk formed on his lips as it had so many, many times before. The “smirk of the smart” he liked to call it. The smirk that came from being confident and in control.

  Christopher thought about Ron Kosciak, as the trees, fields, farms and stone walls of the Massachusetts countryside whipped by the window on each side of the street. Although most of the farm owners could no longer afford to raise cows or run dairy farms, families kept the farm houses and barns in their possession, selling off tracts of land from their acreage to raise money for expenses. It was one way to keep the land barons from gobbling up all of the historical structures, raising them to the ground and building new condominiums where farmhouses once stood. Christopher wondered how long it would be before all of these historical sites ceased to exist and the countryside was transformed forever. A feeling of sadness came and went quickly as his thoughts turned back to Chief Kosciak.

  “Right now, Kosciak is running around in circles. He has so much on his plate he doesn’t even know where to start eating. He has corpses stacked up like cord wood, a missing girl, two homicides committed within hours of each other and not a friggin’ clue to go on,” he thought. “I know he won’t stop looking for clues. He seems to be a very tenacious sort of cop, and I do owe him payback for taking away my kids. Maybe, I ought to pay him a nocturnal visit and shoot him up on some of my special juices. Maybe, I should shoot his whole family up. What about Marty, though?” She seems so sincere about having been rescued from the bondage of her parents. She has made no attempts to escape. Yes, she did search her room, found the hidden camera and looked around, but, who wouldn’t do those things. Her words sound convincing. I want to believe her. She is so emotionally strong. The other kids all fell apart and whimpered, crying for their mommies and daddies. Marty hasn’t fallen apart since our first meeting. If she is really speaking the truth, we could start a family all over again together. Marty would be like my first born child helping the new adoptees make their transition into our family.”

  Christopher was brought back to reality by a car suddenly pulling out of a side road and almost hitting the van as it sped away in the opposite direction. “Stupid son-of-a-bitch!” he yelled into the closed door window leaving a foggy patch on the glass from the heat of his breath. “Jesus, some people just don’t think.”

  “Christopher. Christopher. What to do with Marty?” The thought of Marty being with him of her own accord was almost too tantalizing. “Although I enjoyed adopting the other kids, having Marty adopt ME would be the most incredibly wonderful thing in the world! That is, if she is sincere about her feelings. How can I be sure? Why do I have this nagging, mental, caution flag? Come on man. You are far from stupid. Do you take the chance or not?”

  Pulling the van into the garage he remembered Marty telling him that she was able to faintly hear the motor of the van whenever he left or returned. He hit the horn quickly three times before turning off the ignition letting Marty know he was back. Stepping down out of the van, he walked over and closed the garage door making sure it was locked securely. “Never know what sort of low life might be out there waiting to break in and steal something,” he thought walking over to the stairs leading to his apartment. “Christopher. Christopher. What to do about Marty?” his last thought switching off the garage light.

  40

  Marty heard the three toots of the van’s horn as she stood in front of the dresser mirror brushing her hair, one of the few comforts of home she held onto for dear life – almost a literal statement. She wondered how long it would be before he came downstairs, hoping he would walk through the door with some food and something better tasting to drink than the highly chlorinated bathroom tap water. She fantasized about french vanilla coffee.

  Even though Marty listened to music while he was away, thoughts of escape never stopped churning through her brain. The songs were like quiet back ground music playing at a restaurant during dinner as she considered her next move in the game. While he was out doing whatever it was that he did, Marty spent the time thinking about her situation. She knew her life was in jeopardy every second she was around him. He was unpredictable. He was unreadable. He did not respond in any way to her verbal attempts at winning him over, so she had no idea if she should continue to “butter” him up or take a step back to see what he would do. If she pushed even a little too far, and he believed she was lying and bullshitting him, he would bind her ankles again and lock the door to her room. If, however, he did believe her, he would keep things status quo and she would take that as her license to continue fe
igning her allegiance to his family. At this moment, in this cat and mouse game, he was the cat and she was the mouse.

  The key rolled the lock’s mechanism as Christopher opened the door to the cellar hallway. This time Marty did not come out to greet him and he wondered if she might be sleeping. Perhaps she had the ear plugs in from the headset for the CD player and did not hear the three toots from the van’s horn. Turning into the doorway of Marty’s room he saw that he was correct. She lay on the bed with the headphones tucked into each ear listening to her CD’s. In that instant, an indescribable relief came over him. He knew there was a part of him desperately wanting to believe in Marty and her desire to stay with him as part of his family. Could he, trust her after all? This intriguing thought gave him hope – something foreign to Christopher.

  Marty turned her head on the pillow, and looked over at Christopher as he held out a bag with hamburgers and onion rings along with an iced coffee.

  “I took a chance on the coffee and asked for milk and three sugars.” He said as she accepted the meal and drink.

  “Actually, that is exactly how I like my iced coffee,” she replied. “You know me pretty well don’t you?” she asked watching his face for any negative expressions or intonations.

  “I did spend a lot of time studying you before the day I began your adoption, so you might say I learned a few things here or there along the way. Are you comfortable enough down here? Is there anything you need? I have tried to think of everything to assure your stay will be comfortable.”

  Marty, having watched him very intently since he walked into the room, saw no signs indicating she had overstepped and decided right at that instant to go for the gold.

  “I have been thinking since the last time we spoke that there is one question I would honestly like to ask you, but I do not want to make you angry, so I am hesitant to ask it.”

  “Well, Marty, there is only one way to find out now, isn’t there? You just need to ask the question and wait for my response. I cannot guarantee if I will get angry or not because, I don’t know your question.” There was no change in his facial expression while he responded to her statement.

  Once again Marty was at a loss and did not know if she should ask. Should she take the risk?

  “If I am going to be part of your family, and you are going to be my dad (this word she chose purposely), then I would like to know your name. It’s very difficult talking with someone when you don’t know their name; especially if that man is going to be your father.” She stated as she sat up on the side of the bed looking directly into his eyes.

  Christopher stood for a few minutes studying Marty. Once again, he could find no signs of dishonesty in her eyes. She really did seem to be telling the truth. She was just speaking her mind, or was she? The nagging doubt once again pushed its way to the front of his brain. Without saying a word, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a switchblade knife, pressing the button allowing the blade to move and lock into its extended position. Marty, reacting instinctively to his swift, unannounced movement, and seeing the blade, began to raise her hands and arms instinctively in order to cover and protect her face from the ascending knife. As she closed her eyes waiting for the searing pain that was sure to follow, the plastic, electrical tie binding her wrists fell to the floor at her feet.

  Picking up the electrical tie, Christopher walked to the doorway of the room, turned, looked at Marty and said, “My name is Christopher.” before walking down the hallway, leaving Marty sitting on the side of the bed in shock not believing that she was still alive.

  41

  We found nothing at Jerry Bickford’s condominium in the way of evidence to help us answer any questions. The shot was expertly fired into the center of Jerry’s forehead. The back of Jerry’s skull was splattered on the wall looking like a modern style acrylic painting of reds and grays against the bathroom beige. There were no bloody footprints smeared on the floor. No words or riddles written in blood on any walls or on the bathroom mirror to indicate motive. This crime scene looked like an execution style murder with only one goal – the total elimination of the victim. In Jerry’s case, this goal had been achieved to the fullest measure.

  Looking down at Jerry’s lifeless body sitting in a pool of blood, one leg stretched out straight, the other bent up under his buttocks propping him against the wall, reminded me of a Raggedy Anne doll my sister used to play with when she was a young girl. Connected, but very disconnected at the same time. Jerry’s head was bent down with very little blood at the bullet’s point of entry. The majority of the blood flowed down his back onto the floor. Death came immediately upon the arrival of the projectile, with little or no suffering involved during his final process of living – the process of dying.

  Jerry’s partner, Michael, found the body when he came home early from work. Michael was a restaurant manager, working split shifts and odd days each week. Today, Michael came home early to surprise Jerry with baked, stuffed lobster, corn on the cob and rhubarb pie for supper. The bag with the live lobsters still moved in the kitchen sink where Michael had placed it when he first came in. There would be no boiling pot of water for these exoskeletons tonight. Michael would not remember the lobsters tonight, and by morning the bag would no longer be moving in the sink.

  Michael knew immediately when he walked into his home that something was not right. The bathroom door was wide open and the shower’s water was running. Jerry would never shower with the bathroom door open – a quirk that Jerry was saddled with from a very early age. He required all of the doors and windows in a bathroom to be closed. Michael, thinking Jerry may have fallen in the shower, ran into the bathroom to help his partner. Standing in the doorway, Michael saw Jerry’s colorless, blood-drained body on the floor under the towel rack. A pool of dark, burgundy-colored blood spread out on the floor around Jerry’s body following the grout lines of the square black and white tile. A bath towel covered only a portion of Jerry’s groin. Without thinking, Michael bent down and covered Jerry, wanting to protect Jerry’s dignity even after death. Michael told the first officer responding to the scene about moving the towel. He knew he would automatically be considered a suspect because he and Michael had been a couple for many years. Michael wanted to be up front with everything right from the start of the investigation. His and Jerry’s relationship would be investigated as the police looked at every detail to determine if this was a domestic crime instead of an execution style killing. At this moment, Michael really did not give a shit about any of that crap. His life’s partner and his love lay dead, murdered. Michael was going into shock as the realization of what had happened to Jerry began to shatter every part of his world.

  “My God, Jerry, what did you get yourself into this time?” Michael thought as more police patrolmen and detectives entered and left his home without so much as a “How are you doing?” offered to the surviving gay man sitting on the couch.

  I spotted Michael as Andy and I entered the living room. He was sitting alone staring out the sliding glass doors to the deck unaware of our arrival. Having met Michael a few times over the years at various medical events Jerry attended, I walked over to him and shook his hand as he stood to greet us.

  “Michael, I’m very, very sorry,” I said. “Jerry was assisting Doc Cavanaugh over in Milford with the autopsies of the girls we found buried at Meadow Pond. In fact, someone also tried to shoot and kill Doc this afternoon in his office at the hospital.”

  “Someone tried to kill doc too?” Michael said, looking very surprised and confused at the same time. “I moved the towel. To cover him. I told the officer. I know I shouldn’t have, but Jerry was just laying there…exposed. I…I…”

  “Michael. It’s okay. It’s okay. We understand. Most partners would have done the same thing. What you did is a natural and loving response.”

  Michael shifted his position on the couch, posturing himself like someone regaining dignit
y and confidence. “You said someone tried to kill Doc. What do you mean, tried?”

  “Right now, Doc is fighting for his life in surgery. However, they did tell us just before we left to come here, that his chances of surviving were improving by the minute. Being completely honest, Michael, I believe Jerry’s and Doc’s shootings were done by the same person. One or both of them must have known something about the killer. There would be no other reason for someone to attempt killing both of them in such a short span of time. They paid the price for whatever it is one or both of them knew.”

  “What the fuck, Chief? What in heaven’s name could Jerry have known about anyone that would cost him his life? Jerry was the easiest going man I have ever known. He was honest and straight up. He wouldn’t hurt anyone or anything for Christ’s sake!”

  “I can’t say I know what you are feeling, Michael, but I do want you to know how sorry I am about your loss. If there is anything that I can do, professionally or personally for you, do not hesitate to give me a call.” I, handed him one of my cards. “I mean that, Michael. Do not hesitate to call me. Is there anywhere you can stay until all this is sorted out? Unfortunately, this process may take some time. I’m sure Chief Stephen here will allow you to get some personal belongings to take with you.”

  “Yeah, Chief. I can move in with my sister up in Gloucester for a few months until I sell this place and find somewhere else to live. I can’t live here after losing Jerry like this. I don’t really give two shits about much else right now. Jerry was the reason I was able to wear a smile every day.