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Authors: Terry Hayden

A Tale from the Hills (35 page)

BOOK: A Tale from the Hills
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A goodly portion of the police department felt like they were wasting their time and money trying to catch the killer anyway. They actually thought that the killer was performing a public service by ridding Atlanta of a few of its undesirable elements. They secretly hoped that the killer would not be caught for at least a while longer.

William spotted a likely looking prospect acting as if he was out of place and somewhat uneasy, standing in a corner all by himself. He watched the insecure man for several minutes to make sure that he was all alone. When he was finally sure that he was, William eased over beside of the timid man and began to make small talk.

“How’s it going?’ William asked.

“Ok I guess, and you?”

“Just fine now. Can I buy you a beer?” William askedshyly.

“Sure thanks.”

William got two beers from the bar and made his way back to his new friend. They drank in subdued silence. William enjoyed listening to the music, but most of all, he did not want to scare the shy man away by appearing to be too eager. The new man kept one eye on the singer and the with the other, he would sneak an occasional peek at William every so often. When the beers were almost empty, William made his second move.

“Would you like another beer Buddy?” he asked.

“Sure why not. By the way, my name is Vincent. And you are?”

“Billy, Billy the kid.” he lied. “A robber of hearts.”

“It’s my turn to buy Billy.” Vincent replied.

Vincent walked toward the bar and returned a few minutes later with two more beers and a big smile on his face. He seemed to be genuinely glad to have met someone with whom to share his first bar experience. William pretended to be just as glad. He was a very good actor.

The two of them left the bar together right after the singer had finished her second show. No one paid any attention to them as they walked down the dark street. It was late and people all over the city were going home, either to their own or to someone else’s.

William finally arrived at his rooming house very late and all alone. He might have gotten there much earlier, but he had to make a couple of stops first. One of them was at the river, the other at an all night diner. There was something about Friday night adventures that always made him so hungry. Vincent on the other hand, never made any further than the river.

**********

When Vincent’s body was found, the poor fisherman who saw him all spread eagled in the bushes had to stop and vomit twice before he could even call the police. The man was so spooked by what he saw that he vowed never to go to the river alone again. He found the body of a young man who had been beaten and tortured unspeakable acts, and whose death had to have been a welcome release from the things that he had endured. He found someone who had been murdered by an angry and very sick individual. An individual who obviously very much enjoyed the things that he was doing to the poor dead man.

The police realized that with each murder the violence and gruesomeness was more intense than the last. In spite of the undercover officers and more patrols on the river, another man had been murdered. And the madman seemed to have plenty of time to do the horrible deeds to the man without the fear of being caught. Obviously more attention and importance was going to have to be placed on the case. That fact was enhanced by the discovery that the latest victim, named Vincent, was the son of a Georgia State Senator. Without realizing or perhaps even caring who he had just killed, William had become a very important man in Georgia politics. Policies were about to change, and heads would soon be rolling unless the killer was quickly found.

************

Several months had passed since William’s foiled tripwith a man named Bill was supposed to have taken place from Charleston. Bill had absconded with William’s prized possessions and treasures, all the time thinking that the things might have some actual cash value. He was very surprised and quite horrified when he opened the storage box that held the so called valuable collection. He found among other things, a bloody and soiled sailor’s hat, odd shoes, shirts, pants, and belts, along with countless newspaper articles about the Waterfront Killer in Wilmington, and the killings in Charleston. There were also some copies of a Charlotte newspaper that were scattered among the treasures. Since he had come into possession of the so called treasures by less than honorable means, he waited for all of those long months before his conscience finally got the best of him. He also found out that a reward might be given for any information that might pertain to the savage killer that was on the loose in the South. On that note he turned the storage box into the Charleston police.

It was a very welcome breakthrough in the murder investigation of at least three cities. Although the charges were eventually dropped against the insane man in North Carolina, he was never again released into the public arena. Wilmington and Charleston police fully cooperated with each other to share the evidence that was found in the storage box. Those things along with information that was supplied from a witness named Bill Thomas, they finally deducted that all of the unsolved murders had been committed by a man who was originally from Virginia, whose first name was William, with no last name yet. William came to Wilmington by way of a train from Burlington. He killed two or three men on the train before beginning a killing spree in Wilmington. From Wilmington he traveled to Charleston by unknown means, and soon began a reign of terror in that fair city as well. Since a huge fire had destroyed all of the records of the busiest dock in Charleston, police believed that William probably worked at that dock and destroyed all of the records in a fire that he set on the night that he was supposed to leave the city with

Bill Thomas. The killings in Charleston stopped after that Fourth of July weekend, therefore William had undoubtedly left the city by other means, possibly by train.

Even though Bill Thomas had only limited contact with the man that he knew as William, he was able to describe him in enough detail for a police artist to come up with a composite sketch. The sketch revealed a dark and handsome young man. When copies of the sketch were shown all along the waterfront in Wilmington, and the Battery section of Charleston, many people thought that they recognized the man as someone that they had seen before. None of the people had a name to fit the face however. The only people who might have known either of his names were long dead in both of the cities.

Since the madman obviously could not resist killing for very long, the police decided to call upon every major city in the South. A call to Savannah linked one unsolved murder to the phantom killer. A sailor who closely fit the description of many of the other victims, had probably been murdered by the man only known as William. Macon had no unsolved murders, but a call to Atlanta hit paydirt. The madman had been running rampant in the metropolitan city that had always been known for its southern hospitality.

The man only known as William had a killing spree that not only spread over three states, but his list of victims now included the son of a very important man in the state of Georgia. The Federal Bureau of Investigation took over the reins of the investigation much to the delight of the Atlanta Police Department. Financial woes in the city treasury had put a hardship on the police department, especially when it came to undercover pay for undercover work.

William who was basking in the after glow of a spectacular adventure on Friday night, had no idea that he was the topic of conversations in circles from Washington all the way down the coast to Savannah, and inland to Atlanta. He was by then a very important man in many more eyes than just his own. He had all but forgotten about the man who stole his possessions in Charleston. That had been a very bad experience and he did not like to think about anything that made him sad, or angry, or hurt, or scared, but especially scared, or confused. He would always will himself not to. He would think about other things like the river and the waterfront, and the things that happened at those places. He would get excited and soon start breathing hard and fast, and have to do something about the things that he was thinking about. Then he would try to remember the names of all of the men who had become his lovers of sorts, who were not having to look for companionship or anything else anymore. He decided to write those names in a scrapbook that he could look at anytime he felt bad. Then he would think about the old man and the surprised look that had appeared on his face on that dark night at the pier in Charleston. William would never forget that look even if he lived to be an old man himself.

If William had concentrated on that bad experience with the man named Bill in Charleston for very long, he would have realized that Bill had enough evidence in his possession to get poor William hanged from the highest tree in the Carolinas. William would have been hiding out in a cave somewhere or getting himself lost the crowds of a big city like Atlanta, instead of playing his deadly game along the river. But he was no more concerned about getting caught than he was about getting hit by a train or steppingout in front of a bus. After all, he was invincible.

***********

Many things changed over the course of the next week in Atlanta after William’s last big adventure. He would surely be in for a big surprise on the following weekend when he went out on the town. The places that he enjoyed drinking and listening to music and picking up partners for his late night adventures, were never going to be the same again. He saw to that fact when he picked up a Senator’s son and took him out to the river, and violated his body with anything that he could find, and then finally beat him to death after he was tired of him. William had turned into avicious sadistic killer, who showed no mercy and took no prisoners. He was a killing machine.

His euphoric feelings of being in a near perfect world had lasted all week, but with a new weekend approaching, he could sense the pangs of that certain hunger returning. On Friday afternoon he could hardly wait for the whistle to signal the end of the work week. He could feel down deep in his bones, and a certain other place, that the weekend coming up was going to be incredible. He had to pull his shirttail out of his pants to cover up his growing excitement.

His excitement quickly waned when he tried to enter his favorite bar later that night. He was met at the door by a security guard and a person with a nametag on his shirt that spelled Booker.

The security guard stood there looking stupid, but the man named Booker spoke, “Good evening sir. Welcome to the bar. Because of added security concerns, everyone who enters the bar must sign a guest register and provide some form of identification.”

“Why?” William asked. “I’ve never had to do that before.”

“It’s something new. A new city ordinance or something.” Booker replied.

“Well you can just kiss my ass.” William fumed. “I’ll go somewhere else.”

“Hey, that’s your choice honey, but it’s going to be the same everywhere.”

William was angry and frustrated and confused, and otherwise thoroughly pissed off. If he ever met that guy with the nametag on a lonely deserted street on a dark night, and no one else was around, someone would have a mess to clean up the next day. It might even take two people to clean it up.

For the first time in months he wished that he still owned a car. He would just leave the goddamned city and find his entertainment elsewhere. But he was not going to do anything that rash or on the spur of the moment. He walked to a nearby cafe’, to think about what he was goingto do next. He took a seat close to the window to watch the people who were enjoying the beautiful Friday evening. He was still very agitated in spite of his change of scenery.

“Cheer up guy, it can’t be all that bad.”

The voice came from behind him. It was a waiter who was bringing him a glass of water and a menu.

“That’s easy for you to say.” William answered. “I have troubles at home.”

He was very good at coming up with a lie fast.

“Oh man. Trouble at home on a Friday night. What a way to start the weekend.” the waiter added.

William quickly noticed that the waiter had the very same look that he always gravitated toward at the bars. And the look in the waiter’s eyes told William that he had other needs as well. The need for companionship that meant an adventure could be in the works if he played his cards right.

William sipped coffee and lingered over a burger until the cafe’ was almost empty. When he was absolutely sure that no one else would be able to hear what he was about to say, he motioned for the waiter to come over to his table.

“Can I get you something else sir?” the waiter asked.

“That depends. What are you doing after work?” William asked shyly.

“I planned on going to a bar to unwind, that is unless you have something else in mind?”

“Maybe I do.” William flirted.

“I need to go home first. Can we meet later?”

“How about if I just follow you home?” William asked. “Like a little puppy dog.”

“Ok, sure.” the excited waiter replied.

The waiter cleared his table and busied himself with his final chores for the night. In less than twenty minutes they were on their way to his apartment. In less than an hour he was pleading for his life to a merciless predator. In less than two hours he was on his way to the river, but he would never know that he took that final trip. William stopped at the allnight diner on the way back to his rooming house. Although it was not all that late, his burger was long gone, and he wasstarving to death, so to speak.

***********

William was averaging one adventure every weekend in spite of the best efforts of the authorities and even the FBI to stop him. It was like a cat and mouse game to him and he was winning by a long shot. He never felt threatened or fearful of being caught. He even started going back to the bars again but only to drink and to listen to the music. He knew that he could no risk picking someone up after he had registered his name at the door. After all he was bold, but he was not stupid. He knew that he could always find an adventure after he left the bars.

BOOK: A Tale from the Hills
2.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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