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Authors: Dick C. Waters

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BOOK: Branded for Murder
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Chapter 54

 

Mike told me of a woman in Derry who knew the two murdered women and their immediate group of friends. He asked if I wanted to go on the interview. I thought it would be a great experience.

We headed toward Derry, pulling off Interstate 93, driving east toward the center of town. Derry was a small, typical New Hampshire town with two main cross streets at the center, which had the only traffic light in town. We drove past the
Hoodcroft Golf Course
to the traffic circle, continuing east up the hill. The house we were looking for was a short distance on the right.

Mike pulled to the side of the road, onto the dirt shoulder. He asked me to confirm the house number we were looking for. I confirmed it was the right house. Mike had phoned ahead. Mrs. Jacobs was quick to open the front door as we approached.

“Good Morning.”

Mike responded, “Good Morning. I’m Detective Mike Miller and this is my associate, Scott Tucker. As I mentioned on the phone, we were assigned to the New England Strangler task force. We are now working on the Kellerman and Horton cases. Mrs. Jacobs, how did you know these women?” Mike asked, in a soft voice.

Mrs. Jacobs held the door for us, ushering us into the house and the living room. “I used to have a dance studio in Manchester. Both of the girls were in one of my classes. In fact, there were four young ladies who were friends, spending time in one or more of my classes. I can’t believe anyone would want to murder those two young ladies,” she said, holding back obvious emotion.

I watched Mike pause, making sure she would maintain her composure.

“I went to Karen’s funeral, since she was buried in the town cemetery up the hill, next to her parents. Her parents were killed in a rollover crash on Route 93 a few years ago. Karen’s uncle was a volunteer fireman at that time. He was called out for the crash. After attempting to put out the flames, he realized that it was his brother’s car.  However, I’m getting off track, aren’t I? Helen, another in the group, read the eulogy at the funeral. I’ll get it from my desk to read it to you.”

I felt sorry for Mrs. Jacobs. Mike must have felt the same way.

“Here’s what she said. This was later published in the paper as a tribute to both girls.”

‘Once upon a time two young birds shared every word. Because they were free, they trusted every tree. Each day they took life, never knowing any strife. They cared for each other when wings wouldn’t flutter. Until along came a crow, cut each one down with a blow. Now they’re flying in God’s heaven, smiling like all is forgiven. I’m the one left and every day, I try my best to contact the rest. Shush - I hear some birds. I wish I could understand their words.’

Mrs. Jacobs added, “Thank you for letting me read that to you. I read it every day, still trying to understand why they were killed. When I hear birds, I wonder if the young ladies are coming to visit me.”

Mike replied, “I can understand your loss. Mrs. Jacobs we feel the two killings are related. Can you think of anyone who would have a grudge against them?”

Mrs. Jacobs looked at the paper she was holding, and then at us. “I ask myself that question every day. I don’t understand who could do such a thing. I know they went to a summer camp in the White Mountains each year, eventually becoming camp counselors.”

“That’s interesting. Do you know the town where the camp was located?” Mike inquired.

“Yes I do, but Mrs. Anderson lives right here in town. She and her husband have owned the camp for years. If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll get you her number. She lives right up the hill in a very large home.”

While she was gone, Mike whispered, “I think we should also talk to Charlotte Williams. If someone held a grudge on the two murdered women, it could have been on all three. Let’s see if we can find out how to get in touch with her too.”

“Here you are.” She handed the piece of paper to Mike, commenting, “Mr. Miller, I’ll warn you, you should just drive there, because if you call ahead, you might not get to talk with Rose!”

“Thanks Mrs. Jacobs. You mentioned there were four girls. Do you know how we can get in touch with Charlotte Williams?” Mike asked.

“Oh, she’s out of the country right now, but I’m not sure where. Perhaps the other friend, Helen Reynolds…I mean, Helen Ryder knows how to reach her.”

“We really appreciate all of your help and time. Here’s our Cambridge Mass phone number. If you think of anything else, please get the operator to make it a collect call. You can ask for me or Patrick O’Brien,” Mike announced.

“You’re both very welcome,” she said, this time with tears in her eyes.

I could not resist giving her a hug. “Mrs. Jacobs, you have been a big help – thank you.”

Mike added, “Mrs. Jacobs, we will do everything in our power to catch this animal.”

 

*.*.*

 

We weren’t driving but a few minutes when Mike broke the silence. “I think we made some real progress talking with Mrs. Jacobs. The fact that these other women are lifelong friends of the two murdered women is important. I would almost like to skip the visit with Mrs. Anderson and talk with Charlotte Williams.”

I replied, “With all the time we have spent on these cases, I agree that this morning we might be getting closer to a real connection. I was also thinking that Williams and Ryder might be future targets.”

“There is a definite connection to the two women. I’m not sure the others are in danger, but the thought did cross my mind. There’s the address for the Anderson’s, we need to turn up into that driveway.”

The driveway gave the impression that something elegant was in store. The entry was a granite structure, like something seen in Europe, not overly done, but with style and care. Mike turned left between the columns, heading up the drive. The home was well hidden from the main road, because of the many trees and significant rise to the property.

Mike took his time going up the driveway. It was wide enough for two vehicles to pass with room to spare, but the curving drive limited our view. We could see that the trees were getting brighter, which meant we were coming out of the woods and into a clearing. Sitting on yet a higher level was a marvelous looking home. It was difficult to take in a single view due to the many roofs and uneven façade.

I thought of Lisa growing up here. You have got to be kidding? Can you believe this place? I could not have imagined we were going to see an estate like this, even though Mrs. Jacobs had told us it was a large home.

We made our way to the portico in front of the home. That area had cobblestones set in a circular pattern. The colors were shades of red and gray. The steps were solid white marble, with edging in a contrasting dark gray. The whole area greeted you well.

I asked, “Do we park our car or hide it?”

“I had the same feeling. Let’s get this over with,” Mike responded.

Making our way to the front door, I turned at the top of the stairs and looked toward the west. I could see the town laid out in the valley below. It was truly a remarkable setting. Someone had quite the vision to build the home in this location.

 

*.*.*

 

Mike pressed the doorbell and we could hear the Westminster chimes ringing inside. Quickly, the tall dark door opened to reveal a very gentlemanly butler. “Yes, how might I help you gentlemen?”

Mike answered quickly showing his identification. “My name is Mike Miller and this is my associate Scott Tucker. I’m a detective assigned to the New England Strangler task force and we would like to talk with Mrs. Anderson. Is Mrs. Anderson available for a few minutes?”

“What may I ask is this concerning?” the butler inquired, still holding the door open.

“It’s about the two women, Horton and Kellerman, who were both murdered. We understand Mrs. Anderson knew both of them while they were growing up.”

“Well, I’m sorry. Mrs. Anderson has provided everything she knows to the police. You will have to talk with them.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but as I mentioned we are both connected with a special task force, which was set up by the Massachusetts Attorney General to solve the New England strangling cases. Our questions are specific and should only take a few minutes of her time. We feel she may be able to make a difference in our investigation if we could speak with her for just a short period of time. If we need to, we will make an appointment and come back.”

“Gentlemen, I appreciate your situation, but I will have to check with the Mrs. and see if she can be disturbed at this hour. Please wait here in the foyer.”

Mike and I wasted no time going inside. It was an amazing view, with a collection of antiques all around the foyer, set off by a grand staircase leading up to the second floor. A giant crystal chandelier hung over the large Oriental rug.

We waited quite a while, not speaking a word, but just looking around, smiling periodically at each other. Finally, we noticed a figure at the top of the staircase. The floor to ceiling windows let in so much light it was hard to distinguish the details of the person on the landing. Soon, a very elegant woman greeted us.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I’m sorry you had to wait so long, but I was not quite presentable when you arrived. I was told it was something about the two young ladies who were murdered. How can I help your investigation?”

“Thanks, Mrs. Anderson. I am a detective with the New England Strangler task force. My name is Mike Miller. This is my associate, Scott Tucker. Thank you for seeing us without any advance appointment. We are specifically interested in the Karen Kellerman and Phyllis Horton murders. How did these women know each other? We spoke with their dance teacher. She told us that they, along with one or two other girls, were very close when they were younger.”

Mrs. Anderson responded pointing toward another room. “Let’s go into the study. Please call me Rose.”

We were led into a room with floor to ceiling bookshelves on all but one of the walls. I estimated the ceilings to be sixteen feet high, which reminded me of the library where I met Lisa.

“You have a very nice home. This study is quite magnificent,” Mike offered, after he looked around.

“Thank you, we really enjoy this room.”

Mike got right to the subject at hand. “Can you please tell us how you knew the women? We are treating these two killings differently than the other strangling cases. We believe the man in custody had nothing to do with these recent murders.”

“Well, as I told the Derry police when they visited with us, we have run a summer camp for many years now. For the life of me, it is not for the money, as it’s personally more work than it is worth. About twenty years ago, in the early 40’s, these girls were my lead counselors. They were campers prior to joining on as counselors. I really loved how Karen, Phyllis and Charlotte handled the young campers.”

I wanted to ask, but Mike beat me to it. “Where is the camp located?”

“It’s in Campton, New Hampshire, just east of Plymouth, in the Waterville Valley area. It’s in a nice location and a real treat for the boys and girls.”

“Can you provide any information related to their counseling experience?”

“They were model counselors. I still get letters from former campers about how much of an impact ‘Knotty Pine Camp’ and these particular girls had on their lives. I do not think I have ever had more of a team than when these girls were involved. I have not had any group of counselors show such love and caring.”

“We are concerned, without going into confidential details, that the same man killed both of these women. We need to find something in their lives which might have given someone a motive to kill them.”

Rose responded immediately, “I cannot think of anything while they were at camp that was serious enough to provide a motive for murder.”

“These young women led different lives as adults in different towns, and it would be hard to believe that with this separation, someone could have developed a reason to murder them.”

“Our campers arrived as weekly campers, some monthly and only a few for the entire summer. The program lends itself to new campers rather than full season attendees. We opened the camp in mid to late June when public schools let out and went through to the end of August. We have had male counselors from time to time, but sometimes male counselors can be intimidated by girls. Usually the girls are much more organized and good at everything. I’m sure we had at least one male counselor each year as we have both boys and girls at the camp.”

“We really need you to think about possibly an older person around the camp, who might have been in a position to know them and might have set out to kill them.”

“No, Mr. Miller, there were no adults at the camp at any time. The camp pretty much ran itself using the counselors. If they needed anything they would call me, and I would deal with that need. We didn’t even use adults to set up the camps for the season. We tried to use boys who had been, or were still, campers. It wasn’t hard work, giving the young men something to feel proud about.”

“Then how about any of these young men?”

“No, they were all fine young men.”

There was a break in the questioning and we talked about her fine property and estate. Rose told us about the grounds and the town in general.

I felt like I needed to ask a question. “Mrs. Anderson, was there anything that might have happened at camp that could have caused these women to be murdered?”

We were quiet while Rose obviously was searching her memory. Finally breaking the silence she said, “There is nothing at all that I can think of that would lead these young women to be murdered. I can’t imagine why these two women were attacked and killed. It makes no sense to me at all.”

“When the police came, did they question you about this?” Mike asked.

“No, they only asked if I knew Phyllis. I never spoke to the police about Karen.”

While Mike made some notes, Rose mentioned her daughter was attending school in Boston adding, “I was concerned with all of those strangling cases. I’m very relieved the man was arrested. However, the fact that someone is murdering young women I knew makes me very uncomfortable now. If there was something I could think of which would be of help to your investigation I would let you know.”

BOOK: Branded for Murder
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