JF Gonzalez - Fetish.wps (52 page)

“It's circumstantial, but it's surely something you can't ignore,” Bernie said, lifting his feet off the desk and leaning forward. “John was living in a house with one other student, who also happened to be his lover, Stacy Temple; her basement apartment had a separate entrance. Both she and John weren't home much of the time. This would have provided Charley with ample opportunity and privacy to commit his first murders. He had the space, he had the use of John's car at the time, and the area where the two identified victims were abducted was real close to where they lived."

Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to come up with any witnesses who were able to identify photos of Charley, although they tracked down as many as they could. Friends of Alicia Henderson, the female prostitute from the affluent family, thought they saw her with somebody who looked vaguely like Charley, but then it could have been anybody. In 1985, Charley Glowacz had looked more like a student slogging his way through his graduate studies or Ph.D. thesis. Bespectacled and already losing his hair, he wasn't as heavy as he was when caught a month and a half ago, but he still bore that look of the ineffectual loser. It was a stigma he would never live down.

“What really got me about this whole thing was how he was able to kill well-armed gang members,” Bernie said. “I mean, he basically kills three street people in South Bend, but then his first victim in Los Angeles four years later is a gang member. A Crip. How the hell did he do it?"

Daryl shrugged. During the post suicide investigation, Daryl had come across a dozen gang members who identified Charley as somebody they all knew, mainly because he was Father Glowacz's brother, and they knew him at church. But other than that Charley didn't associate with them, didn't seek them out to buy drugs or for association.

There was even less evidence that he had used them to procure the services of a prostitute. At least four of the prostitutes killed were gang associates. It was very possible that Charley had used their services and kept it very well hidden and the gang members simply couldn't remember. And while a couple of masseuses and other high-class call girls who worked the area were shown Charley's photograph, few could identify him.

Some thought he looked familiar, but they weren't sure if they ever had him as a client.

As one girl put it, “you see as many horny bastards and suck as much cock as we do, they all start to look the same after awhile."

“Well,” Rachael said, her brow furrowed in contemplation. “We could probably formulate a pretty good guess. It's probably feasible that Charley lured the male gang members into his car by posing as a drug buyer. Four of the victims were frequent attendees of Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church. He could have won their confidence when they recognized him as Father Glowacz's brother. It probably also brought an edge to them to be selling drugs to the priest's older brother. Once in the back house at the Glowacz residence it would have been easy for Charley to overpower the them."

“How the fuck would he have been able to do that?” Bernie asked, looking perplexed. “The guy wasn't in the best of shape, Rachael."

Dr. Donahue frowned, stroking his chin. “His height could have been an asset.

Might have made it a little easier for him to wrestle them to the ground."

“There's that, and there's another thing too,” Rachael said, addressing the psychiatrists and Bernie. “It would have been very easy for him to approach them from behind and place them in a choke hold. It doesn't take a person of great strength. All you need to know is where to apply pressure and you can stop the flow of blood to the brain in less than three seconds. It's an easy way to knock somebody out."

“How do you know?” Daryl asked. The psychiatrists looked interested at this bit of information and waited for her to respond.

“That's one of the first things they teach you in any martial arts class,” she said, grinning. “I should know. I've been practicing it for quite a while."

Daryl traded a glance with Bernie, who shrugged. “We haven't come across any information that suggests he was interested in martial arts. Father Glowacz never mentioned it either."

“He wouldn't have even had to have taken a class to learn the technique,” Rachael explained. “People that are into auto-erotic asphyxiation practice this all the time, and I think it's safe to assume that they never learn to cut off blood or oxygen to the brain by taking a class. All one needs to know are the right pressure points in the neck. There's no concrete evidence Charley Glowacz was into auto-erotic asphyxiation, but being that he was into hardcore S&M, it's quite possible he might have been."

Both psychiatrists were nodding. Dr. Cooper said, “It makes sense to me, given his psychological profile."

They had all been mystified at how the Butcher managed to subdue his victims with one hand while cutting off their heads with the other—after all, in most of the cases, decapitation had been the actual cause of death. With this bit of new information it was safe to assume that this was how Charley incapacitated his victims. It would also explain why Chrissy Melendez, the Hispanic girl who had gone out to make an incall from a massage parlor, had been killed outright. Charley could have used a little too much force, killing her immediately.

And of course, it was easy enough to estimate where Charley's supposed surgical skill had come from. Being a butcher for three years would have made him very familiar with the knife. A few readings through
Gray's Anatomy
, found among the belongings in his bedroom and well book-marked, would have made him familiar with the human body.

Bernie leaned back again in his chair. “You know, I think all my questions are finally answered about this guy. We found out about his family background, his formative years, his religious beliefs. We know that he had a severe hang-up about sex, that he was a latent bi-sexual as evidenced by the pornography found in the house.” Crammed in one of the suitcases was a stash of bi-sexual, straight, and gay pornography, all of it on the bizarre side. There was also a stash of more hardcore porn; bestiality, kiddie porn, violent S&M bordering on snuff films. “But still, the guy must have had a death wish hanging over him. I still think back on some of the stuff he did and just shake my head. Planting Javier Perez's body in Los Compadres Turf at two in the morning was a risky move. He could have gotten himself killed."

“That is a distinct possibility,” Dr. Donihue said. “When most serial killers are reaching the apex of their spree they often take risky chances in either abducting victims, choosing them, or in disposing of the bodies. They want their work to be seen by society, to flaunt it. This could have been Charley's way of saying ‘hey, look at me! Look what I can do!’”

“Well, at least it's over. We got the bastard.” Daryl reached for Rachael's hand.

“We stopped him and we pretty much know why he did it. I guess the only thing we can be thankful for is the fact that we got him when we did. If he had kept on going without us catching him it would have ended up a lot worse.” He looked at Rachael and she returned his gaze. It was obvious from the expression on her face that she knew very well what he was talking about.

“Well,” Bernie said, rising from his seat. “I guess that brings this case to a close then."

The five of them chatted on their way out of the office to the elevator. Once outside they parted with handshakes. “Feel free to contact us if you need any additional background information,” Dr. Cooper told Rachael.

“I will,” Rachael smiled. “Thanks."

Once in Daryl's car he turned to Rachael. “We were lucky, you know that?"

“Yes, we were."

“He could have killed you."

Rachael.... “But he didn't."

Daryl smiled back. “No, he didn't."

They embraced.

“I love you,” Rachael said, smiling.

“I love you, too."

“And I'm so proud of you."

“I'm proud of you, too."

“It was a hellish experience that I never want to go through again, but in a way I'm glad we did,” Rachael said. She grasped both his hands in hers. “It not only brought us together, but it made our relationship stronger."

“Mmm hmm. And do you know what else?"

“What?"

“It made me realize that life is too short to continually mourn the past.” Thoughts of Shirley briefly came to mind, and for the first time in years they were not only happy thoughts, but he found that he could think about her without feeling regret that he hadn't been able to do anything to prevent her death. It was simply an unfortunate incident that had happened, one that would remain with him forever. But an incident that was no longer a crutch or a hindrance to how he approached relationships now. Rachael had helped him through that. And if this case hadn't thrown them together he might still be lost in that myriad sea of hurt, still smarting from the pain, and still angry.

Rachael's fingers caressed his hands, interlocking with his fingers. “I guess good things can come out of bad times, can't they?"

Daryl smiled. “Yes. I think they can."

Epilogue

And in the end, they really did set off to live happily ever after.

The evening after their discussion with Bernie and the psychiatrists about the case, Daryl asked Rachael to marry him. Happily, Rachael said yes.

Daryl quit his job as a detective three weeks later. A month after that he found a position with a Private Investigation firm. Most of the work was mundane; skip-tracing people who owed various debts, tracking down family members who were named in last wills and testaments, finding long lost lovers. It paid substantially less than his work as a homicide detective, but it was something to keep him busy and earning income while he went back to school to earn his teaching credentials.

He had always wanted to make a difference.

He got his teaching credentials the month they married, in April of 1999. They had a small, private ceremony in the backyard of his father's house in Cambria. They invited thirty of their closest friends and Daryl's family. After the brief non-denominational ceremony, a dozen white doves were released to fly over the ocean.

Among the guests who were invited were Rachael's friends from the
Times
, Daryl's former partner Steve Howe and his wife Jeanette, his former boss Hank Wilkeson, and FBI Agent Bernie Haskins. Some of the old members of the Butcher Task Force had shown up, too—Detectives Gonzalez and Espãna, Douglas and Rexer, and some others.

They tried to locate Father Glowacz, but the new priest at Our Lady of Guadalupe told Daryl that the priest had requested ??? Daryl didn't blame the priest for wanting to pack up and leave. A year after the events that led to Charley's arrest and suicide, the story was still getting ample press coverage. Three books had already hit the stands about the case, and a fourth, Rachael's book, was set to be released that fall in hardcover. There had been numerous television specials on the case, and Rachael's book had been optioned by a major production company. The money had been more than enough to set Rachael on the road to a new career—she started work on her next book a month after they returned from their honeymoon in Hawaii. It was probably for the best that Father John Glowacz didn't attend the wedding. No matter that he knew that his brother had been a killer and a sick man, he might still harbor feelings toward the events that resulted in the death of his mother and brother.

After a nice, lazy summer vacation in which Daryl didn't work at all, floating on Rachael's advances, which had been more than enough to tide them over for the rest of the next year if they wanted to, he found work in August teaching criminology at a community college in Seattle, Washington. This meant a move, which they hastily arranged over a three month period. By November they were settled in their new home.

Daryl fell in love with the city of Seattle immediately. Meanwhile, Rachael started her second book, this one about the Militia Movement and their ties with the far Christian Right.

In October they got the news that Rachael was pregnant, which was a miracle.

Rachael always believed that she couldn't have children. She had been told by her doctor that she was incapable of bearing children. Her pregnancy proved this diagnosis wrong.

And on May 1, 2000, Daryl was present in the delivery room when Rachael gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She weighed in at seven pounds, two ounces and was twenty-two inches long. They named her Catherine Shirley Garcia. For Daryl, it was the happiest moment of his life. Next to his and Rachael's wedding day.

Some stories have happy endings.

But then, some don't ... ?

May 12, 2000, 7:30 PM

Los Angeles, CA

Father John Glowacz had just been ushered into Father James O'Grady's private study when he started having the shakes.

He couldn't control it. He had been having them a lot lately, especially whenever he thought about his family and his role in their deaths. He just couldn't take it anymore.

He had to talk to somebody about it. He had to speak to Father O'Grady.

James O'Grady stepped into his study and closed the door behind him. The priest was still dressed for duties, his clerical collar still in place. Today was John's off day at his new parish, a nice little church in the South Orange County area. He had made the drive up to Los Angeles in a blind heat after debating and praying about his dilemma for the past few days. The more time went by, the more this was eating at him. He was beating himself up over this. He had to find absolvement for his sins.

“You sounded rather urgent over the phone,” James said as he stepped up to the bar. “Would you like a drink?"

“Please.” John said, taking a deep breath.

“Scotch okay?"

“Scotch is fine."

James O'Grady poured them both three fingers of Scotch in heavy tumblers, then carried them over to the sofa. He handed John his, and the priest took it in a shaking hand and gulped half of it down. James frowned. “I think we'd better talk."

“Bring the bottle over,” John said. “I think I'm going to need it."