Serial Separation (19 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.”