To Probe A Beating Heart (13 page)

             
“Alright, it was a little cool, but we can’t do it that way again.”

             
“What should we change?,”
asked Stelian.

             
“I don’t want to think about it right now. I’m going to dinner, that was a lot of work and I’m hungry.”

             
Averell went to the motel’s restaurant and ordered a large steak with baked potato, some red wine and a little cheese. Dessert consisted of ice cream and a little warm apple pie. The end to a pretty good day.

             
The next day Averell was on the road again. After three more appointments in the Cleveland area he was driving to Toledo. That is as far west as his route would take him and then he would turn around and try to arrange two or three appointments each day all the way to Albany.

             
His new van was a pleasure to drive, he sat up high and listened to his tapes and CD’s. Two weeks passed without incident, when Averell noted a drunk in a parking lot.

             
“That could be fun.”

             
“No, I think it’s dangerous, and ‘Sleepy’ was not fun, there was no

challenge and it was sloppy.”

             
“So, what do you propose?”

             
“If, and I mean IF, we do this again, we have to use the plan, make sure that we have covered all of the possible glitches, as many as we can see. The whole process should be more like the squirrels, neat and clean. I don’t like messy.”

             
“Then, let’s plan, it’ll be fun.”

             
“If we do it right. Yeah, it could be fun.”

             
“It would be more fun if we did the one we really want to do, you know what I mean?”

             
“Yeah, sooner or later I want to do both of them.”

             
“Sarah and Ellie?”

             
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I want to do Sarah first, with Ellie watching. Then, Ellie, while Sarah is fresh in her mind.”

             
“Why don’t we just do them now—?”

             
“No, I told you, I want to be ready, I want to do someone else as a

practice session, then, when we know what will work, then we do them.
We will do them both, maybe a little to one, then a little to the other. Let them each watch as the other feels the pain, then switch.”

             
Averell began to plan a ‘Session’ with someone, someone he referred to as a ‘test subject’, someone he had not yet selected. The time was now right for him to begin collecting the necessary tools for his ‘sessions’. He went to several different stores in different cities over a two week period, and bought the tools he thought that would need. In the first week, he selected three different sized knives, two saws, a flashlight, a large battery powered lantern and an ice pick. He picked up the pieces in different stores, always paying cash and being sure to avoid cameras. Each time he went in a store, he saw something else to add to his tool collection. He bought a hammer, pliers, wire cutters and screwdrivers. All these tools were not yet needed for his session with a subject and he assembled his tools into two different plastic tool boxes. He included his probes both new and old in one of the tool boxes and placed them in his van. He had another plastic container in which he kept plastic bags, rope, duct tape, rubber gloves and paper towels. Folded in the back of his van he had three plastic painters tarps.

             
His plan included a reason for selecting someone.

             
“We should only pick a subject because they deserve to be probed, to be cut and to die.”

             
“Who fits that bill?,”
inquired Stelian.

             
“We have to look closely at everyone that we know. Some will be too close and doing them could be very bad for us,” replied Averell.

             
“Well I think that we should consider someone very like Sarah and Ellie,”
said Stelian.

             
“Yes, but maybe only one at first, so we know what it’s like, then we can do two. We have to be very careful and not let any of the preliminary sessions tip our hand. When we do get to them, it has to be a surprise, they should not see it coming.”

             
“What about Steve, he should be a target.”

“He would be difficult, I don’t want to deal with ‘difficult’. He would

be a physical challenge. Maybe if he was drunk, or if we could catch him when he was distracted.”

             
“Maybe we should just pass on Steve and concentrate on the other two.”

             
“Agreed, and if that goes the right way, we could re-evaluate. “

             
“Yeah, but we will keep him on our list, right?”

             
“Oh yes, very definitely keep him on our list.”

             
Averell enumerated a number of people that he knew and loosely

arranged them in order of best to worst candidate for the first session. The
basis was similarity to either Sarah or Ellie and one Marlene Fielding came to the top of the list.

             
Averell had met Marlene at a store in Toledo. She had no connection to him other than they were both in that one store at the same time. She was tall and of medium build probably weighing about 160 pounds. Blond hair and blue eyes were mindful of Sarah, but her eyes were lifeless, empty, rather like a sharks eyes and her dismissive attitude toward Averell he noted was applied to every man she met on that day. Her name rose to his number one after Averell considered what several other people had relayed to him about her. She was divorced, and was constantly suing her former husband, apparently determined to break him financially claiming that everything that he owned was actually hers regardless of where it came from. He had entered the marriage with a tidy sum of money saved and intended to continually add to it for the next twenty years and possibly retire at an early age well before he reached his sixtieth birthday. Their marriage lasted a bit less than two years and she filed for divorce, claiming abuse as the prime reason. The court ruling left the man broke and all but homeless.

             
Good enough, he thought, and if there was to be a prime suspect it would be the ex-husband or someone else she had insulted or injured, not Averell. He felt that this subject would leave him safe, nowhere on anyone’s radar. Now to the planning. The appeal was partially to rid the world of a cancer as he saw it, but also and probably more so, to do someone who would not evoke the sympathy of the public in general. Now, how to acquire this ‘subject’, this woman whom nobody really liked. There was always alcohol, if he could get her to have a drink and use some kind of knock out drops. No, that would probably mean being seen in public with her. A thump on the head, get her some place where she was alone, someplace secluded. He would have to watch her and see where she went that could offer the right conditions. This was going to be a good test for Averell.

* * *

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

This is really going to hurt . . .

Marlene Fielding was a creature of some habit, going for an early morning
run several times a week. A run that often ended quickly and became a brisk walk. Averell observed her over a period of several weeks, each time he visited Toledo. He had located a vacant building in an industrial park that was easy access from her “running route”. He also noted that the local police visited that specific industrial park every day at roughly the same time, not to return until the next day. They had gotten very lax and removed the lock from a gate, allowing anyone who would venture the two hundred feet off the road along the fence line to that side gate to gain easy entry. A further advantage was the several buildings within the park were arranged such that the truck doors were not visible from the main road. Anything short of a major fire in one of these buildings would go unnoticed until a close inspection occurred.

             
Averell positioned his van on a side street out of sight to the main

street and waited. Marlene usually passed here about this time of day and
Averell allowed a thirty minute window for her arrival. It was almost 7:30 am when Marlene rounded the corner wearing a dark blue sweat suit with a white stripe along the outside of both legs and a water bottle in hand. She had already given up running and was walking with determination and a frown as she came up behind Averell’s van. He saw her as she approached and waited until she was a few feet past the van when he quickly got out and hurried up behind her with his sap in hand. She ignored the rather slight man getting out of the van and following her until she sensed the stranger directly behind her. She turned to challenge him and he hit her on the head with his sap. She went down on one knee and was immediately given another hit on the back of her neck. She fell the remaining distance to the pavement and felt nothing, she was unconscious, laying face down. Averell went back to the van and pulled it up a foot past Marlene’s outstretched frame. He opened the rear door, put on a pair of rubber gloves, placed a bag over her head and wrestled her into the van onto a plastic painters drop-cloth. Marlene was not as easily moved as he had thought she would be, but moved nonetheless.

             
“Damn, she’s heavy.” he muttered to himself.

             
“Sarah’s not that heavy, is she?”

             
“I don’t think so, but Ellie may be.”

             
“Naw, she’s thinner than this one, maybe twenty pounds lighter.”

             
“I hope,” and he took his duct tape, bound Marlene securely, placed a cloth wad in her mouth and duct taped over the cloth. His ‘subject’ loaded in the van, Averell picked up the water bottle and pulled a blue drop cloth over everything.

             
Averell quickly but carefully drove to the deserted industrial park

and parked in a lot across the street. He waited for an hour when he

heard stirring in the back of the van, turned with sap in hand and tapped Marlene on the back of her neck. All was quiet until about 12:00 noon, when a police patrol car appeared and made its way to the side gate. No more than five minutes later the patrol car exited the gate and pushed it back into place. After the police were out of sight, Averell started his engine and proceeded to the same side gate and entered the site. He drove around the back of the building and stopped at a recessed truck dock. The van was all but hidden by the recess and the pass door was just a few steps away. Averell unloaded Marlene and half carried, half dragged her into the building. The open space was cavernous, extending about a hundred feet toward the front office area and about sixty feet wide. The space contained a number of pallets, shelves and shipping crates scattered about. One overturned crate would serve well as a work table and Averell forced his prize close to it before allowing her to drop to the floor. Marlene was semi-conscious almost mobile and he moved quickly to position the crate and stretch her out on it. She tried to speak, but the gag in her mouth was well positioned and no intelligent sounds were emitted.

Averell maneuvered her into a sitting position on the edge of the crate.

He removed her jacket and eased her into a prone position. Marlene, still stunned by the two blows to her head was easily manipulated and all four limbs were soon tied in place. Averell had spread her arms and legs leaving her stretched out and face up. He pulled on a set of surgical scrubs over his street clothes, then removed the bag from her head and saw that she had been bleeding from the first blow with his sap. He went out to the van and retrieved his tools and the plastic container. He made a second trip to bring in the painters drop-cloth and prepared to ‘probe’ his ‘subject’.

             
Marlene was slowly regaining her wits and started thrashing in an

attempt to get loose. No luck although she could move, she could not get
loose. Averell approached with his knife and cut the cord from her waist band. She tried to see who else was there, but she could only see Averell. He walked around her prone figure as if studying, thinking. Then he spoke to someone else, “You see my friend, what we have here is a very bad person. Someone who should not be permitted to live. We shall remedy that soon enough, but first,” Averell turned toward Marlene, “You are a very nasty woman, Sarah, ah, excuse me, Marlene, and we are going to see what is inside you, we are going to see if you have a heart.” He opened her blouse and with his knife, cut the sleeves to allow it to be removed. He then gently removed the remainder of her clothing, only using his knife where he had to cut something rather than loosen her bindings. He paced again, walking around the crate and stared at her bound body. She was naked, completely at his mercy and he stared, paced and thought. Averell was not aroused sexually, he was rather excited in another way. He was going to cut her, to pierce her body with his probes and watch her eyes.

He was going to see her pain and when the time was right, he was going
to open her chest and see her beating heart. Then he would let her die, slowly as he watched her eyes, watched the life drain out of her body. As he approached her with his knife, he spoke, “Stelian, would you like the first cut?”

             
“Why, thank you Averell,”
replied Stelian,
”But where to cut?”

             
“Ah, yes, let me show you,” and Averell took a marking pen and drew a line on Marlene’s chest from the top of the sternum to her navel. “You see, follow the line, but not too deep, yet.” He then turned away from the crate as if addressing some else again and said, “Now watch closely Ellie, you are going to be next.”

             
Marlene was in complete panic, she knew this was a mad man and she was about to die. Averell placed the knife on her chest and followed the line with the point of the knife making a series of shallow scratches in the skin. “Yes my friend, now make the final cut and we shall see if this woman has a heart.” He repositioned the knife and started to apply pressure and draw the knife toward the navel and stopped just before reaching the base of the sternum. “Have we forgotten to apply the probes?” He seemed to ask the air. “We shall remedy that right now.” He took one of his new probes and positioned it on Marlene’s bicep and pushed. The probe passed through her arm. The pain of the probe in her arm and the thought of another probe made Marlene violent. She pitched and thrashed and tried to scream. Averell calmly picked up another probe and positioned it on her belly. Again he pushed as hard as he could. The probe went in about eight inches and slowed. Averell stopped pushing and looked into Marlene’s eyes. Panic, pure panic he thought. He picked up another probe and positioned it on Marlene’s neck. Averell knew what he wanted to miss in this insertion and held her head still as he pushed the probe slowly into and through her neck.

             
“Ah, three more to go,” said Averell.

             
“May I do the next one?,”
asked Stelian.

             
“Of course my friend, please.”

             
He picked up another probe and positioned it on Marlene’s thigh.

He pushed, hard and it passed through one leg piercing through to the

other.

             
Averell laughed and said, “Ha, a twofer, you hit both legs my friend.”

             
“Oh, I did, not that I meant to. An accident, it was an accident,”
replied Stelian.

             
“Not to worry, we will simply do the other arm next.”

             
Marlene again thrashed and twisted, trying to get free. Her sudden

movement knocked the tool box to the floor.

              “Damn it” said Averell.

             
“Relax, we are in control here.”

             
He picked up the box and his tools and put them out of her reach and stood there holding a knife.

             
“Now you be still and this should not hurt at all.”

             
“We shouldn’t lie to the woman, Averell, it’s not polite.”

             
“Again, you are right my friend.”

Averell looked at Marlene and said, “This is really going to hurt.” and

he plunged the knife into her chest, between two ribs below her left breast and tried to slice across her chest hitting her sternum. Marlene thrashed, twisted and gulped all at once, then fell absolutely still.

             
“I think we have lost her doctor.”
said Stelian.

             
“Yes, I believe you’re right.”

             
The fun was over, Marlene was dead and Averell stood silently for

a moment looking at her body. He had wanted to see her heart beating

before he was finished, but she died, damn-it. Another messy episode with blood everywhere. This time, though, he was more prepared. He picked up all of his tools that he had used and set them aside. Those he did not use, he put back into the tool box and moved it away from Marlene. He then pulled all of the probes out of her body, and with a bottle of water with a straw like drinking nozzle, he rinsed off his tools and probes and put them in a separate plastic bag. Then he stepped out of the scrubs that he was wearing, took off the surgical shoe coverings and placed everything in a plastic garbage bag. He looked at himself and noted some blood had soaked through the layer of scrubs and had stained his shirt and pants.

             
“Damn it, I thought that the scrubs would keep the under layer clean.”

             
“A lesson learned, my friend.”

             
“Indeed, we shall make the proper adjustments then.”

             
“For the next one?”

             
“Yes, the next one.”

             
When he was certain that place was clean of any trace of himself and his participation in Marlene’s demise, Averell left the building, pulling the door closed. He put his boxes and bags in his van. He had the tool box, rubber gloves, garbage bags, he was sure that he had it all, he got in the van and calmly drove away. He went to a small strip mall at a cross roads east of Mentor where he knew there was a coin operated laundry. There he took the bag of bloodied clothing to be washed and dried twice with excessive amounts of both detergent and bleach. As the laundry was going through its first cycle, he rinsed off the bags, removing any obvious trace of blood. Having completed that task, he separated the used clothing into two lots and placed them in clean plastic bags. He left the laundry and drove out of the strip mall. As he was driving on a back road and passing an office park, he noted a trash dumpster where he deposited the old garbage bags, then he headed to the freeway. He was almost to the state line when he spotted a motel and stopped for the night. In his room, Averell checked his mileage and determined that he had put on an additional 573 miles, and he started a new record of miles to be blended into his log to balance with the odometer in his car. He drove something in excess of 50,000 miles each year, so hiding 500 or 600 miles was an easy task. The important thing was balancing his log and odometer. He retrieved his probes and his knife, the only tools that had been used on Marlene and cleaned them as thoroughly as possible then broke the knife and bent the skewers. These parts he would deposit in several trash cans in gas stations as he drove back west on I-90 in the morning.

             
The next morning Averell drove west again passing Mentor and stopping in Cleveland, Lakewood and North Olmsted. He made it to Toledo that night and in the morning he cleared two appointments and

was on his way to lunch. He had his radio tuned to a local Cleveland

station, one that was heavy with news, traffic and weather. He had his radio set for a similar station in each major city along his route. The reporter was talking about a meeting at the world bank when he shifted gears and said “This just in, police have found a woman savagely murdered in a suburb of Toledo, Ohio. The woman had been left in an old abandoned warehouse off of Sutter Avenue. The woman’s name and the specifics of this murder are being withheld pending notification of the her family. We will keep you posted on the progress in this investigation. In other news—.”