Women Serial Killers of the 20th Century (16 page)

Every
day, Dorothea would rise at five in the morning and at the first light, she would be watering and sweeping her garden. She would have a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes on the table for her boarders at six. If any of the boarders needed medication, she would ensure they took it. She would meticulously jot down her boarders’ appointments with doctors, dentists, and social workers and made sure they kept their appointments. For the social workers, she seemed like a godsend. Dorothea served dinner at 4.30 sharp. The other rules that Dorothea was extremely strict about was that no one was permitted to touch or use the phone or handle the mail except her; and woe betide anyone who did. It was then the tenants would see the other side of their kind landlady: one with a gruesome temper, and she would threaten to throw them out on the street. The other rule Dorothea was extremely strict about was drinking on the premises. While she had a well-stocked drink cabinet for herself in her apartment, drinking by the boarders on the premises was strictly prohibited.

In the evenings, Dorothea would dress up in her expensive clothes, high-heels
, and perfume and visit various bars in the city such as the “Round Corner” or “Harry’s Lounge.” In the various bars, the bar staff and other customers thought she was a widow, even though all four of her ex-husbands were alive. Some people thought Dorothea was a retired doctor, others a nurse even though she had never had any kind of medical training. Her favorite drink was a vodka and grapefruit juice, and she frequently had many people surrounding her listening to her stories, like being in the movies with Rita Hayworth. The landlady at Harry’s would listen in amusement to the number of outlandish tales Dorothea would come up with but saw no harm in it. Harry’s Lounge was a particular favorite of Dorothea’s as it was next door to a Center for Senior Citizens who would often drop into the bar. Dorothea would befriend them, buy them plenty of drinks, and question them about their financial situation. If she liked what she heard about their income, she would offer them an invite to move into her lodging house.

In February
of 1988, a volunteer social worker, Judy Moise, brought Dorothea a schizophrenic named Bert Montoya, having had the house highly recommended to her by other social workers. Judy was particularly fond of Bert and had worked long and hard to get his papers and social security payments sorted out. Judy’s own son was a schizophrenic, and she had a lot of time for Bert who she felt was a gentle, good man but like many mental health patients was being let down by society. Dorothea’s well-run establishment and her equally apparent concern for Bert impressed her. Dorothea agreed to accept Bert even though his payments from the social security had not yet begun. On her weekly visits to Bert, Judy was pleased to note that Bert’s physical and mental health seemed to be improving under Dorothea’s care. Over time, her visits to Bert’s became less as other more pressing cases took over her time.

During the spring of 1988, Dorothea had some significant landscaping work done in her garden. To her neighbors’ annoyance
, she had now done this two years running, and they had to contend with the noise and dust it entailed. To add to this inconvenience, a dreadful smell began to hover over the house: a thick, sickly sweet odor. Dorothea explained to the neighbors that the sewer pipes were acting up and that there were dead rats under the floor boards. Neighbors complained to public health officials who, on a visit, could find no explanation for the putrid smell. As the weeks passed, the smell gradually lessened.

It was the beginning of October
in 1988 before Judy found time to call in at Dorothea’s and visit Bert. To her shock, Dorothea told Judy she’d taken him on a visit to Mexico to visit her family, and Bert had decided to stay on for another week. Throughout October, Dorothea repeatedly told Judy he‘d be back next week. At the beginning of November, Dorothea told Judy that Bert had come back and was now staying with relatives in Utah. Every instinct in Judy’s body told her Dorothea was lying. Bert had never mentioned having relatives to her.

Judy visited the police department and reported Bert as missing. She badgered the police to launch an investigation into his disappearance, never for a minute suspecting the awful truth as to what had actually happened to the mentally ill man she had entrusted into Dorothea’s care.Early in the morning of November 11
th
, 1988 Detectives John Cabrera, Jim Wilson, and Terry Brown called in on Dorothea at the neat, lace-curtained house at 1426 F Street. A grandmotherly, small figure with ice-blue eyes and white hair opened the door to the detectives. The detectives explained they were seeking help in locating a Bert Montoya. Dorothea said he had left a few days ago to stay with relatives in Utah. They asked if they could enter the house. Dorothea politely asked them in and offered the detectives some candy. They declined. The detectives looked out onto the garden and complimented her on it. Dorothea seemed pleased, and they all stepped outside. One of the detectives noticed some freshly dug earth and asked permission from Dorothy to dig. She consented, and the detectives went to their car and returned with shovels. After an hour of digging, they unearthed what resembled a badly decomposed human body. Dorothea appeared shocked and agitated at the find. The detectives called for reinforcements. A forensic team, coroner office officials, and a work unit with heavy digging equipment arrived at the property.

With all the commotion and police cars in the street, it was not long before onlookers gathered outside the house, quickly followed by the media.

As the police teams began to drill their way through a wedge of concrete and prepare to excavate under it, Dorothea casually strolled into the garden and approached Detective Cabrera. She wore a cherry red coat and on her feet wore purple pumps. In her hands was a pink umbrella. She inquired of the detective whether she was under arrest. He told her that she was not. Dorothea then asked for permission to go to the Clarion Hotel, just a couple of blocks away, to get a cup of coffee. Detective Cabrera said that was fine and escorted Dorothea through the crowds of curious onlookers and media before he returned to the grim yard work.

By the time the detectives noticed that the fragile
-looking, white-haired, colorfully dressed landlady hadn't returned from her cup of coffee, more than four hours had elapsed and seven bodies had been found buried in the garden: seven social misfits who had booked into Dorothea’s boarding house on the advice of social services and had never booked out alive.

During the search of Dorothea’s apartment, a note was found in which Dorothea had written the first initial of each of the bodies found in the garden and beside the initial she had written the amount she was collecting from their Social Security and disability checks. Dorothea was earning around $5,000 a month from her dead boarders.

As more and more bodies were carried out of the house in body bags, the media frenzy grew enormous with every news agency looking for a unique angle. Dorothea, meanwhile, had called a taxi from the Clarion hotel and made her way to another bar a long way across town. Seated discreetly in a darkened corner, she downed several vodkas before taking another taxi to Stockton. Here she caught a greyhound bus to LA. Dorothea had plenty to think about on the six-hour trip to Los Angeles. She had on her $3000 in cash and a fervent desire to reinvent her life.