The Serial Killer of Bush Street Part 20

https://millieannelowe.wordpress.com/2014/09/02/the-serial-kil…street-part-20/

Copyright 2014 MillieAnne Lowe, Orange County, California

Robin’s evening edition of The Examiner landed with a thump against her front door. “That Jimmy Lee is going to break the glass on my door someday. His arm is getting too strong from baseball practice,” she mumbled to herself. She separated the thick front section of the newspaper and tucked the others under her left arm. As she walked back into the patio she announced, “The Examiner has several pictures on their front page. Is this Haley, Jeanne, and Krista?”

Both Eric and the Chief stood abruptly, their chairs screeched when shoved back on the stone pavement. Eric took the paper from Robin. “It’s them. This photo was snapped when they were leaving the building and getting into my van.”

The Chief looked over his shoulder. “And your license plate shows real well, too.”

“That means that creep and his men will be able to track them down wherever they are, right?” asked Robin.

“Unfortunately, yes. I wish there was some way I could warn her,” said Eric as he continued to scan the newspaper.

“I’ll give Fontino a call and see if there’s anything he can do,” said the Chief. He picked up his mug and plate and headed toward the kitchen. “By the way, Robin, you’re potato salad was delicious, too.”

“Thank you, but here, let me have those dishes. You don’t need to do this,” said Robin.

“Yes, I do,” he said and waved her back. “My mother trained me to be the perfect guest, Robin, and I value the rewards of being polite.” The Chief then gave her a big smile, leaned toward her and spoke as if a conspirator, “I get the bigger piece of cake for desert.” Robin burst into laughter and walked into the kitchen with him.

He put his dishes in the sink. “I haven’t forgotten we’re waiting for Haley to call. I’ll get off the phone as quick as I can.”

“Don’t worry about that. Just use the new line I had installed in my studio. It has a different number,” Robin said.

The Chief gave her a lingering look. “Okay, thanks. I’ll use that one.” He walked down the carpeted hall and into a room filled with paintings leaning against the walls, and in front of other pieces stored in slots. Books on painting techniques by famous artist loaded the shelves, and an easel stood near the double French doors. The atrium offered a beautiful and restful scene of ferns and flowers swaying in the mid-day breeze.

At her desk the telephone had its place next to a row of brushes ranging from small and thin to tall and thick. A big jar of pencils in a multitude of shades stood on the other side of the phone along with a tray of palette knives.

Robin returned to the patio where Eric sat thumbing through the newspaper for the second time. She sat down in the chair next to him.

“I’ve read everything here about the serial murders twice,” he said. “The front page picture shows Haley and the girls leaving as firemen are coming and going at that time. This is happening before the police arrived,” explained Eric. “Luckily, they weren’t identified by name or as residents there.”

“That a bit of a relief isn’t it?” said Robin.

“Yeah. Until Stetson,” he paused and explained. “Aunt Robin, Stetson’s the cop who harassed Jeanne and Krista in their apartment for disturbing the peace when they weren’t, and the same guy who harassed Haley at the hospital.”

“He’s a bully and a creep,” said Robin.

“Until Stetson and his men see this picture, they won’t have a clue as to where the girls have gone, or how they’re getting there,” finished Eric.

“And not everyone reads the early evening edition of the newspaper,” said Robin, “Until they do, the girls have a bit more time to disappear.”

“Right,” said Eric and he sighed. “I’m praying they are all okay and that they’ll be calling soon.”

The Chief returned with a solemn face. “What’s happened?” asked Eric.

“Well, several things,” he said as he pulled over a chair to sit next to Robin. “Fontino got a tongue-lashing and a threat of extinction from the Mayor who is demanding faster results. Our friend is still at the crime scene and he’s ticked off that reporters are juicing residents of the neighborhood for more information. He says that rumors get started that way and move like wild fire. People coming home from work down in the financial district are joining the crowd. And the worst part, someone has nicknamed the place The Murder Building.”

“Ha!” said Robin as she raised her hands to exclaim, “Call it The Murder Building of Nob Hill and tourists from all over the world will come to the scene of the crimes!”

“It’s bad enough that someone came up with the name The Serial Killer of Bush Street, but now, the trouble coming our way will double,” added the Chief.

“Somehow we have to catch the serial killer,” said Eric. “We need to study the cases. Try to find a pattern, or associate the killings somehow.”

“There’s hasn’t been much time between the Bush Street murders, has there?”said Robin. “I’m feeling uneasy, like something bad is happening right now. And not too far away.”

“Eric, I hope your aunt isn’t psychic. I don’t want her to know what I’m thinking,” said the Chief with a sly smile.

“No, not that I know of Chief,” said Eric, and he smiled, too. “It’s called women’s intuition. Isn’t that right?”

“Yep,” she said. However, she wasn’t telling them the truth for at that moment, she had images of something white being torn, something shiny moving through the air, and a strong wind blowing things all around. Pretending she was fine she said, “Any women living near Bush Street is probably more frightened than they’ve ever felt before.”

Copyright 2014 MillieAnne Lowe, Orange County, California