The Body on Ortega Highway Page 4
“I wish it were that easy, Ron.”
“Keep the faith, honey.”
As they are speaking, the man who just called them is looking through a scrapbook. In it are pictures of Clarissa at her high school graduation, a marriage announcement of her first marriage to Dick Santy, a college graduation picture, an article about her becoming a Detective and some newspaper clippings about cases she’s worked on through the years. He is pasting in a new picture with a glue stick. It shows Clarissa and Ron walking Gumbo down Flower Street in their neighborhood. He is pasting a picture of himself over Ron’s.
*******
Two days later, Clarissa gets a call on her work phone. A man on the other end of the line says, “It’s happened again,” and hangs up.
She immediately calls her boss and tells her what’s happening. “I think he’s killed somebody again. I think he’s the Hillside Chopper.”
“Slow down, Clarissa. Tell me what’s happened.”
“It’s him. My stalker. It’s him. He’s the Hillside Chopper. He says he’s done it again!”
“What exactly did he say?”
He said, “It’s happened again.”
“That’s all?”
“Isn’t that enough? He’s killed somebody. I just know it.”
Her boss says, “It may be a hoax, but I’m going to order some extra patrols on Ortega Highway.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“Let’s just try to keep our cool until we know if he’s bluffing or not. He may be just trying to get your attention.”
“He is a very sick individual.”
“How many times has he contacted you now?”
“This is the fourth.”
“Tell me about them again.”
“The first was for a survey, which was just an excuse to talk about my sexual views.”
“I remember that. What a creep. Go on.”
“The second time was when he offered me money if I would do to him what I was doing to my husband at the park.”
“You two need to be more discrete.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
“Then what did he do?”
“He called our house at midnight and asked Ron if we were having sex.”
“He’s obsessed with you.”
“I know. I hate it.”
“I think it might be someone who knows you.”
“Why?”
“Well, he knows where you live and he knows you are married.”
“I don’t know anybody creepy like this.”
“What about when you were younger?”
“I can’t think of anyone.”
“How about when you were in high school? Did you know any boys who liked to do these so-called ‘surveys’?”
“Yes. Yes I did, as a matter of fact. Do you think it could be him?”
“Did he like you?”
“He was younger than me, but he and his friends did like to play phone pranks on people. They used to tell me about them.”
“What kind of pranks?”
“You know, like ones where they’d say, ‘Do you have Prince Albert in a can?’”
“What? Who?”
“You know. The tuna.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re too young to remember but there was tuna called Prince Albert and the boys would say that if you did have Prince Albert in a can, then you’d better let him out.”
“Oh, brother.”
“I know. Lame, right?”
“What else would they say?”
“They’d say, ‘Is your refrigerator running?’ If you said ‘yes’ they would say, ‘Then you better go catch it’.”
“You knew some interesting people growing up, Clarissa.”
“Yeah. Some of them were a little ‘too interesting’.”
“Did he ever call you for these so-called surveys?”
“Yes. He did a few times.”
“Did these surveys ever turn to sex?”
“Yes. He’d ask if I was a virgin or not.”
“Okay. What’s his name? We need to have a little talk with him.”
“His name is John Smith.”
“That’s his name? Great! That narrows it down to about a thousand other guys with his name. Do you have any idea where he is?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to him in over twenty years.”
“Let’s try doing a background search and see if he’s on the Sex Offender Registry. Also try Classmates.com. Maybe he’s on it. Do you know when he graduated and what school he went to?”
“Yes. Tustin High. He went to school with me.”
“Okay. Let’s start looking. God, I hope he’s just calling your bluff on this.”
“Me, too.”
“Meanwhile, Clarissa, please be careful. Don’t go out at night alone. Promise me. He may be watching your car.”
“I won’t.”
“Have you told Ron this yet?”
“No. You’re the first one I’ve told.”
“Please call him and tell him what’s happened.”
“Okay. I will. Thanks for your concern, ma’am.”
Chapter Nine
Clarissa and Ron are asleep around midnight when Clarissa’s cell phone rings. “Hello?” she says, trying not to wake her husband.
Lieutenant Harris says, “Another girl’s body has been found dumped on Ortega Highway.”
“Oh no,” Clarissa says. “That’s what Smith meant when he said, ‘It’s happening again’.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Were her arms chopped off, too?”
“Yes. And her hands.”
“Oh my God. Okay. Where exactly did this happen on Ortega?”
Clarissa writes down the location and wakes her husband to tell him what happened.
“It’s Smith again, isn’t it?”
“Yes. God forgive him. I think it is. I gotta go to the crime scene right now. I’ll call you when I know more.”
“Okay, honey. Please be careful.”
******
When Clarissa later speaks to the Forensic Pathologist, she learns that, once again, it looks like the girl had been raped, but a condom must have been used because there’s no semen. Once again, he must have been wearing gloves. The girl’s purse was found on the side of the road. In it, they were able to find out her name and address.
*******
Clarissa drives over to the address on the girl’s driver’s license to notify her next of kin. Karen White lived in an apartment off 17th Street and Tustin Avenue in Santa Ana. It is across from “Sid’s Tattoos”. The apartment complex is dimly lit and she can hear babies crying in one of the apartments. She goes to the apartment number on the girl’s license and knocks on the door. After several knocks, the door is finally opened a little, and a chain that’s supposed keep out any intruders is attached to the frame of the door.
Clarissa shows her badge to the lady and says, “Are you the mother of Karen White?”
“Yes,” the tired looking woman says. “What kind of trouble is she in now?”
Clarissa says, “Can I come inside, please.”
“Sure,” the lady says and unlocks the chain.
When the mother hears that her daughter has been killed, she breaks down crying. “My little girl. My only child,” she says.
Clarissa says, “I’m so sorry. Do you have any idea who did this?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if that Bobby Cox had something to do with this.”
“Who’s he?”
“Her so-called boyfriend. I should say, her so-called ‘pimp’.”
“Was your daughter involved in prostitution?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Where?”
“At bars or where ever her boyfriend sent her.”
“How can I find her boyfriend?”
“I think Karen’s address book is in her purse. Check there.”
“Okay
. I will. I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me to identify the body.”
“Good Lord. Do I have to?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid so.”
Chapter Ten
Just as her mother had suggested, there is an address book in Karen’s purse with Bobby Cox’s name in it. He lives on Tustin Village Way, a high-density housing area with solid rows of apartments and condos lining the street. She knocks several times on his front door until a disheveled young man opens it, wiping sleep from his eyes. It is 10:00 A.M. and, just as Clarissa guessed, he had been home sleeping instead of working.
Clarissa shows him her badge and he reluctantly lets her inside. He’s wearing red flannel boxer shorts with pink kisses all over them. The boxers have a mock I.D. badge on them, the type that businessmen wear at conventions, which says, “Hello. My name is Mr. Right.”
Clarissa says, “Nice boxers. I love your name, Mr. Right.”
“My girlfriend got these for me.”
“Cute. I’ll have to get some for my husband.”
“Why are you here?” he asks with impatience.
“I’m here to ask you if you knew where Karen White was last night?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb. Her mother told me that you were her boyfriend.”
“Her mother’s boyfriend?”
“No. Karen’s. You’re a real joker, aren’t you, Mr. Right?”
“I don’t know where Karen was last night.”
“Where were you?”
“At was at ‘The Swinging Door’ in Tustin. Ask the bartender there. He’ll vouch for me.”
“I plan to do that. Her Mom told me that Karen was a ‘working girl’. Do you know anything about that?”
“Yeah. Word’s gone round that she is.”
“She’s very young. Only 16. You know, don’t you, that anybody over 18 who has sex with her is guilty of statutory rape?”
“She does it willingly.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s still illegal for the guy. How old are you anyway?”
“I’m twenty-one.”
“Uh-Oh.”
“Do you see me having sex with a minor right now?”
“Okay. Calm down, Romeo. I need your help. That’s why I’m here.”
“What could I possibly help you with?”
“I need to know where she meets her Johns.”
“Usually at ‘Godfather’s’ in Tustin.”
“They let a 16 year inside?”
“She looks like she’s 21.”
“I’m afraid I have some very bad news about Karen.”
“What’s happened? Has she been arrested?”
“No. Much worse. She was murdered last night.”
“Oh my God!! What?! How?! Where?!”
“On Ortega Highway.”
“Like that other girl?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Oh my God. I can’t believe it. Poor little Karen. She was just a girl.”
“Bobby, does she keep an appointment calendar or a list of her customer’s names and phone numbers?”
“No. She just picks them up at bars.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“It doesn’t help narrow things down much, does it?” he says. “I’ll ask around to see if anybody knows anything.”
“Well,” Clarissa says, “at least I know where she likes to hang out. Here’s my card. Call me if you hear anything.”
“I will. I hope you catch the crazy bastard.”
“Me, too.”
*******
After she leaves his apartment, she drives over to “Godfather’s” on First Street. She speaks to the bartender and shows him a picture of John Smith. “Does he ever come here?” she asks.
“Yes. He was here last night.”
Clarissa shows him the yearbook picture of Karen. “Have you seen her in here lately?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s a regular.”
“Did you see her last night?”
“Yes. She’s here practically every night.”
“Did you see her leave with that man?” she asks, pointing to the picture of Smith.
“Yeah. I saw them leave together.”
Clarissa lets out a sigh of relief. ‘At last there’s a break in the case,’ she thinks. She shows the bartender a picture of Desiree Beauchamp. “Have you ever seen her before?”
He said, “She looks kinda familiar…Let me think...Oh, yeah: she’s the girl that was killed on Ortega Highway.”
“Do you know if she was a prostitute?”
“I would have no idea about that type of thing. I’m a happily-married man.”
“Okay,” she tells him. “Let me know if he comes back in here.”
“Okay. Will do.”
*******
Still trying to find John Smith’s address, Clarissa goes on Classmates.com and looks for the graduating class of 1996. John Smith isn’t listed, but his twin brother James is. He was always a ‘Big Man-on-Campus’ type, so she’s not surprised that he wants to keep in touch with his high school friends. She sends a message to him, telling him that she is a Detective at the Orange County Sheriffs’ Department and that she’s seeking information about his twin brother. She sees from Classmates that he lives in Seattle. She tells herself, ‘Nobody has any privacy anymore.’ She hates the fact that Google Maps shows where she lives and what her house looks like.
She searches Seattle’s on-line phone directory and starts dialing the phone numbers of the many James Smith’s listed in the metro area. She finally connects with the twin brother.
She tells him, “Remember me? Clarissa Santy? I dated your brother?”
“Yes, of course. I’m surprised to hear from you.”
“I’m a Detective at Orange County’s Sheriff’s Department.”
“Really? Good for you.”
“I’m investigating the murder of two girls whose bodies were dumped on Ortega Highway.”
“I read about that. Didn’t they have their arms chopped off?”
“Yes. It was very gruesome.”
“How will I be able to help you with this?”
“Your twin brother has become a person of interest.”
“John? No way. He’d never do anything like that.”
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
“I haven’t seen him for seven years.”
“Seven years? Why so long?”
“John is schizophrenic. He’s hard to keep track of.”
Clarissa asks, “How can you lose contact with your own brother? Especially your twin?”
He says defensively, “I’ve tried to help him. For years. Do you really think I haven’t? He’s been in and out of psychiatric hospitals. He gets better and discharges himself. There aren’t enough community resources to help him remain stable and he goes off his medication and has to go right back to the hospital again. He views me like I’m the enemy. Like I’m the bad guy. When all I’ve done is loved him and tried to get him the right treatment. It’s heartbreaking for me.”
“I’m sorry, James. For you and your family.”
“I have kids I have to think about, too. They’re afraid of him.”
“Why? Has he hurt them?”
“No. They just think ‘he’s weird’.”
Clarissa tells him about the phone calls she’s been getting.
James says, “He always did like doing those phony surveys. I guess he never out-grew it. Sounds like he’s taken things to a whole new level. I’m sorry that he’s been bothering you.”
“Okay. James. What’s the last address you have for him? Where was he living?”
“He was in a half-way house in Fullerton. By the college. I’ll have to go look for the address.”
“Okay. I need you to send me the most recent pictures of him that you have. I also want a list of all the psychiatric hospitals he’s stayed at.”
“This is going to take some time gathering everything toge
ther.”
“James, I need this information right away. Especially the most recent picture of him that you have. It’s a matter of life and death.”
“I understand. I’ll send it to you. What’s your email address?”
Clarissa gives him her email address and phone number.
James tells her, “Do you really think he killed those women?”
“I don’t know, James. I hope I’m wrong.”
“I can’t see him doing something like that. He’s always liked women.”
Rather than add her two cents’ worth to his comment, she tells him, “You really do need to try to find your brother. He’s family, after all. Even if he is crazy.”
“Alright, Clarissa. I promise I’ll do all I can to help the police on this. I’m sorry he’s been bothering you. He always liked you. He told me that you were the love of his life.”
“It was just puppy love,” Clarissa says.
“Not for him.”
“Didn’t he get married?”
“Yes. When he was about twenty. Things went bad for him after they lost their baby. When the little boy was delivered, he had water on the brain and wasn’t breathing. The doctor said it was ‘for the best’ that they let the baby die. John was in the delivery room and grabbed the baby and did mouth-to-mouth. The baby lived for a few months, but died. John and his wife sued the OB-GYN. They won their case and the doctor was reprimanded, but John started drinking heavily after that, and had trouble holding down a job.”
“Did his wife eventually leave him?”
“Yes. She said that she was sick of him sitting around and feeling sorry for himself.”
“That’s cruel. Did she know he was schizophrenic?”
“He hadn’t been diagnosed with it yet.”
“When did he start showing signs?”
“He was about 26. He told me that sometimes he heard voices and saw things that he knew weren’t actually there. It scared him.”
“Did he ever try to commit suicide?”
“Yes. Once, I found him passed out on his kitchen floor and called 911.”