The Night School Strangler
Chapter 11
Mark pulled the van into the garage parking lot at police headquarters. Ironside got onto the lift and pressed the button. As his chair was lowered to the cement, Lieutenant Carl Reese came over to meet them.
"Hi Chief, any luck with James Lander?" Carl asked.
"We are going to check into him further. Obviously, you have something or you would not be meeting us here in the parking garage."
"Well, I do have something. I just got the report that the blood under Carol Lester's fingernails was type O."
"It is about time. It certainly took them long enough to provide that little detail," Ironside grumbled.
"That should help narrow down the suspects," Mark said.
"It means we have some work to do. We need to get the medical records of all ten of those students. We can eliminate the ones that are not type O."
"I can check it out for you, Chief," Carl offered.
"All right, Carl, go ahead and do it. Report back to me as soon as you can. The sooner we can eliminate some of these men, the better."
Reese nodded, turned and walked away.
"Let's go, Mark. Wyatt Smith should be upstairs waiting for us."
Sanger stepped behind Ironside's wheelchair and began wheeling him toward the elevator that would take them to his office-residence on the top floor. Once inside, Mark pressed the button for the chief's floor and they rode the elevator upward.
When the doors opened, Ironside wheeled himself out and towards his office door. Mark helped him up the ramp and then let go. Opening the door, he stepped back so his boss could enter the office.
Sitting at the table, was a young man with dark hair. As Ironside approached the table, he could see a small scar on the right side of the man's chin.
Wyatt Smith stood up and introduced himself. "I was told you wanted to see me, Chief Ironside."
"That's right. Sit down, Mister Smith," the gruff detective ordered him.
Smith did as he was told. Mark went into the kitchen, poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the table. He set one down in front of his boss and the other in front of Wyatt Smith. There was already cream and sugar on the table.
Smith looked down at the coffee. "No thanks, I never drink that stuff."
"You were at the college every time a murder was committed, Mister Smith," Ironside said, looking at him. He sat staring at him waiting for him to respond.
"You think I did it, Chief Ironside? Simply because I was at the college every time a murder was committed. I am betting there were several other guys that were there as well. So, sir, I am willing to answer anything you might ask to clear this up. Go ahead ask your questions. I will try to clear up any suspicions you may have of me."
Ironside studied the man for a moment. He gave off an aura of being sincere. Time would tell if it was an act or whether he was actually trying to help. "You dated Melinda Mitchell."
"Yes, that is correct. We dated for some time, but it didn't work out; we split up."
"What caused the breakup?" Ironside asked.
Smith shrugged. "I guess she got tired of me. She felt I was too possessive, I guess."
"Were you?"
"I didn't think so. I loved her, I wanted to make sure she stayed safe. I checked on her to be sure she was okay. She resented that. I really don't understand why. With everything that goes on in this world, why wouldn't she want to be looked after?"
"How often did you check on her?" Ironside took a sip of his coffee. His steely blue eyes bore into Wyatt Smith's eyes.
"Every day. I didn't think that was being overly protective. Anyway, she didn't like it, so I started following her to make sure she stayed safe."
"You stalked her?" Mark said.
"I didn't consider it stalking, Mister Sanger. I just wanted to be sure she was safe."
"Did you have reason to believe she would not be?" Ironside asked.
"Mister Ironside, I am of the old school. I'm a guy who feels women should be protected. They are easy prey for men, you know rapist, maniacs and killers. The fact that there is a maniac running around killing women at the college proves it.
"I guess maybe I may have gone overboard. If I could do it over again, I would try to give her more space. We argued about me watching her all the time. She broke up with me. She started to see James Lander."
"Were you angry about that?" Ironside inquired.
"I wasn't happy about it, if that is what you mean, but her life is her own. I didn't have anything to say about it. If you think it made me angry enough to kill her, you are wrong. I loved her, I still love her. I would not hurt her."
"I talked to you at the college. Why didn't you tell me then that you had dated Melinda Mitchell?"
"Chief Ironside, put yourself in my place. I dated a woman who is later murdered by some maniac, and the most famous detective in the world starts questioning students, looking for the killer. I was afraid I would become your number one suspect. Look, I am having trouble with the school work. I want to be a lawyer. I just don't know if I am going to make it. The last thing I need on my mind is that the police think I am a killer. I am sorry, I should have told you."
"Did you ever seek psychological help?"
"What? Of course not. I'm no different than the other guys on the campus."
"Really?" Mark said, raising an eyebrow. "One of those guys is a serial killer."
Wyatt Smith was beginning to lose his composure a little. He looked over at Mark. "Look, I think I have been more than cooperative. I will continue to cooperate, but I did not kill any of those women. I was in class. I certainly didn't kill Melinda. I cared a great deal about her. Why don't you check with that boyfriend of hers? As far as I'm concerned, he's crazy enough to do it."
He had Ironside's undivided attention. "What makes you say that?"
"You asked about seeking psychological treatment, right?"
"That's right."
"You need to do some further checking into James Lander. I know for a fact that he had a nervous breakdown when he was in high school. He didn't get along with his parents. His mother was a tyrant and his father was just playing crazy. I know, I have checked into his background. I never liked the thought of Melinda with him, but there was nothing I could do about it. You see, Chief, if I were going to kill somebody, it would not have been Melinda. It would have been James Lander, and he is still alive. You should check into him. You are wasting your time with me. I would not have harmed her. So if you're talking about a serial killer, that kind of lets me out."
"Okay, Mister Smith, you can go. Just do not leave town. We may have more questions for you." Ironside turned his chair away from Wyatt Smith. "And, we will be asking for a blood sample."
"A blood sample? What for?" Wyatt questioned.
"The killer left his blood under the fingernails of one of the victims. We have a confirmation on the blood type."
"If it will clear me, you can take my blood right now. But just to show you that I am more than willing to be cooperative, I can tell you right now that my blood is type O."
"We will be in touch, Mister Smith."
Mark walked him over to the door, opened it and watched as Smith left the office. Coming back down the ramp, he went over and sat down by his boss. "So what do you think?"
"He doesn't seem like the type. However, we're going to check him out anyway. Chances are, nothing will come of it. Like Eve said, we cannot leave any stone unturned. I did find it interesting what he said about James Lander. We are also going to be checking into that."
"Come on, Chief. He was going to try to help me find the killer. I don't believe that he had anything to do with these killings." Mark stood up in looked down at his boss in the wheelchair. "He really loved her. I am sure of that."
"Mark, you have been around us long enough to know that many men have murdered women they loved. Haven't you ever heard of the phrase, there is a fine line between love and hate? What if he is the Killer? What if we ignore him and don't check any further into him? We would be doing the women at that school an injustice. He would go on killing and we would be looking at the wrong people. Is that what you want me to do?"
"No, it's not. I just feel very strongly that he is not the killer, that's all. And this kid has the correct blood type. We don't know what blood type James Lander has."
"You may well be right, but we are going to check him out thoroughly anyway along with Smith and the others. Fair enough?"
Mark had to admit the chief was always thorough. He nodded in agreement. "Fair enough."
"Good, now who is next on our list?"
Mark pulled out the sheet of paper from his pocket. "The kid's name is Greg Stewart."
"Do we have an address?" Ironside asked him.
"Yes. He lives in one of the dorms on the campus. He should be easy to find."
"We are not going to find out anything sitting around here. Let's get moving." Ironside turned his chair around towards the ramp and begin wheeling. Sanger stepped in behind him and pushed his chair up the ramp. The two men left for their next assignment.
*
Officer Eve Whitfield turned off the motor on her vehicle and got out of the car. She walked up the sidewalk toward the home of Jerry Downing. Riding towards her on a tricycle, a little girl no more than four or five years old was peddling as fast as she could towards her. Apparently she was not watching where she was going as Eve had to put out her hand to stop the forward motion of the tricycle.
The little girl looked up at her with a weary expression. "Who are you?"
Eve smiled at the child and answered, "I'm a police officer. Can you tell me your name?"
"Daddy says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she responded.
Eve pulled her detective's badge out of her purse and showed it to the little girl. "You can talk to me, I am a police officer." She could tell that the little girl was not convinced.
"If you are a police officer, then where is your uniform? Daddy says police officers wear uniforms."
"I am a police detective. We don't wear uniforms."
"I thought all police officers wore uniforms. How are you supposed to know if they really are police officers if they don't wear a uniform?"
Before Eve could answer her, the front door opened and a young man stepped out. He was wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans and was barefooted. "Is there something I can do for you, Miss?"
Eve again pulled out her detective's badge and showed it to the man. "I'm officer Eve Whitfield. I work for Chief Robert Ironside. "Are you Jerry Downing?"
"I am. I suppose you want to question me about the murders that are going on at the college. I heard Ironside was questioning all of the men that were in classes for every murder. I suppose that would include me."
He looked down at his daughter and said, "Sweetie, I want you to go inside."
"But, Daddy, I want to stay here with you," the child protested.
"Inside and now." Downing's voice was stern but gentle. Giving her father no further argument, she went inside and shut the door. Once they were alone, he turn to Eve Whitfield and said, "What do you want to know, Officer?"
"You were on campus when each one of the murders took place, where you not?" Eve asked him.
The man did not become defensive. "Yes, ma'am, I was, but I had nothing to do with any of those killings. My wife died two years ago and I am simply trying to make a better life for myself and for my daughter. You can check my record if you would like. I have never been arrested and never even had as much as a parking ticket. I went back to school to try to learn a profession where I can make a decent living. We all know that lawyers make good money. School was never difficult for me. I always got straight A's. So I decided to go back to school and study the law."
"Did you see or hear anything that might help us?" Officer Whitfield had done a little checking into this man's background. She found absolutely nothing that would lead her to believe that he could possibly be a cold-blooded killer. She believed him to be exactly what he said he was, a man trying to make a better life for himself and his daughter. His wife had died in a car accident in which the other car was driven by a drunk driver. Apparently his home life as a child had been completely normal. He had met his childhood sweetheart in high school and they were married shortly after they graduated.
"I really wish I could say that I had seen or heard something, but the truth is I did not. As you can tell, I am a bit older than most of the students going to that school right now. I really do not have anything in common with these kids. Therefore, I have not associated with anyone at the school. I simply have been going to classes and returning home, No stops in between. I certainly do hope that you catch this maniac soon."
Eve had already done enough checking on this man to satisfy herself. After having spoken with him, she did not see him as a suspect. There was absolutely nothing in his background that indicated that he would snap in this manner. She thanked him for his time, turned around and returned to her vehicle. Eve got in and drove to her next destination.
The policewoman drove her car to a local gas station. She parked it off to the side and went into the main office. A girl behind the desk looked up and asked, "Can I help you?"
"Yes, I am looking for Jody Mansilla."
"He's on a break. You'll find him in the break room. When you leave this room turn to your right, it's the last room on the left."
Eve thanked him and followed her directions. When she arrived at the break room, she opened the door and entered. From the information she had on Jody Mansilla, she walked directly over to him. "Mister Mansilla?"
His eyes went up and down the police woman and he grinned. "This must be my lucky day to have such a beautiful woman looking for me. How would you like to have dinner tonight?" He stood up and got directly into Eve's face.
Although she did not like his behavior, she would not back away from him. She wanted to make sure that he understood that she was not intimidated by his behavior. She reached into her purse and pulled out her detective's badge. "San Francisco police. I would like to speak with you for a moment. Is there someplace we could go where it would be a little more private?"
His attitude changed immediately. "Why would such a beautiful woman want to join the pig Department?"
"Mister Mansilla, I am an extremely busy woman. I have heard it all, so you can quit with the pig routine."
"Where's your warrant, lady Pig?"
"I don't have one, but I can have one here within five minutes. You will either talk to me now or you will talk to me at the station. Make up your mind, Mister Mansilla, I don't have time to waste."
"Just like a pig cop, you think you can push everybody around. I don't have time for you either. You came into my place of business. You want to talk to me, get that warrant."
She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. "I'll have that warrant here in five minutes."
"That will not be necessary, Officer Whitfield," a voice from behind them said. Barry Martinez smiled at Officer Whitfield as she turned around. "How's the chief doing these days?"
"He's fine, Mister Martinez," Eve answered.
"Good, tell him it is about time that we arrange another poker game. I need to win back some of the money he has taken from me."
Eve smiled. Chief Ironside was an exceptionally good poker player. With the poker face that he displayed on a daily basis, it made it very difficult for other players to read him. Along with that and his ability to bluff in any given circumstance, he was extremely difficult to beat. "I will be sure and tell him that. It is better that you lose your money than Ed, Mark and I lose ours."
Martinez chuckled. "Well then, how about I play the three of you instead?"
Jody Mansilla got up and prepared to leave the room. As he reached the door, his boss called out, "Just a minute, Jody. I believe this officer would like to speak with you."
"I'm not talking to a cop," Mansilla snarled.
"Jody, Chief Ironside was responsible for keeping this gas station from being burned down. Anyone who works here will cooperate with him or they will not be working here very long."
Jody would have liked nothing more than to tell Martinez what he could do with his job. However, he needed the money. He had gotten some scholarships to go to law school, but they were not enough to pay for it in its entirety. He needed this job because Martinez at least worked with him on the hours that he needed to be at school. So he had no choice but to do as his boss asked.
Turning around, he walked back over to the table and sat down. Being careful not to call officer Whitfield a pig in front of his boss, he said, "What do you want to know, Officer?"
"I will leave the two of you alone. Jody, I expect you to be respectful to Officer Whitfield." He turned around and left the break room.
"Let's get this over with," he growled at Eve.
"Mister Mansilla, our records show that you were on the campus each time one of the murders was committed."
"Yeah, so what? I had nothing to do with the killings and you can't prove that I did."
"That remains to be seen," Eve responded. "If you have nothing to hide, then there is no reason for you not to cooperate."
"Like I said, let's get this over with."
She pulled a report out of her purse. "According to this you have been arrested three times for assaulting women."
"So you think because I beat up three women that I killed those women on the campus, is that it?"
"You seem to have an animosity towards women, Mister Mansilla."
"Well, officer Pig. I had animosity towards those three women. They deserved what they got."
"And why is that? I read, they simply got positions that you were attempting to obtain."
"They were mens' jobs. Women think they should be able to move into any position that they want. Some jobs were just meant for men to do. You don't see men going into a bank and applying for teller jobs. That's a woman's job."
"Why is that, Mister Mansilla? Could it be because the jobs are so poorly paying that men won't take them?"
He looked at Eve with disgust. "It's simply because being a teller is a woman's job. I was going for executive positions. No woman belongs in executive positions. I can only think of one position that women belong in, quite frankly." He looked Eve up and down.
She ignored his lewd remark. "You have a seat at the back of the room in every single class that you are in. You could have slipped in and out of any one of those classrooms and murdered those girls."
Mansilla grabbed Eve and slammed her up against the wall. "Don't think that just because Martinez told me to treat you with respect that I am going to do it. You are a perfect example. You are in a position that you can't handle and don't belong in. Why, I could kill you right here and now and you could not do anything about it."
He did not realize that Eve had reached into her purse and pulled out her service revolver. She placed it against his temple and said, "Don't be too sure, Mister Mansilla. I would suggest that you let go of me immediately."
Jody Mansilla lifted his hands with his palms toward her and nodded. "This conversation is at an end. I am not answering any more of your questions. The next time you come around, you better have a warrant."
He took a step back, but Eve did not lower her weapon. Put both of your hands on the wall," she said. "you are under arrest for assaulting a police officer."
"Why don't you try and make me."
"You can add resisting arrest to the charges," Ed Brown said behind them. He too had drawn his service revolver.
"This is nothing but harassment. I did not assault her!"
"A court of law will look at it differently," Ed said. "You are not allowed to slam police officers up against the wall. Now I would suggest that you do exactly as Officer Whitfield has told you to do."
With two cops with guns pointed directly at him, Jody Mansilla had no choice but to do what he was told. It didn't matter as he had a very good lawyer and he would be back on the streets within a matter of a couple hours. They weren't going to stop him. He was going to become a defense attorney and keep other people from being harassed by pig cops. He placed his hands on the wall as Sergeant Brown came forward. Using his right foot he knocked Mancilla's foot backwards, then doing the same to the other one. Eve pulled out her handcuffs and cuffed his hands.
"You go ahead and take him, Ed. I am going to tell his boss what happened."
After reciting his miranda rights, Ed walked his prisoner out to his car and put him in the back seat. A few minutes later Eve joined him. Using the remote button, he rolled down his window as she approached it. "You better get in the back with him. I will bring you back for your car after he is booked."
Once Eve was in the backseat with their prisoner, Ed put the car in gear and headed for headquarters.
Mancilla's attorney showed up at headquarters and two hours later he was back on the streets.
*
The Night School Strangler sat at his kitchen table with his head in his hands. The headache was pounding, and the voice inside his head would not quit talking.
"When are you going to start listening to me? If you want to get rid of the headaches, you have to get rid of the woman who saw you. She may not realize why you were there, but your behavior could become suspicious to her. She must be removed, she is a danger to both of us. You must eliminate her."
"I don't want to kill anymore. She didn't do anything to me and she will not hurt us. I don't want to kill her."
"You don't get it, do you? Your headaches go away every time you remove one of these women from the campus. They do not belong there. You know where women belong. Your father taught you that. Look at how your mother turned out. Remember how she treated you. She went to work and that is when she started to abuse you. She belonged at home taking care of you, instead she worked out and when she came home she abused you. These women will do the same thing to their kids. Do you want to be responsible for that? You must eliminate the woman who saw you. You must do it tonight. You will never get rid of the headache until you do it."
Slamming his fist down on the table, the Night School Strangler yelled out in agony, "Alright, I will do it. Just stop these headaches, please!"
"The headaches will stop when the woman is dead."
"You don't understand, there are no classes tonight. I cannot go after her tonight. You must stop the headaches until I can go after her. I do not know where she lives."
"You know where she lives. I have checked for you. I will give you her address. By eliminating her away from the campus, you will avert attention from yourself. The cops believe that you were on the campus every time an elimination took place. This will open it to other guys on the campus. You must go after her tonight."
What was the matter with him? The voice was right. She had to be eliminated, and he had to do it tonight. The Night School Strangler put on his boots. He reached into the utility drawer in the kitchen. Pulling out some wire and a pair of gloves, he put them into his bag. It was time to take care of the next elimination. He would do it and the headache would subside.
Grabbing the keys to his truck from the kitchen counter, he left his residence and headed outside. He got into the truck and drove to the destination of the woman's home. Sitting outside her house, he watched for a while. The lights were on in the place and he could see movement past the curtains. He did not know if anyone lived in the house besides the woman.
The Strangler got out of the car and headed towards the back of the house. He began checking the windows for any signs of anyone in the house other than the woman. After checking all sides of the house, he did not see anyone except the woman. It was time.
His head pounded. This was the only way to get rid of the headaches and shut up the voice. Besides, women did not belong on the campus. They only belonged at home. He would teach this woman her final lesson.
Checking the back door, he found that it did not have a deadbolt lock. He could not believe in this day and age that any woman living alone would not have deadbolt locks on their doors. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card. Using the card, he placed it between the door frame and the latch. The Strangler pushed it in and move the latch back. Turning the knob, he opened the door as quietly as possible.
Having looked through all the windows, the Strangler had a good idea of the layout of the home. He knew the woman was in the living room. He would have to go through the kitchen to get to the living room. The problem was she would be able to see him if he entered the living room from where she was sitting. She might have time to cry out. If the neighbors heard it, they might see him leave and be able to describe him or his car.
As he reached the living room, he peeked around the door frame to see her sitting in a recliner eating dinner and watching television. The Strangler stood there for a moment watching her. Why wasn't she serving some man and his children. She had no business living alone in this house like a man. The voice was right, she had to be eliminated.
A red tabby cat walked up to him and rubbed its body across his legs. That gave him an idea. He would use the cat to draw her into the kitchen.
Using his right foot, the Night School Strangler kicked the cat as hard as he could. The animal cried out in pain.
"Fluffy, what's the matter, baby?"
He heard her call out to the cat. Positioning himself behind the door, the Strangler waited. The woman came into the kitchen. He put the wire around her neck and began squeezing. She fought back to no avail. He could not believe how quickly she succumbed. Dropping her to the floor, the Strangler quickly left her house, got into his car and drove away. The headache was gone.