“What the hell? Where did they get that from?” Joe said after the senior anchor announced that Betty Scholl had been hospitalized due to increased pressure over her brother’s incarceration.
“Mrs. Scholl and the accused murderer reportedly have a very close relationship,” the anchor went on to say.
“This hospital went ahead and released our personal information to the media!” Joe roared. “I’m gonna sue their socks off for breach of confidentiality!” “Now hang on, Joe,” Betty said calmly. “We don’t know if the hospital had anything to do with this. Even if they did, I don’t think it’s worth your while getting worked up over something so trivial.”
“Trivial? How can you say that, honey? They’re slandering your name on national t.v.”
“They’re just fetching for information, Joe, and getting all worked up about it is what they want us to do. The tactic is for us to come forth and clear up the rumors, and at the same time spill out some of the truth for them. That’s what they’re getting paid to do. Let them say what they think they have to say. Once they don’t step out of line, we don’t have a problem. Besides, at this point, what more do we have to lose?”
Joe was shocked by Betty’s last remark. “A lot, honey. We have a lot to lose. We almost lost you yesterday. You speak as though you’ve given up. You have to be as confident as you’re telling those kids to be, Betty - not say one thing and show the other,” he said.
“Oh, I know,” Betty replied. “It’s just that this whole mess has been so rough on me lately - wondering how Victor’s managing inside that hellhole of a place. He doesn't belong there, Joe.” She started to cry.
“I know he doesn’t, honey,” Joe sat on the bed and held her, “but you have to think positive. You mustn’t give up. And I want you to know that I’m here for you; you don’t have to carry all the load.”
Betty knew she was fortunate to have him as her support system. She wished she could have told him more, but she feared the truth would ruin them and that he would no longer see her as the person he thought he had married. Betty needed time to think - first of a way to tell him, then to tell her brother.
After a light knock at the door, Doctor Ridges walked in. “I see you’re up and running this morning,” he said to Betty.
“I feel great, Doctor,” she replied blithely.
“Though the numbers have declined somewhat overnight, you’re not in the clear yet, so you must take it easy,” Ridges asserted.
“Ah, Doc, can I see you outside for a minute?” Joe interjected, standing. Betty looked at her husband knowingly.
Having no aversion to the idea, Doctor Ridges politely excused himself and led the way outside the door.
“Why is my wife’s personal business all over the news this morning?” Joe asked angrily.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Scholl. You mind filling me in?” Ridges was obviously caught off guard.
“Don’t pretend as if you don’t know us, Doc. Our faces have been smeared all over the t.v. screen for days now.”
“I’m not implying that I don’t know who you and your wife are, sir. I have, in fact, heard of your plight, but it’s none of my business. I have no idea what you’re accusing me of,” Ridges said.
“The reason for my wife’s admittance into this hospital was broadcasted on t.v. this morning. Look, I’m not accusing you personally of anything, but I have a strong hunch that someone in this hospital breached your policy of strict confidentiality.”
“Mr. Scholl, believe me, I understand your frustration, but in this hospital, we take the confidentiality of our patients very seriously. I doubt that anyone here released that information to the media, but I will bring the matter to the attention of our hospital administrator and I can assure you that she will promptly investigate.”
“Na… forget it,” Joe said bluntly. “I won’t push this any further only because of my wife’s condition. But if this type of thing happens again as long as she’s in this hospital, I assure you that somebody’s gonna have to answer for it!”
* * * *
Devastated by the news of his sister’s hospitalization, Victor tried to reach Joe on his cell phone, but to no avail. Eventually, he was able to reach Charles Martinez at his office.
Heav Berkeley, the husky, giant of a guard, stood a few feet away as Victor spoke. He had viewed the newscast concerning Betty Scholl that morning as well and felt a little sorry for the prisoner.
“Charles, did you hear about Betty?” Victor asked.
“Why, yes, I have, Victor,” Martinez replied.
“Well, how is she? Do you know?”
“Betty’s doing just fine, Victor. Her husband says that her blood pressure had shot up suddenly, but she’s doing much better now and should be home hopefully in a couple of days. I spoke with him just a while ago at the hospital.”
“I couldn’t reach him on his cell,” Victor said.
“I doubt he can use his cell phone inside the hospital,” Martinez replied. “He called to let me know what was happening in case you called and couldn’t reach him.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t worry, bud. Betty’s doing just fine.”
“That’s really good to hear, Charles.” Victor held the line for a few seconds.
“Are you all right in there?” Martinez asked.
“Yeah, I’m okay. How’s my defense going?”
“We’re still working our butts off for you, buddy. Just keep hanging in there.”
“Yeah. I gotta go now, but do me a favor and tell Betty and the kids, I love them, will you?” Sadness filled Victor’s voice.
“Sure thing and I’ll keep in touch,” Martinez replied.
Victor walked over to Big Heav. “I need to talk to Detective Myers,” he said quietly, leaning backwards against the wall. “I hear you two are pretty close.”
“No problem. I can make that happen,” Heav swallowed his chewing gum.
Victor stood alone while the guard made the phone call.
“He says he’ll be here in about half an hour,” Heav said a minute later. “I’ll take you over in twenty.”
And in “twenty” Victor was on his way to the little room he had recently visited.
“If I know Myers, he’s probably speeding his hind over here,” Heav said. “So, I guarantee, you won’t have a long wait.”
And Heav was right. In less than ten minutes, he opened the door and Nick Myers walked inside the room.
“So Emerson, you decided to speak with me after all,” said the detective, making himself comfortable at the edge of the steel desk. “Does your attorney know about our little meeting?”
“This has nothing to do with my attorney, detective,” Victor said. “I didn’t call you here to confess to anything. I wanted to ask for your help.”
Nick was surprised. “My help?” He replied, waiting for more.
“Look, I know you think that I’m a cold-blooded murderer, but I believe I can prove my innocence if you at least attempt to have an open mind towards what I have to say to you.”
“So, why the sudden urge to talk?” Nick asked.
“Frankly, because I’m sick and tired of this rat hole,” Victor replied. “I feel like I’m going crazy in here, and besides, my family’s having a hard time dealing with this whole mess. I think you might be able to help me maybe a little more quickly than anyone else can at this point - that is, if you’re willing to give me a chance and hear me out.”
“I’m listening.” Nick said.
“I know the information I’m about to give is not my complete ticket to freedom, especially if a man with your mentality wants to nail me so bad that probably nothing I say or do would convince you of my innocence.” Nick sat quietly – allowing him to vent. “But you did say that you’re willing to help me once I talked,” Victor continued. “So, I’m taking you at your word, detective, and in a real man’s world that must count for something.”
Nick shifted on the desk. �
�All right, Emerson. I’ll hear you out, but I’m not making any promises.”
Victor sighed deeply. “I received a series of anonymous letters several weeks ago.”
“You too?” Nick’s tone was unmistakably cynical.
“I was the first one to receive such letters. Harold got his, though varying in content, a couple of weeks later. I received the first one at work during a meeting in the conference room. My secretary, Gwen Jamison, can attest to that because she’s the one who brought it to me.”
“How’d she get it?” Nick asked.
“Through the mail. Urgent was typed on the envelope, so she brought it to me immediately. There were also other people in the room who can attest to the fact that I did receive that letter,” Victor added.
“All right. So what did it say?”
“It was the first of four. The others I was directed to find at Sutton Creek. Actually, the first two were directives to where the last one was hidden,” Victor explained.
“Why were you led to Sutton Creek?” Nick inquired.
“I was advised via the first letter that all suspicions regarding my alleged involvement in the recent murders would be cleared up if I carefully followed the instructions in these letters - which I did because I knew you guys suspected me. Well, after the first letter led me to the other, and the second led me to another, the third one instructed me to open the trunk of my car.”
Nick looked surprised, but remained silent.
“And in the trunk,” Victor continued, “was a severed human leg lying on some kind of tarp. I was horrified; I didn’t know what to do. Then I noticed another envelope taped to the plastic. This one said something like, ‘hah, hah, hah. Sorry I couldn’t help you.’ Something like that, anyway.”
Nick’s thumb came to rest beneath his chin. He could not recall the last time he had heard such a dramatic story. “What did you do with the limb?” He asked.
“I buried it. I was afraid that if I told you guys, you would have arrested me, and I still believe now what I believed then,” Victor frankly stated.
“Where’d you bury it?”
“I’d have to show you.”
“So if we’re going to follow this thing all the way through, you’re going to have to tell me where those letters are also,” Nick said.
“I hid them outside my house. I can tell you where. They’re not that difficult to find.”
Nick awaited the information.
“They’re in my backyard, hidden in the light-bulb shade attached to the frame of the shed. They’re still in the envelopes they came in,” Victor explained.
“All right, Emerson, we’ll check out the letters first to make sure we won’t be wasting our time, then once everything lines up, we’ll have you take us to that severed limb you mentioned.” Nick got up, as if intending to embark upon the task immediately.
“Oh, and detective, although those letters varied in content from the one sent to Harold, I believe they were authored by the same person and that person is responsible for Harold and Mary's death, as well as the deaths of all those other women. I don’t know what Harold did with the letter he got, but I swear to you on my mother’s grave, he definitely got one.”
“Anything else you want to tell me, Emerson?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, there is.” Victor knew that no matter what there was no turning back now. “As far as the gun you found is concerned, I’m going to come clean with you. The reason my prints are on it is because it’s mine. It belongs to me.”
Nick nodded knowingly.
“I bought it right after this whole confusion started - just for protection,” Victor added. “But I wasn’t the one who used it on my friends. I never fired it. I swear.”
“If this is true, why didn’t you tell us this before?” Nick asked.
“I don’t know. I was so confused at the time of the arrest, I wasn't sure that I should.”
“All right. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
TWENTY-SIX
Much to Nick and Lou’s surprise, the information Victor had provided all checked out: The letters in the light bulb shade attached to the Emerson’s shed were found and Gwen Jamison confirmed her receipt of one of the letters. Three days later, Victor was picked up from the county jail and accompanied a small crew of officers to Sutton Creek. It was a clandestine operation so that a media frenzy would be circumvented.
Two officers unloaded the trunk of their vehicle with a pick ax and shovel before Victor, chained hand and foot, lead the way to the supposed burial site.
“This is it,” he said, pointing to the spot.
“Are you sure?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s right here.”
The officers commenced their digging as Nick and Lou looked on. Standing there silently, Victor was still grappling with the reality that he was in state custody for crimes he swore he did not commit. He knew, with all things considered, that he looked like a criminal and he truly felt lower than the dirt he was standing on. However, he hoped that in a few short minutes, the detectives would believe that he had been mercilessly framed and would do all in their power to free him.
Five minutes later, the officers were still digging and Victor was bemused. He suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach. “I don’t know, but it’s taking way too long to surface,” he said to Nick.
“Are you sure this is the spot?” Nick asked again.
“Sure, I’m sure,” Victor replied.
“Looks like we found something,” one of the officers said moments later.
Everyone drew in closer. The hole was deeper than Victor had initially indicated - at least by three or four feet. Everyone was shocked by what was unveiled; Victor, more than anyone else.
“I thought you said you buried a leg,” Nick turned to Victor, who was momentarily speechless.
“I... I did. I swear I didn’t do this. He had to be watching me when I buried the leg and this is another one of his schemes to incriminate me!” Victor was profoundly distressed.
“One, two, three, four, five… six different body parts in here, including two skulls,” Lou said, peering into the gaping hole.
Nick looked at Victor again, but said nothing. The forensics team collected all of the severed limbs and bagged them. Before leaving the scene, officers dug even deeper into the hole to ensure that nothing was being left behind. However, nothing else surfaced.
During the drive back to jail, Victor swore repeatedly that he had no knowledge of the other body parts found in the hole and was definitely not responsible for putting them there. After he returned to prison, he was totally convinced that he had inadvertently plunged himself into a deeper dilemma. He seriously began to regret having done things his way.
* * * *
Dental records confirmed that the skulls found in the Sutton Creek hole were that of Edith Larson and John ‘Joe-Boy’ Smith - the two people who had seemingly vanished from the face of the earth.
Nick and Lou were shocked by the findings and preferred to conduct further investigations into the matter before any details were released to the press.
Chief Tuyler, now confident that they had, in fact, nabbed the serial killer, congratulated the detectives for a job well done. He phoned the mayor, who immediately scheduled a press conference for the following morning.
LATER THAT DAY…
“So, what’d you think?” Asked Lou as he perched his feet on Nick’s desk. “Still think Emerson might be innocent?”
“He hasn’t been proven otherwise, Riley - as crazy as that sounds,” Nick said.
“What are we supposed to do – turn a blind eye on all the evidence staring us right in the face?” Lou returned in disbelief. “Victor Emerson, in my book, is a cold-blooded killer. And as far as those letters go, they could have been written or typed up by anyone, even Emerson himself.”
“You sure are one tough nut to crack, Lou,” Nick said. “In spite of all the evidence staring us in the face,
as you put it, I personally believe the man is innocent. If you think back from the beginning when he found his murdered aunt in his house who he hadn’t seen in ages, you’d know something was peculiar about it. Even the photo of her we found: Why would Emerson take that very photo he might have suspected we had already noticed in his living room only hours earlier and plant it at the scene of another murder? That would be stupid. He'd only be incriminating himself. And the severed body parts: It doesn’t make sense. Only an idiot would want to set himself up like that, then swear afterwards of his innocence. Come on, Lou. Think about it. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the whole thing makes absolutely no sense.”
Lou sat up and slid his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. First, we barely had anything on the man, now it seems like everything has been thrown at our feet and pointing in his direction. Think Braxton has anything to do with this?”
Nick sighed deeply. “I don’t know. I guess the question here is… if Emerson is really innocent and has no enemies like he claims, why would anyone go this far to set him up? Everyone we’ve interviewed thinks he’s a stand-up guy. You know, sometimes I find myself so enraged at the guy. I guess this case reminds me so much of that lunatic who…”
Lou could tell that it still bothered Nick immensely to even bring it up.
“I couldn’t catch the guy even after he had already claimed ten innocent lives, including my own mother’s,” Nick continued. “I never forgave myself for that.”
“I told you before, Nick, there was nothing you could do,” Lou said.
“What frustrates me is that this time, six people had to die, and now, I’m still not sure we’ve got the bastard.”
Lou leaned back again. “Well, as far as the Chief is concerned, this case is closed. All we have to do now is hope that we have the right guy behind bars, because if we don’t, a whole lot of innocent people are gonna pay the price.”
* * * *
Around noon the following day, Charles Martinez paid Victor a visit in prison.
Dangerous & Deadly- The Nick Myers Series Page 15
