Charlene, wired and ready to go, took her spot on the corner. Louie parked a block east of her and I found a spot a block west.
Nothing to do now but wait.
Word of the murders must have gotten around. Traffic was light, and in an hour, only a few cars had slowed down at the corner. None had stopped.
Just past ten, a car stopped and rolled down the window. The usual conversation ensued. Charlene stepped up to the window. “You lookin’ for a date?”
“Might be. How much?”
“Nothin’ kinky, fifty bucks.”
“Too rich for my blood.”
He drove away.
Twenty minutes later, a dump truck stopped.
“You lookin’ for a date.”
“What’s it gonna cost me?”
“Fifty.”
“Climb in.”
“Must be some poor working stiff just getting off the job,” Kevin said. “Reminds me of poor Pancho.”
“Pancho? Who’s Pancho?”
“You’ve never heard Pancho’s refrain? Let me share it with you.
My name is Pancho.
I live on a rancho.
I make five dollars a day.
Then I go see Lucy.
She shows me her coochie.
And takes my five dollars away!
“Very funny.”
We saw the truck pull away from the curb.
We heard Charlene’s voice. “I have a room at a motel near here or I can take care of you here in the truck.”
“That’s okay,” the man replied. “I have a place not far from here too. We’ll go there.”
“Can’t do that,” Charlene said. “I don’t go where I don’t know. It’s either here or at the motel.”
“Well, tonight you’ll make an exception.”
“No, I won’t. Pull over. I’m getting out.”
“You’re not going anywhere. Now sit still and keep your mouth shut.”
“Well, okay then, but can we stop and get some popcorn?”
“Popcorn?”
That was Charlene’s safe word. We had the guy.
I saw Louie, who had pulled away in front of the truck, put on his brakes. When the dump truck stopped, I pulled up until I was almost touching.
Guns drawn, the four of us jumped out of our cars and surrounded the truck.
“Get out of the truck with your hands in the air!” Kevin bellowed.
“The hell I will,” the man yelled back.
Then I heard a screeching sound and watched in horror as the bed of the huge truck began to rise. A moment later, my car was buried under a truckload of fill dirt.
The man threw the truck in gear and floored it, smashing into Louie’s old Toyota. The little car was no match for the truck. It scooted along the pavement, striking a telephone pole and crumpling. The truck backed away and just as the driver was about to accelerate, Willie shouted, “Jump Charlene! Jump!”
The passenger door flew open and Charlene tumbled onto the street as the truck sped away.
We had him, and then we didn’t.
Jan had been cruising up and down Independence Avenue. She figured there would be a number of women plying their trade along the street, but she was wrong. Just one lone woman stood under a corner street light.
She found a spot in a laundromat parking lot where she could observe the woman. By ten o’clock, there had been only one car stop. It was there for a brief moment, then sped away.
She was about to call it a night when a dump truck pulled up. She couldn’t actually see what was taking place, but when the truck pulled away, the woman was gone, evidently inside the truck.
She was about to follow when she noticed two other vehicles. One pulled onto the street in front of the truck. The other trailed behind.
Cautiously, she followed.
Suddenly, the car in front pulled to a stop. The dump truck stopped and the second car pulled up behind, boxing in the truck.
Immediately, four men jumped out of the two cars, guns drawn. One of them yelled, “Get out of the truck with your hands in the air!”
Her first thought was that it was a police operation. Then she noticed that all four of the men had to be at least seventy. These men definitely weren’t cops, but they seemed to know what they were doing.
She took a closer look and thought she recognized two of the men. Then it came to her. She had seen them at the mayor’s fund-raising event. They were the ones manning the metal detector and screening the guests.
Jan expected the driver to exit the truck with his hands in the air and was shocked when she saw the huge bed lifting and dumping its load onto the car in back.
A moment later, the truck was pushing the smaller car which eventually smashed into a telephone pole.
Then she saw the woman jump from the cab just as the truck sped away, leaving the four men standing in the street.
There was no way they could follow. One vehicle was buried under tons of dirt. The other was wrapped around a pole.
Jan pulled into the street and followed the truck. It wound around the back streets of the old Northeast neighborhood and finally pulled into a driveway on Garfield.
She clicked off her lights, pulled to the curb, and watched the man enter the house. The house had been dark until he entered. Only then did she see a light inside. A good indication that no one else was there.
She waited for twenty minutes, giving the man inside time to recover from nearly being captured.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled her taser and headed to the front door.
She had already decided not to take any unnecessary chances. After all, this man had butchered three women. She would strike immediately with no chit-chat.
She knocked on the door. She saw the man peek out. The one advantage she had, was that most men aren’t threatened by a woman. In fact, most men, finding an attractive woman on their doorstep late at night, wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to find out why they were there.
This man was no exception.
He opened the door. “Yeah, whadda you want?”
“You!” she spat, pulling the trigger on the taser.
The man fell back, writhing in agony on the floor.
She moved inside quickly, shutting the door. As soon as the man was still, she administered the poison.
When she was sure he was dead, she pulled his body into a sitting position and started searching the house. A few moments later she found what she was looking for, a jar on the kitchen counter with three pinky fingers inside.
She took the grisly trophies, placed the jar in the man’s lap, and left her calling card. On the back, she scribbled the note, “You’re welcome!”
As she left, she turned and looked at the body. “You just can’t treat women that way no matter who they are or what they do.”
The Black Widow closed the door and disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER 7
I couldn’t believe what just happened. We had the guy and we let him slip away.
Kevin surveyed my car, barely visible under a ton of dirt and rocks. “Well, that could have gone better. I hope you know a good car wash.”
Louie the Lip grimaced at the sight of his old Toyota wrapped around a telephone pole. “Won’t be drivin’ dat one home.”
Willie had run to help Charlene who had been thrown to the curb when she leaped out of the truck. I noticed she was limping.
“Charlene, are you hurt?”
“Just a few bumps and bruises and a scraped knee, but I’ll live. I’m in a lot better shape than your two rides. So what now?”
“I assume you got a good look at the guy and would recognize him,” Kevin said.
“I got a good look all right,” she replied. “I’ll recognize that creep when I see him again.”
Then I thought of something. “Charlene, if I remember correctly, the guy said he had a place not far from here.”
“Yeah, he did.”
“It makes sense. The other th
ree women were abducted within a few blocks from here, so his pad could be pretty close by.”
“So wot you thinkin’?” Louie asked.
“A huge dump truck should be easy to spot. It’s pretty hard to hide. I say we scour the surrounding neighborhood. Maybe we’ll luck out and find him.”
“We doin’ dis on foot?” Willie asked, surveying our disabled vehicles.
“No, we’re calling for reinforcements.”
I punched the speed dial on my phone. “Dad, it’s Walt.” Pause. “Yes, I know what time it is. I need your help. Go into the basement, grab a couple of shovels, and bring them to the corner of Independence Avenue and Gladstone. And hurry!” Pause. “Never mind. I’ll tell you when you get here.”
“My next call was to Ox. “Hey partner, you up for a little adventure and a good laugh?”
“Always. What’s up?”
“We’re going after a serial killer. Get Judy and bring both of your cars to Independence Avenue and Gladstone. I’ll explain when you get here.”
“We’re on the way.”
Everyone had been listening to my conversations.
“I’ll call Maurice,” Louie said. “I’m gonna need a ride home anyway, an’ he might as well help.”
Ox and Judy were the first to arrive. The moment Ox stepped out of his car and saw the rear end of mine sticking out of a mound of dirt, he doubled over laughing. “You promised me a good laugh and you never disappoint. I can’t wait to hear how this went down.”
At that moment, Dad arrived. I hadn’t asked for Bernice, but there she was. I should have known. The two are inseparable.
“Holy crap!” Dad muttered, eyeballing my sorry car. “Good thing I brought plenty of shovels. Walt, you’re my son and I love you, but this is one for the books.”
Maurice was the last to arrive. He parked, took a look at Louie’s smashed Toyota, and shook his head. “I keep tellin’ ya dese white folks ain’t nothin’ but trouble, but you jes’ won’t lissen.”
With everyone present, I shared the evening’s unfortunate sequence of events.
“So, after we dig my car out, we’ll have five vehicles to canvass the streets around Independence Avenue. We can cover a lot of ground. If he’s anywhere close, it shouldn’t be hard to spot a dump truck.”
“An’ I betta get my wreck outta here befo’ de cops come,” Louie said. “I know a guy wit a tow truck.”
Everyone was in agreement, so we grabbed shovels and started digging.
Twenty minutes later, my car was drivable, Louie’s Toyota was being towed away and we were ready to roll. Louie, Maurice, and Charlene in one car, Dad and Bernice in another, Kevin and I in my dirtmobile, and Ox and Judy in their vehicles. We mapped out a search grid and began our quest.
A half-hour later, I got a call from Ox. “I’ve got a dump truck. It’s in a driveway in the 400 block of Garfield.”
“Great! Call the others. I’m on the way.”
The nine of us huddled on the sidewalk a block from the house.
“Is that the truck?” Ox asked.
I nodded. “I’m pretty sure it is.”
“I know it is,” Charlene confirmed. “Remember, I was in it!”
“How do you want to play this?” Ox asked. “Shall I call it in? Maybe get S.W.A.T. out here?”
“I don’t think so,” Kevin replied. “That will only gum up the works. By the time we explain what happened and they get a warrant, the guy could be gone. I say we take him. We’ve got the manpower.”
“I agree,” Louie said. “We let dis creep get away once tonight. Let’s not give him another chance.”
“Then here’s the deal,” I said. “Ox and Judy can’t be a part of this. They’re cops. They can’t go busting down doors without a warrant. Kevin and me, Louie, Maurice and Willie will go in. Dad, you and Bernice stay out here with Ox, Judy and Charlene. You can watch the back in case he makes a run for it.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Weapons drawn, the five of us crept forward like a geriatric assault team. Maurice was the youngest and strongest among us, so he was elected to smash the door.
Poised outside the door, Maurice whispered, “Ever’one ready?”
We gave him a ‘thumbs up,’ and he crashed into the door. The casing splintered and we charged inside.
We stopped dead in our tracks and our mouths flew open when we spotted the body propped up against the wall.
“Looks like someone beat us to the punch,” Kevin said. Then he took a closer look. “Guess who?”
I spotted the card. “The Black Widow! But how---?”
“She must have been staking out the area too,” Kevin replied. “I’ll bet she witnessed our Keystone Cops routine, and while we were standing there in the street with our thumbs up our rear ends, she was taking care of business.”
Then I noticed the jar. “This is the guy for sure. Those are his trophies.”
At that moment, the rest of the gang appeared.
Charlene saw the jar in the perp’s lap. “That bastard! Those were my friends!”
She lunged toward the body, but Willie held her back. “I know you wants to kick his ass, but de dude’s dead. We don’ want to go messin’ up a crime scene.”
“You’re right,” she said, slumping in his arms.
“How do you want to play this?” Kevin asked.
I thought for a moment. “You and I set up the sting with Willie and Charlene. When things went south, we decided to look for the dump truck. We found it and hit the door. As soon as we saw the body, we backed out and called Ox. Ox came over and called it in. Louie, it’s probably better if you and Maurice aren’t around when the cops get here.”
“You got dat right. We’re outta here. Jus’ glad we got dat creep off de streets. Let’s go Maurice.”
I turned to Dad. “You and Bernice skedaddle too. Too many cooks spoil the pot, if you know what I mean.”
“Gotcha. We’ll go.” Then he saw the card. “The Black Widow did that?”
I nodded.
Bernice, of course, was confused. “That poor man died of a spider bite?”
“Something like that,” Dad said, moving her along. “I’ll explain on the way home.”
When everyone was gone, I turned to Ox. “It’s your show, partner.”
He called it in, and fifteen minutes later the place was crawling with cops.
Detective Blaylock was speechless.
“Unbelievable! How did you people get mixed up in this?”
Naturally, I had to embellish the truth a wee bit. “The three women who were murdered were friends of Charlene. Since the police weren’t making any progress on the case, she came to us for help. We are private investigators, after all. We decided to set up a sting. Charlene pretended to be a hooker.”
“Pretended?” he interrupted, giving Charlene the evil eye.
“That’s our story and we’re sticking with it. Anyway, we set up the sting. This guy picks her up in a dump truck. Once we figure he might be the guy, we try to stop the truck. That didn’t turn out so good.”
“I suppose that explains the mound of dirt in the middle of Independence Avenue,” he said, sarcastically.
“That was on him,” I said, pointing to the body. “Anyway, after we uncovered my car, we decided to canvass the area. He told Charlene he had a pad close by. We found the truck, hit the door, and as soon as we saw the body, we backed out and called Ox.”
At that moment, the medical examiner interrupted. “Same M.O. Taser marks on the chest and I’m pretty sure the tox screen will show death by an injection of potassium chloride. Plus, of course, the calling card. This one’s a bit different though.”
“Different? How?” Blaylock asked.
“This one has a note on the back. ‘You’re welcome.’”
Blaylock buried his face in his hands. “Jesus! Now I suppose we’re supposed to thank one serial killer for taking out another one! If the press gets wind of this, the chief will have a fit.
The press will undoubtedly say that the Black Widow got the job done when the cops couldn’t.”
“Well,” Kevin replied, sarcastically, “isn’t that what happened?”
The next morning, Jan stopped by the library, printed another note on their computer, arrived at the Star early, and left the note on the crime reporter’s desk.
Then she watched as Dan read the note telling him to ask the cops about the card found on the body of the man who had been murdering prostitutes along Independence Avenue.
CHAPTER 8
Detective Blaylock’s worst nightmare had come to pass.
Bright and early the next morning he received a call from a reporter at the Star asking him to confirm details involving the death of the Independence Avenue serial killer --- details that only someone who had actually been at the scene could have known --- very likely the Black Widow herself.
He couldn’t deny the information because it was true.
Much to the dismay of the brass in city hall, the headline in the next day’s Star read, “The Black Widow strikes again!”
The story led with the fact that the police had no leads in the Independence Avenue murders and their investigation had hit a road block, then went on to tell all the gruesome details of the serial killer’s demise at the hands of the Black Widow.
Thankfully, our role in the whole affair was not mentioned. Evidently the Widow had no intention of sharing the spotlight with a gang of geriatric goofballs who let the killer slip through their fingers.
As soon as the paper hit the streets, the social media was on fire.
The Black Widow’s supporters praised the vigilante for succeeding where the cops had failed. One more scumbag off the streets thanks to the newfound champion of women’s rights.
Her detractors fumed that this was just the act of a cold-blooded murderer who had taken the law into her own hands.
I had just finished the paper when the phone rang.
“Walt, Kevin here. We may have a new client. Can we come over?”
“Give me a few minutes to get some pants on.”
Lady Justice and the Black Widow Page 4
