The Front Range Butcher: A Jarvis Mann Private Detective HardBoiled Mystery Novel (Jarvis Mann Detective Book 7)

by R Weir

  “Why do you think Simon set up his son?”

  I explained to Doris my meeting with the mysterious Wolfe and how he would get me the killer if I left Simon alone.

  “That is big news,” Doris said surprise in her voice. “I’m assuming you’ve not shared this with Catalina.”

  “No. And I hope you don’t share it as well. This guy is formidable. I’d like to forestall tangling with him as long as possible.”

  We passed the concert amphitheater. It looked like a nice setting to hear music. April and I needed to come by one evening and enjoy the atmosphere. The Denver area was loaded with wonderful places to see concerts.

  “What else can I do to help?” asked Doris.

  I thought about it for a minute. “Can you help me locate Belinda? Maybe use your FBI contacts, if you still have any after today.” I smiled.

  “I can check around. If Catalina hasn’t blackballed me yet, I can see. Anything else?”

  “If I find her would you be willing to come with me to talk with her? You can charge me a consulting fee and I can expense it.”

  “Are you still on Jonas’ payroll?”

  “Still will need to work that out with him. But since I’m considering this further and there is a potential story for him to sell, I’m sure he would be up for it. He might even want to come along too.”

  “She is in Pueblo, isn’t she?”

  “Last I knew, yes.”

  “Oh boy, a road trip. I call shotgun,” Doris said gleefully.

  I laughed loudly as we wound our way back to the parking lot.

  Chapter 69

  It took a few days, lots of phones calls and messages back and forth, by myself, Doris and Jonas, to find out where Belinda was. Her gunshot wound had been serious, and compounded by her cancer treatment, her immune system was not able to handle the invasion of the bullet wound. The loss of blood and the infection that struck her had knocked her down and off her feet. She was now in a hospice in Pueblo, with the prognosis not good on her living much longer. Doctors gave her a week, maybe a month if she was lucky. Her time on this Earth was ending and we needed to talk to her to get the answers we were looking for.

  Part of the time spent was getting permission to speak with her. The doctors were concerned about the stress we would cause by being there. We got down there, working through as much of the red tape that we could. After much back and forth, an agreement was made to allow us to talk with her.

  Doris, Jonas and myself arrived at her private room. She was sitting up, thanks to the adjustable bed, looking extremely frail. Hoses were running to her arm, in her nose and under the covers to handle bodily functions. Monitors were keeping an eye on her vitals, the beeping sounds rhythmic in time with her heart, pulse and blood pressure. These final days wouldn’t be pleasant. I had dealt with the end of days with both my parents dying from lung cancer after years of smoking. Those last excruciating hours are not how you want to remember them.

  Chairs were provided, with Doris sitting on her right, close to the bed, while Jonas and I sat on the left. Jonas had permission to record the conversation, and he placed his digital recorder on the adjustable table on the side of the bed. It had been agreed upon to let Doris ask most of the questions, with Jonas and I chiming in when necessary. We had talked over what to cover and the order in which she’d ask them.

  “We are sorry to intrude like this,” started Doris. “And we are sorry for all you’ve had to go through.”

  “Thank you,” replied Belinda softly, her voice weak. “It is important to me…to clear the air before I die. And I’m grateful for Jarvis and his effort to save me from those evil men in my home.”

  “I wish I could have done more,” I said sincerely.

  “We think it’s important to start at the beginning,” explained Doris with a gentle tone. “I know we’ll be dredging up some painful memories. Things you may not care to talk about or find easy to share. We understand this and want you to take your time in answering. Does that sound good to you?”

  Belinda nodded, with a barely audible “Yes”.

  Dories began her line of questioning, Jonas and I listening intently.

  “When you were taken by ‘The Front Range Butcher’ twenty plus years ago, you didn’t speak then about what took place. Shock seemed to have caused you to block out all that happened after you escaped. Or maybe there was another reason you kept it to yourself. With all the time that has passed, can you tell me, with as much detail as you can recall, how it happened?”

  Belinda’s demeanor was reserved, her hands resting on her covered lap. She wasn’t looking at any of us, seeming to glare into the unknown. It took some effort to speak.

  “Details won’t be an issue.” She paused, finding strength. “I relive it every day of my life.” Her hands were twitching, betraying her nerves.

  “I know it’s hard. Please take your time.”

  She took a minute, finding the right words to say, each one coming out slow and deliberate.

  “I was working the evening shift at Walmart, and was leaving at around 9 p.m. It was summer, so it was just getting dark, and I was nearly to my car. This man came up to me and asked if he could get some help, as he’d locked the keys in his car. We had to park far out in the lot, so there wasn’t anyone else around. I told him he could go into the store and someone would help him. I was often shy around men, so I was nervous about rendering assistance.”

  It was a lot for her to say, so she stopped to gather herself. Once her strength returned she continued.

  “He asked for directions of where inside to go. But when I turned and pointed to where he should go he jabbed me with something in the neck that hurt like hell.” She paused for a moment, shuddering at the thought. “I tried to say something, but I immediately felt weak. I think he grabbed me and it seemed as if I was being dragged. After that I didn’t remember anything until I woke up.”

  She stopped again and grabbed a plastic mug of iced water and took a long drink through the straw. We all waited patiently for her to continue.

  “When I came to, I was strapped to a table, completely naked. I was still groggy, and felt a little sick to my stomach, my head was pounding as if I had a migraine. The table top was cold as it touched my skin. I remember my first thought being, I was going to die here and never see the outside world again.” She coughed and tears welled, but she stopped again to gather herself. Doris reached to pat her hand to provide comfort.

  “I started yelling, hoping someone would hear me, but my voice became raspy and I realized that there was no use. It wasn’t long after that, that he walked into the room, a mask over his face, cap on his head and hospital clothes on his body, as if he was a surgeon. He said to yell as much as I wanted, as no one would hear me. He went over to the walls bragging about the sound proofing he’d put in. He claimed a horn could go off inside and no one would know it. That was one thing that became clear very quickly, he liked talking about himself, telling of all the time he’d spent perfecting his craft, giving details about the other women who had been on his table, what he did to them and the joy it brought. And how now I would be his latest trophy.” Belinda shook her head, hearing her own scary words.

  “Did you know who you were in the hands of?” asked Doris. “Had you heard of ‘The Front Range Butcher?’”

  She nodded slowly. “I had heard of him. It was hard not to, since it was all over the news. Of course, you never think it will happen to you.”

  “You knew what he had planned for you? How he would slowly torture and kill you?” Doris spoke carefully with a soft tone so as not to frighten her.

  Belinda started coughing again. It took a few minutes for her to get control, but with another long drink to clear her throat, she began to speak again, pace still slow.

  “I had never listened to the details of the killings. But that didn’t matter, as he explained graphically what he would do to me. He then proceeded to cut a small sliver of skin off the outside of my left t
high. It wasn’t much, but still hurt like hell. He then said he would begin taking off longer pieces of skin unless I gave him what he wanted, which he proceeded to do, carving off a longer strip on my right thigh, to prove he meant business. I remember screaming and crying, begging him to stop. The pain being unbearable.”

  She was shaken by the words, yet she lifted the covers to show her scars. Though healed after all these years, they still were clearly there. A daily reminder of what he did to her. I felt horror at what happened, knowing it could have been so much worse, the thoughts of the carved victim I’d seen still fresh in my mind. Doris gave Belinda time to compose herself before continuing.

  “At that point did he tell you what he wanted from you?”

  “Yes, he did.” She stopped needing another drink of water.

  “What was it?”

  “My body. He wanted to make love to me. On and on he told me stories of how he imagined being with a woman, making love, giving him pleasure beyond what he felt when slowly killing his victims. He wanted more and a different kind of pleasure of the flesh—I believe he put it. He called me his goddess, the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with.”

  “Did you—believe him?” asked Doris carefully.

  She stopped to think for a minute, the heartrate on the monitor increasing for a few seconds, before lowering again.

  “You have to understand what my life was like then. I had no boyfriends and no prospects. Most men didn’t seem interested in me. I was plain looking and shy, always finding the right words difficult to enunciate around other men. I’d only had one boyfriend in my life and he treated me poorly. After having sex he’d pat me on the back and say, ‘that was good baby’ and then leave.” Sorrow filled her face at the memory. “I wouldn’t see or hear from him for a week at a time. I finally got the courage to end it. I’d had only two dates after that in two years, neither of them calling me after the first date. I was lonely and now I was scared too.”

  Doris was waiting, spacing out the questions to give her time to recover.

  “You were flattered by his attention?”

  “I suppose so. I know it sounds crazy. Here is this man who kidnaps me, strips me bare, shackles me to a table and threatens to carve me up, unless I give in to him.” She took a deep breath. “It was horrifying, until he started sweet talking me, saying how wonderful we would be together. He kept on calling me beautiful and his goddess. No man ever thought of me or spoke about me that way. The words seemed sincere and rang true. He wanted a child so badly. An heir to his throne. Someone he could mold in his image. He was convincing in his pleas.”

  Jonas was scribbling notes in his notebook, jotting down key points of the conversation to go along with the recording. It was chilling hearing what she was saying. Horrible images being painted of what it was like living through the ordeal, the nightmares it would cause.

  “What happened next? Did you give into him?” Doris’ attention remained fixed and steady.

  “You have to understand I was a weak person and shy. I listened to his offer, carefully weighing my options. He gave me time to think it over. I was scared to death, knowing what would lie ahead if I didn’t say yes. And crazy as it sounds, his offer was flattering to me. Never had I been given such attention. He promised to be supportive, kind and loving. Once it was over, he wouldn’t need to kill again. He would have what he needed. Made me out to be a hero, as I would save other women’s lives.” Belinda spoke nearly every word, slowly and deliberately.

  “Were you attracted to him? Had you seen his face before you gave your final answer?”

  “He did show me. He was handsome. Certainly better than the slugs I’d known. Plus, he claimed to have money, so I didn’t have to work at Walmart for a little more than minimum wage. All of that together, yes created an attraction.”

  I stood up and began pacing the floor on hearing her words. It was difficult for me to understand an attraction to someone that wanted to kill you. I was both mad and sad this could happen. It seemed surreal to me, all that had happened to her so far. And there was still more to go. Staring out the window, I saw clouds, the leaves on the tree nearly all gone. October can be warm, but today a storm was coming in, with colder air and the possibility of the first snow of the year. It seemed to fit the mood of darkness filling the room.

  Doris continued the languid pace, watching to make sure she wasn’t taxing Belinda too much.

  “Why did he need your permission to have sex? Seems he had you tied down and could do to you what he pleased.”

  Belinda nodded. “He mentioned a code he had. He wouldn’t rape a woman. She must submit to him willingly. There needed to be a pureness to it all.”

  I wanted to shout out that this was hardly pure, but coercion pure and simple. But finding sanity in this all wasn’t the mission.

  “You gave him your blessing?” stated Doris.

  “I asked for some time to think. He gave me the night to agree or he would begin again with his carving. I hardly slept thinking over what to do. The next morning, I told him I would submit.”

  Doris seemed to be holding it together. Probably not the worst story she’d ever heard in her line of work. Jonas was stoic, hanging on every word, still jotting notes. The story of the century playing out before him.

  “What happened then?” Doris was still patting Belinda’s hand.

  “As you can imagine, being on the table for a couple of days, I was a mess. No bathroom breaks, so I was extremely dirty and disgusting. He freed me, warning if I did anything stupid, he’d chain me back up for good and start using his scalpel, finishing me off slowly, the deal cancelled. He allowed me to shower and even gave me a night shirt to wear. After that we went into a room with a bed and he proceeded to make love to me.”

  Interesting the words she chose. It hardly seemed like making love in my eyes.

  “How was it?” Doris continued. “Were you nervous or scared?”

  Belinda paused before answering. “Nervous mostly. He talked to me, using dirty words, hoping to arouse me. Once he started it hurt a little, but nothing too terrible. He finished quickly, but talked afterward, again telling me how great I was and how we would create a wonderful life together. Within a few hours we did it again. This would go on for two weeks and I soon lost track of how many times we had sex.”

  “No birth control was used?”

  “I wasn’t on any and he didn’t use a condom. He wanted me to get pregnant. Over time I wanted to. To be honest, even to this day I’m not sure why.”

  “How long before he let you go?” queried Doris.

  “Shortly after. Over time he grew to trust me. I was locked up at first, but he gave me more freedom once I proved myself. I’d even come to enjoy the attention and the physical pleasure. He knew I would have to get back to the real world and explain I’d escaped. We worked out what I would say and how I would act. I wouldn’t talk about the ordeal, mostly claim I was in shock and couldn’t remember anything that happened. He even arranged for a cheap lawyer to shield me from the questioning. When things died down, he then paid to have me disappear. By that time, I knew I was pregnant.”

  She sounded somber about what should have been a wonderful moment, having a child.

  “Was the man who abducted you, Simon Lions?” interrupted Jonas. It was the thousand-dollar question he was eager to have an answer to.

  With some effort, Belinda turned her head and looked at him. “Yes.”

  There was the answer we had been looking for. He had been the original Butcher. Jonas had been right all these years. I felt joy in finally having an answer and sad at all the death that led us here. We all exchanged triumphant glances at each other. The celebration will come later.

  “You look tired, Belinda,” said Doris. “Do you need to rest before we continue?”

  Belinda looked spent emotionally. Physically she was already weak from the cancer and her injury and reliving the horror had whipped her on both fronts.

  “I
certainly could use a nap. Maybe close my eyes for an hour or so. Would that be OK?”

  Doris squeezed her hand and then stood up. “Absolutely. You’ve been very brave, Belinda, thank you. We could use a break ourselves. We’ll grab a bite to eat and come back in say, ninety minutes?”

  We stepped out of the room, each of us using the facilities, before meeting up at the elevator. We were on the third floor and decided to try the cafeteria on the first floor, hoping for something eatable. I pushed the button to summon the lift.

  “Must feel good to finally know the truth,” I said to Jonas.

  “It does. But hearing what she went through, mostly kills the joy. Hard to believe she would give into him like that.” He shook his head.

  “She was weak, like she said, and it was a fight for survival.” stated Doris sympathetically. “It is always hard to say how we’d react in a comparable situation. When given the choice of painful torture or life, many would choose life, no matter how disgusting it might seem. Look at the alternative.”

  The ding signaled the elevator had arrived. As the door opened a gentleman in hospital scrubs stepped off, saying “Excuse Me” before walking on. Doris and Jonas stepped on, and I followed, pushing the first-floor button. Something in my head rang an alarm, and as the door closed, I put my hand in the way to stop it. It opened back up and I stepped between it, so it wouldn’t close again.

  “Did either of you notice anything odd about the man getting off the elevator?” I asked urgently. “Something that didn’t belong.”

  “I wasn’t really paying close attention,” said Doris.

  “I saw he was wearing blue scrubs and that was about it,” stated Jonas, looking at me curiously.

  The elevator started warning me the door needed to close, a bell going off. My eyes followed the man as he was walking. Then it struck me. His shoes weren’t normal hospital footwear, but brown loafers. I was willing to bet he wasn’t part of the hospital staff.