Garwood Village, Robert F. Clifton [small books to read txt] 📗

Garwood Village

by

Robert F. Clifton

PREFACE

The reader is advised that this is a work

Of fiction. Any similarity of any persons or the names, places or events are purely coincidental.

R.F. Clifton

The Garwood Village

Copyright © 2013 by Robert F. Clifton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my “Rockingham Rose”, Sharon Clifton, the lovely lady, living in Australia, who inspired me to write this novel.

Thanks Sharon.

Table of Contents

Chapter One 1

Chapter Two 12

Chapter Three 28

Chapter Four 46

Chapter Five 68

Chapter Six 82

Chapter Seven 98

Chapter Eight 113

Chapter Nine 128

Chapter Ten 142

Chapter Eleven 160

Chapter Twelve 176

Chapter One

Sounds came to Edna Fisher in the dark bedroom. There was the sound of the ticking alarm clock on the nightstand. The broadcast of running water in the bathroom and the vibration in her trachea as she gasped for air. She wanted to breath. She couldn't inhale and when she tried a stream of dark red blood flowed out of the gaping wound in her throat. She felt her own blood, wet and warm as it streamed on to her shoulder and naked breast. In a panic she tried to rise wanting to get up off of the bed, needing to escape, wishing to live. When her feet touched the floor she tried to stand, but then collapsed. As she began to lose consciousness from the loss of oxygen and blood to her brain the last thing she saw was her killer standing over her smiling.

A slight cool breeze was coming in off the ocean, carrying the scent of salt water as it traveled across the beach and city streets of Nautilus Beach New Jersey. That same breeze blew into the yards of Garwood Village, one of three public housing projects in the city. Walking through the project at six A.M. that morning was Danny Wilcox, age twelve, delivering the morning newspaper as he had been doing for the past two years. Danny enjoyed being a delivery boy. The few dollars he made allowed him to buy the things he wanted. He lived with his mother who as a single parent without skills was forced to accept welfare and there were times when his pay from the newspaper job put food on the table. Danny enjoyed the freedom of the early morning hours. He was free to work at his own pace and free to search, explore and examine.

What he had found over time was the location of the women living alone in the ground floor apartments. Most importantly, he knew which women in ground floor apartments failed to pull the shades completely down at their bedroom window allowing him in those dark morning hours to peek through the glass panes and observe those who either slept in the nude or in flimsy nightgowns. Other times, if he was lucky he would see the women dressing. He knew that what he did was wrong, but still, doing it excited him. One of his favorite places was the apartment of Mrs. Fisher. Her ground floor bedroom window was behind a high, thick, hedge. There, unobserved, he could take his time and peer through the glass and look at her. Sunday mornings were the best.

She would go out on Saturday nights and he guessed that at times she drank too much. Sometimes he would see her sprawled out on her bed fully clothed. Other times nude. Those were the times he preferred. This was Sunday morning and he crossed his fingers as he looked first to the left and then the right. Seeing no one he quickly moved behind the hedge.

He slowly removed the soiled white canvas bag that still contained nine newspapers that he still had to deliver. Setting the bag under the window he lowered himself down to a kneeling position, placing his knees on the bag. Slowly, he lowered his head into place and then looked through the glass. Looking for her first to be on the bed he was disappointed when he didn't see her. He noticed that the light was on in the bathroom and he anticipated that perhaps she was in the shower. He hoped that he would see her nude body as she walked into the bedroom.

Danny waited and as he did the sun rising up over the ocean increased the light shining through the window into the bedroom. Then, he saw her. She was nude. He saw her bare legs and his heart began to pound, Hoping to see more of her body he turned his body and head. Then, he saw her. She lay on her back with her eyes open and a red slash across her throat. Danny felt his mouth go dry. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had never seen a dead person, but he knew that he was seeing one now. He picked up the canvas bag and after walking slowly out from behind the high, green hedge began running, running as fast as he could, needing to find and tell someone what he had just seen.

Captain Robert Wallace of the Nautilus Beach Police Department parked the black, unmarked, Chrysler sedan he was driving, shut off the ignition and after opening the driver side door climbed out of the vehicle. He stood looking at the two uniformed officers in the distance, assigned he presumed to guard and protect the crime scene. Wallace turned back to his car and reached inside then removed a white Styrofoam container of coffee. After removing the lid, which he tossed on to the automobile floor, he took a sip and swallowed, then he walked slowly to where a small group of police and reporters stood talking.

When he neared the small crowd of news reporters and curious bystanders those that knew him moved out of his way. Just as he anticipated the press reporters were the first to bombard him with questions. “What can you tell us Captain? Do you know who did this?

We have information it was her ex-husband. What do you think?”

“I think, that since you've been standing here for Christ knows how long that you should have seen me just arrive. So, to answer your first question, I can't tell you anything. To your second question, I don't know who did whatever you think has occurred inside. The third question? I don't know yet who she is, if she was married and if she was, to who? And the last question, What do I think? I think that as usual you're all so damn hungry for news that would allow you to scoop one another that you're willing to manufacture news. Now, get the hell out of the way so I can do my job.”

Wallace walked up the two cement steps and stepped on to the poured concrete porch. He nodded his head as the two uniformed officers saluted him. He then walked into the small living room where Frank Stiles stood waiting for him. “What have we got so far?”, asked Wallace.

Stiles opened his small note pad, glanced at the notes he had recorded and began to speak. “It seems that it was a paper boy that looked through the bedroom window and saw the deceased on the floor. He ran shouting, was heard by a milk man making a delivery. He stopped the boy, listened to him then banged on an apartment door. The resident inside allowed him to use her telephone and he called the police”.

“Do we have the names and addresses of the boy and milkman?”, asked Wallace.

“Yes sir”.

“Alright, then what?”

“The deceased was found by uniformed officers who responded. They were able to get the assistant project manager to unlock the front door of the apartment. The police entered and found the dead body on the bedroom floor”.

“And?”

“The woman appeared to have been murdered”.

“How did someone make that determination?”

“By two stab wounds in the abdomen and a slashed throat that severed the jugular vein”.

“Has anything been touched?”

“Not that I know of Captain”.

Wallace took another swallow of coffee. “OK, let me see what we have”, he said.

“The bedroom's this way”, said Stiles leading the way.

The Captain stood looking first at the nude body on the floor. He looked closely at the wounds in the woman's stomach and

then the gashed injury to the throat. His eyes then went to the bed. The single blanket and sheet had been folded neatly towards the foot of the bed. Two large, blood spots stained the middle of the white sheet covering the mattress. A large drying pool of blood could be seen on the light, yellow pillow case. Wallace glanced at the white painted walls of the bedroom. He noticed blood on the right wall. Looking up, he saw more blood on the ceiling.

“OK. It appears that the killer is right-handed. Notice the blood splatters on the bedroom wall and ceiling. I'm assuming that the first thing the killer did was a stab in the stomach. They withdrew the weapon quickly, then stabbed again, and withdrew the weapon quickly. Moving fast, the first and second stabs caused the victims blood to leave the weapon and it was deposited on the walls. I would guess that the killer stood over the victim and stabbed with an overhand motion. Then, changed the grip on the murder weapon and then slashed the woman's throat from left to right. Notice that when the artery was severed a stream of blood flowed from the carotid artery to her left shoulder and breast”.

“The uniforms reported a severed jugular vein”, said Stiles.

“They should know that an artery, in particular the carotid artery will squirt a stream of blood and that there is a carotid artery on both sides of the neck.” Seeing Detective Myers, he said, “Carol? What do you have?”

“The deceased is known as Edna Fisher. According to what we have found so far, she is unemployed as a seamstress. She's divorced and has been for eight years. Her ex- husband Joseph lives somewhere in Philadelphia. She's forty-one years old, born April 12, 1934.

I spoke to several neighbors who knew her and they told me that she liked to bar hop, dance, drink and occasionally bring home a guy to spend the night with”.

“Thanks”. Looking back at Stiles anything else?”

“Yes sir. It appears that who ever killed Edna Fisher also took the time to use the bathroom. There are indications that they washed up before they left”.

Wallace left the bedroom and walked into the small, bathroom. He stopped and looked at the floor noticing a small puddle of water, then at the sink seeing it neat and clean. Seeing June Campo, Technician In Charge of Crime Scene Evidence Collection Wallace said, “Sergeant, make sure one of your people collect that puddle of water in front of the bathroom washbasin”.

“Yes sir. We left it there for you to see”.

“Thank you”. Turning his attention back to Stiles, Wallace asked, “Anything else I should know?”

“Not right now. I'll send McKenna and Myers door to door interviewing the neighbors”.

“Alright, I'll be back at headquarters. When things are finished here, secure the crime scene just in case we forgot something. One uniformed patrolman can handle that. Send the body to the morgue”.

“Yes sir. Will do”.

Back at his office at police headquarters Captain Wallace seated at his desk reached for the telephone and dialed the number to the Nautilus Beach Hospital. He waited for the switchboard operator to come on line and when she did, he asked for extension 284...the in house number for the city morgue. After two rings, Doctor Manfred Edwards answered. “City Morgue, Doctor Edwards”.

“Doc?