Brush Creek Charlie, D. B. Reynolds [top non fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

Oombah if I were you all.”
“Oombah?” Overstreet questioned, the mentioning of the name jumpstarting the interrogation.
“That’s right.”
“The same Oombah who wears dreadlocks with the stocky-muscular build?”
“Yes, the same Oombah who quit school in the sixth grade, the same dummy who can’t even count to ten, the same nigga who can’t read a whole sentence all the way through.”
Kool Aid and Oombah were definitely bitter street rivals.
“We’ve picked him up many times for drug possession and assault and battery on many women.”
“There you have it, Lieutenant Overstreet,” Roderick confirmed. “White girls are his easiest targets. He finds weak white girls, use them to help slang his dope, live off them as long as he can, then kick them straight to the curb. Oombah is a much worse animal than I could ever be.”
“An enemy of your’s?”
“Given my choice, I would’ve popped him a long time ago. How he lived this long, none of us can figure it out. The nigga has done nothing but take up precious air on this Earth the whole time he’s been alive. Yes, I said the word ‘nigga’ in the presence of you two white men, because that’s exactly what he is. There’s black people, and there’s niggas. Oombah’s a bonafied nigga in the end.”
“What makes you think he might be involved with any of the Gillham Park murders?”
Roderick wrestled his shoulders and said, “Oombah sold much dope to Kenyatta and Cheryl and Tracey and some of those other females found dead in Gillham Park.”
“You know this to be factual?”
“Sure do.”
“Go ahead, tell us more.”
“Check his records, I’ll bet he’s got priors for beating up some of those females. People have overheard him saying that he’d kill some of those bitches if they ever stole his dope or tried to run off with any of his money.”
“Did you ever overhear him say any of those things?”
“Once, maybe twice.”
“DNA could possibly link him to some or all of those murders.”
“Lieutenant Overstreet, I swear on the soul of mother that I didn’t kill any of those women. I might’ve put my hands on them, but never would I take any of them out. Oombah’s an out-of-control animal who needs to be put inside of a cage. As far as those Brush Creek murders, there’s no way I’d have anything to do with them. I’m not white, I don’t have a crater face, and I can’t kill a big German Shepard dog with my bare hands. Yeah, I read about that monster who attacked a couple of your boys on the police force and strangled one of your canines to death.”
“We never suspected you were involved with those murders. We just wanted to see if you heard anything out on the streets.”
“Haven’t heard a word. Whoever the guy is, he’s one clever sonofabitch. The news showed how he crawled through one of those long tunnels in Brush Creek to get away from a couple of your policemen. I played around in those Brush Creek tunnels when I was a kid, and I know for a fact that they’re loaded big ass sewer rats.”
“We’re going to put an All Points Bulletin out on this Oombah. Do you know his real name?”
“Believe his real name is Durrell Pruitt.”
“Durrell Pruitt’s right.”
Snitching paid big dividends. Pressure brought out the best of snitching in any person. Overstreet and Carey pushed all the right buttons to get Roderick to snitch on his street thug rivals. More detectives were needed to pool together the full resources of the KCPD in solving the Gillham Park and Brush Creek murders.
Roderick had no choice in staying put. Being detained by the department was the best thing to happen to him. The vicious thug known as “Oombah” became their number one person of interest. They had to get the sub-human bastard off the streets. The other sub-human monster responsible for the Brush Creek murders also had to be taken off the streets.


CHAPTER—38

A mild wind blew light snow drizzles around the historic buildings on The Country Club Plaza. Thanksgiving Day brought out hundreds-of-thousands of thrillseeking souls to the streets of an elite part of town. Snow had formed thin layers on top of the Victoria’s Secret, Barnes and Noble, and Baby Gap buildings. The windows of the Jack Henry and Tiffany’s Jewelry buildings were smoked with frost. From the N. Valentino’s clothing store to Houston’s restaurant, the people starving for entertainment stood shoulder-to-shoulder.
In front of Kinkos, on the side of The Palace Theatre building, the electrified souls pressed against each other from neck-to-neck. The atmosphere on The Country Club Plaza was charged with heart racing excitement. The Plaza Lighting Ceremony was only minutes away. The thousands of lights which had been wrapped so scientifically around every single building on The Plaza were close to being fired up. Glassbreaking screams were sent into the air. Men and women and children couldn’t hold back their anxious tendencies.
Coming through a dense crowd right on J. C. Nichols Parkway was Charles Rastelli. A thick gray wool cap with side flaps covered a good portion of his face. A matching wool maxi coat draped his body all the way down to his ankles. Some in the crowd pitched him the hardest stares. Others kept their distance since his presence projected an aura of evil and danger. He was a wanted man and knew better to keep the lowest profile.
His place of residence, The Rosenburg Apartments, was only two short blocks away. Why not come out and join in on the celebration? Only thing, Charlie didn’t come out to be a part of the holiday celebration. He came out to hunt for new prey. Searching for easy victims was the biggest play of his life. Presently, The Country Club Plaza was his hunting ground. Taking his victim back to the murder quarters would be his playground.
The countdown began. The crowd of over three-hundred thousand people, stretching from a two mile radius, counted from ten down to one. The Plaza lit up every single building with an array of blue, yellow, green, purple, and red lights. Cheers of great magnitudes echoed throughout the streets. Personalities from every major news station in Kansas City stood on a stage holding microphones as they aired live. The mayor took to the stage to give a brief speech.
Charlie wandered through the streets a lonely soul. Thousands-upon-thousands of people were in his presence. He felt like he’d been the only person on The Plaza. The prior episode of recalling how the Vietnamese hookers viciously mocked him raced through his mind. The mere thought of making other women pay for what they did tore straight into his soul.
Holiday shoppers muscled their way through the congested Plaza crowd. More than a handful of attractive women traveled up and down the street. The two words, “I’m single”, were etched all across their cold, red faces. The hunting strategy for Charlie began. He casted the widest net possible. But who’d be the easiest prey among the thousands of women?
The Country Club Plaza was the place where the bigshots came to spend, to play, to flaunt their status, or just plain hang out with their wealthy constituents. His innermost thoughts told him none of those women would’ve given him the dirt from under the bottom of their shoes. For Charlie, the answer came sooner than he wished. Standing directly in front of The Cheesecake Factory was some woman with a look on her face which expressed: I’m anyone’s for the taking.
She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, a firm slim build she carried, while her episode of good looks hadn’t quite withered away. Signs of extreme loneliness were transmitted back to Charlie. The bright neon lights from The Cheesecake Factory sign projected a soft sheet of red light down onto her slender face. She casted sentiments of being approachable. Charlie wasted not one second to make his move. He bogarted his way through a cluster of people who had their bodies parked around the sidewalks.
“Happy holidays,” Charlie greeted the strange woman.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” she returned, breaking out of her shy mode.
“What brings you to The Plaza on a cold night like this?”
“Anything to get out of the house.”
“Sounds to me you’re not happy being there.”
“Not happy at all. My boyfriend’s the almighty asshole.”
“Boyfriend? Before I decided to approach you, I was hoping that you didn’t have a problem like that.”
“Well, I do have that problem.”
“My condolences to you. How compounded are your problems at home?”
“There’s no food in the cabinets nor the refrigerator. He’d rather drink and get high than put food in our apartment. We’re literally starving to death because of his fucking addictions.”
“That’s not good.”
“He likes to fight all the time.”
Charlie may have found the victim he’d hoped for. A noticeable dark ring was stamped around her left eye.
“What’s your name?”
“Amy. What’s your’s?”
“Charles, but all my friends and associates call me Charlie.”
“You live around here?”
“Right up the street in The Rosenburg Apartments.”
Amy Alex was her full name. She had a past and present peculiar to most people her age. She’d been in and out of abusive relationships. She experimented occasionally with drugs. Family members shunned her because of her poor choice in men and her wreckless lifestyle. But appearances were rather deceiving. Bad relationships and drug use didn’t seem to ruin her semi-good looks.
“You from Kansas City, Amy?” Charlie asked, sizing her up pretty good.
“Born in St. Louis, raised mostly in Chicago.”
Charlie’s newfound victim had gotten easier. Not being a native of his city would give him the right to take sole advantage of her.
“What brought you to K.C.?”
“Change of scenery, which didn’t turn out the way I hoped.”
“I just don’t understand why guys go around mistreating nice, good looking women like yourself.”
“Sometimes, people don’t realize what they have