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

She hadn’t eaten anything since morning. Her stomach shot off strong growls of hunger. Overstreet ordered a light cocktail and an appetizer. Sandy decided to share the appetizers once they arrived at their table.
“I’d like to know, who’s the Brush Creek killer?” Overstreet inquired, lashes of adrenalin pumping him up.
“His name is Charles Rastelli,” Sandy revealed to Overstreet.
“How do you know that for sure?”
The drink and appetizers arrived at their table by the cordial waiter.
Sandy took a strong swallow of water. “He told me his name. Lieutenant Overstreet, he tried to rape me and kill me one night down in Brush Creek. This psychotic animal killed my Labrador Retriever named Bolo with his bare hands.”
“And you believe he’s the same man responsible for killing and dismembering the four women found floating in trashbags down in Brush Creek?”
“The word ‘believe’ isn’t factored into this story. I know for a straight fact that he’s responsible for their murders and mutilations. Lots of places I’ve gone, he’s done showed up out of nowhere. He’s following me detective and he wants to kill me.”
“Why you?”
“He didn’t kill me that night down in Brush Creek. He wants to put me on his list of victims.”
“So, he’s stalking you?”
“My God, he’s watching every move I make! He’s a shellshocked Vietnam War veteran who gets off on killing totally innocent women.”
Sandy put something heavy on Overstreet’s mind. “What else can you tell me?”
“He’s doesn’t have any genitals.”
“No private parts?”
“None, zilch, notta.”
“How do you know this?”
“The night he tried to attack me, I grabbed him in the middle of his crotch.”
“And?”
“Nothing but flat space was down there. Know how I know?”
“How?”
“He wore a giant colostomy bag. He had no organs down there to urinate out of.”
“Sounds freakish of nature to me. What else can you tell me about this possible suspect?”
“His face, that ugly, that grossly-pitted face of his. Stephen King would have a grand time writing a novel about that creepy mug of his.”
“Would ‘nightmare-of-a-face’ be a fair assessement of how he looked?”
“Straight to the point is more like it, Lieutenant. He’d frighten the devil straight out of hell.”
“The night he tried to attack you, was it the first time you’d ever seen him?”
“Yes it was.”
“Him popping up everywhere, give me more details about that.”
“Well,” Sandy ruffled, trying to shift into relax mode. “The prayer vigil we had for the slain black women found in Gillham Park, he showed up after everyone began leaving. I spotted him and started one of my high-speed foot chases. Like that, he vanished like a ghost. Thanksgiving night, my partner and I were down in The Plaza for The Plaza Lighting Ceremony. In the thick of the crowd, I spotted him just a few yards away. He and some woman were holding carry-out boxes from The Cheesecake Factory. This same woman, I believe she was the one who was just found in Brush Creek. The vigil/protest that S.A.V.E. recently had around Brush Creek, he walked past when I was talking with a news reporter. I went in pursuit of him, and like the other times, he came and went like a breeze of air. Lieutenant, he’s hot on my trail.”
“The woman you saw him with on Thanksgiving night, would you recognize her if you seen a picture of her?”
“Sure would.”
Overstreet nursed his cocktail with a thin red straw. “I’d like to know something, Sandy. If you had this information all along, why are you just now coming forward?”
“You have every right to ask me a rough edge question like that.”
“Lives are at stake here.”
“At a meeting S.A.V.E. had one night, I explained to all the members that I felt irresponsible for not coming forward like I should have.”
“You should’ve come forward the night he tried to attack you and killed your dog.”
“No doubt, Lieutenant.”
“How recently have you seen him?”
“Remember when you were tucking me inside the passenger’s side of your car?”
“I do.”
“Remember you asked me why I had acted so strangely?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Don’t think I’m crazy, but I believe I spotted him walking on the side of the police headquarters.”
“Are you sure, Sandy?”
“I hope I am.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“This bastard’s slicker than snot on a doorknob. In a split-second, he can become invisible.”
“Sounds like he’s done developed a pattern of some sort. He knows when you come, when you go, and keeps a schedule conducive to your’s.”
“His place of residence, I know where it is.”
“You do? How’d you find that out?”
“The world keeps on getting smaller. Kansas City isn’t exactly the biggest city in the United States. One night, my partner and I were inside Missy D’s nightclub for the celebrity impersonation show. There, we met a guy and his partner who talked about someone they knew named Charlie who kept crazy hours and who took big trashbags out to the complex dumpster in the early morning hours. The nightmare-of-a-face, he confirmed how this Charlie character had one ruined complexion. Lieutenant, the man you’re after lives at The Rosenburg Apartments on The Plaza.”
Sandy spoke to Overstreet about her partner. He didn’t have to be a genius to figure out she was a lesbian. The signs were well in place. Her sexual orientation was of no concern to him. Apprehending the sonofabitch who had no regard to women’s lives stood tall on his priority list.
“The Rosenburg Apartments? Where exactly on The Plaza is this apartment complex?”
“Not quite sure.”
“How’d you find out where he lives there?”
“The gentleman that my partner and I met at Missy D’s the night of the celebrity impersonation show told us.”
“This gentleman’s name?”
“Derrick Thomas. To find answers to questions pounding inside my head, I showed up at his job at the IRS building down there on Pershing Road.”
“That complex takes up at least two city blocks. The first victim found in Brush Creek worked there.”
“Derrick told me her name was Lisa Wallace.”
“That’s correct.”
“She could’ve been murdered at his apartment inside The Rosenburg.”
“Yes, she could’ve.”
Sandy and Overstreet had gotten very acquainted.
“Amy Alex, the pretty young girl from Chicago, I believe she was with Charlie the night of The Plaza Lighting Ceremony.”
“You sure about that?”
“I don’t forget faces, Lieutenant. The second her face popped up on the television screen, I recognized her right away. From right out of my recliner, I jumped up and shouted and pointed at the television screen. So, where do we go from here?”
“As far as?”
“When can you pick this shitbag up and get him off the streets? Like you said leaving the police headquarters, anyone in the city could become his next victim.”
“Would you be willing to go with myself as well as several police officers to his apartment?”
“More than willing, Lieutenant. The sooner he gets off the streets, the sooner women can sleep peacefully at night. How soon can we go to his apartment? I’d be willing to go right now to The Rosenburg Apartments.”
“Before making any moves, I’d like to get a judge to sign a warrant with legal authorization to enter and search his apartment.”
“How long can that take?”
“By as early as tomorrow morning or afternoon, depending on if I can convince a judge that we have just cause to make an emergency entry and search.”
“But other women’s lives are at stake. This Neanderthal could be working on his next victim as we speak.”
“Look, I want to get this scumbag as bad as you do. There are certain regulations we have to abide by before making any moves. We can only cross our fingers and wish that he’s not working on his next victim.”
“To my understanding, the Gillham Park killer was caught.”
“He was.”
“You have a name?”
“For reasons of confidentiality, I cannot mention any names.”
“When will the media put his name out there?”
“Soon, Sandy, very soon. I’m scheduled to interrogate this clown in the future. Keep it to yourself.”
“My lips are sealed tight. Hey, what about the warrant to go after Charlie at The Rosenburg?”
“I’ll have time to visit with one of the judges in his chambers or somewhere else in privacy.”
“You sure keep a busy schedule.”
“Apprehending the Gillham Park killer cut down considerably on my work hours.”
“Were you working both the Gillham Park and Brush Creek murder cases?”
“Yes, kinda back and forth.”
“Do you have time for sleep?”
“Three or four hours does me some justice.”
“Married with children?”
“Thirty-six years married. Three grown children. Grandfather of five.”
“You spend quality time with them?”
“Yes and no. My wife complains, but she knows the type of work I’ve devoted myself to. My kids have their own lives and we usually come together for the holidays.”
“If this warrant comes through, will you get into contact with me?”