Brush Creek Charlie - D. B. Reynolds (best pdf reader for ebooks TXT) 📗

love amongst many in the community. I ask for this love and support to continue.”
Back inside his apartment, Charlie coughed out bitterness. He watched the volunteers wear T-shirts with photos of the four victims. How dare they go door-to-door to help local law enforcement try and catch the Brush Creek killer. Those were his perversed sentiments.
“Arthur, thank you for input,” Stephanie obliged.
“You’re welcome.”
Arthur walked away to join the others in the support rally. A massive group of women from S.A.V.E. rallied in full effect. For Charlie, the protest was more like a curse. To him, the pillars of the community were the enemies of society. They had no right to try and find the Brush Creek killer.
Stephanie and her news crew found the perfect subject to interview. While waiting for Overstreet to be granted the search warrant to go into Charlie’s apartment, Sandy hustled up a bunch of her soldiers from the S.A.V.E. organization. Carol stood by her side as a buffer.
“Excuse me miss, but in what capacity are you here to serve in?” Stephanie asked of Sandy.
“I am here on behalf of S.A.V.E,” Sandy proudly responded.
“What organization is S.A.V.E.?”
“Sisters Against Violent Encounters.”
“What impact does your organization have in helping to solve the Brush Creek murders?”
“The same impact we’ve had in helping solve the Gillham Park strangle victims,” Sandy quoted with exhilaration. “The fight won’t be over until the person responsible for the four women found here in Brush Creek is found and arrested.”
“Is there a person of interest?”
“There is definitely a person of interest, but it’s sad that we don’t have pictures on flyers to pass out to help us find this person of interest.”
Sandy knew exactly who the person of interest was. His disgruntled face remained etched in her memory.
She couldn’t sleep peacefully at night thinking about the bastard. She couldn’t eat a decent meal without her appetite being spoiled.
She couldn’t make passionate love to her lesbian counterpart without the sex going sour. The sooner he got caught, the sooner she could resume a normal life.
“Where does your organization go from here?”
“We don’t want the public to think that this vigil here in Brush Creek mean that it’s over. The women of S.A.V.E. also had a vigil around Brush Creek prior to this one. We’re doing everything in our power since we know this killer is still on the loose.”
“Any other efforts in addition to this one?”
“We stop now, our work’s only half-done. Additional reward money is being offered and a billboard advertisement is due to go up soon.”
By now, Charlie’s fury skyrocketed to threatening levels. The face of Sandy Barnholtz agitated him to the point of wanting to commit more murders.
“The bitch just can’t keep her fucking mouth shut!” Charlie sizzled, big sweat rings under both armpits. “She got away! She got away! She got away! I just can’t believe she got the fuck away from me!”
Still, Charlie couldn’t believe Sandy made a clean getaway. The getaway, of course, was a hard messy one. She was supposed to have been killed along with the other four vulnerable women. Nobody escaped the wrath of Charles “Charlie The Machete” Rastelli.
“So, she thinks she’ll live long enough to keep up her charade,” Charlie exonerated, sweat drenched over his face. “War has no beginning, and it has no ending. Why can’t nobody understand what that means? I just don’t know why. I will kill her like I killed all the rest of those Vietcong chinks over Nam. I should’ve killed those two chink hookers who laughed at me in that whore house.”
Charlie snapped out of another one of his deep hallucinations.
He followed more of the live news story reported by Stephanie Harrison.
“Appreciate all of your information,” Stephanie thanked Sandy. “There has been no one taken into custody who could be responsible for the four Brush Creek killings, and no one has been questioned so far. Police are still looking for tips, and if you can provide them with tips, please call our tips hotline at 474-TIPS. This is Stephanie Harrison reporting live from Brush Creek.”
The cameras were shut off. News Channel Seven wrapped up their equipment to load onto their vans. Being cautionary, Sandy moved her body around in full revolutions. The man she feared so intensely produced much fear on her. At the moment, he was nowhere to be found in the vicinity of Brush Creek.
Charlie felt threatened moreso than ever. The woman he could’ve killed. The woman who should’ve been dead, she out maneuvered a sicko like him and remained alive.
“You say your work’s only half-done!” Charlie snubbed to himself. “Well, Charles Rastelli never half does anything. You were damn lucky that night down in Brush Creek. I was the stupid one, darling, not you. I should’ve brought you here back to this apartment and then chopped you up like I did the others. But no, I just had to try and finish you off right down in the creek.”
Charlie had one of the sickest minds in the state of Missouri. The question remained the same. Did Vietnam create the monster he’d become? Did his childhood create the psychopath he’d been destined to become?
These questions remained unanswered. Nothing could quench his thirst greater than killing Sandy Barnholtz. Her still being alive was a mockery to his skills as a killer. His livelihood was at stake. He grabbed his wool coat and stormed out the door. He cared not to lock the door to protect his possessions. On the way down the stairs and out the door, Charlie ran into the very man he despised as a neighbor.
“Charlie, I’d like to talk to you for a second,” Derrick requested, blocking half of the front doorway.
“Not now, Derrick, I’m in a rush!” Charlie yelled through clenched teeth.
“It’s important, Charlie, I’m telling you.”
“I don’t fucking have time! Okay?”
“You need to know this.”
“Tell me some other time.”
“But------.”
“Goddammit, leave me alone!”
Charlie jerked the door open and slammed it. It was apparent to Derrick that he didn’t want to be bothered. Derrick stepped back to think for a moment. Why tip him off about the surprise coming his way? Overstreet and Sandy wouldn’t’ve been pleased to know how Derrick freed the fish from the hook. Logically, Charlie knew his days were numbered. Nobody stayed at the top forever. Not even serial killers like himself.


CHAPTER—48

Overstreet jumped at the chance to bring Sandy along with him on a visit to the IRS. The person they needed in their camp was Derrick Thomas. Neither one of them were IRS employees. They were stopped at the guard’s desk inside the building’s tunnel. Overstreet produced his detective’s badge in order to give himself preferential treatment.
“Can I help you?” asked one of the veteran guards.
“Lieutenant Jerry Overstreet with the KCPD,” Overstreet declared to the guard. “I’d like to speak with an employee here at the IRS.”
“Can I get you to sign in here, Lieutenant?”
“Sure.”
Overstreet signed his name, the date, the time, and the badge number assigned to him. The guard issued him a temporary badge.
He clipped the badge onto his suitjacket.
Overstreet gestured over to Sandy. “Give me a few minutes to find Derrick.”
“I’ll wait down here. Derrick won’t be hard to find.”
“See ya in a few minutes.”
The journey began to the upper floors. The glossy posters of Kansas City history enclosed inside the glass frames had once again captivated Overstreet. Both walls on opposite sides of the long escalators added excitement to the trip. Once on the lower level, employees traveled to and from their respective departments. The Christmas holiday was fast approaching. Santa Claus stocking caps hung over the heads of those in the spirit. Overstreet punched the elevator button for the second floor.
Stepping off on two, he’d been greeted by those usual sad faces. I hate my job and can’t wait until I retire or find a better one. I’m spending my working years either hating what I do or bored with it. Those were the exact messages displayed across their worn faces. Groups of women passed Overstreet asking one another for the daily lottery numbers. Winning the lottery was their only hope of escaping the woes of the nine-to-five grindstone and living the good life. Someone had asked about the powerball numbers.
Talk about wanting to shoot straight to the top. The only advice Overstreet could’ve given was to get a life. They wanted to win the lottery along with millions of others. The scene he witnessed on his first trip to the IRS was almost the same rendition. People were lost and confused. Their negative attitudes were contagious.
Overstreet walked past the cafeteria and main corridor. Using the temporary badge he’d been assigned to, he placed it up to the sensor and walked through the double doors. Not quite as busy as the peak tax season, the data conversion branch only had a few employees pounding away on their computer terminals.
Overstreet overheard the voice of a gay male giggling away. Followed by those giggles was the husky voice of some woman. Overstreet strutted down the long aisle with the hard heels of his shoes smashing into the tiles.
“I’m looking for Derrick Thomas,” Overstreet chimed to a group of four who were gathered near one of the office doors.
Derrick, being the sometime boisterous and never-shy employee, never hesitated to come forward. “Who are you, sir?”
“Lieutenant Jerry Overstreet with the KCPD.”
“You’re speaking with Derrick. Is there something that I can help you with?”
“Actually, there is. Can we go somewhere and talk in private?”
“Yes we can.”
Derrick turned to Cindy Montgomery to approve the use of her office. Cindy and Overstreet exchanged inquisitive eye contact. She had a clear idea