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

gave me any notion that he was this psychotic killer.”
“No one had a notion, Mr. Rosenburg.”
Overstreet flashed a finger signal at Carey. “Cork, how about you pay Gomez Foods a visit.”
“No problem, Jerry.”
“Find out what you can. Talk to his co-workers who might’ve known Charlie on a more personable level.”
“Should I start with the owner of the company?”
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’m on it, Jerry.”
“Get down there first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, I’ll be paying the Union Station and the VA Hospital visits. Also, we’re going to issue an all points bulletin on this guy.”
“Great idea.”
“Charlie’s first victim, Lisa Wallace, I couldn’t get any surveillance footage out of the IRS’ security division around the time she was murdered. The thought hit me, Union Station has all kinds of surveillance covering that area. Had I thought about it before, maybe Charlie wouldn’t’ve had three other victims to follow in Lisa’s wake.”
“And the VA Hospital?”
“It’s a sure shot that the VA has medical records on this Charles Robert Rastelli. Doc McKinnis may have scraped samples of his blood off the vics, which he’s proven that Charlie’s carrying Agent Orange.”
“He has Agent Orange?”
“Like a businessman carrying around his briefcase.”
“The man is dying and probably don’t even know it.”
A detective inside the bathroom summoned Overstreet and Carey. “Jerry and Cork, come in here and take a look at this.”
Overstreet and Carey went into the bathroom and looked over at the medicine cabinet.
“Can ya believe this?” the detective asked his superiors.
Overstreet picked up one medication bottle after another. “What was this guy doing, running a pharmacy?”
“Looks like all of his prescribed medicines,” Carey said, holding the bottles up to the light.
“Xanax? Prozac? Zoloft?” Overstreet named off. “Lexapro? Pristiq? Cymbalta? Celena? Seroquel XR? Charlie puts enough drugs into his system to stay high for a whole week.”
“Depression and him have a lot in common. Charlie is a walking timebomb.”
“Before he detonates again, we’ve got to take him off the streets. These depression medications are probably making him crazier by the day.”
“Vietnam could be to blame.”
Overstreet summoned the expertise of the best medical examiner around. “Doc McKinnis, can I see you here in the bathroom?”
Dr. McKinnis took a break from his collection of evidence. “What can I do for you, detective?”
“Whaddaya make of all this depression medication?”
“Charlie’s a suicide waiting to happen. Being prescribed all these anti-depressants can only increase his suicidal thoughts and behaviors.”
“How about his homicidal thoughts and abnormal behaviors?”
Charlie grew into a crazier monster by the day.
“Chances are, Charlie has life-threatening illnesses which leads him to commit homicides of unspeakable dimensions.”
“Life-threatening illnesses such as?”
“Cirrhosis, pancreatic cancer, diabetes, and brain atrophy. All these bottles of medications are a testament to that.”
“Is his state of mental illness worsening by the day?”
“I’d say by every hour of every day.”
“A sick mind and a sick body are an atrocious combination.”
A call for Overstreet and Carey came from inside the front room. More evidence was being discovered all over the apartment. Another detective handed Overstreet a sheet of paper with clues tied to Charlie.
“This is a reminder letter for one of Charlie’s appointments at the VA,” Overstreet said.
“From a Dr. Peter Lindenthal at the Agent Orange Clinic inside the VA?” Carey asked.
“This Dr. Lindenthal came from the Southern California Neurology Assocation.”
“Looks like Charlie Boy made a few visits to see this doctor for his Agent Orange treatments.”
“I’ll be making a visit to see this doc after I see what I can find out over at Union Station.”
“Wonder if he’s been to any of his appointments lately? The date on this reminder letter is over two years ago.”
“Discouragement must’ve set in. Most of those guys never recover from Agent Orange.”
Everyone inside Charlie’s apartment had finished the purpose they’d come to serve. All DNA evidence was collected and ready to be sent to the lab. The Rosenburgs gave Overstreet and Carey all the information they needed. Derrick and Mitchell were a big help themselves.
The machete was carefully wrapped in plastic and carried out by the crime lab. Sandy stood by the window facing the busy street below. Daydreams engulfed her mind until a known figure walking amongst a group of people showed up. Not again! No way could it be the same man whose apartment was presently being searched.
“Lieutenant Overstreet, can you come over here by the window, please?” Sandy cordially requested, a sheet of fright surrounding her.
“What is it, Sandy?”
“Please come here for a second.”
“If you insist.”
Sandy pointed towards the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. “My mind’s been known to play tricks on me, but I believe that that’s Charlie right down there.”
“You think it’s the same guy who we chased the night we ran out of the Japanese restaurant downtown?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t look like the same guy to me,” Overstreet scoped tightly, trying his hardest to make out an identity.
“I’m telling you, Lieutenant, he’s full of tricks. He changes his look like a leopard changes its spots.”
“Wanna go out there and take a look?”
“Listen to me, he’s after me. The shitbag won’t stop until he kills me.”
“Do you want us to put you into protective custody?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“One thing’s for sure, he won’t be coming back here anymore.”
“Where do you think he’ll go?”
“He’s probably already done picked out a hiding spot.”
“Brush Creek, maybe?”
“Very possible.”
“If not there, then where?”
“Somewhere until we apprehend him. In fact, I doubt he’ll return to work.”
Overstreet requested for Charlie’s apartment to be put under twenty-four hour surveillance. Would he be foolish enough to return? For investigational purposes, a no trespassing sign was to be posted to keep intruders away. Charlie was a wanted man and the police department stopped at nothing to bring him into custody.


CHAPTER—50

Carey arrived at Gomez Foods just before 9:00 o’clock a.m. on a sunny Wednesday morning. The assembly of hardworking Mexican men had the huge kettles fired up and ready to cook barbeque sauce and cheesecake in a jar. The aroma shot up Carey’s nose and created a euphoria of culinary delight. The owner of Gomez Foods, Sal Badalementi, a fifth generation business owner of esteemed Italian descent, greeted Carey at the side door leading to the food plant. He’d been expecting him after a cordial phone call.
“Detective Schroeder?” Sal said, his hand extended forward.
“Sal Badalementi?” Carey inquired, exchanging a firm handshake with Sal.
“Welcome to Gomez Foods.”
“My pleasure, Sal. Can we go somewhere and talk in private?”
“Sure, my office is right through here.”
Sal led Carey through a set of doors and past an area with busy office workers.
Carey couldn’t figure out how a full-blooded Italian owned and operated a food company entitled “Gomez Foods”. The company produced lots of sauces and dips and salsas to compliment Mexican and American dishes. Their accounts with prestigious companies were enormous. Their yearly profit margins were juicy, considering Gomez Foods had accounts with large companies overseas. Sorry Carey, but Sal built his company on the strength of hard work and shrewdness, not by relying on criminal goons to muscle in on competitors.
“Food around here smells delicious,” Carey sniffed with an inviting smile.
“Thanks a lot, detective. We try to produce the best for our customers.”
“What’re some of your products?”
“Barbeque sauce, martini ball, cheesecake in a jar, hot sauce, spicy jelly, just to name a few. Today, we’ve got barbeque sauce and cheesecake in a jar being cooked and packaged.”
“You’re making me hungry.”
“We aim to please.”
Carey flipped open a brown leather binder and fished out a digital photo. “I think you know why I made this trip here to Gomez Foods. Does this guy look familiar?”
Sal placed the enhanced photo close to his face. “That’s Charlie.”
“Charles Rastelli, right?”
“Correct, detective.”
“When’s the last time he’s been to work?”
“Been almost a month.”
“What kinda worker is he?”
“Hard worker. Always on time. Never gives anybody any trouble.”
“Substantiating words for a monster who’s responsible for four gruesome murders.”
“Four murders?” Sal wavered, not believing what he’d just heard.
“We have enough DNA evidence to tie Charlie to all four murders. Charlie is not only sick in the mind, but he’s also sick in the body. He’s on enough medications to send someone into mass hysteria. Did you know that he’s infected with Agent Orange?”
“That I didn’t know. But I do know that he’s a Vietnam Veteran.”
“Charlie is a dying man. When you hired him, did you check into his medical history?”
“No, but we did receive his DD 214 discharge papers.”
“Did you check any of the separation program numbers on the discharge papers?”
“No, but did recognize that he was discharged under honorable conditions.”