Brush Creek Charlie by D. B. Reynolds (best free e book reader .TXT) đź“•
Excerpt from the book:
Charles “Charlie The Machete” Rastelli is a shellshocked Vietnam War veteran who lives with serious post traumatic stress disorder. Charlie’s self-esteem is shattered by the fact that he suffered from genital mutilation from ammunition crossfire while serving in Vietnam. His life has spiraled far out of control. An engineering marvel known as Brush Creek is where he has always found his piece of solitude.
Brush Creek is an east to west stretch of creek sewage, woods, wildlife, and concrete jogging trails. Failure to kill a certain woman becomes his pretext to building a murderous resume. Charlie lures women from prominent working class to prostitutes and drug addicts to his apartment. Strangulation is his method of murder. A Full Tang Monster Machete is his method of mutilation. His victim’s bodies are transported in trashbags and dumped in Brush Creek.
Members of an all-women support group are determined to put an end to the killing cycle fueled by Charlie. These diligent women consolidate resources and power with law enforcement to try and make sure that more bodies won’t surface anymore in Brush Creek. Will Charlie meet up with the specter of death when he decides to go too far? It’s a serious race against time to end a psychopath’s homicidal escapades.
Brush Creek is an east to west stretch of creek sewage, woods, wildlife, and concrete jogging trails. Failure to kill a certain woman becomes his pretext to building a murderous resume. Charlie lures women from prominent working class to prostitutes and drug addicts to his apartment. Strangulation is his method of murder. A Full Tang Monster Machete is his method of mutilation. His victim’s bodies are transported in trashbags and dumped in Brush Creek.
Members of an all-women support group are determined to put an end to the killing cycle fueled by Charlie. These diligent women consolidate resources and power with law enforcement to try and make sure that more bodies won’t surface anymore in Brush Creek. Will Charlie meet up with the specter of death when he decides to go too far? It’s a serious race against time to end a psychopath’s homicidal escapades.
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whoever choked her had her in a hold tighter than any vice grip.”
Dr. McKinnis showed Overstreet X-rays of the spinal cord and vertebrae. He used a bright pen light to point out lacerations through the skin and straight to the bone. Autopsies were never a favorite of Overstreet.
“Any signs of rape, doc?” Overstreet questioned, yearning for concrete answers.
“This vic showed no signs of being raped. I swabbed the vaginal and rectal areas and found no signs of forced entry or seminal or saliva or blood DNA.”
“Any signs of a struggle?”
Dr. McKinnis guided the pen light to the middle of the victim’s right arm. “Bruises up here and right along here shows they might’ve put up a struggle, maybe tried to fight off her killer.”
“Any DNA, whatsoever, found on the vic?”
“None, whatsoever, detective. I checked under the fingernails, through the hair, into the mouth, and all along the limbs and the torso. We’ve come up real short this time. Besides, the strong sewage water in Brush Creek would’ve also contaminated any valuable evidence.”
“Dammit!” Overstreet blabbed. “Just like the first vic we found, any evidence left behind got washed away.”
“This person was also a heavy drug user.”
“You found traces of drugs in her system?”
“Large concentrations of cocaine found in the blood.”
“If she was a heavy drug user, then she was probably tied to prostitution.”
“Not an intravenous drug user, but probably a cocaine smoker.”
“Probably a longtime user.”
Dr. McKinnis wanted Overstreet to focus his attention on the deep wounds inflicted through the limbs. “Detective, remember we discussed how the first vic found in Brush Creek might’ve been mutilated with a Full Tang Monster Machete?”
“Remember it very well, doc.”
“Well, this vic was dismembered with the same type of machete.”
“How do you know that for sure?”
“Blades belonging to knives, razors, saws, and any other sharp objects only have so much sharpness to penetrate the epidermis of the skin and go straight into the bones of the arms and legs and other body parts. The steel blade of a Full Tang Monster Machete stretches nineteen and a half inches long with a fourteen inch cutting edge. I examined the cuts with precision and matched them straight to the machete.”
“Doc, how can you be so sure?”
Dr. McKinnis reached for a book on machetes. He turned to the page which showcased the various models. “Over and over, I studied how a forcible contact with such a powerful blade could rip through the skin and bone with slight effort. Had the perp used just a butcherknife, straight razor, handsaw, or other sharp object, excessive damage would’ve been done to the skin and bones.”
“How about a chainsaw?”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“The teeth of a chainsaw would’ve ripped the skin and bones into a million big pieces.”
“We’ve had this discussion before, doc,” Overstreet recalled. “I’d never question your expertise as a medical examiner, but it seems like our perp knows how to unassemble a body.”
“To say the least,” Dr. McKinnis agreed. “Through reading or experience, they know the points to dismember the limbs from the torso.”
“Now we’re dealing with round two.”
“The conclusion is rather clear, detective. The cause of death is asphyxia by compression of the neck. The manner of this death is homicide.”
“Now we’ve got to make a positive identification on the vic.”
“I’ll make X-rays of the dental work and get it over to the forensic orthodontist. From there, he can examine the jaws and study the teeth and dental work.”
“Let’s hope that that won’t take too long.”
“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Since facial reconstruction won’t be needed, the dental records alone should help determine who our vic is.”
“Doc, you’re the best. Let me get back over to headquarters to find out who this person is.”
Overstreet dashed out of the autopsy room. Lots of questions with no constructive answers hung over his head.
CHAPTER—19
Three days following the initial autopsy performed by Dr. Anthony McKinnis inside the Harry S. Truman Medical Center, Carey Schroeder helped piece together a positive identification of the second victim found in the sewage waters of Brush Creek. He had information which Overstreet found joy to his ears.
“Found out our vic is Kimberly Deanna Barr,” Carey disclosed to his superior. He read straight from an open folder. “Had numerous records for prostitution, with five convictions from 1999 to 2002. Mainly worked Independence Avenue and areas closeby.”
Overstreet leaned back to absorb most of what he’d just heard. “Think about it, Cork. How many cars do prostitutes get in and out of on a regular basis down there on Independence Avenue?”
“Independence Avenue’s got more than it’s share of crazies.”
If one went looking for fun, they’d find it down on the avenue.
“These women typically lead nomadic, unscheduled lives. This Kimberly Barr, did she check in regularly with her friends and relatives?”
“Who’s to say that she had any friends, the ones who took time to care. Who’s to say that she had relatives who gave a dam. She also had prior drug convictions.”
“She didn’t get into the car with the wrong psycho, she got into the car with the right psycho,” Overstreet sadly spoke. “The trail we’re picking up on, this sonofabitch will eventually turn into months old work.”
Overstreet figured how Independence Avenue just wasn’t safe after the Italians deserted the north end of Kansas City for greener pastures. Angelo Galluccio and his soldiers migrated further north to enjoy some peace and quiet. How clever of them to evade the law.
“Jerry, we’ve got a demonic creature on our hands.”
“With two grizzly murders under his belt, we can only guess how this scumbag feels.”
“Unstoppable.”
“And uncatchable and invincible.”
“Jerry, this bastard chopped these women up like beef in a slaughterhouse.”
“Something like that is grotesquely abnormal.”
“This bloodthirsty madman, this nameless beast, he’s got to be stopped.”
Overstreet tapped into his quintessential detective gifts. “There’s a strange irony between the first vic and the second vic. The first woman, Lisa Wallace, she lived alone, worked at the IRS for twenty-eight years, didn’t bother a soul on Earth, and was an outstanding pillar of her community. Unlike Lisa, this Kimberly Barr worked as a prostitute, was a regular drug user, was homeless most of her life, and wandered the streets of Independence Avenue in search of tricks. These are two different women from two totally different backgrounds.”
“The paradox here is insanely unconventional.”
“Sounds like our perp knows how to change his mode of operation.”
“He must know that patterns and repetitions tip off cops.”
“Let’s hope our investigation will steer up in the direction of the killer.”
“Think this lowlife hacks and kills at the spur-of-the moment?”
“There’s got to be an underlying psychological reason as to how and why he kills,” Overstreet reasoned. He glanced at the police mugshot of the former prostitute and drug addict known only to street elements as Kim. “He’s got to be an intensely angry man. Choking these women to death and hacking up their bodies is how he vents his anger.”
“Maybe this jerk feels deserted in some way.”
“He’s real skilled at dismembering bodies.”
“Makes transporting the bodies a lot easier. Also, it’s his way of making a statement.”
Overstreet theorized how their perp mastered the skill of mutilation. “Doc McKinnis explained to me how the cuts on both vics were precise. He raised the possibility that the killer could’ve been in the medical field or had some type of surgical knowledge. The doc also pointed out that the chops were done with a Full Tang Monster Machete.”
“How can Doc McKinnis be so sure?”
“My question, exactly. Doc McKinnis is quite a bit more knowledgeable than your average medical examiner. Under a light brighter than the sun itself, right there inside the autopsy room, he showed me how only that model of machete ripped into both vic’s skin and bones. Know what I believe beyond any reasonable doubt, Cork?”
“Jerry, my ears belong to you.”
“Our perp is some shellshocked war veteran who’s out to get revenge on American people.”
“Could be possible.”
“Particularly women.”
“Still, how many more people gotta die before we find this sicko?”
“None of us knows that. Brush Creek will be under tight surveillance.”
“So, what’s our next move?”
Overstreet didn’t need pen and paper to strategize. His brains were all he needed to map out his plans. “Make a trip down there on Independence Avenue. Talk to some of the locals in that area and see what you find out. It’s gotta be some streetwalkers down there who knew Kim.”
“How about that skin club on the avenue? The one right there close to Van Brunt?”
“Uhhhhhh,” Overstreet scrambled, being cautionary. “You’re speaking of the black strip club towards the end of the avenue. Cork, I’m telling your right now, please be careful. Fighting and shooting and stabbing is the norm inside that joint. It’s nothing but a deathtrap for those young black kids. You can go inside there and question a few people, but you might need some backup.”
“Jerry, that’s why I carry a .357 glock and mase. I’m trained to ward off the people who are allergic to law enforcement.”
“See what you can find.”
“Will do.”
Carey snatched up the folder off the desk of Overstreet. He was headed straight for the wild streets of Independence Avenue.
CHAPTER—20
A half-bright sun shielded by a cluster of powdery gray
Dr. McKinnis showed Overstreet X-rays of the spinal cord and vertebrae. He used a bright pen light to point out lacerations through the skin and straight to the bone. Autopsies were never a favorite of Overstreet.
“Any signs of rape, doc?” Overstreet questioned, yearning for concrete answers.
“This vic showed no signs of being raped. I swabbed the vaginal and rectal areas and found no signs of forced entry or seminal or saliva or blood DNA.”
“Any signs of a struggle?”
Dr. McKinnis guided the pen light to the middle of the victim’s right arm. “Bruises up here and right along here shows they might’ve put up a struggle, maybe tried to fight off her killer.”
“Any DNA, whatsoever, found on the vic?”
“None, whatsoever, detective. I checked under the fingernails, through the hair, into the mouth, and all along the limbs and the torso. We’ve come up real short this time. Besides, the strong sewage water in Brush Creek would’ve also contaminated any valuable evidence.”
“Dammit!” Overstreet blabbed. “Just like the first vic we found, any evidence left behind got washed away.”
“This person was also a heavy drug user.”
“You found traces of drugs in her system?”
“Large concentrations of cocaine found in the blood.”
“If she was a heavy drug user, then she was probably tied to prostitution.”
“Not an intravenous drug user, but probably a cocaine smoker.”
“Probably a longtime user.”
Dr. McKinnis wanted Overstreet to focus his attention on the deep wounds inflicted through the limbs. “Detective, remember we discussed how the first vic found in Brush Creek might’ve been mutilated with a Full Tang Monster Machete?”
“Remember it very well, doc.”
“Well, this vic was dismembered with the same type of machete.”
“How do you know that for sure?”
“Blades belonging to knives, razors, saws, and any other sharp objects only have so much sharpness to penetrate the epidermis of the skin and go straight into the bones of the arms and legs and other body parts. The steel blade of a Full Tang Monster Machete stretches nineteen and a half inches long with a fourteen inch cutting edge. I examined the cuts with precision and matched them straight to the machete.”
“Doc, how can you be so sure?”
Dr. McKinnis reached for a book on machetes. He turned to the page which showcased the various models. “Over and over, I studied how a forcible contact with such a powerful blade could rip through the skin and bone with slight effort. Had the perp used just a butcherknife, straight razor, handsaw, or other sharp object, excessive damage would’ve been done to the skin and bones.”
“How about a chainsaw?”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“The teeth of a chainsaw would’ve ripped the skin and bones into a million big pieces.”
“We’ve had this discussion before, doc,” Overstreet recalled. “I’d never question your expertise as a medical examiner, but it seems like our perp knows how to unassemble a body.”
“To say the least,” Dr. McKinnis agreed. “Through reading or experience, they know the points to dismember the limbs from the torso.”
“Now we’re dealing with round two.”
“The conclusion is rather clear, detective. The cause of death is asphyxia by compression of the neck. The manner of this death is homicide.”
“Now we’ve got to make a positive identification on the vic.”
“I’ll make X-rays of the dental work and get it over to the forensic orthodontist. From there, he can examine the jaws and study the teeth and dental work.”
“Let’s hope that that won’t take too long.”
“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Since facial reconstruction won’t be needed, the dental records alone should help determine who our vic is.”
“Doc, you’re the best. Let me get back over to headquarters to find out who this person is.”
Overstreet dashed out of the autopsy room. Lots of questions with no constructive answers hung over his head.
CHAPTER—19
Three days following the initial autopsy performed by Dr. Anthony McKinnis inside the Harry S. Truman Medical Center, Carey Schroeder helped piece together a positive identification of the second victim found in the sewage waters of Brush Creek. He had information which Overstreet found joy to his ears.
“Found out our vic is Kimberly Deanna Barr,” Carey disclosed to his superior. He read straight from an open folder. “Had numerous records for prostitution, with five convictions from 1999 to 2002. Mainly worked Independence Avenue and areas closeby.”
Overstreet leaned back to absorb most of what he’d just heard. “Think about it, Cork. How many cars do prostitutes get in and out of on a regular basis down there on Independence Avenue?”
“Independence Avenue’s got more than it’s share of crazies.”
If one went looking for fun, they’d find it down on the avenue.
“These women typically lead nomadic, unscheduled lives. This Kimberly Barr, did she check in regularly with her friends and relatives?”
“Who’s to say that she had any friends, the ones who took time to care. Who’s to say that she had relatives who gave a dam. She also had prior drug convictions.”
“She didn’t get into the car with the wrong psycho, she got into the car with the right psycho,” Overstreet sadly spoke. “The trail we’re picking up on, this sonofabitch will eventually turn into months old work.”
Overstreet figured how Independence Avenue just wasn’t safe after the Italians deserted the north end of Kansas City for greener pastures. Angelo Galluccio and his soldiers migrated further north to enjoy some peace and quiet. How clever of them to evade the law.
“Jerry, we’ve got a demonic creature on our hands.”
“With two grizzly murders under his belt, we can only guess how this scumbag feels.”
“Unstoppable.”
“And uncatchable and invincible.”
“Jerry, this bastard chopped these women up like beef in a slaughterhouse.”
“Something like that is grotesquely abnormal.”
“This bloodthirsty madman, this nameless beast, he’s got to be stopped.”
Overstreet tapped into his quintessential detective gifts. “There’s a strange irony between the first vic and the second vic. The first woman, Lisa Wallace, she lived alone, worked at the IRS for twenty-eight years, didn’t bother a soul on Earth, and was an outstanding pillar of her community. Unlike Lisa, this Kimberly Barr worked as a prostitute, was a regular drug user, was homeless most of her life, and wandered the streets of Independence Avenue in search of tricks. These are two different women from two totally different backgrounds.”
“The paradox here is insanely unconventional.”
“Sounds like our perp knows how to change his mode of operation.”
“He must know that patterns and repetitions tip off cops.”
“Let’s hope our investigation will steer up in the direction of the killer.”
“Think this lowlife hacks and kills at the spur-of-the moment?”
“There’s got to be an underlying psychological reason as to how and why he kills,” Overstreet reasoned. He glanced at the police mugshot of the former prostitute and drug addict known only to street elements as Kim. “He’s got to be an intensely angry man. Choking these women to death and hacking up their bodies is how he vents his anger.”
“Maybe this jerk feels deserted in some way.”
“He’s real skilled at dismembering bodies.”
“Makes transporting the bodies a lot easier. Also, it’s his way of making a statement.”
Overstreet theorized how their perp mastered the skill of mutilation. “Doc McKinnis explained to me how the cuts on both vics were precise. He raised the possibility that the killer could’ve been in the medical field or had some type of surgical knowledge. The doc also pointed out that the chops were done with a Full Tang Monster Machete.”
“How can Doc McKinnis be so sure?”
“My question, exactly. Doc McKinnis is quite a bit more knowledgeable than your average medical examiner. Under a light brighter than the sun itself, right there inside the autopsy room, he showed me how only that model of machete ripped into both vic’s skin and bones. Know what I believe beyond any reasonable doubt, Cork?”
“Jerry, my ears belong to you.”
“Our perp is some shellshocked war veteran who’s out to get revenge on American people.”
“Could be possible.”
“Particularly women.”
“Still, how many more people gotta die before we find this sicko?”
“None of us knows that. Brush Creek will be under tight surveillance.”
“So, what’s our next move?”
Overstreet didn’t need pen and paper to strategize. His brains were all he needed to map out his plans. “Make a trip down there on Independence Avenue. Talk to some of the locals in that area and see what you find out. It’s gotta be some streetwalkers down there who knew Kim.”
“How about that skin club on the avenue? The one right there close to Van Brunt?”
“Uhhhhhh,” Overstreet scrambled, being cautionary. “You’re speaking of the black strip club towards the end of the avenue. Cork, I’m telling your right now, please be careful. Fighting and shooting and stabbing is the norm inside that joint. It’s nothing but a deathtrap for those young black kids. You can go inside there and question a few people, but you might need some backup.”
“Jerry, that’s why I carry a .357 glock and mase. I’m trained to ward off the people who are allergic to law enforcement.”
“See what you can find.”
“Will do.”
Carey snatched up the folder off the desk of Overstreet. He was headed straight for the wild streets of Independence Avenue.
CHAPTER—20
A half-bright sun shielded by a cluster of powdery gray
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