The New York City Vampire Murders

By Glen C Carrington

The novel is about the series of eerie and bizarre homicides discovered in New York City where the police find corpses where the blood has been sucked out of the bodies through two neck bite marks suggesting a vampire attack. With six bodies discovered in six months, was this the work of a supernatural being running around the historic and irreplaceable Americas largest metropolitan super city The Big Appleor someone or something trying to make it look like a vampire attack?

After six months, the New York City Mayor decides to bring in more professional help to aide his Investigations Unit in solving these heinous crimes. For the last six months, the Mayor has successfully suppressed these horrific criminalities from the public, but his time is running out and once this knowledge hits the public airwaves the City will go into panic mode; his job will be at stake. The good citizens want safety and will direct their anger and angst at those elected to protect themand he would be the recipient of their tirade.

The Mayor finally decides to bring in Detective William Monroe Lincoln, a retired detective with high profile case experience. The New York City Investigations Unit is against bringing in outside help but they have no choice due to the dire circumstances of sitting on an explosive story with so many bodies that have died in such a unique and disturbing manner. They too know that time is running out in trying to keep these crimes hidden from the public. If the top City Administrator is voted out of office the top Police Department administrators are also vulnerable to job security.

The various characters and bizarre circumstances of the murders reveals very few clues to help reveal the perpetrator of this evil. With no help in sight, suddenly there is a telephone call by an individual saying hes the Vampire Killer, but this individual is suffering from severe dementia and barely knows who he is. Is he a real clue or just another irrelevant piece of information designed to mislead and confuse the authorities. Detective Lincoln must use his formidable analytical skills to search for the human killer or a vampire running around undetected in the nations largest City. He will meet The Amazing Crystal, a psychic also coming out of retirement to help the City solve the crime. Her insights and suggestions from her psychic connections are general in nature but also amazingly accurate. Is she for real? The police also discover the same strands of hair at two of the murder sites. Is this person the murderer or is it another false lead?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524610586

Glen C Carrington

This is the sixth Detective Lincoln Mystery series novel. The author is now retired and was a former finance director for a California Central Valley city. The author has an undergraduate degree in mathematics and a MBA. Mr. Carrington is on several boards in his community, an avid tennis player, golfer, wine maker, chess enthusiast, and a general conversationalist. Born and raised in Peekskill, NY, the author has been living in California since 1981. The Detective Lincoln Mystery Series are the following: 1) The Oakland Hills Vodou Murders 2) The Atlanta Co-Ed Murder 3) Murder in Peekskill 4) Murder in Napa 5) The New York City Vampire Murders and 6) The New Orleans Bodyguard Contract The 1st 4 chapters of each Detective Lincoln book can be read for free on the authors Website which is found at glencarrington.com

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© 2016 Glen C. Carrington. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/29/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-1060-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-1059-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-1058-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016908329

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Epilogue

This book is

dedicated to my mother who has just successfully had her third heart valve replacement surgery. Our family and friends are delighted and relieved that Mom came through this procedure with flying colors and is now recovering to regain her health and get back to doing the things she loves to do.

A quote on ‘mothers’ is most appropriate here:

How simple a thing it seems to me that to know ourselves as we are, we must know our mothers’ names.

Alice Walker, O Magazine, May 2003

US novelist (1944 - )

I also want to thank Douglas P. Mulnix and Jeanna Del Real who helped enormously with the bulk of the editing. They have both contributed to the editing process in several of my former books. Thanks…thanks…and more thanks!

Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the more man’s nature runs to the more ought law to weed it out.

Sir Francis Bacon

English author, courtier, & philosopher (1561 - 1626)

Prologue

It was the last Friday in June with the east coast weather cloying in summertime heat and sulking in humidity. The following days forecast suggested no relief to the sweltering conditions. The end of the work day in New York City, The Big Apple…America’s real capital, saw hordes of people moving like cattle in various directions to either escape the drenching weather conditions by heading home or to their favorite tavern. It was enough to just have the work week over and the weekend, the lay people’s perennial Shangri La, in front of them.

But in an anonymous professional Manhattan office, a meeting on publically undisclosed criminal activity was just beginning. New York City’s ubiquitous Mayor, Gus Madison, was pacing the floor and manipulating Captain Queeq-like rubber balls in his hands while everyone else sat waiting for his instructions. The sixth horrendous murder had just occurred the night before on the Mayor’s watch and he was unsettled, anxious, and determined to find the murderer and stop this insidious carnage.

New York City Chief of Police, John Brutus McFinty and Chief Homicide Detective, Lou Scarsborough, were sitting together with their eyes focused on the Mayor. They were seasoned professionals who knew when to speak and their observation of the Mayor’s body language told them to wait before offering any opinion. They both had advised the Mayor to not seek outside help, that their ‘Men in Blue’ could do the job, but the Mayor was no longer convinced. The public was currently uninformed; and, at this investigative point, Mayor Madison knew intuitively that inside leaks to the newspapers were being considered by those who opposed him; and the Mayor had his fair share of detractors. One juicy news article about these atypical murders of bodies found drained of blood would be utterly sensational and all eyes would be Mayor focused. What was he doing about it and were they safe? Obviously the public wasn’t safe and he needed a definite plan of action to disclose.

He had been publically ‘burned’ once before during his first year in political office by a teenager crime wave that took too long to get under control. He had personally vowed that type of situation would never plague him again, and here he was facing a hideous crime demon lurking on the City’s streets. The madness had begun six months ago with the discovery of the first body in an upscale hotel. The cleaning lady had entered the room and screamed. The police arrived within fifteen minutes and the investigation had started. It was now six bodies later and the ability to keep a lid on this explosive information from the public was eroding. Mayor Madison had a new plan and this meeting was the first step.

When the Mayor made his fifth turn in his designated walking path there was a knock on the door and his administrative assistant, Ms. Greenwald, poked her head into the room and nodded at the Mayor. He read her signal and responded with a hand gesture for her to proceed. She stepped back and the person behind her, Detective William Monroe Lincoln, entered the room. The door was pulled shut behind him and Detective Lincoln continued walking toward the Mayor. The detective wore a well-tailored dark blue suit with a delightful yellow stripped tie. As he approached the Mayor, the politician stepped forward toward him and shook his hand; then, by a hand gesture, indicated the seat he wanted the detective to sit in. His honor then started the meeting.

Gentlemen, I don’t think I have to identify our guest. Let me be brief. I called Detective Lincoln three days ago and explained our problem. I gave him a summary of our situation and will let the police supply the details. First, let me say this, I have the full backing of our ‘managing’ council on this move. So, there’s no argument. That discussion is over…Detective Lincoln, if he agrees, will be part of our investigation. Now, are there any questions?

Mayor, in what capacity will Detective Lincoln serve in this case? the Police Chief asked. Do we report in to him or the reverse?

If I may interject here, Detective Lincoln stated, that perhaps the first step is for you to update me on the evidence. The Mayor gave me a summarized version of a problem, but not any of the specifics. I agreed to come and hear the story from the professionals. Can we briefly do this…I’ve got another meeting in less than an hour!

New York City Chief of Police John Brutus McFinty, wearing a gray pin-striped suit, crossed his legs, briefly glanced at the Mayor, and then started to speak. Detective Lincoln, we have a serial killer taking down females and then, if you can believe it, draining the blood from their bodies, like they’ve been attacked by a vampire!

There was a moment of silence after the Chief’s statement. He was giving the detective a chance to ask an early question.

Go on Chief, how many victims have there been?

‘Last night was the sixth. All followed a similar pattern…female, that of mostly the same color, Caucasian, single, relatively attractive, middle class, and the bodies were all drained of most of their blood. A puncture wound was found on their necks like it was the work of a vampire! One victim was non-white."

Are any of the women related to one another in any way like through blood, have mutual friends, or work together? Detective Lincoln asked.

So far there is no relationship between any of them that we’ve been able to find.

What was the cause of death?

Global cerebral ischemia …a drastic reduction in the blood supply to the brain.

There was another pause with each person reflecting on the information disclosed and Detective Lincoln pulling out a notebook from the inside pocket of his suit. The room was quite cool from the air conditioning and several white ceiling fans were spinning above. The fans, which gave the room the look of a southern veranda, were the only things remitting noise at the moment.

Excuse me gentlemen, but I too have another pressing engagement, the Mayor interjected. So, Detective Lincoln, will you help us?

The famous sleuth glanced at the Mayor and nodded yes. The story intrigued him. After Mayor Madison left, Detective Lincoln and police personnel set up dates to meet.

Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It’s the transition that’s troublesome.

Isaac Asimov

US science fiction novelist & scholar (1920 - 1992)

Chapter 1

Detective Lincoln had parked in the designated security area in the basement of the hotel as instructed and walked through the entrance to the main desk. He identified himself and was immediately escorted to the 23rd floor of the building where an armed uniform policeman was standing outside of room 2304. Much further down the brown with iconic orange strips rug hallway there were twenty boisterous newspaper personnel and cameramen being held back by five other officers. Detective Lincoln, when he saw the media, automatically pulled up the newspaper he was carrying to shield his face. Camera flashes went off but they were too late to get a good identifiable picture of him. The policeman at the door quickly let the detective through and seconds later he was standing next to New York City Chief Homicide Detective Lou Scarsborough.

Detective Scarsborough was forty-eight years old with the grizzled look of an urban homicide investigator that had seen his share of decadent human behavior. The job had cost him one marriage and he was working on saving his second. After twenty years on the force, he still was learning how to not take his work home, but it was difficult. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever consider seeing a therapist. But it was either that, or his wife was walking, and he had promised to do anything he could to save his marriage. After eight months of therapy, he didn’t feel any different. It was still a struggle to open the therapist’s door but he did. Perhaps it would’ve been different if the therapist had any working experience in police work, on seeing the end result of some human monster physically abusing someone and the carnage that was left for others to clean up. How does one just go home and forget the images…he just didn’t know, but he was trying.

Detective Lincoln, I’m Detective Lou Scarsborough. Thanks for being on time.

Call me Bill, nice to meet you, Detective. What do we have here?

Follow me.

The New York City detective brought his colleague to the tape body markings on the floor where the deceased victim had been found by room service. The forensics team was still inside the room doing their job.

The murdered person was Brenda McVeigh. She was divorced, mother of two children, Andrea and Paul, age 17 and 13 respectively…a real estate salesperson by profession. She was 42 years old. She was showing a condo to a potential client last night, a woman, and she never returned home. The body was discovered yesterday morning by the cleaning staff. There were no bruises other than two marks on her neck like a vampire would make. Her body was drained of a good portion of her blood. She died from a lack of oxygen by the blood loss. As you can see, there’s no blood on the ground.

Detective Lincoln observed the marking tape and the area surrounding the body. The place was clean…bloodless.

I assume an autopsy is being done, Detective Lincoln stated.

Yes…so far, this is the sixth body we’ve found in this condition.

You’ve got a serial killer who likes to drain the blood from the victim’s bodies. The media will indeed have a field day, Bill remarked, a vampire in the City hunting humans!

I know, Scarsborough answered, which is why we’re trying to keep a lid on this thing.

I’m surprised you’ve been able to keep it quiet this long, Bill opined. He was totally amazed by the fact the media didn’t know. Was the media incompetent here or was law enforcement superior in keeping confidential information secure. He didn’t know the answer, but he did know that this type of high profile case would probably go public soon. Six months is a long time for this type of sensational case to go unreported.

I know…we’ve been lucky so far.

There was more activity by the forensics team and the two detectives had to step back to get out of the way.

Let me introduce you to the head of the forensic evidence team here, Scarsborough said.

They walked into the second bedroom where a man was using a special vacuum to try to pick up clues. His supervisor was there directing him. The New York City detective started introductions.

Bill, this is Heather Brown, she’s second in command of our Forensics Department. Heather, you know who this is.

Bill and Heather shook hands. Heather was a very attractive woman; she stood five-four and appeared to have a shapely body under the white linen lab coat that she wore. Working around a bunch of men, Bill knew that she’s had her fair share of compliments. He would definitely keep it strictly professional.

What have you got so far, Dr. Brown, anything interesting? Detective Lincoln asked.

It looks like the ‘M.O.’ from the other cases so far.

She then stopped and looked at Lou with a look of concern etched in her facial features.

Does he know about them? she asked her colleague in a matter-of-fact voice.

Yes, he’s been informed, that’s why he’s here. He’s one of us now.

Her body immediately showed a sigh of relief.

A Caucasian female, early forties, died of oxygen deprivation from a massive loss of blood. There were two puncture marks on her neck of which the blood was drawn. Over half of her blood is missing.

What made the puncture marks, Doctor? Bill interrupted.

We still don’t know…we’re still researching that.

Could it have been a vampire?

Vampires don’t exist, Detective.

Is that a scientific fact?

The forensic director thought for a moment before answering.

There’s no scientific evidence that vampires exist.

If vampires did exist, would that be the type of puncture wound that they’d make from what you know of vampires, Dr. Brown?

From what I’ve seen in the movies, I’d say ‘probably’. But we’ve found no alien secretions in the wound leaving a D.N.A. footprint that would suggest it was a vampire or some other non-earthly being, Detective.

There was a brief silence after her answer as Bill pondered her statement. When any of this information hit the press the newspapers would be flying off the shelves. The legitimate papers would be writing headlines like they were now part of the yellow journalism trade.

How would a person remove blood from a victim? I would assume, from how clean the crime scene was, that they have a certain amount of medical knowledge. What type of medical equipment would they have to use? Bill asked.

It would be typical of that used in a blood transfusion. I believe our suspect has engineered a medical device to make it look like two fangs leaving a mark.

I suspect it’s either that or a vampire. Now, where would a person get medical equipment of the nature that we’re looking for and would they have to be a physician to do so, Detective Lincoln inquired?

We have a list of those places within a two hundred mile radius. Of course, anyone could buy this type of equipment as long as they have the funds. Many times hospital administrators are purchasing the equipment or people who live in poor countries are trying to get more modern medical devices for their populace. The list is long, Dr. Brown responded.

And who knows about vampires? Are there any experts I can talk with?

Are you serious? Lou asked. He didn’t raise his voice which would’ve been his normal reaction because of who had asked the question. Detective Lincoln had solved some unique crimes and had a solid reputation.

Quite serious, if we’re dealing with a real vampire or someone trying to make it look like it; we need to know more about the behavior of these ‘alleged’ creatures. Let’s assume they only attack at night between the time of midnight and 3 A.M., then that helps us if we ever get to the point of surveillance. Understand?

Sure, makes sense, Lou responded, I’ll get a name for you.

Bill turned and faced Dr. Brown again. He had another question which was medical in nature.

Let’s say we’re dealing with a perp that’s carrying a portable medical device that can suck the blood out of someone. How long would the process take?

It would depend on the equipment; some machines are more powerful than others. I’d say the process would take anywhere from ten minutes to thirty…again, depending on the equipment and how much blood was being removed.

And how long would it take a vampire to suck out the blood, doctor? Bill asked with the hint of a smile.

I don’t know, if I ever meet one I’ll be sure to ask, she quickly countered.

Lou, whose hotel room is this? Detective Lincoln inquired.

It was registered under a false name, a Mary Smith, and of course we’re trying to track the person down. All the other hotel rooms where there was a murder had the same circumstances; a false identification was established to rent the place. We’ve had no luck so far with trying to identify the person renting the rooms.

Detective Lincoln stepped over to the window and looked out. It was a beautiful sight. New York’s views from the majestic tall buildings were just spectacular on clear sunny days. The development of western civilization from a visionary perspective had many superior sights from a Manhattan skyscraper. The Hudson River Valley had been on a continuous evolutionary expansion from the boating industry to construction and even agriculture along with the explosive innovative growth of technology affecting all categories of human development and culture. If anything regarding New York City could be in question of whether time had been appreciative, it is arts and fashion. Subjective conversations could last all day long as to what a painting is worth or whether a person is well-dressed. Taste, like beauty, is in the eyes of the beholder.

From the 23rd floor, Detective Lincoln had a decent view of the people walking the streets and the traffic below. At times, during rush hour in the mornings and the evenings, the streets of New York were the last place you’d want to drive. The hustle and bustle of millions of cars and frustrated people was to be avoided. But during slower times, the sights to behold in driving the roads of the City were interesting from merely a historic perspective. The detective could remember having many enjoyable experiences by just walking through the City and doing people watching. When you took a break, there were the vast array of restaurants and eateries offering a multitude of ethnic foods.

As he continued to view the sights, Lou Scarsborough came up and stood next to him. He too was viewing the sights.

Is our perp out there right now, Detective, Lou asked reflectively?

Well, Bill responded, if our killer is human, then there’s a good chance that they are; but, if we’re looking for a vampire, then I suspect not. They’re probably sleeping until the evening…when it’s feeding time.

Chapter 2

At 1:15 P.M. the following day, Detectives Lincoln and Scarsborough drove to Brooklyn to meet with the Zimmermans, the family of the first victim, Catherine Zimmerman. Brooklyn was one of the five boroughs of New York City and was considered the working man’s section. It was a step-child to Manhattan, a place harboring its own accent and culture. If you identified the Brooklyn voice and tone, generally the person was from the lower end of the socio-economic model and strongly identified with their particular heritage. Certain groups were policeman, trade union construction workers, garbage haulers, politicians, number runners, and addicts. In earlier days, ethnic groups were either over-or-underrepresented, and a person’s Brooklyn accent could easily identify that person’s profession.

The Zimmerman family lived on the first floor of a four-story old Brownstone that had been converted into four separate apartments many years ago. The neighborhood was working-class with standard old cars parked in front of dated buildings. The apartments were kept up on the basics, but there was nothing fancy or high class about the bulk of the Brownstones or other brick tenement buildings. The individuals walking the Brooklyn streets seemed like normal working class people without the all too familiar large pools of teenagers or jobless young men hanging on a corner.

As the two detectives approached the door, they noticed an iron webbed gate that protected the entrance. A reddish doorbell was on the side next to the gate handle. Lou rung the bell and ten seconds later the two men heard enough movement to know someone was coming. When the door opened, Zack Zimmerman, a man in his early 70’s stood with longish gray streaked hair and a bushy moustache. He wore dark trousers with a white striped linen shirt opened at the top button. He was stocky in build, but Bill could see that he was not the type that anyone would say was elderly. There was no frailness about him. He recognized Detective Scarsborough and immediately unlocked the gate to let the men in.

How are you Mr. Zimmerman? Lou asked while walking into the house.

I’m fine. Please, come in.

Mr. Zimmerman, this is Detective Lincoln. I told you before we’d be adding a person to help us on this case.

Nice to meet you, Detective; I’ve heard of you. I hope you’ll be able to help.

Please call me, Bill, Mr. Zimmerman. I hope I can be of service. Detective Scarsborough has thoroughly discussed the case. I’m sorry for your loss, I’ve been reading the files…the content tell me your daughter was a wonderful person. I know you miss her dearly.

Thank you. Yes, we still can’t believe it. It’s like a scene out of a nightmare, something unreal that’s come to life. I’ve struggled with capital punishment for years, but now I no longer do. I’m for it. My daughter was a lovely person, she wouldn’t have hurt anyone. I want the person who did this captured and killed. It’s that simple for me. My wife is different; she wants him behind bars, but not me.

Nobody said anything while they continued walking. The house was full of wonderful culinary smells evoking images of cooking and eating good food. The place was furnished with an older model of furniture that was built to last. This was the type that was bequeathed to sons and daughters when the parents were deceased. There were numerous pictures on the wall: an array of family portraits, nature and landscapes, and different assortments of academic and entertainment figures capturing an era of pristine post-war America. Many family pictures were of people with smiles looking at the camera with a host of children, teenagers, and young adults at their sides. They represented the family generations to be passed down, so that the family heritage could easily be remembered.

Mr. Zimmerman eventually brought the two detectives to the kitchen where his wife was cooking. Zelda Zimmerman was not a beautiful woman, but a handsome one who had gained weight over the years. Her hair was profusely streaked with gray, but it was still wiry and thick. Her skin remained rather smooth considering her age. She greeted the men and said that she would be out shortly to talk with them. The detectives followed the husband to the living room where they more closely observed some of the pictures and asked questions about them. There were strong emotional stories with each picture frame.

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Zimmerman entered the living room carrying a tray with food and coffee. The Zimmerman family tradition was rich with eating and drinking when they communicated. The wife insisted that everyone have something before they started their discussion.

While they were eating, Lou Scarsborough initiated the police intent. He had spent quite a bit of time with the family discovering who the first victim was. The family had no clues as to who might have killed their daughter Catherine. She was a forty-five year old nurse that was physically and socially active. She was divorced and had two grown children who were both living and working out of state. Her ex-husband was living in Florida. After he was interviewed, he was not a suspect. He had remarried, and he and Catherine had a friendly relationship because they still shared two sons.

Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, Detective Lincoln is now working the case with us… and he’d like to ask you some questions, Detective Scarsborough stated.

Go right ahead, Mr. Lincoln, ask us anything. We want to find who killed our daughter, the husband, responded with restrained energy. He was willing to talk to anyone who could help him find his daughter’s murderer.

Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, I’ve read the file and the questions I have for you are really more about your daughter. I want to understand her personality. What was she like, her idiosyncrasies, her dreams? What did she now want out of life? What behavior did she not want to repeat? I have no idea if this will help us find the killer because that person could have been someone she didn’t know and her murder was not specifically planned, but the killer was just looking for a victim.

There was a brief moment of silence before Mr. Zimmerman spoke, She was a dreamer as a little girl, but life got her straight.

There was a pause before the father went on. He was once again reflecting on his daughter’s life. Nobody wanted to rush him; there was more than enough time to let him get his thoughts together.

Cathy was a good girl; she did well in school and didn’t have any enemies. I thought she married too young, but she gave us two wonderful grandchildren. She was kind, a good wife, a great mother, and a loving daughter. I just don’t understand why anyone would want to take her life.

He had stopped talking again while everyone waited. His eyes had started to moisten and then his wife stepped in.

Catherine was fairly strong-willed, like most of our children. We taught them to ask questions, to not just accept anything that was told to them. My husband and I were their examples; we’d question each other in front of the children if we didn’t fully agree with something. That’s how they learned that particular behavior. She wasn’t going to just roll-over and do what her husband asked if she questioned his judgment. I’m not like that, and surely my daughters weren’t going to be like that either since they have my blood.

Excuse me, Mrs. Zimmerman, but could you tell us about your daughter’s dating habits and the type of people she was interested in? Detective Lincoln inquired.

The mother quickly observed him before she started talking again.

Well, I wasn’t impressed with some of the boys she had an interest in as a teenager. But, that was so long ago. I liked several of her boyfriends once she had reached being a junior. It seemed that her romantic selections got much better as she started to get older. We liked the man she decided to marry, and we were dismayed when we heard about the divorce. I still like Mike, her ex-husband. He’s a good father. He’s in constant contact with the boys.

There was a brief pause before Detective Lincoln asked a quick question.

And after her divorce, when did she start socializing again with males from a romance perspective…what type of men were they?

Catherine started dating again about two years after her divorce. She was just overwhelmed in the beginning, and we stepped in to help by taking the boys and letting her have time to herself whenever she asked. We’d drive them to their sports activities and then pick them up more times than I want to remember sometimes. Now, when she started to date again, we really didn’t meet very many of them. She might talk about a few at times, but it was rare for her to bring anyone around. I think she wanted to be sure about the relationship before she started introducing anyone to the family. What would you say, dear? she stated and looked at her husband.

Yeah, I mean my wife might get to see somebody before I did. They had that mother, daughter thing, all those confidential talks that I was excluded from. There was some ‘Fred’, or something like that once, wasn’t there? Mr. Zimmerman asked as he was looking at his wife.

Yes dear, but he was just a co-worker, and they were going to a company function. They stopped by here before going. She had to get something…so that wasn’t a boyfriend

How long was she divorced? Detective Lincoln asked.

She was divorced for five years, Mrs. Zimmerman answered.

So, she was back in the dating game for about three years then, since she really didn’t go out for the two years following the divorce, the detective reflected.

Does that sound about right? the husband asked the wife.

I’d say so, she replied.

What was her sexual orientation? Detective Lincoln asked without looking at either of the parents.

What do you mean? the father asked.

You know what he means, dear, Mrs. Zimmerman replied to her husband. As far as we knew, she was a heterosexual, Detective Lincoln. I didn’t see any evidence of her dating women. I’ve had enough mother-daughter talks with my children to know that if such was in the cards, I’d have known. And there was nothing there, she said firmly.

She was with a male date that night, the mother stated, and all the while in her mind, she thought that if it was a female date would her daughter still be alive? How ironic she thought, am I now wishing my daughter was gay?

I’ve read the report. So, I’m just asking again, neither of you had met the man that she had a date with?

Correct, Mrs. Zimmerman firmly replied and her husband nodded his head in agreement.

And did you talk with her before she went on that date, the detective inquired?

Only briefly, but it was about other things like what we should get for our grandchild’s birthday coming up or she talked about a new recipe for a veggie dish. The date was just another thing to do on the list that day. It was her second date with the guy. The first one was okay, but nothing that said this was nirvana.

How did she first meet her date? Detective Lincoln inquired.

We’ve been trying to figure that out too, but we don’t recall our daughter telling us. I think I asked, but didn’t get a straight answer. That would be typical of my daughter in the early stage of any relationship, Mrs. Zimmerman said.

The bartender has helped us out there, Detective Scarsborough stated while looking at his note sheet. Ms. Zimmerman was at a bar with her date that evening, and we’ve been in contact with the bartender by phone. He left the area a month ago and he should be back according to my notes. His name is Billy Night. Mr. Night told us that he’s never seen the guy before that evening. He did know our victim, Cathy Raymond-Zimmerman…she had been a patron of that bar on a few occasions. Maybe once a quarter her work group might stop in for a drink.

I’d like to talk to him personally, Detective Lincoln replied.

We’ll do it tomorrow if I can get him.

That would be perfect, Detective Lincoln responded.

Ten minutes later, the two law enforcement officers said goodbye to the Zimmerman family.

Chapter 3

At 1:25 P.M. the following day, Detective Lincoln was in the Public Library reading the newspaper’s account of the deaths of the people who he believed were all killed by the same individual. As the authorities had disclosed to him, there were no stories that seemed particularly unusual associated with the case. He had read each one and had taken few notes. For a city like New York, he knew that they were living on ‘borrowed time,’ that sooner or later the world would be reading screaming headlines of ghastly deaths with people literally having their blood sucked from their bodies. The cameras would then light up the stage and it would be a circus going forward. Endless press conferences with reporters wanting to know the slightest details would be scheduled on a basis that allowed the police some operating room. Whether or not scheduled on-going meetings would be set up or to just call a press session when necessary to report on an issue was still undecided.

Detective Lincoln also added a few items to his ‘things-to-do list.’ He liked to keep organized especially with high profile cases. One never knew what might happen; so, he planned out everything possible while there was time to do so.

At 2:20 P.M. he left the library and headed for Detective Scarsborough’s office. Upon arriving, he found out that Lou had been called into a meeting and had left Bill a note. He was going to be busy with other cases and meetings for the rest of the day, but that he’d meet Detective Lincoln at 9:00 P.M. at the bar where Catherine Zimmerman was last seen before her death. They would be meeting the bartender, Billy Night, this evening. The address of the bar was on the note.

As Bill was putting the note in his pocket, a secretary stepped inside Scarsborough’s office and informed him that Detective Scarsborough’s boss, New York City Chief of Police, John Brutus McFinty, would like to see him. Bill nodded and followed the secretary to McFinty’s office.

The Police Chief resided in a huge ornate room that had the capacity to seat many people. This was the largest city in the nation and New York captains usually commanded more police personnel than police chiefs in other cities. The police force itself was larger in population than many small cities in the nation. The office was laid out in brown leather chairs with deep colored wood patterns as the central motif. The furniture was classic and sturdy, with a rich character that easily gave the office and the person stature. On the walls were the pictures of former police chiefs; men who had climbed the stairs of power through the police ranks and now were considered close to the political-quasi aristocrats of their time.

At this level, their jobs were now more political than anything else. They spent much of their time before cameras whenever a case or the level of crime rose to an amount that demanded public statements. When this case hit the news, the police would be inundated with media requests.

As Detective Lincoln entered the office, the man sitting behind the enormous desk stood up and came around to shake his hand. He had a military posture with short brown hair that was being taken over by gray. He stood slightly over six foot, and was wearing a dark blue suit that was well tailored. There was little fat on him; he looked ‘buff’ and possessed a firm handshake. Chief McFinty looked straight into the detective’s eyes as they greeted.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective Lincoln. I’ve followed several of your cases and they’ve been most interesting.

Thank you, Chief McFinty. You have quite an office here. I can only imagine the size of your operation.

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