The Backstabber and the Night Knocker

I made the Lexington paper. Page 3.

I guess that I should feel proud about that.

“BACKSTABBER” HAS HOLLY HILL POLICE BAFFLED

Holly Hill- The sleepy Ohio River town of Holly Hill, Kentucky has never experienced anything like this.

“Look, usually, the only crime is somebody stealing a car or underage drinking. Never anything like this,” admits Holly Hill Police Chief Bob Scanlon.

“This” is a full blown serial killer, somebody locals have dubbed “Backstabber”. The only connection these murders seem to have is that all three victims died from stab wounds to the back. Forensics indicate that the murder weapon was probably a hunting knife of some sort.

The first killing took place on Friday, April 2. Alice Dalheim, 78, a retired schoolteacher was found lying face first in her back yard by a neighbor who spotted the corpse as he was taking out his garbage.

A little over a week later, on April 10, Rev. Odell Biggins, 46, Pastor of the Holy Ghost Chapel in Holly Hill, was found dead in the alley next to his church. Rev. Biggins’ congregation meets in a storefront that formerly housed Loretta’s Donut Shop. Biggins is probably best known for being an All State high school basketball player who played for the University of Louisville briefly.

“Just a great guy,” Cheif Scanlon said of Biggins. “I was the big football star around here and he was the big basketball star. We both got in some trouble when we tried playing college ball, but thank God, we turned it around and turned out to do alright.”

The most recent victim was Sherry Meadows, 20, a student at Morehead State University. Sherry was home on her spring break when she was killed. Her body was found in the yard of an abandoned house on River Road on the outskirts of Holly Hill by several young people who were reportedly having a party in the house.

“Nobody ain’t lived there for 25 years,” Chief Scanlon explained. Most little towns have a place like that. Nobody lives there and kids use it as a place to party. When one of my officers catches them in there, we run them out, of course. The night Sherry was found, she had been in there partying with a bunch of guys. One of them realized he hadn’t seen her for awhile, went outside to look for her and there she was.”

Cheif Scanlon stated that there was no real connection between the victims and it was only an assumption at this time that they were all victims of the same killer.

“They were all stabbed multiple times in the back and the murder weapon was evidently a hunting knife. That’s all we’ve really got at this point.”

A 9:30 curfew is being enforced in Holly Hill. Scanlon asks that anybody with information please contact the Holly Hill Police Department.

Scanlon’s picture is there, too. His muscle from his football glory days has gone to flab and he looks as pompous as ever in his cop outfit.

What a worthless sack of crap he is and always was. Yeah, he’s about 7 or 8 years older than me. He was indeed a star defensive end back in the day. He went off to Liberty University, Jerry Falwell’s school and got two or three cheerleaders pregnant before his first semester was over. That it was it for the great Bobby Scanlon. Back in high school, he was a big time FCA guy and gave his testimony at every revival meeting in the county. Mom always taled about what a “nice Christian boy” he was.

I found out what a fine Christian he was one Friday evening in Summer when I was 12 or 13. I went fishing with my friend, Denny Schultz, the only real friend I ever had. We spotted a car parked not far from our best fishing spot and went over to make sure it wasn’t some weirdo. In the back seat of the car, we spotted Bob Scanlon and Delilah, a local gal who was the paid female companionship for any Holly Hill resident who could come up with 20 bucks and a half hour. Let’s just say that old Bobby wasn’t exactly leading her to the Lord!

I haven’t had any use for so called “Christian athletes” ever since.

His police work is almost as good as anything else he’s ever tried. There is a connection between the three so called “victims”-they all deserved what they got.

Alice Dalheim was my English teacher in my first two years of high school. She singled me out for persecution and humiliation. In Freshman English, she assigned Silas Marner. That book has been banned from prison libraries as cruel and unusual punishment. I read about 15 or 20 pages and that was all that I could stand!

When the test rolled around, I guessed at the multiple choice and true/false questions. There was no guessing on the essay questions. I just wrote down whatever nonsense that popped into my head. Needles to say, I failed the test.

That was enough for the wicked witch. She made me get up in front of the class and read my answers to the essay questions! There I stood in my faded denim overalls from Goodwill and my knockoff Chuck Taylor tennis shoes from the dollar store. She laughed at me and the whole class joined in with her. The only person in the room who didn’t ridicule me was Denny Schultz, the only real friend that I have ever had.

“Consider that you didn’t read the book, it wasn’t that bad,” Denny told me afterwards. What a pal!

Ms. Dalheim will never humiliate anybody else.

During my freshman year, Odell Biggins sat beside me in Algebra I. Whenever our teacher was at the chalkboard, showing us how to do a problem, Odell would punch me in the back of the head. Odell was already 6’4 and was known to be handy with his fists. I didn’t dare retaliate. Even if I had managed to fight back, I would have been in big trouble. Nobody laid a hand on basketball or football players. Coach Corkins would have made sure that the principal had thrown the book at me. Odell would have probably claimed it was racially motivated. Even though Coach Corkins used the “n word” as much as a preacher quotes the Bible, he would have gone along with that accusation. He liked the fact that the Holly Hill Generals were on their way to their first winning season in 35 years too much not to stand up for his star, regardless of skin color.

I swore that someday Odell would be sorry that he messed with me. When he got the basketball scholarship to U of L, I thought I would never be able to fulfill my promise. Turns out, he was kicked off the team and out of school two games into his freshman year. It seemed that Denny Crum didn’t like having a drug addict on the team. It turns out that the good reverend is sorry, after all.

Sherry Meadows never wronged me at all. She was unfortunate to be the daughter of Lea Meadows. Lea was the prettiest girl in my high school. I was smitten with her. If she had ignored me like the other girls did, Sherry would still be alive today.

Lea was a tease. She realized that I was enamored with her and used it to humiliate me. Once in study hall, he sat beside me, rubbed my leg, and started talking about how cute that she thought I was. She’d ask me how I felt about her. I was so engrossed in being close to her that I didn’t realize that several other girls and Bo, her boyfriend had gathered behind us. I started telling her that that I thought she was beautiful and that I dreamed about her at night. Her friends started giggling. Then, Bo pulled the chair out from under me and I made a crash landing on the floor. I honestly thought that I had a broken tailbone! While I was lying on the floor, Bo put his foot on my throat and told me that he’d kill me if I ever came around Lea again!

That day, I promised myself that one day, I would kill Bo and Lea. I never got the chance. During the first week of school during our senior year, Bo drove his truck into a telephone pole while driving to school. He died instantly. Leukemia killed Lea ten years ago.

Young Sherry died for the sins of her mother.

I already know who will be next. I have it planned out. And I know why this person must die.

In my senior year, I actually had a girlfriend. Her name was Della Bagby. She was short, chubby, and had curly brown hair. She also had a pretty smile. She wasn’t exactly a beauty queen, but she was sweet and she was also a great kisser. She was Denny’s sister’s best friend and my pal played matchmaker. The three months that we were together was the closest I came to being happy back then.

Of course, it had to end. Two weeks before Prom, Della came to me and announced that she was going to prom with Clint Overbow. Clint’s father was Cecil Overbow, the owner of Iron Hill Foundry. Most men in in Holly Hill were unemployed and feeding their families with government checks. The few who were employed, including my father, worked at the foundry. I was furious. I wanted nothing more than to fight Clint Overbow, a pretentious little jerk who thought he was better because he was better off.

I knew better than to rock that boat, though. Someday, Della would regret ruining what little happiness that I had.

Della won’t be my next target. I’d love to taker her down, but I have completely lost track of her. I’ve spent hours on the internet, trying to find her, but it seems that she’s fallen off the face of the earth.

Her little sister, Wanda is here in Holly Hill. She’s next. Like little Sherry, she’s related to the wrong gal.

I’ve been watching Wanda. She looks a lot like Della. She’s an LPN. She works six days a week at the Holly Hill Free Clinic over on Railroad Street. On Saturday nights, she gets off work at 10 p.m. She walks home to her apartment over on Daniel Boone Drive, the next street over. To get to Daniel Boone Drive, she has to cross the railroad tracks. A train passes right about the time she gets off. It’s always a long train. She usually doesn’t get across the tracks until around 10:12 or so. There’s a little shed on the other side of the tracks where kids wait for the school bus in bad weather. I can hide in there and grab her as she goes by.

The cops are usually all out on the county roads, looking for drunks, on Saturday nights. Chief Scanlon has hired a night knocker whose rounds take him over to Railroad Street, but this guy doesn’t go on duty until 11. Besides, night knockers are almost always wannabe cops who aren’t qualified. Nothing to worry about.

Saturday night finally has arrived. I’m in the bust stop shed, Uncle Clete’s hunting knife in my right hand. I glance at my watch. It’s 9:59. Almost time.

Before long, I hear the train as it rumbles down the tracks, headed South. I can’t resist peeking out. Trains have always fascinated me. When I was 19, I even convinced Denny to hop a freight with me. We stayed on as far as Ashland and hitch hiked home. Like I said, he was a real pal.

I don’t look out again until I don’t hear any more train noises. There she comes, Wanda Bagby. She’s wearing pink scrubs, carrying a large handbag, and walking slowly like her feet hurt.

I wait until she’s in front of the bus stop. Then, I jump out and grab her. I drag her towards the shed. As we move backward, one of her shoes comes off. She’s stronger than she looks and I have a hard time holding her with my left arm. I could just do the job out in the open, but why should I take chances?

Then, I hear the voice.

“Hey, stop that!” he yells and a flashlight shines in my face!

Dang it! It’s that night knocker! He’s early! That voice! He sounds like… No, surely not!

I release Wanda. She retrieves her shoe and runs into the shed.

I take a defensive position and make stabbing motions toward the light. Night knockers don’t carry firearms. If it comes to it, I can take care of this situation, quickly and easily.

The familiar voice speaks again.

“Ransom? Ransom O’Keefe, tell me it isn’t you, brother!”

I was right. That is my ol’ buddy! The night knocker is Denny Schultz!

“It’s me, Denny. It’s me!”

“Denny moves closer and moves the flashlight so it isn’t in my face.

“Dear Lord Jesus, please tell me it ain’t been you doing these killings.”

I don’t think he’s swearing. If I know Denny Schultz, that was a prayer. I’ve never lied to my friend and I ain’t starting now.

“Yeah, it was me, Den,” I say> my voice cracks like a kid going through puberty.

“Now, Ransom, I know that you won’t ever use that knife on me! We meant too much to each other growing up. Why don’t you just toss that thing away?”

He’s right, of course. I think about throwing my weapon onto the tracks, but he’ll need it as evidence. I toss it underhand and it lands a few feet in front of him.

“Look, I have to arrest you, Ranny,” he says. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

“Go to it!” I say. He’s not the only one attempting to choke back his emotions.

“Pursuant to the Supreme Court ruling in Miranda v. Arizona, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to legal representation. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one may be provided for you. Do you understand these Constitutional rights?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

He has used a handkerchief to pick up the knife.

“Look, they don’t give me no handcuffs, brother. Can I trust you to walk in front of me to the jail and not run away.”

I sigh. “It’s all over, I won’t run.”

“You seem relieved,” he says.

“Yeah.” That is all I can think to say.

“Hey, Wanda,” he yells.

She steps out of the little shed. She’s been crying.

“Listen, Wanda,” Denny says, “Shanda Freeman is working at the station. I’ll send her down here to get you. She’ll drive you to the station. An officer will need to question you. OK?”

Wanda nods. Then, she speaks.

“You be careful, Dennis! He must be crazy!”

“Don’t worry,” Denny responds. “This old boy and me have been friends for a long time!”

I only hope that my friend gets a promotion out of this.