Posted by tina on February 12, 2007 at 06:08:49:
Hi, everyone! This is the third story about Charlie Smith (aka The South Side Strangler). This is the only story where Charlie does not strangle a lovely lady...but never fear...enjoy!
"Carolyn and the Three S’s"
by Tina
April 12
He had never strangled roommates before. He wished now he had waited that night.
"No, need to take risks," Charlie thought to himself, "We got away with mother and the student but no need to press our luck."
Charlie picked the paper up again and looked at the front page headline.
"MODEL VICTIM OF STRANGLER"
It would have been a "read all about it" in the days of street corner news boys. "Read all about it: South Side Strangler claims seventh victim! Get your paper, get your paper right here!".
Charlie liked that headline. It showed people. But the police had not given out a lot of detail and that disappointed Charlie. They had revealed, or some smart reported had learned that the stocking used to strangle Olivia Bennett actually belonged to the victim’s roommate, Carolyn Kingston.
"Yup, we could have got a double header," Charlie smirked as he read, "two stockings, two roommates...never too late."
Charlie had decided to make Carolyn Kingston victim number eight. Well, actually, it would be number ten. Only Charlie knew about mother and the student. It upset Charlie to think of mother because it was all her fault anyway and it just made Charlie angry. So he tried not to think about mother.
"Oh, well," sighed Charlie, "we can’t worry about spilled water."
He had learned Carolyn Kingston’s name from the paper, since the paper had reported she had found her roommate’s body. The paper never listed street addresses, but then, thanks to Olivia, Charlie already knew where she lived.
* * * *
April 27
The blond woman in the door way extended a hand saying, "Hello, Carolyn, I’m Michelle Qwan, come in and make yourself comfortable."
Carolyn walked into a sunny office. It was smaller than she expected and sparsely furnished. Initially Carolyn looked for the couch, but sat in a red easy chair instead, when there was no couch to be seen.
"Dr. Qwan, I want to thank you for seeing me," Carolyn began.
"Please, call me Michelle. I feel we can progress much better on a first name basis."
Carolyn was a little off balance. She had been expecting a petite, oriental looking woman. Instead she was facing a Swedish goddess who, despite Carolyn’s above average height, was an inch or two taller than Carolyn. Dr. Qwan must have sensed some of Carolyn’s dismay since she said, "I’m not what you expected, am I?"
"I’m sorry," Carolyn apologized with embarrassment, "its just...well, you know...no you are not at all what I expected."
"I am married to a most wonderful man," Dr. Qwan responded, pointing over her shoulder at a picture on the lavish book case, "People urged me to keep my original name but I love Harvey too much for that. Actually I have found it gives me the advantage of being able to put my patients at ease. You do feel at ease I hope."
Dr. Qwan smiled at Carolyn. Her face was tanned and she had the bluest eyes Carolyn had ever seen. As a model Carolyn was often in a room full of women of superior physical attractiveness but Michelle Qwan was an extraordinary beauty. Carolyn glanced at the myriad diplomas on the wall and decided the doctor had some smarts, too. However, Carolyn did find she was at ease with this lovely woman. Instead of feeling any jealousy Carolyn felt comfortable.
"Yes, Doc...er...Michelle, I am at ease, thank you."
"Good! Then let’s get started," Dr. Qwan said enthusiastically, "Carolyn I will start by telling you what I know. Then I want you to correct any misconceptions or factual errors I may have. Okay?
"Yes, that will be fine," Carolyn responded as she settled into the comfortable leather chair.
"I know you found your roommate, Olivia Bennett, strangled. The police have confirmed she was murdered by the South Side Strangler. As I understand it he used one of your stockings in the strangulation of your roommate. I believe you are feeling guilty about your roommate’s death, perhaps even responsible in some way. So you decided to seek my help."
Carolyn’s hands worked the handkerchief as she listened to Michelle’s fairly dispassionate description . It was accurate as far as it went. There was a detail, unknown to the doctor , that Carolyn felt she must now share with Dr. Qwan.
"Michelle, as far as the facts go you are correct." Carolyn began to speak, almost hesitantly, "In fact, you know, I do feel guilty...I mean the rotten bastard used my stocking...and..." Carolyn broke down at this point and began to sob into the handkerchief.
"There, there," Michelle came around the desk. to comfort Carolyn. She took Carolyn’s hands in hers, looked her in the eye and said, "Carolyn, you have had a terrible shock. But nothing you did or could have done would have made any difference. You have nothing to feel guilty about. This man is a sexual psychopath. He is the guilty one, not you"
"I kn...know, doctor, " Carolyn sobbed, "But I feel so responsible. I mean if only I hadn’t washed those stockings out, you know." Carolyn looked dejectedly at Dr. Qwan, then continued, "But there is something else I need to tell you...I...I..."
"Go ahead," said Dr. Qwan as she patted Carolyn’s hand, "you can tell me anything."
"Before I called you, I had decided to, well. you know," Carolyn was having trouble saying the words, "I had decided to kill myself...I think it was the dream." Carolyn again began sobbing. She held the handkerchief to her face as Dr. Qwan continued to hold her other hand.
"Carolyn, take your time, and tell me about the dream," Dr. Qwan said encouragingly.
Carolyn then related that shortly after Olivia’ murder, she began having a dream, actually a nightmare. In the dream she saw herself finding Olivia on the couch. She could vividly see the stocking tied so cruelly around Olivia’s throat. Almost like looking at photographs the images played out in her mind...Olivia’s eyes, wide and staring, legs spread obscenely, pantyhose pushed down, dress bunched up and then Olivia’s tongue protruding from her gaping mouth.
"Then, Michelle," Carolyn looked directly into the doctor’s eyes, "Olivia rises up off the couch and comes toward me. Her hands come up and...that is when I wake up. I haven’t slept well since the...since it happened. Now the dream, you know, seems to come every night.
Carolyn’s voice drops to a whisper..."Doctor you have to help me...or else...you know, please"
"Patient may be SUICIDAL," Dr. Qwan would later write in Carolyn’s record but said, "Carolyn that is a usual reaction to such a stress filled situation. The first thing we have to do is get you to realize and believe that Olivia’s murder is not your fault. Then we have to get you focused on reclaiming a normal life. I’m going to prescribe an antidepressant for you that should help. I also want you to abstain from alcohol consumption or at least be very moderate, until I see you in two weeks."
Carolyn looked at the doctor with a great sense of relief showing in her eyes.
"By the way, " Dr. Qwan added, "Can you manage to take some time off right now?"
"Yes," Carolyn answered, "I think I can take vacation now."
"Good, I want you to go to the mountains for some hiking and fresh air. No," Dr. Qwan corrected herself, "better yet, get away to a secluded beach. Several days of sun and sand will do you a world of good. I really want you to get away for a few days."
"I don’t know, " Carolyn shook her head in protest, "it wouldn’t feel right some how. To take off on a vacation would seem, you know, disrespectful of Olivia."
Michelle Qwan raised a palm toward Olivia and said, "Carolyn, I will not accept that, I think you need to get away to recuperate. There is no disrespect in your trying to heal after this terrible tragedy."
Carolyn had finally agreed. She made an appointment to see Dr. Qwan in two weeks.
"Carolyn, enjoy the beach and I expect a post card." Dr. Qwan embraced Carolyn. "You are going to be fine but it may take some time."
* * * *
May 3
Charlie was disappointed. Carolyn was leaving on a trip before he was ready to carry out his plans for her. He watched her plane slowly back away from the gate. He had even waved as if he had a friend or relative on board.
Charlie looked at the destination. It appeared Carolyn was headed for some time on the beach unless Charlie missed his guess.
"The doctor must have recommended she take a trip," Charlie pondered, "Carolyn must really be taking Olivia’s death hard. I’ll be waiting, dear Carolyn." Charlie waved again as the plain taxied away from the terminal.
"That’s good, sweet heart, you get your R&R and Charlie will see you when you get home."
* * * *
May 5
Dr. Qwan had been right on the mark about getting away. This was only Carolyn’s second full day on the beach and already she was feeling much more relaxed. She had not really thought about Olivia or the murder. Almost miraculously the dream had not reoccurred since she had begun making arrangements for her trip. The two nights here she had slept the night through, lulled to sleep by the murmur of the sea outside her window.
Carolyn had found a nice secluded stretch of beach where she could sun a little in between dips in the ocean. That morning she had decided to pack a lunch for the beach. She loaded up a picnic basket and her beach bag. Even though she was on the beach all alone her vanity did not let her go out without make up. Carolyn no longer wore two piece suits, but the black bathing suit she wore showed off her body in a most delightful way. "Besides," she thought as she tied a nice satin ribbon in her hair, "you never know when Mr. Right will come along."
She had made the walk to the beach feeling refreshed by the cool sea breeze blowing in her face. The sun felt warm on her back as she rounded the rock outcropping which separated her stretch of beach from the rest.
"At least for the next few days," she thought, "this will be my private beach."
Carolyn spread the blanket out on the warm sand. There was a picturesque area between the beach and the small rock bluffs which was full of colorful pebbles, driftwood and the flotsam that beach combers always find so interesting. She set up near this area.
She slowly massaged suntan lotion into her smooth skin. She was able to do her face, neck, arms and legs but her back was a challenge.
"Wish Bill was here to do my back," she thought wistfully, "but then it was a spur of the moment trip. We will have to come back here together some time."
As she thought of Bill the warm sun helped her to drift off to sleep. It was a peaceful sleep without the dream. But something else did disturb her slumber. A shadow fell across her face.
Carolyn opened her eyes to find a scruffy looking bum standing over her. She came up on one elbow but before she could speak he asked, "Got any change for a man down on his luck?"
Actually Carolyn did have some change with her as there was a park with a soda machine just a short walk up from the beach. She fished in her beach bag and took up all the change she found. Carolyn tossed the money on the blanket near the bum’s feet.
She did feel sorry for the man. He wore tattered short pants which, judging by the poor fit, were not originally his. His shirt was open to expose a dirty chest and stomach. His skin was so weathered that it looked like old shoe leather. On his feet were well worn tennis shoes with his little toes peeking out of holes on the side.
Carolyn was also extremely annoyed at the disturbance and she said, "There, that’s all I have. Please take it and leave me alone."
Instead of picking up the change the man advanced toward Carolyn. The panhandler knelt down. "Give us a kiss, sweetheart, and I’ll be on my way." The man actually reached out a hand toward Carolyn’s shoulder.
Somewhere in the far recesses of her mind Carolyn thought about Aunt Jane. The story had been tucked away somewhere all these years. The story of Aunt Jane awaking one morning, the sun not even fully up and there was a knife at her throat. The man said, "Don’t make a sound and I won’t hurt you." Aunt Jane had started screaming and the man had started running and Aunt Jane jumped out of bed and she started running, the whole time screaming, and the man ran down the stairs and out the door with Aunt Jane running behind, her nightgown hiked up, screaming as loud as anyone could yell. The neighbors came running too. Aunt Jane finally stopped at the end of the walk. She was in such a daze she could not tell anyone which way the man had gone or what he looked like. Without really consciously deciding it, Carolyn thought of Aunt Jane and began to scream.
She sat up and began to scream as loudly as she could. The panhandler could easily have run away. There was no one within a mile of where they were. This spot on the beach was in an alcove so there was not even another soul in sight. Flight or Fight the psychologists call it. That was what Michelle Qwan would have told Carolyn, "At this moment the panhandler’s adrenal gland is reacting. His brain is weighing options as his muscles prepare to react to commands for movement. When all these evaluations are complete the man will either run away or..."
Aunt Jane had been lucky.
Carolyn was still screaming, her eyes shut tight when the panhandler took hold of her hair ribbon and pulled it forward over her face and down under her chin. He pulled the ends of the ribbon away from each other which released the bow but also tightened the loop of satin down around Carolyn’s throat.
"Please, lady stop screaming," he pleaded as he pulled on the ends of the ribbon, "I didn’t mean any harm."
"Haaacckkk....aaacckkk..." Carolyn’s screams turned quickly to strangled coughs. Her hands went instinctively to her throat to try to loosen the shinny ribbon. The panhandler managed to get the ribbon around his palms so he had a good grip. The single knot left in the ribbon lay over Carolyn’s larynx and the skin of her neck crinkled as he pulled the pretty garrote tighter and tighter. Carolyn threw her hand out to slap at her attacker but she had already lost some motor control in her initial hysteria. Her hand went past the man’s face coming to rest on his shoulder blade. Her legs kicked up and down, pounding little craters in the blank as sand gave way underneath. Then she dug her feet in and was able to push herself back a little. Her attacker just moved forward as he maintained his hold on the ribbon.
The more Carolyn struggled the harder the man tugged on the ribbon. He wanted her to be still.
He pulled Carolyn up and she smelled whiskey on his breath. She turned her face away as her hands again tried to loosen the deadly ribbon. He had straddled her now, kneeling in such a way as to pin her legs to the blanket. Her upper body rocked back and forth, side to side as Carolyn tried to extricate herself from his murderous embrace. Her hands moved over his arms looking for leverage to break the deadly grip.
As her body fought, her mind was battling a combination of fear and disbelief.
As her fists hit the panhandler on the chest her mind screamed, "You were suppose to run away. Run away, damn you." Of course the panhandler was in his own world with a different set of thoughts. He had started out only wanting Carolyn to stop screaming. Then the more she struggled and he watched the pretty pink band constrict her slender neck, the more aroused he became. At some point during the strangulation dance he passed over from trying to keep Carolyn quiet to enjoying her struggles. The way her eyes bugged out and her tongue, partially rolled in a sideways "C", hung out over her bottom lip, had begun to thrill him in a way he had never experienced before. He even liked her tiny hands beating at him. The blows were ineffectual and actually had the reverse effect of increasing his excitement.
"Carolyn, a woman can either scream her head off or go limp," Carolyn heard Dr. Qwan say to her brain, "I think you should try limp now."
Her brain was so starved for oxygen that Carolyn was hallucinating. She no longer had any control of her arms or legs. Her hands waved about in slow motion as the jumbled signals from Carolyn’s brain fired nerve synapses haphazardly. Her legs stiffened as the darkness began to close in around her. The panhandler looked at Carolyn’s eyes as they rolled upward. Her tongue still protruded from her gaping mouth but she no longer made any sounds. He lowered her down, her head coming to rest on a piece of drift wood at the edge of the blanket. For the first time he admired the cleavage of her low cut swim suit. He looked at the ribbon, tied tight around Carolyn’s throat and he saw Carolyn’s face, frozen in the agony of strangulation, and the panic of flight finally overtook him. The man ran as he had never run before in his life.
* * * *
May 5
Charlie had actually wept when he had read the article. He did not know why but it seemed he had lost a close friend. There was also the practical matter of finding another victim. Charlie hated to be inconvenienced.
Charlie hoped Carolyn had enjoyed the sun and the sand. Although he doubted it was as good as he would have done, he hoped Carolyn had enjoyed her strangulation also.
"Three S’s," Charlie mused, "Oh, well, no need to cry over spilt water."