Chapter 23

Charley was seated at a corner booth of Top's Burgers, finishing the remnants of his bacon-cheeseburger and fries. The Los Angeles Times was spread out on the table and he had already read the same article five times. He was seated facing the entrance of the fast food outlet and every time the door opened to admit a patron he would glance up with his eyes, face still down as if reading the paper. His nerves were getting twitchy, more so than usual. It had been this way since two weeks ago when the papers reported that they had arrested what looked to be a suspect in the Eastside Butcher case.

Charley ate the last french fry on his tray and took a sip of coke. He had less than a quarter of coke left, and he sipped it down to the ice. He turned the paper back to the front page and scanned through the article again that had captured his attention and made his blood rush.

SUSPECT HELD IN EASTSIDE BUTCHER KILLINGS, screamed the headline. In smaller fourteen point type was another headline: Police confirm the latest discovery of the remaining pieces of latest victim. The basic report was that two days ago, the remaining pieces of Amanda Young were found in a sewer off Main Street and Broadway. She was neatly packed into two burlap bags, cut into eleven pieces. The only parts of her still missing were both hands and her head. The paper reported that the anatomical evidence showed that Amanda was killed by the Butcher and that this put the victim count at around sixteen.

What concerned him was the news about the capture of a possible suspect.

On the day the rest of Amanda Young surfaced, police announced the arrest of Peter Manuel on parole violation and stated to reporters that he was being considered a serious suspect in the Butcher slayings. The news was vague, but an LAPD spokesperson stated that Peter Manuel knew all but four of the victims, sans the Indiana victims of over a decade ago—they were still trying to establish if Peter Manuel had ties in the Midwest—and that several knives had been found at his house, one of them bearing bloodstains which were currently undergoing lab tests. He had a record for second degree murder, for which he had already served time, and a dozen other arrests, mainly assaults, armed robbery, breaking and entering, and other violations. In short, he seemed to fit the profile. Charley read through the article again, his heart racing, his nerves on edge.

Charley glanced at the counter, paying scant attention to the hustle and bustle in the kitchen and the cashiers taking orders. His stomach fluttered. It had been, what, five months since he'd seen Carmen Aguirre here? It had taken three months for him just to muster up the nerve and set foot in Top's Burgers again after what happened at his house, after the fuss mother had caused. He was sure she would never have anything to do with him again, so he had stayed away. He had come back about a month ago to have lunch, take that first step into getting back into the normal swing of things, and Carmen hadn't been there. In the last two weeks since he had been coming to Top's again he came to the conclusion that she was never coming back. She had left.

Or had she?

That's what made Charley nervous, knowing what he knew. He remembered the confrontation at his mother's house the night he had picked Carmen up at the bus stop, remembered how she had stormed out of the house. Then he remembered vaguely chasing after her and catching up to her, finally persuading her to come back inside through the side door, bypassing the living room and heading straight to his living quarters so she could dry off. Carmen had come back reluctantly, and after he had given her a towel to dry off, he told her he could either take her home or call for a cab. She didn't want either.

She would walk home. Not wanting to make an issue of it—he had remained strangely calm—he had let her go. She left then, leaving Charley in a black fury at the situation.

The next thing he remembered was being aware of an intense orgasm. When he regained control of his senses he saw that it was fully dark outside. Sometime between the time Carmen left and he came to, he had stripped naked and had put in an extreme S&M video. It had been a pretty violent one, one he had gotten at an underground flea market specializing in extreme fetish videos. He had shaken his head, shaking the fogginess off, and noticed that he had come all over the carpet. He had gotten up and turned the video off with the remote control. Then he had gone to the bathroom to clean himself off and clean the mess off the floor. It was at this time that he noticed that three hours had gone by.

It was then when he realized that things were going swiftly from bad to worse.

Charley closed his newspaper and folded it up. His lunch hour was almost over and he rose from his table, picking up his tray. He carried it over to the garbage can, tossed the trash inside, and placed the tray on a shelf near the counter. Folding the newspaper up further, he tucked it inside his jacket and made his way outside, brushing past a tall, attractive, copper skinned woman with black hair who had just stepped up to the counter to order. He glanced back at the woman as he pushed through the door, his eyes lingering on her shapely ass clad in a pair of black tights, and up her curvy body. She kept her back to him, looking up at the menu as he left the restaurant. Goddamn but she was a looker. And she looked a little familiar, too.

With the woman's image imprinted in his mind, Charley stepped outside and headed back up Main Street toward work.

Back in Top's Burger's, Rachael Pearce watched Charley walk up Main Street and frowned.