Confession by Gary Whitmore - HTML preview

Chapter 10

A Killer's Tale story continued.

Nineteen-sixty-three started off boring for Jimmy.

Betty tried hard to get pregnant, but it just wasn't happening. This often led to fights, with him slapping her and then feeling guilty afterward. Jimmy actually wanted to have a kid. Sometimes, he wanted a boy, but he knew how he turned out and started leaning towards having a daughter.

It was February, and FBI Robert Fillert sat behind his desk at the Atlanta Field Office.

He ran his fingers through his hair while reading Annette's case file forward and backward. This was the first case he hadn't solved within months.

Agent Carl Meyers sat at his desk, drinking his coffee.

He glanced over at Robert, and he sometimes felt sorry for him. But then again, he recalled those days when Robert was so cocky and arrogant.

Homer walked over to Carl's desk, stood by it, and glanced at Robert and Carl. "He still hasn't solved that case?"

"Nope. Not a single lead. This is his first failure with solving a case," replied Carl with a hint of a smile. "That's the way it goes sometimes," said Homer, then he walked away.

Carl nodded in agreement with Homer's comment, then returned to the case files he reviewed.

March arrived, and up in Boldger, Jimmy made another pass by Melissa's house. He took four attempts during the week to see Melissa out on her front porch with her daughter.

"She's getting big," thought Jimmy while he eyed the baby girl. Part of him wanted to keep that baby girl, but he knew he would be escorted out of town on a rail.

Jimmy drove off down the dirt road and silently prayed he could get Betty pregnant and that they would have a daughter.

The 4th of July arrived, and Homer drove from Atlanta to spend the weekend with his parents in Boldger.

While in town, he was invited to Jimmy's home for a few beers.

Jimmy brought two cans of cold Black Label beers into the living room, where Homer waited on the sofa.

"So, Homer, how are things going with the FBI in Atlanta?" he asked while he handed Homer a can of beer.

"Still the same," said Homer while opening his can of Black Label beer.

Jimmy opened his can of beer and was itching for some more information. "There's Nothing going on here in Boldger or with the Military Police duty with the Army Reserves. My weekend drills are quiet and quite boring," said Jimmy, then he drank beer.

"It's actually been boring for me," said Homer, and then he had a beer.

Jimmy couldn't wait. "I recalled during Christmas, you mentioned something about an arrogant agent on a murder case in the northern part of the state. Any new developments in that case that I can learn from? You know, from an Army MP and Sheriff's standpoint?"

"Oh yeah, from what I learned from a fellow agent, that Robert Fillert doesn't have a fucking lead. He's going nowhere with that case. Nowhere," said Homer.

Jimmy smiled, knowing he was still in the clear. The two guys chatted about other things while drinking their Black Label beer.

More flew by, and it was October 1963.

FBI Agent Robert was in no way close to identifying Annette's killer.

Jimmy had boring weekend drills down at Fort Benning. He hoped to see another dead body, but all he had to deal with were drunken soldiers who partied too hard on Saturday night at the local bars in Columbus. There was that enjoyable opportunity to whack on a soldier across his head after he rudely cussed at Jimmy.

Back in Boldger, Jimmy sat at his desk at the office. He drank coffee and smoked a Lucky Strike cigarette while reading the latest edition of his True Detective magazine. Seeing the black and white photos of dead girls brought back his fond and sick memories of that night with Annette.

After he sat back down at his desk from pouring his second cup of coffee, his desk phone rang. "Sheriff Nalla," he answered the call.

"It's me, Ricky," he said from the phone.

"Hey, little brother," said Jimmy.

"Ready for our fishing trip next week?"

"You bet," replied Jimmy. Then he opened his middle drawer and removed a road map.

"Okay, I'll meet you there with a new car."

"Sounds great."

There were a few seconds of silence. "I can't wait to hear about your drive over to the lake."

"If I don't reach the lake that Saturday, rush home. Something might have gone wrong, and I don't want anybody to come after you."

"Okay, big brother. But I know you're too crafty for the FBI," Ricky said, then hung up the call.

Jimmy opened the road map for the State of Mississippi and lit a cigarette while studying it for a place to pick up his next victim.

After four minutes of looking at the State of Mississippi, Jimmy found where he wanted to make his next mark.

He smiled, finding the perfect spot he heard from some young Army soldiers down at Fort Benning.

Jimmy folded up the map, shoved it back in his desk drawer, propped up his boots on his desk, and couldn't wait for his next fishing trip.

It was Friday morning, and Betty had packed some clothes in a small suitcase for Jimmy in their bedroom.

Jimmy had earlier that morning packed his trunk with the necessary camping and fishing gear.

Jimmy entered the bedroom after finishing the egg and bacon breakfast she made for him.

"I still don't understand why you can't drive with Ricky," she asked while she closed the suitcase.

Jimmy glared at her. "Listen, I have some secret military police business I have to attend every year. So it's none of your business," he snapped, looking like he wanted to slap his wife.

Betty knew she had touched that sensitive ground again and decided not to press him for more questions.

Jimmy grabbed the handle of his suitcase and gave Betty a quick kiss on the lips.

He walked out of the bedroom.

Betty stayed behind and wondered why Jimmy suddenly started acting strangely during his fishing trips with Ricky. But she knew she had better shrug it off, as saying anything about that to Jimmy could set off his temper.

She left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

Jimmy got in his Galaxie and drove off down his street. He turned on the radio, and Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" song started to play.

"I fell into a burning ring of fire," he sang along with Johnny Cash.

He whistled along with the song while driving through the streets and headed to the southern part of town.

Jimmy drove his Galaxie south through Alabama.

He first stopped at a Hardware Store and bought some new leather gloves.

After the Hardware Store, he drove through Mobile, found a nice diner, and stopped for dinner.

When it got dark, Jimmy filled his car with gas and drove out of Mobile.

He headed west into Mississippi.

Later that night, Jimmy drove to Biloxi and headed to the west side of Keesler Air Force Base.

He found the part of Biloxi with bars and knew he could see what he wanted.

Jimmy went up and down the streets until they were void of witnesses.

That time finally arrived, and he spotted a lone hooker waiting by a street corner.

"How dare they charge for sex," Jimmy would often tell Ricky during some of their chats.

She paced the corner alone, as her other coworkers already found customers. She wore a tight black Montgomery Wards sleeveless scoop neck dress with a straight skirt. This hooker thought she might be done for the night and started to walk away from the corner heading home. But then the sound of the squeal of brakes caught her attention.

Jimmy pulled his Ford over to the curb and stopped. He glanced around, and the streets were still empty of potential witnesses, so he rolled down the passenger window.

"Hey baby, you look extremely lonely. Want some company for a little while tonight? A small party between the two of us," Jimmy smiled.

She strutted over and leaned in his window with a smile, knowing she would earn some more money tonight. "Yeah, honey, I would love a little party with you," she beamed, seeing Jimmy's cash in his hand.

She opened the door. "I'm Rhonda," she said while getting inside his car.

"I'm Butch," Jimmy lied while handing her the cash.

She immediately shoved it in her small purse.

He drove his car away down the street.

"So, sugar, where can we go to have our little party?"

"I know the perfect place. It'll be nice and romantic," Jimmy replied with a smirk.

Rhonda slid over next to Jimmy to start their date.

He drove for another five minutes and headed out of town. Soon, quiet and dark woods filled their view as he drove down the lonely two-lane road.

Rhonda started to get nervous. "Where is this romantic place?" she said while she glanced at Jimmy, spotting the skull tattoo with the "A" letter below the jaw.

"I have a farmhouse north of town, where it's nice and quiet," he responded.

She kept an eye on his tattoo as it started to bug her. "What's with that tattoo?"

"Oh, it's just my little memory of the girls I had a party with. Her name was Annette. When I'm done with our party, I'm going to have an R tattoo in your honor," he said with an evil smirk.

Rhonda's gut started getting sour, telling her this was not a good idea. "You know something, I'm getting a splitting headache. I don't feel like partying, so I better return to town. Here's your money back," she said, then handed back his cash.

"You say you have a headache?"

Rhonda nodded and rubbed her forehead to make it believable.

"Okay," he said, discreetly slipping on a pair of new leather gloves he bought in Mobile.

"What's with the leather gloves?" Rhonda asked and started to get scared.

"No fingerprints," Jimmy replied, and then he quickly grabbed the back of her head before she had time to react. "I'll give you a headache," he yelled out while he slammed her forehead into the dashboard. "Never refuse to party with me!" he screamed while repeatedly slamming her forehead into the dashboard. Her body went limp when she passed out. He let go of the back of her head and left her slump against the passenger door.

Five minutes passed, Jimmy whistled while he drove down a two-lane road looking forward to having fun with this hooker.

He finally spotted a dirt road off to his left, pulled into the road, and drove down it for another fifty feet.

Jimmy positioned his car so the headlights illuminated a tree.

It wasn't long before Jimmy stripped Rhonda naked in the front seat, with her clothes in a pile on the passenger floorboard.

The sight of a naked hooker didn't excite him, as he was disgusted by the thought of her screwing numerous men day after day.

He quickly got out of his car, rushed over to the trunk, opened it, removed his camera and tripod, and soon had it set up by the front grill of his Galaxie.

He returned to the trunk and removed the rope and baseball bat he bought three months ago in Boldger.

It wasn't long before he was ready with Rhonda's naked body tied to that tree.

Rhonda stirred and opened her eyes. She looked around in a daze and did not know where or what she was doing. Then it dawned on her. She was naked and tied to a tree out in the middle of the woods.

"Help!" she screamed when she saw Jimmy standing four feet from her with a baseball.

Rhonda's screams echoed in the woods while Jimmy used her entire naked body for batting practice.

She was dead, so Jimmy walked back to the trunk of the car with a spring in his step.

After removing the tube of axle grease, he returned to Rhonda and smeared grease on her tummy to resemble the number "2."

Jimmy scanned the dirt, picked up all her teeth, and shoved them into his pants pocket.

He walked over to his camera and snapped pictures of Rhonda from different angles.

After setting the camera timer, he rushed over to Rhonda, and the camera snapped a picture of Jimmy looking like a proud hunter who bagged another prize deer.

Jimmy soon secured all his belongings in the trunk and slammed it shut.

He rushed over, got behind the driver's wheel, backed down the dirt road, and stopped when he got close to the two-lane, hard-paved road.

Jimmy got out and used a tree branch with leaves to erase any tracks he made in the dirt.

He got back inside his Ford and drove off down the road.

When he was thirty miles from the crime scene, after wiping them clean of any fingerprints, he tossed Rhonda's shoes and empty purse on the shoulder of a lonely country road.

The next day, he drove away and met up with Ricky at Artabatian Lake outside Pierce, Mississippi.

Ricky pulled up in a brand-new, shiny, white 1964 Ford Galaxie with a white interior. He installed a trailer hitch and towed his fishing boat behind.

"Whew! She sure is pretty," Jimmy smiled while walking around and admiring his new car. Ricky handed him the keys.

Jimmy went over and unlocked the trunk of his new Galaxie. He rushed over and opened the trunk of his old Galaxie, placing his items into his new Ford's trunk.

Ricky curiously walked. "Did you do it again?" he asked while he peeked inside.

"Oh yeah, little brother, I had so much fun last year, and since I got away with it, I'm going to make it an annual event every October," Jimmy said with a satisfied smile.

"I like the sound of that," Ricky said while he looked at Rhonda's dress. Then his eyes widened with an idea. "Can I watch the next time?"

Jimmy thought about his offer. "I don't see why not."

Ricky looked excited about going on one of his brother's killing trips.

Jimmy removed his camera and then closed the trunk of his new car.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the water to start their next week of fishing and camping. Jimmy filled Ricky in on all the details of his time with Rhonda.

The weather was a little cloudy while they spent the week fishing and camping. They caught enough bass for dinner, plus Ricky brought beer from home.

When it was time to head home, Jimmy hid all of Rhonda's clothes inside his tent before packing them in the trunk of his new car.

"Again, little brother, we'll keep this a secret until the day we die," Jimmy said while he closed the trunk.

"Until we die," Ricky said, and then they locked pinkies to seal their promise.

Jimmy drove off in his new 64 Ford while Ricky drove off in the 63 Ford.

On his way back to Boldger, Alabama, Jimmy stopped at another tattoo parlor in another town in Mississippi. He wanted to add to the tattoo he got last year.

Jimmy pulled into his driveway in his new 1964 Ford Galaxie. He tooted the horn and turned off the engine. He got out and stood by the front fender.

A few seconds later, Betty left the house and saw their new car. "She sure is pretty," Betty smiled while walking around and admiring the shiny Ford.

She saw the "R" added next to the "A" under his skull tattoo on his right bicep. She rolled her eyes and knew better than to ask questions. So, instead, she sat down behind the steering wheel and took a whiff of that new car smell.

Jimmy opened the rear door and removed his suitcase. "I'm starving. Go make my dinner while I unload my stuff. I will also develop the pictures from my trip with Ricky, so I don't want to be disturbed."

Betty nodded in agreement while she got out of the car. He handed her his suitcase.

She walked back to the front door.

Jimmy waited until Betty went inside their house. When the coast was clear, he opened his garage door.

He rushed back to the rear of his car and unlocked his trunk

Jimmy spent the next few minutes emptying the contents of his car trunk and rushing them into the garage.

He turned on the garage light and then closed the door.

After grabbing his step ladder and placing it under the attic access panel, he opened the panel, went into the attic, and brought down that wooden chest.

Jimmy placed the chest on the floor, unlocking it.

After a few minutes, Jimmy finds Rhonda's teeth in that jar and her dress and panties inside the chest.

Then, after using the power saw two, cut the baseball bat into numerous pieces.

Inside the house, Betty heated a pot of water for spaghetti and heard the power saw from the garage. She rolled her eyes and was not about to ask questions.

Jimmy placed the bloody tip in the chest and dropped the other pieces of bat and leather gloves in the trash can.

He covered the chest with the tent, grabbed his camera, and rushed inside his darkroom.

Jimmy opened his camera inside his darkroom and began developing the pictures of Rhonda and his trip with Ricky.

A little while later, he rushed out of his darkroom with the developed pictures of Rhonda and pictures of his fishing trip.

He removed the chest from under the tent, dropped her pictures inside the chest, and then locked it.

Jimmy returned the wooden chest to the attic, reinstalled the access panel, and stored the step ladder.

The tent was folded and secured under the wooden bench for next year.

He went inside the house with the pictures of Ricky and him while fishing in the boat.

He showed them to Betty during dinner.

While Betty and Jimmy ate dinner, two teenagers down in Mississippi found Rhonda's dead body still tied to the tree with tons of flies buzzing around her rotting flesh.

They drove down that road for an evening of romantic, heavy petting in the woods. But the sight of Rhonda's naked body tied to the tree killed the mood.

They raced back to town and contacted the Sheriff in Biloxi.

The next morning, Biloxi Sheriff Hank Wilfred had three deputies rope off the area. Rhonda's dead naked body was still tied to the tree.

He called the FBI in Atlanta and requested to speak to Agent Robert Fillert. He got his name from the article in the Confidential Detective Cases magazine about Annette Boyer being tied to a tree and beaten.

Sheriff Wilfred and his deputy waited hours after talking to Agent Filbert outside the roped-off area.

He spotted a plain black 1963 Chevy Bel Air and knew it was a government car. He smiled, knowing the FBI was on the scene.

Robert parked the car behind the Sheriff's 1960 Ford Galaxie, and Carl got out.

Robert walked up to the Sheriff, Carl by his side, holding a camera in his hand. They both flashed their FBI identification cards.

"FBI agents Robert Fillert and Carl Meyers," Robert said.

"Pleasure to meet you," Sheriff Wilfred said, extending his hand. "I wanted the FBI involved, as the killer could be one of the Airmen from Keesler Air Force Base," he said.

Robert shook his hand while glancing at Rhonda's dead body tied to the tree.

Robert pulled his hand away and rushed under the rope. He walked around and got a déjà vu look while he looked at Rhonda's naked body. Flies still buzzed around her dead flesh.

"She's Rhonda Wilt, a local whore," Sheriff Wilfred said.

"She was beaten with a blunt object. About a week ago," said Robert, still checking out her body. "And it's weird she has the number two painted on her stomach," Robert added while he continued to look her body over. This scene started to feel familiar. "That Annette Boyer girl killed last year in Alabama had a grease mark down her belly," he said while looking at the grease mark. Then his eyes widened. "I believe these two girls were killed by the same person who's numbering his victims as his calling card."

Sheriff Wilfred looked at Robert and then at Rhonda's belly. "I believe you could be right," he said, recalling reading that fact about Annette's murder from the magazine.

Robert got a cocky smirk over being correct and being reminded of that fact.

"Take plenty of pictures," Robert ordered Carl.

Carl immediately went around and started snapping pictures of Rhonda and the entire area.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the sound of a vehicle was heard, along with the brakes squeal.

Carl noticed a TV van behind their car. "The news media is here," Carl told Robert.

Robert saw the TV van. "Who called the media?"

"I did," Sheriff Wilfred replied.

Robert combed his hair and then made sure his suit was presentable. "I don't want the girl shown on TV," he ordered Sheriff Wilfred.

Robert and Carl watched while a TV reporter and cameraman approached them.

The reporter walked up to Robert and Carl.

"I'm Bob Burbank from Channel Four News out of Mobile," he said.

"Don't show the girl's body," Robert demanded.

"Sure," Bob replied, then he looked at Rhonda's dead body and started to get sick. He quickly positioned Robert to where Rhonda's body was not visible.

Meanwhile, over in Boldger, Alabama, Jimmy drank a Black Label beer while watching television from the sofa. Betty was in the kitchen, making pot roast for dinner.

The Channel 3 News came on with a Special Report from Mississippi.

Jimmy sipped his beer while watching TV and saw Bob Burbank standing beside Robert. Rhonda's body was not visible. His eyes widened the second he knew that that was his crime scene.

"Bob Burbank here in a deserted area outside Biloxi, Mississippi. I have FBI Agent Robert Fillert from the Atlanta office. Agent Fillert will be investigating the killing of a prostitute named Rhonda Wilt," Bob told the camera.

"So, Agent Fillert, have you identified a suspect yet?" Bob asked Robert.

"A suspect has not been identified as I just started my investigation. It could be one of the Airmen at the local Air Force Base. This is extremely similar to a killing in Oak Hill, Alabama, last October. But don't worry, it won't take me long to catch him," Robert said to the viewers, and he really believed someone in the Air Force was his killer.

Jimmy laughed. "In your dreams, dumbass!" he said to the TV.

"What did you say, Jimmy?" Betty called out from the kitchen.

"Nothing, honey," he replied with a smirk while watching Robert on the TV.

Jimmy's eyes widened when he got an idea. He got off the sofa and rushed over to a desk, glanced at the entrance to the kitchen, and made sure Betty was not in sight. She was not visible, so he immediately grabbed a piece of paper, then rushed over to his magazine rack by the sofa and grabbed a magazine. A pair of scissors were naked from the living room desk.

"I'm going to work my darkroom until dinner's ready," he told Betty.

"Okay," she replied from the kitchen.

Jimmy rushed out of the living room with the magazine and scissors.

A weeks passed, and Robert sat at his desk in the Atlanta office. He reviewed the file cases on Annette and Rhonda. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration since he didn't have a single lead on this killer. The Air Police at Keesler Air Force Base worked with Robert on the case and couldn't identify a possible suspect.

Carl looked at Robert from his desk and smirked. He was happy that arrogant Robert was going nowhere with this case.

A female secretary walked over and dropped a letter on Robert's desk. Then, she walked away and delivered mail to other agents.

Robert picked up the letter and noticed there was no return address. He opened it and looked at it.

"Robert – You're too stupid to catch me. All my love, the Fall Slayer," the letter taunted him in magazine print letters glued to the paper.

Robert reread it to make sure he was reading it correctly. It took him a while to finally figure out that the killer was messing with his head.

Robert tucked the letter inside his desk drawer. He got up, furious, grabbed his coffee cup, stormed over to the coffee pot, and almost knocked down a fellow agent.

Off in the back of the office, Homer had watched Robert and became curious about that letter he shoved into his desk drawer. He knew Robert was furious about something, and that drove Homer's curiosity into high gear.

Four months passed, and Betty spent another weekend with her mother.

Homer was back in town visiting his parents. Jimmy invited him over for some beers.

Jimmy and Homer sat on the sofa, drinking Black Label beers.

"I saw on the TV that another girl was killed in the same fashion as the one in Alabama last year," said Jimmy, then took a drink of beer. "And I finally saw that Robert Fillert Agent on the TV. You're right. He is arrogant."

"He thinks someone from the Air Force Base down in Biloxi is the killer. But after working with the Air Force Air Police, he doesn't have a single lead," said Homer and drank beer.

"Interesting that an Air Force guy would be the killer," said Jimmy, jumping for joy inside that this location for his second murder was playing out like he hoped.

Homer chuckled when he recalled something he saw at the office. "It also appears that that killer sent Robert a taunting letter."

"Taunting letter?"

"Yeah, it was made from letters from a magazine and called Robert too stupid to catch him. He even called himself the Fall Slayer," Homer said and chuckled again.

"The Fall Slayer. That's a catchy name," said Jimmy, who smirked while he took another drink of his beer.

Jimmy and Homer spend the next hour drinking beer and chatting about other events.

After Homer left, Jimmy revisited his chest and salivated over his souvenirs from Annette and Rhonda. His new issue, True Detective magazine, had an article about Rhonda's killing. The article talked about the two teenagers finding her dead body and how FBI agent Robert Fillert was still on the case, thinking an Airman killed the hooker.

Later that night, Jimmy sat naked in his living room chair and masturbated while reading the article about Rhonda. He ejaculated on the page and then closed the magazine.

He dropped the magazine into the chest, locked it, lit a Lucky Strike, and took a drag, feeling satisfied.

He returned the chest back to its hiding place in his attic.

The rest of 1963 was quiet for Jimmy, and he never had any concerns about being identified as the killer.

Thanksgiving was the same at Jimmy's home with Betty, Melvin, Ricky, and Emily.

At the end of December, Jimmy and Ricky again rang in the New Year of 1964 by having too many drinks at Hank's Bar.

Back to reality.

In Daytona Beach, Sam sat in a lazy boy chair and highlighted additional items of extreme interest as his hunch grew.

"How did this author know some of these details?" Sam said while he closed the book and headed to the bathroom.

Marty could not put his A Killer's Tale book down in Kissimmee. Becky started watching old videos of Allan and the kids. She viewed one where he played baseball in the backyard with the kids two years ago.

Billy sat in his den in Curtis, Mississippi, reading his A Killer's Tale book. He was steaming! "What the hell was Allan thinking of?" he yelled, throwing the book across his room.

Billy then grabbed his Jack Daniels bottle off the floor and took a huge gulp while getting across the room. He picked up his book and walked back to his chair, continuing to read the book, still furious.