Shenandoah Shoe Shines

Introduction

I am a serial killer. A mighty successful one at that. To date, I'm responsible for the deaths of 47 souls. I digress. Only I know I am a serial killer. The authorities haven't a clue. Nor shall they ever. You see, I am a very clever serial killer. I believe the buzzword today when describing me is that I am fluid. Yes, fluid is an apt description. I am capable of blending into many different environments regardless of social class. When I am on the hunt, I can lurk in the shadows on the docks or mingle with the rich in the haughtiest of country clubs. No one is the wiser. But enough of me, let us discuss the point of my story. I am on the hunt again. I choose my victims based on the amount of publicity their deaths will bring. I do like to read about my successes.

The Valley

There is not much new to be said about the Shenandoah Valley. It's a rather large place, home to many towns and lots of people. On any given day, I can find a dozen or more victims to satisfy my urge. The question is which of these dozen will light the valley on fire with the news should one of them die suddenly and under mysterious reasons. I suppose this is why I've never left the valley. The pickings are good and the hunt is always fun.

I've noticed as of late that as the valley continues to grow, we are faced with a shortage of certain professionals. Doctors, Dentists, Tailors, even shoeshine boys have long lines of potential clients waiting for their services. If I were to take out one of them, that would surely cause a stir. But for how long? Of course, if I were to eliminate three or four in rapid succession, that might get everyone to talk. Hmmm, I need to give this some serious thought. That's it! I will hunt exactly five shoeshine boys. That should cause the excitement I crave and give the newspapers something to yammer on about for several days, if not weeks. Shoeshine boys it is!

Modus Operandi

Before we get too deep into this story, let's discuss my background a little more. I didn't always intend to be a serial killer. I actually had a normal childhood. I grew up in a middle-class family with plenty of siblings and friends. I played sports and I excelled in college. I'm still married to my high school sweetheart and we have our very own adorable family. I should also mention I'm a very successful detective for the largest police department in the valley.

I only decided to become a serial killer after I observed way too many criminals being released back onto the streets to continue their criminal escapades. It was a never-ending merry-go-round. Criminals would be arrested and charged and found guilty only to be released to commit more, sometimes more serious crimes. Reason would dictate that something had to be done to stop this insanity.

I try to never investigate my own crimes. After all, where's the fun in that. Instead, I prefer to read about it in the papers just like everybody else. I did come close to having to investigate one of my killings once. Fortunately, I came down with the flu and was able to skate. It's not that I'm afraid of being so close to the investigation. It's that I'm such an impeccable investigator, I would be forced to solve the crime and name myself as the actor. Where's the fun in that?

Modus Operandi means a particular or established way of doing something. Since I will be murdering shoeshine boys, I suppose we need to establish the M. O. In order to make this fun for the journalists, let's decide that the age of our victims will be between 17 and 20 years of age. They will all be immigrants where the English language is not their primary language and they will work in the downtown financial district. Oh, and let's throw a twist into the mix. All of them use the same shoe polish purchased from the same merchant. Their manner of death will be up close and personal. They will die of strangulation from having their shine rag wrapped tightly around their scrawny little necks and pulled tight until they can no longer breathe. All of them will die at successive hours on successive days of the week beginning with Monday morning at 7:00 a. m. Since there will be a total of 5 murders, the last one will die on Friday of the same week at exactly noon. To make things even more interesting, I will leave a brand-new one-hundred-dollar bill tri-folded and placed inside their mouth. That should really get the newspapers to selling. All that is left to do is to pick which Monday this will begin and who would be my victims.

Victim #1: Chance at the corner of 5th and Main St.

Chance is an or should I say, was an enterprising young entrepreneur who set up his shop in 1942 at the ripe old age of 17. His Dad was off fighting the war in the South Pacific leaving him to care for his Mom and 2 younger sisters. He was a bright young man who never missed a day of work and was always up to date on the latest news, especially the financial news. He kept copies of the latest newspapers as a courtesy for his customers and gave them complimentary copies just for allowing him to clean and shine their filthy shoes for the discounted price of $1.25 a pair. He was fast and he was thorough. It didn't matter if your shoes looked like you had been working at a pig farm. When you stepped down off of his booth, your shoes shined as if they were a brand new pair of Oxfords or Coolers fresh off the shelf from Sandy's. I decided if something happened to Chance, everyone would notice. Rumour had it that Mr. Morgan himself was a regular customer of Chance's shoeshine booth. Yep, Chance had to go and it was only fitting he should be the first victim.

I had chosen the first Monday in August as my start date. It was fitting. Summer was in full swing and the crowds would be out. People would be coming back from summer vacation and the financial district would be pumping up for the end of the quarterly meetings. I watched Chance arrive at the corner of 5th and Main Street shortly before 5:30 a. m. He reached between two buildings and pulled out his stand and began setting it up in front of the barbershop. Most of the brick and mortar stores were still closed and there was no one on the streets except for the newsstand guy one block down. I watched Chance run down to the newsstand and purchase a stack of papers and quickly walk back to his shoeshine stand where he placed the papers under a brick beside his box of polishes and rags. Chance then sat down on the pavement beside his stand, took out his breakfast, and began eating while he read the headlines. The time was 6:50 a. m.

He never saw me coming. I approached him from behind and grabbed one of his rags. I wrapped it around his neck and dragged him to the pavement in a manner that he was lying supine staring up at me in a look of bewilderment. His mouth was filled with food so he couldn't scream out for help. He struggled briefly, then he stopped. Chance was dead. I picked up his lifeless body and placed him in his chair. I left the polish rag around his neck and used additional ones to secure his arms and legs to his shoe-shine chair. I placed the one-hundred-dollar bill in his mouth and then I placed a newspaper over his face as if he had fallen asleep. The entire murder and staging took less than six minutes. I exited the area and resumed my daily business, getting to work with nearly one-half hour to spare.

Victim #2: Billy at the corner of Main Street and Moody Lane

The following morning, people were already talking about Chance's murder. No one could believe that someone killed the poor old shoeshine boy who was trying to take care of his family while his Dad was off fighting the war. Meanwhile, I was plotting my second murder. Billy wasn't a goody-two-shoes like Chance, but he wasn't a heretic either. Billy was 19 years old, married with a kid. In addition to shining shoes, he also bagged groceries at the local market when he was needed. Billy wasn't lazy. Billy was more organized when it came to shining shoes than Chance was. He didn't accept walk-in customers. You needed an appointment and they were hard to get because Billy had a long list of regulars that included some of the most important people in the Valley. He wasn't cheap either. His shoeshines were probably no better than the next guy's but it was all in the packaging. Billy advertised himself as exclusive and priced himself that prevented most people from affording his services. Yes, Billy's murder would certainly get the presses interested and since he would be the second victim, I bet the local police would decide it was time to set up a special investigation. At least, that's what I expected.

It had been my experience that a serial killer can get away with one-off murders for a very long time. Why? Because most serial killers kill a person, then move elsewhere and kill someone else. Seldom do they plan out a series of murders in advance with a well-defined pattern. At any rate, Billy was next and yes, he had to go at exactly 8:00 a. m. on Tuesday morning. As planned, I watched Billy arrive at Main Street and Moody Lane at about 5:45 a. m. I watched him remove his stand from the rear of his truck and set everything up. I didn't notice anything different from his stand and the others located elsewhere in the financial district. I walked over and found an empty spot on a bench near where Billy was just getting started on a client. This particular client was the Mayor. I was impressed. I could hear them discussing various current events and I noticed that whenever there was a lull in the conversation, Billy would ask a question designed to elicit an instructive tone and answer from his client. That sly old fox was getting his clients to talk about themselves by getting them to brag about their successes. He would present them with a business problem he likely faced and ask them how they would handle it and then sit back soak up the wisdom of some of the wisest, richest people in the Valley. Billy was going to be sorely missed come tomorrow.

The clock ticked closer to the 8 o'clock hour and I didn't sense there would be a lull in his appointments. I couldn't risk murdering Billy here out in the opening, so I did the next best thing. I created a diversion. I stood up from my seated position and shouted, "There's a man with a gun. Lookout!" People started panicking and screaming. People began running as I continued to point towards a man standing several yards away. Then I reached in my pocket and fired my pocket derringer. No one ever saw my gun but everyone heard the shot. This gave me the panic I needed. In the confusion, I ran up behind Billy, and using one of his polish cloths, I strangled him with a well-placed slipknot. Using my right hand to maintain pressure on the cloth, I used my other to hold him upright and help seat him on his stool. I yelled at others that I think he may have been shot. People continued to scatter. I made sure he was dead, then I slipped the one-hundred-dollar bill into his mouth and departed the area. If anyone had witnessed me, their descriptions would be so vague as to prove worthless because of the confusion.

Victim #3: Michael at The Newsstand on the Square

Wednesday morning, the newspapers, the radio, and even the television were all announcing breaking news about the second murder of a shoeshine boy in the downtown area. The police department and the mayor's office were preparing a news conference and word was beginning to circulate on the street that a serial killer was in our midst. Oh, what joy! Victims #3 through #5 can be dangerous for a serial killer like myself. After I killed the second one, people begin to think the first two were shoeshine boys, and both were killed in the early morning hours. So everyone will be watching them, especially during the mornings, in case I strike again. They will also be looking for a suspect that matches a wide variety of descriptions depending on who saw what and the information the police decide to release to the public. Rest assured, the police most likely won't say anything about the one-hundred-dollar bill yet. Anyways, nothing like a challenge, right? What say we go make Michael's day by making him famous.

Michael's primary business was his newsstand. He sold a myriad of books, magazines, and newspapers and had done so since he could remember. The newsstand was originally his father's but when his Dad passed away, Michael took over. To help during the slow times, Michael also shined shoes. He didn't have the time or patience to deal with clients who were wearing shoes at the time they needed shining. Nope, if you wanted Michael to shine your shoes, you needed to drop them off in the morning and they would be ready for pick-up that afternoon. Michael was also the only shoeshine stand in town that also shined women's shoes and he specialized in shining the popular two-toned or two-colored Brogues and Ventilators. Michael's shoeshine business had been picking up and he was at a point where he was considering offering only next-day service since he found it almost impossible to get to all of the shoes in the same day. Since Michael was the only stand that serviced women's shoes, if he were to die suddenly, I can only imagine the level of complaining that would take place, especially if it were assumed he fell victim to the notorious shoeshine killer. Michael had to die. It was inevitable.

So the newscaster had referred to me as the notorious shoeshine killer. It has a ring to it. I can't complain. It's a start. Who knows, by the time I get to victims three or four, a better name may be forthcoming. For now, this will do. I was sitting on the edge of my bed and had just finished tying my brown and white Brogues. I had decided today would be a good a day as any to get a shoeshine. I was about to leave when my telephone rang. It was the Chief of Detectives. He wanted me in his office right away. I knew this call was coming, just not so damn early. He wants me to lead the task force responsible for tracking down the "sick twisted assassin" that killed the mayor's shoeshine boy. I knew it! I knew the best way to get the attention of the city elite was to go after the people who mean the most to them. When I say mean the most, I don't necessarily mean their family or their lovers. Someone distant like a tailor, or a baker, or even a shoeshine boy can disrupt their routine and make even the most protected people in the world wonder if the assassin is really after them. I told the Chief I would be honored, but I had a dental appointment first thing, then I would be right there.

I headed straight for Michael's Newsstand. I had plenty of time, but I wanted to get in place and watch for a while before making my move. I also wanted to grab a donut and a cup of coffee. A killer has to keep up his strength you know. I didn't realize just how far away the newsstand was from where I was staying so it took me longer than I expected to get there. By the time I sat down on the bench I had chosen, people were already in line to grab a newspaper from Michael. I sat there enjoying my breakfast and watching people come and go while getting a feel for the rhythm of the crowd. The nine o'clock hour was fast approaching, so it was time for me to implement my plan. At about a quarter til 9, I walked up and got in line. There were only 2 people in front of me, so it wasn't but a minute and it was my turn. "How can I help you, mister?", said Michael. "Yes, I left a pair of my shoes here a couple of days ago for repairs and to be shined and I'm here to retrieve them. Be a good lad and get them for me, please." Michael asked if I had a ticket and I pled that I had left it at home, so he relied only on my last name. He went to the back of the shop and a few minutes later he returned empty-handed.

He told me he didn't have them and then gave me the song and dance routine that without a ticket, it would be next to impossible for him to locate them. I nodded and turned to leave, but then I hesitated and pointed to the rear of his shop. In a clear, steady voice I said, "Sir, are you trying to cheat me?" This took Michael off-guard and he spun his head in the direction I was pointing with a look of shock on his face. I pushed past him and walked directly to the rear of his shop with Michael on my heels. When we were both in the rear of the shop, I looked behind to see if anyone was watching us and that's when I struck.

I have been trained and I have practiced for years in several forms of martial arts. I didn't want to risk Michael calling out for help, so my first strike was a simple straightforward knife-hand to his throat. I am positive I smashed his hyoid bone with that one strike. Michael grabbed his throat with both hands and started coughing. I picked up a polishing rag and wrapped it around his neck and held it tightly as I guided him to a chair near the front of his stand. When he was seated, I leaned him against the wall and watched as the last of his life left his body. His eyes greyed over and Micheal was gone. I reached into my pocket and removed a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill and inserted it into his mouth. Just then, the town clock struck 9:00 a. m. I was both delighted and tickled that I had met my obligations. I exited the newsstand using a side door and promptly walked the 3 short blocks to police headquarters to meet with the Chief of Detectives. I must say I have never felt so exhilarated in my life. Three down and only two to go! I could only imagine what the newspapers would write about me come tomorrow morning.

Victim #4: Barney, the roving shoeshine man

I arrived at my meeting with the Chief of Detectives at exactly 9:20 a. m. He had a strange look about him. He was ashen and appeared almost as if he were about to have a heart attack. I stopped at his door to knock, but he motioned me inside and further motioned me to close the door behind me. I did so and took a seat at his desk. There were 3 other gentlemen present. I recognized two of them as detectives, like myself and the third one was a medical examiner, I'm pretty sure. The Chief was on the phone with the Police Commissioner and from what I could overhear, the call was not a pleasant call. Like the others, I sat there in silence. Several minutes passed with no one saying a word as the Commissioner continued to rant and rave over the telephone. Finally, there was a loud click and the Chief slowly hung up his telephone.

"So, I guess I don't need to repeat any of that, do I?", said the Chief. We all shook our heads in unison no. The Chief continued, "There's been a third murder. His body was discovered just a few minutes ago. He pointed at me. I want you to take lead. Head over to the crime scene and see what you can figure out. Let me know something as soon as you do." I stood up and prepared to leave, but I stopped in mid-step, and looking at the Chief, I said, "Chief, where am I going?" The Chief looked frustrated and handed me a slip of paper with the name and address. I didn't want to be in a hurry so I stopped downstairs and grabbed myself a coffee before catching a ride with a radio car to the crime scene.

When I got there, a crowd had gathered and patrolmen had taped off the scene. The technicians were there taking pictures and dusting for prints too. I asked a couple of the patrolmen if they had any witnesses and so far, no one had come forward. The crime scene techs had not found any prints and the only real evidence they had were the photos. Soon after my arrival, a medical examiner arrived and looked at the body. He proclaimed the victim had died by strangulation and then removed the body from the scene without further discussion. I stood over in a corner watching everything unfold. After an hour, I decided to head back to the department. When I got back to my office, there was a stack of files on my desk from the other two murders. I closed my door, sat down at my desk, and began planning murder #4.

Barney was going to be tough to kill because, in order to kill him, I first had to find him. Unlike the other shoeshine boys, Barney worked from his bicycle. He could be found anywhere in the city at any time of the day. There was no rhyme or reason to his route. He would just pop up on a street and start shining shoes until he got bored at that location. Then he was gone. Later, you would see him halfway across town on another street corner shining shoes again. Yep, if I was going to murder Barney, I was going to have to first find out where he lived and then follow him wherever he went until 10 o'clock on Thursday morning at which time I would murder him. There was a knock at my door and I bid, "Enter", like always. The door popped open and it was the Chief. He came and sat down and said, "Well, what did you find out? Anything that will help us break this case and find out who's killing the shoeshine boys?" I shook my head no. The Chief asked me if I had a chance to review the files on the first two yet and I told him I had glanced at them but I was still wrapping my head around the third one. He stood up and replied, "You should know one other thing. The medical examiner found a folded hundred-dollar bill in all 3 victim's mouths." I sat back in my chair as if to ponder this new tidbit of information before replying, "What do you make of that, Chief?"

"I don't know, yet. Maybe it's the killer's way of giving a pension to the victim's families.", said the Chief. I stood up and walked the Chief out. I grabbed my hat and jacket and told him I was headed out on the street to scope out where the shoeshine boys congregated at. If the killer was targeting them, it made sense to find them and warn them before another one became a victim. The Chief nodded in agreement and I left. I hopped on a bus and rode around town for a couple of hours. I never saw Barney and decided to call it a day and go home. The next morning I arose early and started looking for Barney again. No luck. At 9:00 a. m., I decided to head into the office. I may have to change my plans by either choosing a new victim or delaying my schedule. Either way, I'm the killer and the choice is mine to make. The bus pulled in front of the department at 9:15 a. m. and I stepped out onto the sidewalk. There in front of me, at the end of the block, was Barney and he was shining shoes right in front of the police department.

This posed all sorts of challenges and I was always up to a good challenge. I stood there for a few minutes and then I approached Barney and waited quietly while he finished with his customer. I sat down on his box and extended my leg for him to shine my shoes. When he began, I started a conversation about how sad it was someone was targeting shoeshine boys and murdering them. Barney never looked up and only shook his head in agreement. When he finished, I stood and paid him with a one-hundred-dollar bill. Barney seemed surprised and said he didn't have that kind of change. So I identified myself to him as a police detective and I invited him to come with me and I would get him some change. I told him not to worry about his equipment. He was right in front of the police department. No one would mess with his stuff. Barney smiled, picked up his kit anyways, and reluctantly followed me. I told him we would cut through the alleyway to the other side where I knew a shopkeeper who could make change was located. I stepped aside and ushered him through in front of me. The passage was narrow and would only allow one person at a time, so we had to walk in a single file. Perfect, I thought to myself. We were almost halfway through when I struck.

Using my very own scarf, I looped it over Barney's head and around his neck and gave it a good old-fashioned Irish tug, nearly jerking poor Barney completely off of his feet. He let out a gasp and then I'm pretty sure he fainted. I checked and he was still breathing. The poor bastard did in fact, faint. I stood on one end of the scarf, still wrapped about his neck, and using all my strength, I pulled the other end ever so tight. I could see Barney's eyes begin to bulge and his face turned a bright red color. A few seconds later and there was that familiar final exhale of life and Barney was no more. I reached into his breast pocket and removed the one-hundred-dollar bill I had given him, folded it, and stuffed it into his mouth. Then I propped him up on his folding chair. I left the alleyway in the direction we were headed, sight unseen, and checked the clock in the belltower as I stepped onto the street in the bright sunlight. The time was exactly 10 o'clock and the bells were chiming!

Victim #5: Leroy, the oldest shoeshine boy in the entire Valley

It was all over the evening news, "SHOESHINE KILLER STRIKES AGAIN!" The fourth victim, a shoeshine boy, known as Barney, was found dead seated in his folded chair in the alleyway beside the police department. When I read the headline, I was both excited and troubled at the same time. I was excited to see my handiwork make such noise and I was troubled because I knew my boss was waiting to scream at me shortly because the latest murder happened right outside the stationhouse underneath our noses. If he only knew the truth! I did what any loathing, self-righteous serial killer would do. I unplugged my telephone, turned down my lights, locked my doors, and retired for the evening. After all, tomorrow's murder would be the last in this series and it needed to be grandiose.

I had already chosen my victim way back right after I had murdered Chance. I had stopped for my own shoeshine and as I do on most Monday mornings, I went to see Leroy. He was the oldest shoeshine business in town and he was always up to date on the latest current events. Besides, he could always get me to laugh with his corny jokes. I was gonna miss Larry when he's gone, but oh well, he'll be remembered forever as the last shoeshine victim in a string of unsolved murders. I arrived at 10:40 a. m. on Thursday morning and noticed that no one was waiting in line. I stepped into Larry's small shop and saw him sitting on his bench reading the morning paper. He never lowered the paper as he said good morning to me. I closed his door and locked it behind me. The lock made an audible click, but I hoped it wasn't so loud as to have alerted Larry.

I turned and faced Larry and replied, "And good morning to you too, sir!" I removed my hat and hung it on his hat rack in the corner and started to walk towards him. Larry stood up and folded his paper and then placed the paper on the bench where he had just been seated. I walked over next to Larry and asked him if there was anything worth reading in the paper and he shook his head no as he reached down, grabbed a shoe rag, and draped it over his shoulder. I thought to myself the shoe rag was the perfect length for what I needed. Larry turned away from me and knelt down to tie one of his shoes and I was ecstatic for the opportunity to present itself sooner than later. After all, it was easier to go ahead and murder someone, then stage the crime scene for display at the appointed hour than it was to try and get the timing right.

I reached down and lifted the shoe rag from Larry's shoulder and gave it a twist and looped it up and over his head so it would settle around his exposed neck. My plan was to jerk him backward and brace him upright with my left knee planted right between his shoulders. I didn't realize that Larry had a barber's mirror on the shelf right in front of him and he saw everything I was doing, including the murderous intent in my eyes. Without missing a lick, Larry drew a nickel-plated, .32 caliber, revolver from an ankle holster on his bent leg. He turned ever so slightly to his left and shot me not once, but twice.

The first bullet struck me in the center of my chest. The second bullet struck me a little lower and to the right. I dropped the shoeshine rag and stumbled backward before falling to the floor on my back. I lay there gasping for breath. My blood was leaking out of my body. I held my left hand up to see and it was covered in blood, my blood. The dark, red, arterial blood that is normally not a good thing for a person to see. I coughed. Then I coughed again. Larry was standing over me now still holding the smoking revolver. He looked down at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen on a person, and said, "It was you, detective? You're the man that's been killing the shoeshine boys? Why?"

My breathing was more shallow now and my coughing more frequent. I tried to speak, but I coughed up some blood. I heard people at the door trying to get in but the door was still locked from where I had locked it earlier. Had Larry heard the lock click? Is that what tipped him off? I had too many questions. My eyes started to blink and I felt the rush of several people entering the room. I heard lots of voices, then silence.