WHITHER THOU GOEST 6 - DANNY'S STORY - PART 2

By the time Ruthie got home, I had put everything back into the safe, and was sitting in the lounge room with yet another glass of Bourbon.  I poured another glass and handed it to her as she sat down.

 

‘Hi Baby, how was your day?’

 

She laughed.

 

‘Fine – but never mind my day – looks like you’ve had a rough one yourself!’

 

‘Sorry sweetheart, I’ve been going through Hank’s papers and now I’m just drinking his health – I got a bit down you know – I miss him too!’

 

‘I know you do Honey, and I really appreciate your support all these months.  I’ll drink to Daddy too!  God Bless you Daddy!’

 

And I clinked my glass against hers, hoping she would not notice the tremor in my voice, or at least put it down to too much strong drink.

 

‘Cheers Hank, you old dog!’

 

By the time I dropped Ruth off at the airport for her journey to England, I had already managed to sort the contents of the four boxes into some sort of order.

 

The Internet sure is a wonderful thing, and when I got back home I concentrated my research on the fate of all the women mentioned in the cuttings.  As an engineer I like things orderly. Fortunately my job requires pretty damned good IT skills, and I was pleased with my efforts. I set out every single piece of information on one spreadsheet, which by setting up a data base I could cross-reference with a second one on which I entered, as far as I could work out, Hanks’ business and private movements as recorded in the various diaries and coded notebooks.

 

I found that some of the attacks matched up broadly with Hanks movements.  The case I was building was looking pretty bad for my Father-in-law.  With the Boston murder however, a young woman called May-Louise Palmer, although Hank was living in those parts then, there was nothing I could find to say he was actually there or away at the time.  Records I found on line showed that all local men known to associate with May-Louise had been questioned, but no arrests were ever made, so I guessed the police were satisfied with Hank’s alibi, whatever it was.  And at this distance in time, I couldn’t prove it either way.

 

What I did know, however, was that Hank knew her.  She had, according to the Boston Herald, been a part-time waitress at the Cremona Golf Club – and I had found his membership card in my ‘miscellaneous documents’ pile.

 

I worked on until I had plotted all this information to my satisfaction.  All except the case of Marjorie Kaufmann.  I had deliberately left this until last, and intended to devote a much longer time to this one.

 

I started early next morning, examining everything I could find on line about the case and the nature of the area at that time in general. I definitely did not want to make any contact with the police or press at this point, not wanting to rouse anyone’s curiosity in case they started sniffing round Ruthie’s affairs.  I still did not know in my own mind what I was going to do with any conclusions I eventually reached.

 

At the moment it sure looked like Hank was guilty – the very fact that he had kept all these newspaper reports was incriminating in itself – but if I were to take this to the police – what good would it do now?  I really knew the answer to that – closure for the surviving assault victims and the families of the murdered women.  I knew I should tell Ruth, and I would – but not just yet.

 

So I waded through all this information about the unfortunate Marjorie.  Reports stated that her son Adrian had reported her missing at a time when his Father, Charles Henry Kaufmann, was away on business.  He had returned as soon as Adrian told him his Mother was missing, and his alibi had evidently checked out, as no charges were ever brought.  It seemed Hank had been on very good terms with Marjories’ parents, whose depositions stated what a good and attentive husband and father he had been when he was home, and how hard he worked to give the family a good life.

 

This all explained Hank’s very frequent absences from his home with Julia and Ruthie right up to his death, he must have been visiting his son, though he went away less often as he got older. Marjorie and Adrian would of course have believed that all his periods of absence from their home was due to business.  And presumably the son was unaware of his Dad’s passing – Shit!  Poor sod. That would need looking into – he probably had kids of his own now, though.

 

But if Hank had not killed Marjorie – who had?  And therefore was he the guilty party in the other cases in the file?  And if not, why would he had kept all the details?

 

 I had already decided that the others must have been women who Hank had had affairs with – he had always been a bit of a flirt – and his bigamous marriage to poor Marjorie proved he wasn’t too attached to his marriage vows!  And Julia has always been a bit strange –  maybe she found out about Marjorie and it sent her over the edge?

 

I had also found Bills from several psychiatrists, and Ruth said her Momma often disappeared for days at a time – sometimes for medical treatment, she said, which explained her sudden disappearances from home and also provided Hank with an opportunity to indulge his urges.

 

I took a walk round the garden to clear my head.  God I wished I hadn’t given up smoking – I could sure have used a cigarette!  So I thought:

 

‘Okay – what did I have?  Hank was a philanderer; he was an arms dealer with unexplained stashes of cash; he had stolen his baby daughter away from her Momma; he had collected a pile of cuttings relating to the assault and murder of several women, some of whom I knew he had known; he moved house often, sometimes round the time of these attacks; None of that looked good. BUT the police had accepted he was elsewhere at the time of the killings and had brought no charges in any of the cases. Of course this might simply mean he was able to trump up good alibis.  And maybe all this moving house was to protect Ruthie – or someone else? Perhaps it was not so clear-cut as I first thought.

 

Now I have had a week or so to consider all this information.  I have a pal, an ex-Lieutenant in the Los Angeles Police Department, now a private detective my company use sometimes; bit of a shady character, but with useful contacts. A big wad of dollar bills persuaded him to check out Hanks’ alibis and work on the diaries with me.  He sought out one of the psychiatrists named on the bills I found, and was also able to trace a few people who knew Ruthies’ parents, and confirmed the way things were with them.

 

Standing here waiting to see Ruthie again, I am full of trepidation, and still not sure what to say to her, nor even if I am going to tell her all this during the remainder of her visit to her Mother.  But given the new evidence I have found.  I am as sure as I can be that I have come to the right conclusion.  I believe I know who the attacker was:

 

Julia.