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Authors: Kathy Braidhill
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6:15 A.M.
Shards of daylight stung Grecoâs tired eyes. His head throbbed as he drove home. He was physically drained and mentally exhausted. After thinking about the crime scene all night, he couldnât think anymore. He just wanted to get home and sleep. Greco and James McElvain had waited around until sunup for one final search of Juneâs front yard. In the clear light of day, Greco and McElvain poked around the carport, scanned the little green rocks in the front yard and checked the shrubbery and the dirt areas around the house and under the windows. They found nothing. During the search, Greco got a call on his cellular phone from the dispatcher. Juneâs son had suggested that they collect her handgun in her nightstand. When he and McElvain were finished outside, Greco retrieved the .38-caliber Smith & Wesson. Greco and a community service officer took the gun and the rest of the evidence back to the station, booked it, and drove home.
His mind free to wander, Grecoâs personal disgust at the brutality against the victims knotted the back of his throat. The image of Alice popped into his mind and Greco started to worry. She would no doubt see something about the murder in the newspaper in a day or two and would probably be petrified. Alice had been named in an earlier newspaper article for finding Normaâs body and Greco wondered if the killer would come after her for some twisted reason. He promised himself that he would stop by for a visit.
As he neared his house, Greco tried to focus on thoughts of home, but the ugly images of both murders were hard to shut out. As a new homicide detective, his psyche hadnât become desensitized by prolonged exposure to multiple crime scenes. The more he tried to shut it out, the more the violent images were superimposed on his mind. Why so much force? The coroner had declared two causes of death for Norma and he would probably make the same finding after examining Juneâs body. Why the viciousness? Easy targets, Greco thought. And for what? The killer takes the trouble to calmly remove both phone cords, uses just one and doesnât even bother to take Juneâs checkbook?
Pulling into his driveway, Greco turned off the car engine and sat for a second, his head pounding in the morning sun. Why go overboard with overkill and leave the cash behind? And a diamond ring? And credit cards?
He wondered if the killer wasnât getting some pleasure out of this.
CHAPTER FOUR
TUESDAY, MARCH 1, 1994
The woman with the frizzy blonde hair plopped an armful of swim suits on the counter and handed clerk Kellie Jacobs a Mervynâs charge card. She seemed to be in her 30sâand in a big hurry.
It was just a few minutes after 9 a.m. Kellie thought it odd that someone would buy so many swimsuits not only early in the day but early in the season. The customer also had a black net beach cover-up and a fish-themed beach tote. While the woman fidgeted, Kellie methodically scanned the bar code on each item. The total was a few cents shy of $300. But the charge wouldnât go through. The cash registerâs computer wouldnât work.
âDo you have a photo ID?â Kellie asked.
âI have nothing. I donât have anything with me,â the blonde woman said, frowning. âCan you hurry up? I have to be somewhere.â
Kellie hesitated. The computerized cash register wouldnât let the sale go through without proper authorization.
âYou know what,â the blonde woman said, âjust call the girls in lingerie, because I was here yesterday and they just let it go through.â
Kellie became flustered. She picked up the phone to call a manager. This woman was getting upset with her and she didnât know what she was supposed to do. When the manager arrived, she asked for a home address and the woman rattled off some numbers on Big Tee Drive in Canyon Lake. But they didnât match what the computer had entered as
Shards of daylight stung Grecoâs tired eyes. His head throbbed as he drove home. He was physically drained and mentally exhausted. After thinking about the crime scene all night, he couldnât think anymore. He just wanted to get home and sleep. Greco and James McElvain had waited around until sunup for one final search of Juneâs front yard. In the clear light of day, Greco and McElvain poked around the carport, scanned the little green rocks in the front yard and checked the shrubbery and the dirt areas around the house and under the windows. They found nothing. During the search, Greco got a call on his cellular phone from the dispatcher. Juneâs son had suggested that they collect her handgun in her nightstand. When he and McElvain were finished outside, Greco retrieved the .38-caliber Smith & Wesson. Greco and a community service officer took the gun and the rest of the evidence back to the station, booked it, and drove home.
His mind free to wander, Grecoâs personal disgust at the brutality against the victims knotted the back of his throat. The image of Alice popped into his mind and Greco started to worry. She would no doubt see something about the murder in the newspaper in a day or two and would probably be petrified. Alice had been named in an earlier newspaper article for finding Normaâs body and Greco wondered if the killer would come after her for some twisted reason. He promised himself that he would stop by for a visit.
As he neared his house, Greco tried to focus on thoughts of home, but the ugly images of both murders were hard to shut out. As a new homicide detective, his psyche hadnât become desensitized by prolonged exposure to multiple crime scenes. The more he tried to shut it out, the more the violent images were superimposed on his mind. Why so much force? The coroner had declared two causes of death for Norma and he would probably make the same finding after examining Juneâs body. Why the viciousness? Easy targets, Greco thought. And for what? The killer takes the trouble to calmly remove both phone cords, uses just one and doesnât even bother to take Juneâs checkbook?
Pulling into his driveway, Greco turned off the car engine and sat for a second, his head pounding in the morning sun. Why go overboard with overkill and leave the cash behind? And a diamond ring? And credit cards?
He wondered if the killer wasnât getting some pleasure out of this.
CHAPTER FOUR
TUESDAY, MARCH 1, 1994
The woman with the frizzy blonde hair plopped an armful of swim suits on the counter and handed clerk Kellie Jacobs a Mervynâs charge card. She seemed to be in her 30sâand in a big hurry.
It was just a few minutes after 9 a.m. Kellie thought it odd that someone would buy so many swimsuits not only early in the day but early in the season. The customer also had a black net beach cover-up and a fish-themed beach tote. While the woman fidgeted, Kellie methodically scanned the bar code on each item. The total was a few cents shy of $300. But the charge wouldnât go through. The cash registerâs computer wouldnât work.
âDo you have a photo ID?â Kellie asked.
âI have nothing. I donât have anything with me,â the blonde woman said, frowning. âCan you hurry up? I have to be somewhere.â
Kellie hesitated. The computerized cash register wouldnât let the sale go through without proper authorization.
âYou know what,â the blonde woman said, âjust call the girls in lingerie, because I was here yesterday and they just let it go through.â
Kellie became flustered. She picked up the phone to call a manager. This woman was getting upset with her and she didnât know what she was supposed to do. When the manager arrived, she asked for a home address and the woman rattled off some numbers on Big Tee Drive in Canyon Lake. But they didnât match what the computer had entered as
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