The next day, a body hanging over a fence post at the edge of town was identified as Angela’s, who had been eviscerated. With scant information, sheriff Jim Greenwood suddenly had to deal with three killed and dismembered woman as well as an incensed and terrified population. The sheriff received word that the community had taken notice of the visitor and had expressed concern that he might be the person he should be keeping an eye out for. Other than the fact that the pastor’s wife and a parishioner were both churchgoers, the other ladies had no obvious link to one another. The prostitute was an isolated incident with no obvious relationship to the other women. Unless all three could be traced to the stranger.
The pastor was working in The back feeding his animals when the sheriff arrived at the pastor’s house by motorcycle. He attracted the pastor’s notice, got off his horse, and walked over to the neighborhood minister of the gospel. The sheriff greeted the pastor by extending his hand.
The preacher inquired, “What can I do for you, sheriff?” He set his feed on the ground while sweat was streaming from his brow.
“If it’s okay with you, I have some questions for you.”
The priest questioned, “Is this related to the girl they found dead on the fence?”
The female? Sheriff enquired. He was taken aback by the pastor’s conversational style. She wasn’t a church member, was she? Every Sunday, I see the family there.
“I suppose so, yes,”
And you are unaware of her name?
The pastor answered, “I don’t know the names of everyone who attends church.
Thomas Johnson, who farms south of the town beside the river, is the father of Angela Johnson.
The pastor answered, “Yeah, I am aware. He was defending himself. I simply don’t know the names of all of his children; do you?
The sheriff took a moment to think while standing. “No, I don’t actually, I’m sorry. But why did you think I was here to discuss her?
Why else would you go out asking inquiries about anything, I don’t know; it just happened.”
The sheriff enquired as to how the victim of your wife’s murder was faring. The preacher took a deep breath. Not too well, was his response.
“Losing your wife and now a parishioner must be difficult. Since you work in the comfort industry, it would appear that you are the one in need of comfort.
The pastor retorted, “I keep busy, it gets my mind off of it.”
“I have a different query. Did you happen to observe that stranger that some residents of the town claimed to have seen hanging out near the church?
The pastor had to be careful with his comments. Indeed, I did see him. Have you had a chance to chat with him?
Indeed, we had a talk. Do you recognize his name?
Yeah, the pastor said, “he claimed his name is Bohdan.” “Bohdan? That name is strange.
The priest remarked, “I think that sounds east European.” What did you discuss?
Well, mostly small conversation.
I’m interested to see what kind of small conversation this is.
“He inquired about the church, whether I was the pastor, and other such things.” What did you tell him, then?
The pastor said, “I informed him I was the pastor and he was welcome to come to church on Sunday.”
The sheriff questioned, “Anything else?” No, that’s pretty much it.
Although the sheriff was aware that the pastor was lying, he refrained from confronting him. He knew the pastor would be sympathetic because his wife had recently passed away.
The sheriff continued, “You know I have no leads on the killing of your wife. “Do you suppose this Bohdan might be connected to it?”
The pastor responded, “Why would I assume that?”
Nobody I can think of had a reason to kill your wife, and no one knows him. The timing is questionable. Did you get a sense of his personality from him?
The pastor knew Bohdan had slain both his wife and Angela Johnson, and while he wanted to tell the sheriff what he knew, he also feared for his safety. He appeared typical to me.
The sheriff said, “I want to talk to him; if you see him again, can you send him down to the jail?”
If I see him, I’ll tell him, the pastor said. I have to resume feeding my animals.
I’m only doing my job, sorry to inconvenience you,” the sheriff stated. Returning to the main portion of the town, he mounted his horse once more and rode off along the dirt road. Bohdan quickly left the home and walked over to the pastor, who was now heavily perspiring outside in the heat.
What was his goal? Bohdan enquired.
The pastor answered, “He wants to talk to you. “Me? Why me?”
You should question him, I’m afraid.
If he wants to communicate with me, “you must have told him something about me.”
“Maybe he wants to talk to you since you are the lone local that nobody knows anything about and three women have died in the past two weeks. If I were him, I’d want to know about you as well. Maybe this wouldn’t be an issue if you didn’t stroll about town acting so scary!
Bohdan answered, “I won’t talk to him.
I couldn’t care less what you do; if I were you, I’d leave town as soon as possible. Your back is being watched, and the sheriff is on you. You’re strategy is no longer working, and I’m tired of your constant death threats. Do it, fuck it, if you’re going to do it.
If you don’t do what I say, I won’t murder you but I will make your life miserable. You must approach the sheriff and request that he leave me alone.
“Are you serious? How could I possibly accomplish that? I don’t require a target behind me.
Then Bohdan had an idea—he needed to blame someone for the deaths, and that person was there in front of him, perspiring profusely.
Bohdan returned to the saloon driving a horse pulled wagon. The wagon was empty except for a few sacks of grain covered by a blanket and some tools. He pulled the wagon behind the saloon and tied the horses up to a rail by the back door. The wagon set just under the second floor windows and was well hidden in the dark of the evening.When he knew the wagon was secure, Bohdan walked around the side of the building and entered trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Most of the patrons at the bar noticed the stranger right away and now knew a little of him from when he first arrived in town a few weeks ago. Bohdan looked around and watched the nude dancers grind on the willing men who were paying for lap dances. For a moment he took in the show, but he needed to get on with the business he came for. He turned and headed up the stairs by the front door to the apartment of the madam he had met once before.As he headed up the stairs, all eyes were upon him, and this was exactly what he
At the back door of the church, Bohdan dragged the dead woman from the wagon into the building and unraveled her from the blanket. He tossed the blanket aside, cleaned off the altar and lifted her dead body onto the clean area facing her towards the ceiling. Her head, arms and legs dangled off the sides. He walked back to the supply room and found some tools he had stored and waited for the pastor to show. He told the pastor he needed to meet with him at ten and it was important. He just didn’t know how important. The pastor argued and said they could talk at the house, but Bohdan insisted that they meet at the church.Before the pastor showed up, Bohdan had something he had to finish. He took the bag of tools and found a knife inside. He approached the altar and stood at the side where the madam’s head was hanging back with her long hair touching the floor. Straddling her head between his legs, Bohdan placed his knife at her lower abdomen and stabbed down hard until he cut through th
The sun burned hot in the sky when the sheriff and his deputies rode up to the pastor’s house looking for the stranger who lived there. There were no visible signs that anyone was there, but the sheriff had a hunch that he would find who he was looking for inside the house. He didn’t need a warrant, it was eighteen seventy five.The sheriff dismounted from his horse and led his three deputies to the front porch. He didn’t think knocking would be a good idea since he didn’t want the strangers trying to escape or shooting at them. He told one of the deputies to go to the back of the house and watch to make sure the stranger didn’t escape. Giving him ample time to get around to the rear, the sheriff opened the front door and led the remaining two deputies inside.What the found was a pine wood coffin setting on the floor in the main room with the lid on.“What the fuck?” Deputy Diller asked. “Why is there a pinewood box in the house?”“He’s a preacher, he does funerals, maybe it has some
Three weeks passed slow for Bohdan who was now a sickly version of what he had been. The constant sunlight flooding his cell and lack of blood left him weak and pale. He was transported to the courthouse covered with a blanket to keep him from burning from the sun and was set up at a table with his public defender attorney Jack Shultis. This was the first time he had contact with his attorney and he knew he didn’t have a chance in hell.Across the room sat the county attorney and prosecutor Ed McDaniel who had been working the area for years and knew the judge well. The room was filled with interested locals who came to see the show and what would happen to the person accused of serial murder in the town of Abilene Kansas.The bailiff looked at his watch and then announced the judge to the courtroom. “All stand for the honorable Judge Stevens,” the bailiff stated and the room rumbled with the sound of the gallery standing while the judge entered the room.“Be seated,” Judge Stevens sa
The local doctor examined Bohdan in his seat and came to the conclusion he was suffering from starvation and dehydration. Neither of which could be resolved without human blood and the doctor didn’t know. Nobody but Bohdan knew. And Bohdan was on the verge of unconsciousness when he reached out and grabbed the doctor by his arm and pulled him in close and sank his fangs into his neck puncturing his artery drinking as fast as he could.The gallery erupted seeing what Bohdan was doing but no one had the insight to stop him from killing the doctor. For a few seconds Bohdan drank from the doctor’s neck in full view of everyone in the courtroom until he dropped the doctor on the floor in a heap. Bohdan leaned back in his chair, blood draining from his mouth feeling the rush of nourishment fill his body. Then he felt a strike to the back of his head and fell face first onto the desk. The bailiff had finally come over to stop Bohdan and made sure he didn’t attack anyone else.Bohdan was drag
The vibration from the tram could be felt through the floor but the sound of the car itself was silent. Once again, for the twelfth time since lunch, a tourist car pulled up to the Plexiglas side of Bohdan’s cell and stopped so the ticket holders could get a look at the prison’s most famous resident. Bohdan the Vampire Ripper. Housed at this prison facility for over a hundred and thirty years, Bohdan had become the most famous resident of this now privately owned business.Built near Topeka in eighteen eighty, the state owned prison was sold to New Systems Corrections Inc. in nineteen ninety three. It was then retrofitted to hold a tram line that could navigate through the building stopping at cells to let paid tourists view the inmates. Inmates that were now exclusively vampires. The venture was akin to a zoo, or a theme park that allowed visitors to view the attractions from a safe distance. Each cell had one side fitted with a Plexiglas that faced the tram and allowed the visitors
The lead guard opened the door and led Bohdan to a seat on the opposite side of the warden’s desk. He was left in his chains and surrounded by the guards on each side and behind.“Hello Bohdan,” the warden said. Her name was Kathy Coyle, a fifty something skinny witch with long thin grey hair.“What can I do for you Kathy,” Bohdan said. “Call me warden,” Kathy replied.“Fuck you Kathy,” Bohdan replied. He had no respect for her at all, and didn’t really care what she thought about it. “What does my favorite lesbian queen bitch want today?”“I want you to stop hiding in your cell, we have paying customers who drove a long way and paid good money to see you.”“I know, I’m your number one cash cow around here. If it weren’t for me, you’d have no theme park/zoo at all.”“Don’t flatter yourself, people will come from all over to see a prison filled with vampire criminals. You’re just the topping on the cake.”“I’m the cake, and you can’t make me do anything, cunt,” Bohdan said with a grin.
Cara Scott RN entered Tadpole’s Bar and Grill dressed like a slut. She was on a mission and knew exactly how to get what she wanted, she just needed to find the right person to do it. The bar was filled with employees from the prison, guards, grounds, kitchen, maintenance, you name it, and there were there to party. She was looking for a particular guy from the maintenance department named Steve Grant who she only knew from work from afar, mainly passing each other in the halls.Inside the bar, she quickly scanned the busy room and found a full table where Steve was sitting with a group of guards from the prison. She did her best to ready herself and strolled past the table on her way to the bathroom finding an excuse to run into Steve. When she approached the table, she slowed down, smiled and waved at the group at the table and made the comment, “There isn’t a place to sit anywhere in here.” She knew that would be all it took to get an invite to the table. The table was mostly men w