Read Kolchak: The Night Stalker: A Black and Evil Truth for Free Online Page B

the line of lease resistance, I smiled weakly and nodded.
    “As you know this case does not properly come under our jurisdiction. However I checked with Washington and was given the OK to put out a request for pertinent information through our offices in all major cities. The results have all been negative. In the past ten years there hasn’t been a single case even remotely like this one. All the weird murders committed right on up to the Sharon Tate thing were done with the usual weapons–guns, knives, etc. The Manson people are reported to have drunk some blood at the scene of the crime, but I think you’ll find they eat the food at the LA County Jail much the same as anyone.”
    “So there was nothing you found that changes the picture, right?” asked Butcher.
    “Well, unless you want to go so far as to contact the authorities in England and on the Continent, I’ve gone about as far on my end as possible. Of course, if something like this happens across the state line, say in California, or Utah, or Arizona, we could move in with a little more leverage…”
    “The fact is,” said Paine, “It’s happening here. So we better make up our minds that some guy is doing it and get out there are catch him before he does it again.”
    “Just like that, huh, Tom?” growled Butcher. “And what do you think we’ve been doing?”
    “I don’t know what you think you’ve been doing, but I’ll tell you this. Some nut is out there, and I’ll bet he’s high on port or the hard stuff, and he’ll kill again unless he’s stopped. Reese, what have your people got on that Parkway blood theft?” (He saw the connection. Everybody did.)
    Lane looked up and drawled. “Well, the latest thing is there seems to have been a witness of sorts who saw something funny out there either late last night or early this morning.”
    Bernie nudged me in the ribs, smiling his irritating Cheshire-cat grin.
    “It seems a registered nurse named Staley saw a tall, skinny guy dressed as an orderly nosing around the refrigeration storage area where the blood and plasma is kept. Didn’t think much about it at the time but when she mentioned the guy to a floor super she was told there was no tall, skinny guy on duty there. A subsequent check revealed no orderly of that description ever hired by that hospital in at least two years. But we do have a description of sorts from this Mrs. Amanda Staley, who, by the way, is a crotchety old widow of fifty-eight who doesn’t seem given to seeing things in the dark, so my boys tell me.
    “Description as follows: WMA–about six-two to six-four; thin–about 160-170 pounds; pale; dark hair receding at the temples; and, now I quote Mrs. Staley’s exact words, ‘absolutely foul breath. You could smell him halfway down the corridor.’”
    “So,” said Butcher, “we start looking for a man who could be either a local resident or, worse yet, an outsider who may not even still be in the area. Check the airport, bus terminal and train station, block off the highways and hope we catch him… just in case he’s stupid enough to hang around after three killings.”
    “Got any other suggestions?”
    “No. Suppose you start checking your work registration cards for anyone working around the casinos that might answer that description. If you come up with anything we can check the fingerprints with…“Butcher stopped.
    Lane looked back glumly. “With what? You haven’t found any prints. And what we found on the Hanochek girl’s back door is pretty badly smudged. We’re pretty sure it doesn’t belong to her or her roommate but I’d hate to try to make a positive ID from it.”
    Paine broke in. “Just get us enough to hold the sonofabitch for twenty-four hours on suspicion. I’ll find the right nails for his coffin.”
    “You’d be stretching it. If we were wrong… false arrest suit… headlines and that sort of thing, “mused Lane, sensitive to possible lawsuits in an election year.
    “Do