Some Enchanted Evenings

I believe that I  owe you, my VR, a tasty morsel since it's been so long since my last post.

Posting.

Whatever.

Did I ever tell you about my several dinners with a serial killer?

Or perhaps, technically, serial rapist/attempted killer, since he wasn't convicted of murder (only rape and attempted murder)?

Again,

Whatever.

He was a pretty bad guy, and he was sentenced to about 200 years in prison. And he almost escaped from the courtroom by concealing a homemade handcuff key in his mouth! He got out of his handcuffs and shackles,  jumped out of the second story of the courthouse and nearly made his escape. But, was nabbed by some deputies or police officers before he got very far.

Jach the Unbeliever will be scoffing, but this is one instance where I have other, possibly more "acceptable" (in Jach's estimation) corroborating participants* to back me up  (look at the footnote, this time) on this one.

Let's call him J. He is known as the X Street Rapist (I'm not going to tell you which street). He is thought to be responsible for several to many disappearances/murders, mostly prostitutes and or homeless women who worked or lived on the streets near his XX Street house (different than the street in his moniker). Several victims who somehow got away reported that they were taken to the house where he did his business with them.  It seems incredible to me  that a person would do this in the home of his wife and children.

He apparently liked to use hammers on his victims. There's a gruesome article written by J's cousin that describes (among many other things) the events of  the night he abducted, raped, and tried to kill a young prostitute. He hit her repeatedly in the head with a hammer, stuffed her in a garbage bag, and threw her into the trunk of his car. He drove to a pier, and dumped her into the bay. She survived by playing dead. When he drove away, she was able to tear her way out of the bag and get to shore. She was found walking down the street wearing nothing but high-heeled shoes.  

J once showed me and the Daminator his hammer collection, when we were dinner guests at his house.

How did this happen, Vance? How does one get invited to a serial killer's house for dinner? How does one get a look at the collection of murder weapons he favors?

Simple.

Siouxie.

Siouxie worked with his wife, C, at an Elementary School in San Bruno. So did Mashie, but Mashie didn't really work with C. C was a sort of clingy type who seemed desperate to make friends with anyone who'd give her the time of day. I can't blame her, after finding out about her story, and thinking about what that must have been like. She knew some unsavory things about J, like he'd spent time in the Big House for sexual assault before they were married (begging the question...), and probably harbored a lot more suspicions about him in time.

Anyways, C invited Siouxie and the Daminator to dinner at her house. Siouxie begged Mashie and me to accompany them to their evening at the Xs'. Not knowing any better, except that neither Siouxie nor Mashie was all that enthused about C, we went.

We got a tour of the house, a look at J's hammer collection, and a couple glasses of chianti (but no fava beans or liver).  J barbequed some chicken, and we talked about not much, out on the deck while he BBQ'd. We had dinner, and the women probably talked about work while the Daminator and J talked sports. I probably drank more chianti. The evening was OK-ish, and we probably hung in there until 10 or 11 pm. On the way home, we probably discussed how weird it was.

I remember the house very well. It was a bizarre place. There was no drywall inside on the main floor, and the bare studs, wiring, plumbing and all was visible. Instead of windows, there were white opaque skylight bubbles hung in such a way that they'd open on hinges at the top to allow the bottoms to let in air. Of course, if you are going to rape and murder people in your house, having no clear windows is the way to go.

Anyways, C was more than a bit over the top. She was decidedly not the type we wanted to befriend. She seemed a little too desperate, and she gave us a queasy feeling about getting involved with her. Oddly enough, we thought J the more normal of the two. Who knows? Maybe he is.

Somehow, Mashie and I ended up at their house another time, again for dinner. Siouxie and the Daminator weren't there this time. Mashie was preggers with our older daughter, and C was obsessed with the fact, so that may be why. (C gave us the creepiest children's book I've ever seen, called "I'll Love You Forever". )

This time, we were taken upstairs to their bedroom (apparently the only room with a TV) to watch the "super-romantic" and lavish wedding they had on some Japanese guy's boat. I remember that they had to change out the tape in the VCR, and I got a look at the label.  C explained sheepishly that J reviewed "adult movies" for SCREW Magazine (or some such). She mentioned that some of them are "a bit raunchy". It was an S&M tape fo'sho.

They were very proud of the fact they had their wedding on a yacht. They barely knew the boat's owner (I think J worked as a contractor for him), and, as I recall, they had no friends or family of their own attending. It was a strange scene, J and C celebrating with a boatload of Japanese people. And no, for those whose minds have drifted off this way, they did not propose having kinky sex with us.

Some time later, Siouxie begged us once more to help her out. She needed to stay in C's good graces for work reasons, but was smart enough not to want C to know where she lived. Siouxie and Mashie concocted a "Host a Murder Mystery" dinner at OUR house. (There's another question going begging...) This was the 90s, so it was popular to have people over for a dinner and to act out a murder mystery. Everyone is assigned a part, and you try to figure out who dunnit. Mashie had gotten the "How to Host a Murder" game as a gift, and it was decided, for some mysterious and delusional reason, that it would be a good idea to do this with the Xs.

Guess who ended up being the "murderer"?

Yup. The murderer.

One of the strangest parts of the evening was that C appeared at our door dressed to the nines, wearing an evening gown and a full length fur coat.

Didn't she know fur = murder?

That was the last of my dinners with a serial killer. Only I didn't know he was one.

Some years later, I picked up the paper and saw J's face on the front page.  There were articles about how he'd been convicted of being the X Street Rapist. I probably screamed like a little girl. I told Mashie to come check it out, and then we called Siouxie and the Daminator to tell them they'd had...

Dinner with a Serial Killer!

Some time after these events Mashie found out that another friend of ours knew J and C, too. She wasn't friends with them, but one of their daughters was a school friend of their daughter. She had spent several overnights in the house where J assaulted and possibly killed women.

Yikes!

So there it is.

Kew, huh?


*See my dissertations on "The Truth" in my previous posts, such as "Bumpass Hell" and others you'll have to glean for yourself.  Jesus. You can participate just a bit, for cryin' out Pete's sake.