Saturday,October 1, 1994
Kim pulled herself from the depths of a minor stupor caused by the Xanax. Once again she was surprised she’d slept as long as she had. It was almost nine.
After showering and dressing, Kim took Sheba outside. Feeling guilty that she’d been denying the animal her normal wandering, Kim was patient with the cat and allowed her to go wherever she wanted. Sheba chose to go around the house. Kim followed.
As Kim rounded the back of the house she suddenly stopped, angrily put her hands on her hips, and let out an expletive. She had discovered she’d been targeted by the vandals or the animal which the police had warned her about. Both her trash containers had been tipped over and emptied. The trash had been strewn around the yard.
Ignoring Sheba for the moment, Kim righted the two plastic garbage cans. As she did so she discovered that both had been torn at their top edges, presumably when their covers had been forcibly removed.
“What a pain!” Kim exclaimed as she carried the two containers back to where they normally stood next to the house. Looking at them more closely, she realized that she’d have to replace them since their covers would no longer be secure.
Kim rescued Sheba just before she was about to take off into the woods, and carried her back into the house. Remembering that the police had asked to be called if she had any trouble, Kim called the station. To her surprise they insisted on sending someone out.
Using a pair of gardening gloves, Kim went back outside and spent a half hour picking up all the trash. Temporarily she put it back into the two broken containers. She was just finishing when the Salem police car arrived.
It was a single officer this time who Kim thought looked about her age. His name was Tom Malick. He was a serious fellow and asked to see the crime scene. Kim thought he was making more of the incident than it deserved, but took him around behind the house and showed him the containers. She had to explain that she’d just finished picking everything up.
“It would have been better if you left everything the way you found it until we’d seen it,” Tom said.
“I’m sorry,” Kim said. She couldn’t imagine what difference it would have made.
“Your situation here fits the same scenario that we’ve been seeing in the general area,” Tom said. He squatted down next to the containers and examined them carefully. Then he looked at the lids.
Kim watched him with mild impatience.
He stood up. “This was done by the animal or animals,” he said. “It wasn’t the kids. I believe there are teethmarks along the lips of the covers. Do you want to see?”
“I suppose,” Kim said.
Tom lifted up one of the covers and pointed to a series of parallel grooves.
“I think you should get more secure containers,” Tom said.
“I was planning on replacing them,” Kim said. “I’ll see what’s available.”
“You might have to go out to Burlington to find them,” Tom said. “There’s been a run on them in town.”
“It sounds like this is developing into a real problem,” Kim said.
“You’d better believe it,” Tom said. “The town is in an uproar. Didn’t you watch the local news this morning?”
“No, I didn’t,” Kim said.
“Up until last night the only deaths we’ve had with this affair have been dogs and cats,” Tom said. “This morning we found our first human victim.”
“That’s awful,” Kim said, catching her breath. “Who was it?”
“He was a vagrant who was fairly well known in town,” Tom said. “His name was John Mullins. He was found not far from here, near the Kernwood Bridge. The gruesome thing was that he’d been partially eaten.”
Kim’s mouth went dry as her mind unwillingly called up the horrid image of Buffer lying in the grass.
“John did have an ungodly blood alcohol level,” Tom said, “so he might have been dead before the animal got to him, but we’ll know more after a report from the medical examiner. The body went to Boston in hopes that we can get a lead on what kind of animal we’re dealing with from toothmarks on bones.”