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EROTIC COUPLINGS

The Cold Case of the 69 Murder

The Cold Case of the 69 Murder

by Ronde
19 min read
4.76 (3300 views)
rich and rochellecold case
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Harry London, a detective retiring from the Knoxville, Tennessee Police Department, frowned when he handed me the file.

"This one's from 1995, though the actual murders happened about ten years before that. I doubt you're going to get anywhere on this case, but it'll give you and Rochelle something to think about. Damnedest case I ever got. Couldn't get any information about the victims so I couldn't tie them together or to anybody else."

Harry grinned then.

"Well, they were tied together, sort of. The way they were buried, the guy was lying on his back and the woman was on top of him with her face on his crotch and her crotch on his face. They'd been buried that way for about ten years or so according to the Coroner at the time. All the techs found were bones. There was no clothing, no jewelry, and nothing wrapping either body.

"I couldn't figure out how they got that way unless they were posed in that position when they were buried. Whoever killed them had to have had a real beef against them because he had to dig a grave a lot longer and deeper than he'd have had to if he'd just stacked them in it like you'd think would be normal.

"Anyway, you can read the file and look at the evidence and you'll see why I hit a brick wall when I did my investigation. Maybe you and Rochelle will see something I didn't."

}|{

If you haven't read my other cold case stories, I'm Richard Owens, a detective for the Knoxville, Tennessee Police Department and mostly I work on solving the backlog of cold cases in the department files. Rochelle is a writer who makes her living writing murder mysteries based on real crimes. We met when my former employer, the Nashville, Tennessee Police Department, agreed to let her tag along on one of my cases.

After I got a job as a detective for the Knoxville Police Department, we started living together, but we've both been divorced so while we love each other, we're not ready to make things permanent, at least not for a while. One divorce hurts pretty bad and we want to be sure this time.

}|{

I took the file home with me and gave it to Rochelle to read while I took a shower and changed clothes. When I came back into the living room, Rochelle was grinning.

"For the killer to pose the bodies like this, he must have had a real bone to pick with the couple, so to speak."

I chuckled.

"That's what Harry thought too. He just couldn't figure out why. Since he never was able to identify either body, he couldn't find any motive for them to have been killed, much less a reason why they ended up being buried like that."

Rochelle grinned again.

"Maybe the killer was jealous. I mean, if a man caught his wife in that position with a different man, it might tend to make him at least a little upset. I wonder if that was the motive? The killer comes home and finds his wife with the guy's dick in her mouth and the guy with his face buried in the wife's crotch. He shoots them both and then buries them in that position out of spite.

"Or...maybe it was the wife who finds her husband like that and decides once was one time too many. She shoots them both and then buries them like that out of spite."

I shook my head.

"Well, there was no evidence that they'd been shot. It's possible, but you'd think a bullet would have at least nicked a bone or two on one of them. The coroner didn't find that on either skeleton.

"I'm thinking the killer was probably a man. According to the coroner's report, the guy would have stood about five-eleven and would have weighed between one-eighty and two hundred. The woman was a little smaller, but not by much because she was pretty tall for a woman. She was about five-nine. I can't see you carrying a man or a woman that big a hundred yards off a dirt road up in the mountains. That's where the grave was found.

"This college kid decided it would be a great idea to start growing marijuana out in the woods. The location was a state park so he couldn't be connected to it if anybody found his garden. If he was found there by somebody else, he could say he was just out walking through the woods and stumbled across the plants.

"He'd found a little clearing that he figured was big enough. When he scraped off the surface trash, he found what he thought was just a dirty white rock. He dug around it a little so he could pull it out of the ground. He figured out after a couple more scoops that his rock was a human skull.

"The kid decided maybe planting marijuana there wasn't such a good idea after all, but not telling anybody what he'd found was probably a worse idea. He drove back home and called the Knoxville PD. He admitted why he'd been digging there, but the officers couldn't find any marijuana plants so they said he wouldn't be charged. After the officers confirmed they had a buried body, then radioed for the coroner and his crime scene team and a detective.

"The crime scene techs began digging up the body, but after they lifted up the skull, they found a pelvis under it. When they finished, they had two skeletons, a female on top and a male under her. There were no clothing remnants or anything else found in the grave so apparently both victims were naked when they were buried. Based upon the state of the bones, the coroner at the time estimated they'd been buried for about ten years and he estimated their ages at early twenties.

"That was in 1995. By then, it was routine to take samples for DNA, so the coroner took samples from both sets of bones and had them sequenced in hopes of someday identifying the victims. Harry sent the DNA sequences to CODIS in 1999, but didn't get a match for either skeleton."

Rochelle flipped through the coroner's reports for a while, and then looked up at me.

"There's no cause of death for either body? All it says is undetermined."

"There's no cause of death because the coroner couldn't find one. Both their hyoid bones were intact, so neither had been strangled and he couldn't find any evidence either one had been shot, stabbed, or beaten. That pretty much left death by poisoning, a drug overdose, or maybe smothering, but since he had only the bones to work with, he couldn't find any evidence of those either. In his notes, the Coroner wrote that it could very well have been death by natural causes except he couldn't imagine that two people would have died of natural causes at the same time. He only ruled it a homicide because of that and because there was no way both people could have buried themselves. Somebody else had to do it."

Rochelle closed up the file then.

"I'll see what I can do tomorrow. Right now, we need to eat dinner. You go light the grill and cook the brats while I get everything else ready."

}|{

We'd finished dinner and Rochelle had finished cleaning up when she said she wanted to try an experiment. When she came out of the bedroom, she was naked.

Now, Rochelle is a woman with a very active imagination. That's what makes her a successful author and also makes her so helpful in solving our cold cases. She can think up fifteen ways a murder might have happened and then spends her time trying to prove which one is correct. I spend my time trying to disprove every one. Between the two of us, we usually arrive at the answer.

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Her experiment this time was to re-enact the scene of the murder.

"Rich, you lay down on your back. I'm going to get on top of you, just like the pictures in the case file."

I chuckled.

"I don't see how that's much of an experiment. We've done that before."

Rochelle grinned.

"I've done you and you've done me, but we've never done it at the same time and we've never done either on the floor. That's what I want to try out."

Like I said, Rochelle has a vivid imagination.

}|{

The next morning, Rochelle sipped her coffee and then frowned.

"You know, it's hard to believe that nobody could identify the two victims. Somebody had to have reported them as missing."

I shrugged.

"Probably, but with nothing to go on except bones, Harry didn't have much of a chance."

Rochelle frowned again.

"Well, I'm going to try to find out today. Harry didn't have NameUS when he started on the case and probably didn't have time to go looking when it became available. That's where I'm going to start."

I kissed Rochelle goodbye and went to the station. I wasn't sure what I was going to do when I got there. I was in the same boat as Harry. Without at least one name, there wasn't any place to start.

As I've written before, solving any case requires three things, things I call "MOM". That stands for method, opportunity, and motive. With just bones with no obvious indications of cause of death to work with, I had no method to work with. Without at least one name, I couldn't start looking into motive or opportunity.

I was looking at the pictures when I thought maybe I could look into one motive because of the unusual way in which the victims were buried. That possible motive came to mind because there are more than a few homicide cases every year involving prostitutes.

Prostitutes make easy victims. About any other woman, unless she knows the killer really well, won't voluntarily go anywhere with him. She'll either run or fight and either might have left traces on her skeleton like a blow to the head or some cracked ribs. The killer doesn't have to do anything to get a prostitute in his car except open the door.

It was very possible the female was a prostitute. Maybe one of her johns had talked her into giving up the business and moving in with him. Her pimp had killed them both and then buried them like that.

Prostitutes sell their bodies, but they're still women and like all women they talk about everything under the sun. If a prostitute was going to run away from her pimp, at least one other prostitute would know that. To curry favor with her pimp, she'd tell him and her pimp would tell the other prostitute's pimp. That pimp might have buried them like that so when they were found it was sure to hit the newspapers. The other prostitutes would see what happened to a girl who tried to leave a pimp's stable.

One thing I could do was to check the police files for the names of Knoxville prostitutes back in the early 1980's. Most prostitutes are arrested at least a few times and some are arrested often enough that it's almost like a family reunion when they show up in handcuffs at the station. Everybody knows everybody else.

They wouldn't stay there long because their pimp would come and bail them out. Very few of those prostitutes ever served any jail time either. When they went to trial, they'd plead guilty and they'd be sentenced to time served and a fine. The pimp was happy to pay the fine because with a popular girl he'd make that up in less than a week.

Those arrest files would have actual names, addresses at the time, and the age of the prostitute. Since that time period was at least forty years ago, I didn't hold a lot of hope for finding one to talk to. Most prostitutes start out in their early twenties and after forty years they'd be in their sixties if they were even still alive. Prostitutes don't have a long life expectancy. As they age, they stop earning much money for the pimp. While he might keep them in his stable, he doesn't' support them and they start to get depressed. That depression causes drug ODs to get a lot of them before they're forty. They also don't have good medical care so things like AIDS kill some of them. Still, it was something I could do and maybe check off one of my "MOM" boxes.

After six hours of checking arrest records for that time and then cross referencing those records with the Tennessee DMV, I had three names. All three had renewed their driver's license in the last two years so they were probably still alive. Two had also changed their last names and I figured that was because they'd figured out a way to get out and then had found a guy and married him.

I decided it would be the easiest to talk with Betty Adams first. She was still single or at least she'd never changed her last name, so there wouldn't be any of the, "My husband doesn't know and I don't want him to find out" excuses for not talking to me.

Betty Adams lived in a duplex in one of the nicer suburbs of Knoxville. It looked to me like she'd gotten out of prostitution soon enough that she could still have a career. It took a couple minutes after I rang the doorbell before the door opened, and the woman I was looking at wasn't sixty-eight. She looked more like mid thirties.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a Miss Betty Adams, but I think I must have the wrong side of the duplex. Sorry to have bothered you."

She smiled.

"You have the right duplex. I'm Veronica Adams, Betty's daughter. Who can I say wants to speak with her?"

"I'm Detective Rich Owens. I'm a detective for the Knoxville Police Department, but I'm not here for anything having to do with your mother, so please hear out what I have to say. I just thought she might have some information about a murder case I'm working on. The murder happened sometime between 1980 and 1985."

Veronica frowned.

"You mean when Mom was a prostitute, don't you?"

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Well, that was a surprise. I nodded.

"Yes, but I'm not here about what she was doing then. All I want to do is ask her a couple questions."

Veronica frowned again.

"I'll go ask her. You stay here."

She shut the door in my face and I heard the click of the deadbolt. A couple minutes later, the door opened again.

"Mom says you can come in as long as I'm there with her."

I don't like questioning people with someone other than another detective in the room. Since Veronica was Betty's daughter, Betty might not tell me something important to my case out of embarrassment or in order to protect her daughter. On the other hand, I figured I didn't have anything to lose and maybe something to gain. If I suspected Betty wasn't telling me the truth, I could always have her brought to the station for another interview.

I smiled at Veronica.

"Fair enough."

}|{

I had expected Betty would try to downplay her past and tell me she'd never been a prostitute or heard of any prostitute just disappearing. That wasn't what she did at all.

Betty began by telling me that her daughter, Veronica, knew everything about her past so I didn't need to be cautious about my questions.

"Detective Owens, I left that life behind me before Veronica was born. When she was old enough to understand, I explained what I'd done and why she should never fall into the same trap. The only fear I have is that she's not married yet and I'm afraid I might have scared her out of having a relationship with a man. Now, what do you want to know?"

I explained my case and ended with my theory about the female victim possibly being a prostitute.

"Were there any prostitutes that just seemed to disappear around that time frame?"

Betty smiled.

"You mean besides me? No, none that I know of, but then I never worked the street. I was what today you'd call an escort. Back then, I was a call girl. I had a pimp who told me what I had to charge and would be there to take care of a date if things got out of hand, but basically I made my own arrangements by telephone. I was very careful about the men I went with and they were very careful about me. Many were pretty high up in business and the society of the day and they didn't want their name in the papers.

"That's why I was able to get out. This one guy...well, he's dead now so I guess I can tell you his name. Did you ever hear of Archie Nicholson?"

I had. Archie Nicholson had been a real estate developer back in the 1970's and 1980's and had made a ton of money by turning undeveloped land into subdivisions. His son, Ted Nicholson, now ran the business and in addition to new development, was in the business of managing rental properties owned by Nicholson Properties. According to the last article I'd read about the real estate business in Knoxville, Nicholson Properties had a net worth of about thirty million.

"Yes, I know of him."

Betty smiled.

"Well, Archie's wife only stayed with him for his money, or so he told me, so he came to me about once a month. He was in his sixties then, so it wasn't really sex except for one time. I did what I usually did with him, but that time, he wanted to try. That one time was enough, I guess, because two months later, I thought I was pregnant. It had to be Archie because that was the only time I hadn't made a john use a condom. I thought Archie was too old to get me pregnant. When I told Archie, he said it was his responsibility and he'd take care of it.

"The way he took care of it was to pay my pimp twenty thousand dollars to never speak to me or look for me again, and Archie told him if he ever did, Archie knew some people who would make sure he regretted it. Then he gave me this duplex. On paper, I bought the duplex from him for ten dollars, but it was basically free because Archie gave me the ten dollars. He also put me on his payroll as a property manager but I never did any real work. He just did that to give me health insurance as well as a paycheck so that with the rental income from the other half of the duplex I'd have enough money to live and raise Veronica. I still get the rental money from the other half of the duplex and Veronica has a job, so we're doing all right.

"When Veronica was born, Archie set up a trust fund for her that paid her way through college. He also transferred ten percent of the stock in his business to her with the provision that she wouldn't sell it until she graduated from college. As far as I know, none of that was ever made public. Only his lawyer knew about it. His lawyer was the one who told me about the trust fund and stock anyway.

"Veronica knows all this. When Archie died I thought she deserved to know who her father was and what he'd done for her, so I told her. I also told her not to ever tell anyone because the papers would just make a really nice older man into a man who cheated on his wife with a prostitute.

"He wasn't that kind of man at all. He was just a man whose wife didn't love him and he came to me to get what he was missing. I think in his own way he loved me. I know he loved Veronica. He called me about her all the time and he went to her eighth grade graduation. Veronica is an accountant for Archie's son now, and I think that's because Ted knows about her. He called her the day after she graduated and offered her a job. That's another reason I told her about Archie. Veronica is a pretty girl and she attracts men. I didn't want her to get involved with Archie's son since he's her half brother."

I asked Betty if she'd even heard of a former prostitute leaving the business and she said she hadn't.

"No, but they used to disappear all the time. I don't have to tell you how most of those girls end up, even the call girls. After they turn thirty or so, they don't get much business. A lot of them are messed up in the head and start taking drugs and their pimps throw them out on the street. The lucky ones find a man who doesn't care about what they've been and they go on to live the life they should have chosen in the first place. The others...well, I'd imagine many of them are in the county cemetery."

Betty thought for a moment and then said, "You might see if you can find Jesse Simson and Marjorie Dix. They were street girls I knew who got out about the same time I did. I have no idea what happened to them though."

}|{

I didn't have time to go back to my desk and look for the two women, so I went from Betty's duplex to home. When I got there, Rochelle was cooking something on our stove. I walked up behind her, cupped her right breast, and kissed her on the back of the neck.

Rochelle shivered a little at the kiss.

"You know that makes me get all wooky. If you want your dinner on time, you better leave me to my cooking."

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