The Forgotten Girls / Chapter 1: The Forgotten Girls

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

JaNon Taylor was watching a rerun of Eddie Murphy's Harlem Nights while two of his girls were on their knees in front of him taking turns sucking his dick. JaNon was a pimp breaking in two new recruits. One was white with dark hair and blue eyes. The other was black with golden brown skin, dyed blonde hair, and hazel eyes. They were naked, slim with nice perky tits and flat bellies. He noticed their nipples were hard, pointy, their titties jiggling as they took turns stroking his cock with their mouths.

He said to the blonde, "You gotta take it deep, baby. Shove that cock down your pretty little throat. If you gag, all the better." He moaned as she did as he directed. "Yeah, like that, hot stuff. Let me feel your tonsils with the head of my dick."

Before switching to the brunette, he told them to both lick his cock so their tongues touched. He told them to kiss one another to make it hotter.

To the brunette: "Spit up on it, sugar. Yeah, like that. Rub it up and down my shaft with your hand before you start sucking. Lube that motherfucker up."

The blonde started to play with herself, her small hand rubbing vigorously against her bare pussy, her other hand squeezing her left tit. He could smell her pussy. It was sweet, popping with her juices. He was tempted to stick his cock in it but he had to make sure his girls knew how to give a professional blow job. The better part of their jobs was going to be giving head.

JaNon prided himself on the skills and quality of service his girls provided his clientele. His girls weren't some cheap ass, dope riddled street trash. They were pretty, clean, and skilled. He had a stable of women from young pussy like the two he was training to mature mothers in their thirties. He catered more to average businessmen in town overnight or men who wanted an hour or two of the kind of sex their wives or girlfriends wouldn't perform. His girls worked out of a group of hotels near the airport. He had people he paid that worked the front desk and cab drivers who referred clients. His girls didn't stand on street corners.

The brunette was definitely showing promise. Her dark pink lips were swirling around his cock while her right hand milked its root. He groaned when he felt her left hand juggle his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze.

The blonde was exotically beautiful with her haunting hazel eyes. He watched as she made herself cum, her hand still petting her pussy as she whimpered, her eyes closed, her tongue wetting her lips. JaNon felt his balls fill and he knew he'd cum soon. He told the girls to quickly take turns sucking his cock, giving it a few strokes and licks before passing it off to the other.

He watched them as they tried to out-do one another, competing to see who could make him cum. He loved seeing it. They played with his balls, took his cock deep in their throats, and spit up on his shaft until it glistened. He loved a competitive spirit!

He stopped them and told them to open their mouths like baby birds. He took turns tapping the head of his big, black cock against their lips, sometimes jamming it down their throat to hear them gag. All the while he was stroking his cock, milking it.

With a grunt he spurt cum all over their faces, getting gobs in their open mouths. When he was done, he sat back on the sofa and told them to lick and kiss his cum off their faces. Stroking his cock, he watched the two young girls kiss each other, licking off his clumps of cum from each other's face.

Yeah, he thought they were ready.

He took a shower and told the girls to shower in the other bathroom. He got out, slipping on a terrycloth robe after drying off when he heard the doorbell ring.

The girls finished showering before he did and were naked in the living room watching TV. He told them to get dressed and to stay out of sight while he went to answer the persistent motherfucker ringing his doorbell. He looked through the peephole and groaned. It was that big Samoan cop and his sexy sidekick. He opened the door.

"Detectives." He nodded his head in greeting. "What can I do for you today?"

Detective Josefa "Joe" Teo was taller than JaNon even standing on the threshold a few inches higher than the front stoop and JaNon was not a short man. The detective was a big, muscular son of a bitch. He reminded JaNon of actor Jason Momoa with shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail and a neatly trimmed goatee and mustache.

Detective Charlotte "Charlie" Parker was one hot bitch. He always admired her. She was tall with curves in all the right places. Her long hair was a tawny blonde, always slightly rumpled as if she just had sex. Her eyes were a hazel color that almost glowed like pale jade. Every time he looked at her full pink lips, he wondered how they'd feel wrapped around his cock.

Her voice dripping with charm, Charlie asked, "Can we come in?"

He gestured with his hand and told them to have a seat in the living room.

JaNon lived in a suburb north of Milwaukee in ranch style mid-century home. It was typical of that period with a vaulted ceiling in the living room and nearly floor to ceiling windows that followed the slant of the roof. He had the home remodeled into a showcase with a beautiful brick patio in back and an in-ground pool. An eight foot hedge surrounded the back of the property offered much needed privacy. An attached garage insured further privacy for him to bring his girls home without neighbors seeing them.

His two guests sat on the gray leather sectional where he'd been sitting while his girls sucked him off and made out with each other. He smiled at the thought as he took a seat on the other section of the sofa.

"So what can I do for the Milwaukee PD today?"

Charlie showed him a photo of a young black girl. Her eyes were closed, her coloring off, almost bluish. She was a pretty girl with long braids that fell over her shoulders. She asked him, "Ever see this girl?"

He looked closely at the photo and said, "Why? Is she from the neighborhood?"

Joe chimed in, "No, she was found dead in Wick Park this morning. Someone stabbed her multiple times and left her posed on the bleachers by the baseball diamond. She was sexually assaulted."

JaNon threw the photo down on the coffee table as if it were on fire. He said, "What the fuck? Why would I know this little girl? I don't know girls that young. That's some sick shit."

Charlie said, "Let's not dick around, JaNon. We know you like to recruit younger girls to make some of your perverted customers happy. We think these girls were killed after being assaulted by someone who gets off on it."

"Fuck you, assholes! I don't go for girls that young. That's some sick shit! My girls come to me voluntarily and I take good care of them. None of my girls has ever been hurt or killed. I make sure of that. Why are you fucking with me over this shit? You know I didn't have anything to do with this."

Charlie put the picture away as she said, "But you might know someone who likes girls this young."

JaNon calmed down a little. "I don't know any sick motherfuckers like that. I know they're out there but they don't come to me for business. And why would they kill the girls? To shut them up? Nah, y'all are barking up the wrong tree here. This is the work of some sick kiddie diddler and not a guy who wants to pay some hot chick to suck his dick."

Charlie pulled a business card out of her back pocket. She wore tight jeans with a caramel brown turtle neck that was molded to her big tits. Over it she wore a well-worn denim jacket that resembled a leather biker jacket. He looked down at her feet. She wore some kickass brown alligator skin cowboy boots that looked like they'd hurt like hell if they connected with his shin.

She said, "Call me if you ever come across some ‘kiddie diddler' in your line of work."

He picked up her card and asked, "Can I call you for other reasons?"

She smiled at him. "Like?"

"Maybe to invite you out for a drink or something."

She chuckled, her laugh low and throaty. It made his cock tingle.

"You can try."

He snapped the card with his index finger and said, "I might just do that." He gave her a wink before he noticed the dark look on Joe's face. It made him wonder if the big detective was sticking it to his hot partner.

The two detectives got up and Charlie said, "Thanks for your cooperation, JaNon. It's appreciated."

"No problem, Detectives." He walked them to the door.

As they walked down the driveway to their unmarked Ford Explorer Joe asked Charlie, "You think he's telling the truth?"

Charlie looked back at the house and said, "Yeah. He might recruit teenagers but not girls that young. He wouldn't work girls like that at the hotels where he does business. They'd stand out like the proverbial sore thumb. But he might encounter someone who likes black teenagers who look young for their age. He'll probably call if he comes across someone."

They got into the Explorer and Charlie said, "Let's go see Jodee Walker."

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Jodee owned a small grocery store in the neighborhood where the dead girls lived and went missing. She was a huge black woman who was both feared and revered by the neighborhood. She knew most of the kids in the neighborhood and gossiped with customers. She had become an invaluable informant for Charlie and shared information with the police because she wanted to clean up her neighborhood.

They parked around the corner from Jodee's and Charlie glanced around the area before getting out of the Explorer. During the day it was a quiet, tree lined street with homes that looked well kept, many of them duplexes. But at that time of day the neighborhood started to come to life. The traffic was heavier, music thumped loudly from passing cars, and dope dealers were loitering on the corners. A group of them dispersed when they saw the unmarked Ford Explorer and the two detectives.

Jodee's store was in a Moorish Revival style brick building built around the time of World War I. It was a long commercial building on the first floor, covering most of the short end of the city block, with apartments above. Arches over windows, fancily patterned brickwork, ornate wrought iron details, and columns with concrete urns on top were some of the Moor influenced elements. Jodee's store took up two-thirds of the first floor with a cellular phone store and a beauty salon flanking it.

There were three black girls in Jodee's store, all about the age of their victims. Charlie hoped she never had to see them again. Giggling, they exited the store, a bell dinging when they opened the door.

Charlie grabbed a Coke out of one of the coolers and Joe grabbed an iced tea. They paid for their purchases, Jodee's son taking their money. He gestured with his head towards the back of the store and said, "She's in back."

The store's interior had been bastardized over the years with most of the original Moorish charm gone. Slate tiles covered the floor and the walls were painted soft orange. Posters advertising a variety of merchandize where hung askew, an obsessive compulsive person's nightmare. The colorful signs and neon advertisements gave the interior a carnival-like air.

Charlie and Joe walked through a doorway tucked between shelves of toilet paper and the coolers. They passed a bathroom door, its interior amazingly clean, and knocked on a door at the end of the hall. A low woman's voice called out for them to enter.

Jodee sat behind a desk and was nearly as wide as it was. She was an attractive black woman with beautiful long straightened hair and a flawless complexion. She wore subtle makeup and her fingernails were manicured, the length not excessively long. Two computer monitors were on the desk and Charlie knew one showed four different camera angles in the store and two more cameras at each exterior door. The other was for work and Jodee was entering something in an accounting program.

The back of the store was once a two bedroom apartment. Jodee didn't live there, the space used for storage, office, and kitchen space. Her office was in what had once been the living room with beautiful natural woodwork, a faux electric brick fireplace, and hardwood floors. Her desk was across from the fireplace with two upholstered armchairs facing it. File cabinets lined the wall behind her.

She gestured for Charlie and Joe to sit down in two chairs facing her desk. She stopped typing and turned to face them.

"I imagine you're here about Aisha Johnson."

Aisha was their latest victim. The twelve year old girl was found that morning propped up in the baseball diamond bleachers at Wick Park where another girl was found in May 2018. Aisha was described as a fun and friendly girl who befriended girls less fortunate than her. Those friendships exposed her to some dangerous elements from relatives who were addicts or dealers, sexual predators, thieves, and gang members. She attended Milwaukee College Prep, a private charter school, and lived with her mother in a flat on 41st Street, downstairs from her maternal grandmother who owned the duplex and not far from Jodee's store. She was a very pretty girl with long braided hair but young looking for her age due to her height. She was still wearing her school uniform when she was found: a plaid skirt that came to her knees and a white, short sleeve blouse worn under a navy blue cardigan with white sneakers and navy ankle-high socks. When she was found her white blouse and shoes were blotchy red and pink from blood.

Charlie asked, "Have you heard anything?"

Jodee sighed, her big chest heaving like massive boulders during an earthquake.

"There are plenty of perverts in the neighborhood. Men and teenage boys who prey on young girls because they're easy game. It's like living on the African savannah with the lions circling young vulnerable gazelles. It makes me sick. I warn the girls to stay away from them and to travel in groups rather than alone. Better yet, take their dogs with them. I try to teach them to be aware of their surroundings and to run if something doesn't look or feel right."

She paused to stare at her hands. Charlie was sure the big woman was trying to compose herself, that inside she wanted to lay her head down on the desk and cry.

Jodee finally said, "I heard talk of an older white man in the neighborhood who has been seen admiring young black girls. He lives near Washington Park in one of those big old houses there. His grown son lives with him. The old man is retired but the son works. They catch flack from the neighborhood for simply being white so I don't know how reliable the information is."

Joe asked, "Do you have a name?"

Jodee sighed again. "Let me think...it's something that ends in ‘itz' and strikes me as Jewish. Liebowitz? I think his first name is Karl like in Karl Marx. He's chubby with a pot belly and white hair. He doesn't come in the store here but I've seen him when I go to the library on Sherman Boulevard and Lisbon. He often hangs out there during the day. Seems to leave folks alone as far as I could see but you never know."

"The son is in his thirties. Good looking guy with dark hair and dark eyes. The girls in the area go ape shit for him but he ignores them. I seldom see him. From what I hear he goes to work, hangs out somewhere else, and comes home to bed. He and his dad aren't particularly close. He just makes sure no one breaks in and kills his dad."

Joe asked, "Anyone else seem a little shady to you?"

"Oh lordy, chile! There are so many shady characters around here I wouldn't know where to begin. There is an older black man who lives down the street from here who is friendly with the young girls. He offers to buy them soda or candy bars. As far as I know he has never tried to touch any of them or invite them to his home. For all I know they remind him of his little girl who was hit by a car in the ‘90s and he thinks they're sweet."

Charlie asked, "Do you know his name?"

"Arthur Jefferson. He lives in that single family home to the south of here on 41st. The house is painted gold with green trim. Always reminds me of the Green Bay Packers when I see it. Looks like it should have a giant ‘G' at the roof eave."

Jodee continued, her voice sad, "Aisha used to come in here all the time. You know she and her mother live just a few blocks from here. They lived downstairs from her grandmother who owns the house. Nice family. Grandmother and mother always worked, never sucked off the government tit. Taylor, Aisha's mother, got pregnant with her when she was in high school. Got involved with some cute boy who wanted nothing to do with her when he found out she was pregnant. Doreen...that's the grandmother...helped Taylor raise the girl while Taylor went to school to be one of those people who takes blood from patients. She works at Saint Joe's Hospital."

"Aisha might have been too nice. She liked to befriend less fortunate girls. Taylor would take Aisha and her friends to thrift stores and rummage sales and buy them clothes. Unfortunately some of those friends have shady relatives and neighbors. Wouldn't surprise me if that was how Aisha got spotted by whoever killed her. She was a pretty thing, always impeccably dressed. She liked to go to the library even on the weekends."

Charlie smiled at her and said, "Thanks, Jodee. We appreciate this information. God knows we want to catch this guy before any other girls get hurt. If you think of anything else, you know where to find me."

Jodee stood up and she was halfway between Charlie's five-ten and Joe's six-six. She had to be around six feet tall or slightly taller.

"Thank you, detectives. I hope you catch him soon. I would love to see little girls walking down the streets around here without worrying about getting attacked or killed."

Charlie shook Jodee's big paw and said, "We want the same thing, Jodee."

Joe took her hand next, his making Jodee's look delicate. He said, "Thanks, Jodee. I hope we can create that world for kids one day."

They took their beverages with them as they exited the store, popping the tops so anyone watching would see that they made a purchase and didn't go fishing for information.

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Charlie and Joe stopped at Arthur Jefferson's house. It wasn't difficult to find because it was just as Jodee described it - a gold and green house that looked like a tribute to the Packers. Not that the siding was painted the same bright gold. Jefferson's home was more a dark yellow with dark green trim.

Arthur answered the door dressed in baggy chinos and a stained white T-shirt. Leather slippers completed his outfit. He was of average height with a belly that made him look seven months pregnant. His face was droopy, like an old hound dog's, with sad brown eyes and silvery stubble. When they showed him their badges he let them into the house.

The interior smelled of bacon and spinach with the underlying scent of cigarette smoke. The house was ill kept, a typical bachelor's pad with dirty walls, shabby furniture, and papers strewn across the dining room table. His only prized possession was a brown recliner and a big screen TV.

He gestured for them to sit on the sofa. A black Labrador Retriever was asleep at one end of the sofa.

Arthur said, "Don't mind him. That's Otis."

He called, "Otis," and the dog perked right up. He looked Charlie and Joe over and then went back to sleep.

Smiling, Charlie said, "My name is Detective Charlie Parker and this is Detective Joe Teo. We are questioning people in the area about the girls that were killed. We were told you talk to some of the young girls in the neighborhood, offering them treats. Have they talked about anyone bothering them?"

Charlie didn't want him to think they suspected him. Serial killers loved to insinuate themselves into the investigation, often appearing like they are helping the police.

"Oh my! I cry every time another girl is found. There have been far too many."

He plucked at some imaginary lint on his pants leg. Just when they thought he wasn't going to say more he piped up. "The girls used to be friendly and enjoyed the pops or candy bars I bought them. They remind me so much of my Ella when she was that age. She was killed by a hit and run driver back in '93. She was ten years old. Now the girls don't trust me and don't want anything to do with me. I can't blame them, in fact I think it is a good thing, but it hurts. I'd like to see the streets safe for them."

Charlie asked with her pen poised over her notebook, "They didn't mention any pervert talking to them, scaring them?"

Arthur sighed. "Not to me. They stay away from me. I haven't even overheard anything like that."

He looked up at them with tears in his eyes. "I hope you don't think I'd hurt those girls. I knew Aisha and some of her friends. They sometimes went into the shops around here. She was always sweet and well behaved. Now her friends were a little more brazen, had smart mouths on them. Totally different league than Aisha. I'm not sure why she hung out with them."

Charlie asked, "Did you know any of the other victims?" She pulled out a packet of photos. They were taken of the girls when they were alive, most of them off their Facebook pages. She set them on Arthur's coffee table like playing cards. "Chyna Cameron?" She pointed at the first victim's picture.

Arthur picked up the photo and looked closely at the very pretty ten year old. She had long braided hair that she wore in a ponytail over her right shoulder. She was dressed in flowered leggings, a tight fitting dark pink tank top, and a purple sweatshirt tied around her waist. Her sneakers were pink and white, glittery. She sat like she'd seen hundreds of professional fashion models pose with her legs spread open and her arms hanging between them, her elbows resting on her thighs. She was sitting atop a picnic table in a park. She had a sulky look on her face as if she was trying to look sexy.

Charlie used the picture specifically because it was meant to look provocative. She hoped the pose would inspire a sexual response from the viewer.

Arthur just looked sadly at the picture. He shook his head. "I don't think I ever saw her. I would have remembered her if I had. She is way too young to be posing like that for pictures. She should be smiling and playing on the swings or jumping rope."

Charlie slid the photo of Kendra Mathis in front of him. "What about Kendra Mathis? Do you remember ever seeing her?"

Arthur held the photo and looked closely at the lovely eleven year old. She was smiling as she lay on the grass, her long braided hair fanned out around her. She was dressed in a deep turquoise blue tank top and cute flowered shorts. Her long shapely legs were bent at the knee and slightly open. She was holding a little orange and white kitten against her budding breasts. The photo was taken from above her by someone looking down at her.

He pointed at the photo and said, "This one I remember seeing around the neighborhood. I think she lived in those apartments above the supermarket on 42nd and North. I can't say for certain though. I remember seeing her in the store there. She was usually with friends, laughing and cutting up. She had a sweet laugh." He smiled. "Such a horrible shame for her to die so young. What is wrong with people?"

Charlie gently asked, "Did you ever talk to her or interact with her?"

"I probably offered to buy her and her friends some candy. I do that rather than just offer kids candy. How do they know what's in it if I pull it out of my pocket? That way they know I'm not trying to hurt them. She and her friends probably accepted my offer. I don't remember them not doing it."

Next she showed him a photo of Tori Williams. Tori lived further south of where Arthur lived and probably didn't hang around his neighborhood. Like the other girls, she had long braided hair. Hers was pulled back at the sides. She wore a halter top and a short denim skirt. She was posing with her hand on her hip in the kind of a pouty stance so many professional models used. Instead of sneakers, she wore a pair of tan sandals. Tori's body was never found and they weren't even sure she was one of their victims but she was in the same age group and went missing like the others and she had an active Facebook page along with other social media accounts.

Arthur fingered the photo. "No, I don't remember this one. Pretty thing, isn't she? They grow up too damn fast, way before their bodies catch up to their brains." He had tears in his eyes. "Poor things."

The next photo was ten year old Sheena Davis. She was the first case Charlie and Joe started working. Her body was found propped up against a tree in Washington Park. They made the connection to the other girls and started investigating them as a group. Sheena was dressed in a short flowered sundress with spaghetti straps and pink sandals. She was sitting in a wicker chair outdoors somewhere, her legs crossed, her head slightly bent, her long braids draped over one shoulder. Her fingernails and toenails painted bright pink.

Arthur looked up at them after looking at the photo. "This was the last one, wasn't it? Sheena Davis?" He looked back at the photo. "Lovely little girl. She used to stop in at Jodee's store down the block. I think she had a friend who lived near here. Don't recall her name. She wasn't as pretty as Sheena. She looked more her age with shorter pigtails and plainer clothes. I bought them sodas one hot summer day. I remember that."

Charlie pushed Aisha Johnson's photo towards him and said, "What about our latest girl, Aisha Johnson? Did you know her?"

"Yes, I remember seeing her in the neighborhood. She was usually wearing her Catholic school uniform: plaid skirt and white blouse. Not the sexy style you see hootchie mamas wearing for Halloween. Her hemline came to her knees. It was more a little girl style of clothes. But sometimes she'd wear little skirts, shorts, or tight jeans. Trying to look sexy before her time, you know? Then she would look like a totally different girl. I remember buying her some candy a few times at Jodee's."

Joe leaned forward and softly asked, "When was the last time you saw her?"

Arthur thought for a while, closing his eyes as if trying to picture it.

"It was sometime in the summer. She was with two friends at Jodee's. They were wearing little shorts and tiny tops. Giggling uncontrollably over this or that. I bought them each an ice cream bar. They were sweet. Thanked me and skipped off full of giggles."

Charlie gently asked, "Did you ever invite any of the girls back to your house for a treat? Maybe to meet your dog?"

He pushed the photos away and said, "No. Never. What sort of man do you think I am?"

Charlie brought her hands up as if to gentle a feisty horse and said, "No offense intended. I know older people get lonely and like some company. Maybe want to protect young girls from the predators out on the street, treat them to some soda or ice cream. Plus you have this handsome dog. I bet the girls love him."

As if the dog knew they were talking about him, he popped his head up. Arthur smiled at him.

"Yeah, the girls love him. Always tell me to buy him a rhinestone collar. When I'd take him for a walk, they'd always stop to pet and hug him. He loves it."

Charlie gathered the photos back together, putting them in order by the dates the victims went missing. As she shuffled through them she asked, "Where were you yesterday, Mr. Jefferson?"

"Me? I went grocery shopping at the Miller's. Then I went to pick up a prescription at Walgreens. I've got the receipt from Walgreens. Not sure I have any from the other store. Came back here and fixed myself some spinach greens with bacon. You don't think I had anything to do with her murder, do you?" He looked appalled.

"You understand, Mr. Jefferson, we have to exclude people who may have known the girls. Weed folks like you out so we know you didn't do it. It's just a part of our job."

He nodded. "Sure. I understand. Routine procedure like on TV."

Charlie smiled. "Yes, just like that."

Arthur got up and went to get the receipts. Charlie followed him, leaving Joe alone in the living room.

The rest of the house was pretty much like the living room and dining room. The kitchen sink was filled with dirty dishes. The stove top was splattered with food stains. A dirty pot with some dried spinach in the bottom was on the stove. A group of prescription bottles were on the counter. While Arthur went into the bedroom she took photos with her phone of the labels. She recognized some heart related meds and a bottle of baby aspirin.

He came out of the bedroom, a little surprised to find her in the kitchen. He held out the receipts and she followed him back into the living room. Joe was sitting in his spot on the couch but she knew he'd been snooping.

The time on the receipts was right before and after Aisha went missing. It didn't mean he couldn't have taken her but it seemed unlikely because he probably would have had her in the car when he picked up the prescription. Charlie glanced at the prescription. It was for metoprolol, a blood pressure medication. She handed him back the receipt.

"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson, for your help. It is much appreciated. Do you know anyone else who might know these girls? Any boys or men interested in them?"

He pocketed the receipt and said, "You might want to talk to Jodee at the store on the corner. She might remember if they came in her store. There is also Ben Carter who owns the BC Market on 42nd and North. A lot of kids go in there for candy and pop. He or one of his cashiers might remember them."

They thanked him again and left the house.

On the way to the unmarked explorer Joe asked, "So what do you think?"

Charlie combed her fingers through her tousled hair, a move Joe always found sexy.

"I'm not one hundred percent sure but I don't think he did it. With the heart meds he takes, I don't know if he could handle the physical part of subduing a girl that age who'd probably fight like a wild cat, stab her repeatedly, and then transport her body to the parks and pose them. I honestly don't think he has a sexual interest in the girls. They might just remind him of the daughter he lost all those years ago."

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They stopped at the BC Market and talked to the manager and available employees. They remembered seeing some of the girls, a few were regulars in the store, but they couldn't recall the last time they saw them. They agreed that Arthur Jefferson was notorious for buying pretty young girls treats like candy, pop, and ice cream bars. No one thought he was sexually interested in the girls.

Their next stop was at Karl LIebowitz's house on Sherman Boulevard. His house wasn't quite as grand as Jodee made it out to be but was a lovely old stucco home probably built around World War I like many of its neighbors. Back then nearby Washington Park was the hub of the western part of Milwaukee and was home to the City's zoo, a band shell, a manmade pond with boat rentals, and a golf course. The one hundred thirty two acre park was designed by Frederick Law Olmsted, the same architect of New York City's Central Park. The homes around it represented the neighborhood's once sense of grandeur. By comparison to some of the homes there, Liebowitz's was rather modest with only three bedrooms.

As they climbed the steps to the front door, Charlie marveled at how lovingly it was maintained. The stucco siding was painted eggshell, the trim a dark russet red. The lawn was well kept and flowers still held their blooms along the house's foundation. The front door had an elaborate storm door with ornate security black bars. The interior door was painted the same russet red as the trim on the house. Joe rang the doorbell and they could hear it chime inside the house.

An old man's voice called out from a speaker, "Who's there?"

Charlie looked around and saw the security camera tilted down in their direction in the corner of the porch ceiling. She held up her badge and Joe did the same as she said, "Milwaukee Police Detectives Parker and Teo."

"What do you want?"

"We just need to talk to you, Mr. Liebowitz. It's about those young girls that were killed in your neighborhood. We are questioning people in the area who might have seen something."

She heard multiple locks on the door slowly click open and the interior door opened. Karl Liebowitz stood there in khaki chinos and a light blue button-down shirt. His steel gray hair was kept short, just a stubble and he had a receding hairline. Like Arthur Jefferson, his face drooped as if it partially melted. He was stooped over but was never a tall man. Now he stood about five feet seven inches tall.

Through the storm door he said, "I don't really have anything to tell you, detectives. I didn't know the girls."

Joe looked around and said, "Unless you want to call undo attention to yourself, why don't you just let us in so we can talk in private?"

The old man sighed and unlocked the storm door. Joe opened it and the old man stepped aside so they could enter the house.

Walking through the small front hallway into the large living room, Charlie could see the house was beautifully furnished with well cared for antiques and worn Turkish rugs on beautiful hardwood floors. The colors were rich, jewel tones like red, emerald green, gold, deep sapphire blue, and sable brown. Around the corner from the living room was a formal dining room just as beautifully furnished.

Karl gestured for them to sit on the sofa while he sat in a plush armchair. They sat at an angle on the sofa so they could face him.

Charlie pulled out photos of the girls again and handed them to Karl. She went through the same questions as with Arthur Jefferson, gently prodding him for answers and closely watching his response.

Unlike Arthur Jefferson, Karl had seen all of the girls. He often hung out at the library a few blocks away from his house and saw them there.

He tapped Chyna Cameron's picture as he said, "She was a little cocky but understandably so because she was so pretty. Her two friends weren't as pretty and seemed to look up to her. She was too mature for her age, wearing clothes that were more suitable for a teenager or young woman. She was friendly enough from what I saw though and polite to her elders."

Joe asked, "Did that include you too?"

Karl looked sadly up from the photo and said, "I sometimes say hello to the kids. Always with a polite smile. I always hope if I look like a nice old man they won't try to rob me. Sounds jaded but I've been robbed on the streets more times than I care to count. It's gotten so I hide my credit card and driver's license in my money belt and don't carry much cash around in my pocket. Gave up on wallets last year after the last one was taken from me. Those things are expensive to replace."

He said similar things about the other three girls but when he came to Aisha Johnson, their latest victim's picture, he said, "This one was sweet, usually dressed in her Catholic school uniform, plaid skirt and white blouse. She was kind, always with girls who were worse off than she was. I always imagined her growing up to be a teacher or social worker. She seemed to want to help people. Honest girl too."

He wiggled around in his chair as he held onto the picture.

"An older black lady was using one of the computers at the library. She had her purse on the floor next to her. One of this girl's friends grabbed the purse and took it down an aisle of books. She started rifling through it, looking for the wallet I suppose. This girl told her to stop and put it back. When the girl didn't want to, this girl grabbed the purse and took it back to the lady. She told her she found the purse down one of the book aisles and told the woman to check to make sure everything was there. The friend stood about a dozen feet away giving her a dark look. The lady thanked her when she discovered nothing was missing. She took out a five dollar bill and offered it to the girl but she refused to take it."

He looked up at them with tears in his eyes and said, "Why would someone hurt these girls?"

Charlie held her hand out for the photo and said, "That is what we are hoping to find out."

She put the photos away in the envelope where she kept them and slipped them back in her jacket. She said to Karl, "Is your son home?"

"No, he won't be home until 11:00 p.m. or later. He works second shift at the Harley Davidson plant in Menomonee Falls as an electrician. Not sure what he could tell you about these girls. He never goes to the library and seldom hangs around the house."

Charlie smiled and said, "We heard the girls and ladies around here get all googly-eyed when he's around. I take it he's a handsome guy."

Karl chuckled for the first time since they arrived. "That he is. Handsome Jewish boy with dark hair and dark eyes. I guess the teenage girls and ladies find him attractive but he doesn't have anything to do with them. He usually dates girls he meets up in Menomonee Falls, Sussex, and Germantown near where he works."

Charlie asked, "How long have you lived here, Mr. Liebowitz?"

He thought for a minute and said, "It belonged to my wife's parents. They bought it sometime in the ‘50s. When they passed away, she inherited it in the ‘70s. We thought of selling it and buying a home somewhere else but it was in such fine shape and held so many happy memories for Linda that we couldn't bear to part with it. So we have lived here since 1976 I believe. The neighborhood wasn't the greatest back then but it was still relatively safe. There were still white folks living in the area but when crime got worse and people got poorer, white folks started moving out in droves, selling their homes in a panic. It started getting really bad after 2000 and has gotten considerably worse ever since. My son tries to convince me to move but I figured I'd live here until I die. I'm just grateful that he stays here with me. I feel much safer with him around."

Joe asked, "No pets?"

Karl looked like he was going to cry again as he said, "I had to put Ruby down earlier this year. She was a red Doberman, a beautiful girl. She kept me safe when Jacob wasn't home. She got cancer and we tried everything to save her even though she was twelve years old. When it got too bad I had her put to sleep. Haven't had the heart to get a dog to replace her."

Charlie said, "I am so sorry to hear that. They do become family, don't they?"

"They certainly do."

He stood up and left the room. A couple of minutes later he came back with a framed picture and showed it to Charlie and Joe. It was a photograph of his Ruby, a sleek looking red Doberman, her ears and tail docked. She was standing at attention like a soldier.

Joe said, "She definitely was a beauty, very regal looking girl. Nothing like my pit bull Daisy who is more like a clown. I don't think I'd ever get Daisy to pose like that. She's too busy being goofy."

Karl gazed lovingly at the photo and said, "Pit bulls are wonderful dogs when they are trained right. Very loving and loyal dogs. Even when they are trained to fight, they can still be sweet, loving dogs."

Joe smiled. "Yeah, Daisy is a rescue. I found her abandoned in an empty house."

Karl smiled at him. "I'm glad you saved her, Detective."

Charlie held out her business card and said, "Call me if you can think of anything that could help us find the killer. Even if you overhear other girls talking about suspicious men. We'd really appreciate your help."

He took Charlie's card, his hands shaky, and said, "I will do that, Detective. I hope you find him soon. I'd hate to see another pretty girl with so much potential killed."

"We are doing our best, Mr. Liebowitz, especially with the help of people like you who remember the girls."

He said as he walked them to the door, "Anything I can do, just ask me. You know where to find me."

When the two detectives got into their Explorer, Joe asked Charlie, "So?"

"I don't think he did it. Again that strength thing. I can't picture him being able to hold onto struggling girls even at that age. I don't think he ogles the girls at the library. I think he's just a people watcher. I bet he watches everyone regardless of their sex and age."

Charlie and Joe questioned some of the librarians at the library the girls frequented. Charlie had them look at another set of photos of the girls while they were still alive, these less provocative than the ones she showed Arthur and Karl. The librarians they spoke to remembered seeing all the girls at one time or another. They all agreed they were pretty, polite, friendly, and neat. They couldn't remember anyone who bothered the girls or seemed overly interested in them.

After they got something to eat, Joe and Charlie bothered a few more pimps. They did it not because they thought the pimps had anything to do with the girls' murders but because they wanted to keep them on edge so they'd report any men who had a penchant for young girls to stop the harassment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*

That night Charlie sat at her desk in Homicide, her hair a rumpled mess, her clothes wrinkled. It was almost 1:00 a.m. and she was exhausted. She'd been awake since 5:00 the previous morning when she went for her morning run. She got the call about Aisha's murder around 7:30 a.m. when a groundskeeper found her body when he reported to work. She and Joe talked to Aisha's mother Taylor who was distraught already because of her missing daughter and then she collapsed when they told her she was dead. Aisha's grandmother Doreen went to the morgue for the identification.

The mother wasn't able to tell them much they didn't already know from when her daughter went missing. Sensitive Crimes questioned everyone Aisha knew - friends, teachers, neighbors, and family. She and Joe planned to go back and question all of them again after they had the autopsy and lab results, which they hoped to get later that morning.

Charlie had been in the office since 11:30 when she sent Joe home to look after his dog Daisy. She took the photos of the dead girls to forensics to have them checked for prints so they'd have Arthur Jefferson and Karl LIebowitz's fingerprints on file.

She looked up Jacob Liebowitz's driver's license record. He was thirty-two years old, a former Army vet who trained as an electrician. He had a couple of unpaid parking tickets on his record, all given near downtown Milwaukee bars, and one speeding ticket for going ten miles over the freeway limit on southbound I-45. He was probably on his way home from work. That stretch of freeway had a sixty five mile per hour speed limit near where he worked but a mile or so south of there it went down to fifty five. The Milwaukee County Sheriff liked to station a car right near there to catch motorists who didn't slow down soon enough.

Other than that, Jacob Liebowitz didn't have a record. She even checked the National Crime Information Center (better known as NCIC) and couldn't find any offenses. Not that it was a deal breaker, the NCIC database was woefully behind on criminal records. Municipalities were responsible for adding information to the database and many considered it a low priority.

Charlie looked at Jacob's driver's license photo. He was a good looking guy and she could see why women found him attractive. He was the type of guy even young girls would flirt with. She'd still like to question him even if they just learned if any of the girls flirted with him. It'd tell her they were willing to flirt with strange men.

As she submitted the report and printed it out to add to the physical murder book that she and Joe still liked to keep, she thought back to how they wore themselves ragged trying to find the killer after he killed Sheena Davis. Now the pressure would really be on with a new girl dead. She was hoping it would force the powers that be to form a task force to focus on the murders, maybe even call in an FBI profiler.

She and Joe had questioned hundreds of people. They developed some good informants in the process like Jodee at her store, cashiers at gas stations, a librarian at the library where all the girls went, and hairstylists who specialized in braids since all their victims had them. They thought maybe the braids were a common element, that maybe someone who saw them having their hair styled or maybe worked at the salons admired them there. Unfortunately not all the girls had their hair done at the same salon. Aisha's aunt did her hair and didn't work at any of the salons where the other girls went.

Aisha was last seen leaving Jodee's store where her mother sent her around 4:00 to buy milk. Jodee's daughter remembered her paying for the milk and a chocolate candy bar but Aisha never made it home. The jug of milk was found a block away, dropped on the ground near the curb. Her body was found propped up on the bleachers by the baseball diamond in Wick Park on 50th and Vliet Streets near the Milwaukee Public School administration building and about a mile from where she was last seen. A groundskeeper found her when he reported for work.

All the girls were "tweens" between the ages of ten and twelve. They were little fashion divas, obsessed with clothes and how their hair was styled. They were all on social media, plastering selfies of themselves all over their Facebook pages, posing like super models. The girls grew up in single parent households. Their mothers all worked and left them alone for long unsupervised stretches of the day. And all the girls lived in the same police precinct and went to nearby schools. It was possible the killer found them on Facebook, learned a great deal about them from the information they shared, and targeted them because they were often unsupervised. He probably lived and/or worked within a mile of their homes.

Their boss Lieutenant Hammond "Ham" Brunner was breathing down their necks. He and the brass above him were feeling the heat from City Hall and the news media. Despite the fact that Charlie and Joe had been actively working the cases as soon as the girls were found, the press was labeling the victims "The Forgotten Girls". Activists were insisting the police department wasn't diligent in their investigation because the girls were black. If it wasn't for Charlie and Joe connecting the other girls to Sheena Davis, they wouldn't realize they had a serial killer on their hands.

Charlie signed-off on the computer. She grabbed her denim jacket and slipped it on. As she lifted her right arm to slide it into the sleeve, she sniffed her pit and made a face. She was in dire need of a shower.

She drove home with her radio blasting to keep her awake.