CHAPTER 5

The next day, a body hanging over a fence post at the edge of town was identified as Angela’s, who had been eviscerated. With scant information, sheriff Jim Greenwood suddenly had to deal with three killed and dismembered woman as well as an incensed and terrified population. The sheriff received word that the community had taken notice of the visitor and had expressed concern that he might be the person he should be keeping an eye out for. Other than the fact that the pastor’s wife and a parishioner were both churchgoers, the other ladies had no obvious link to one another. The prostitute was an isolated incident with no obvious relationship to the other women. Unless all three could be traced to the stranger.

The pastor was working in The back feeding his animals when the sheriff arrived at the pastor’s house by motorcycle. He attracted the pastor’s notice, got off his horse, and walked over to the neighborhood minister of the gospel. The sheriff greeted the pastor by extending his hand.

The preacher inquired, “What can I do for you, sheriff?” He set his feed on the ground while sweat was streaming from his brow.

“If it’s okay with you, I have some questions for you.”

The priest questioned, “Is this related to the girl they found dead on the fence?”

The female? Sheriff enquired. He was taken aback by the pastor’s conversational style. She wasn’t a church member, was she? Every Sunday, I see the family there.

“I suppose so, yes,”

And you are unaware of her name?

The pastor answered, “I don’t know the names of everyone who attends church.

Thomas Johnson, who farms south of the town beside the river, is the father of Angela Johnson.

The pastor answered, “Yeah, I am aware. He was defending himself. I simply don’t know the names of all of his children; do you?

The sheriff took a moment to think while standing. “No, I don’t actually, I’m sorry. But why did you think I was here to discuss her?

Why else would you go out asking inquiries about anything, I don’t know; it just happened.”

The sheriff enquired as to how the victim of your wife’s murder was faring. The preacher took a deep breath. Not too well, was his response.

“Losing your wife and now a parishioner must be difficult. Since you work in the comfort industry, it would appear that you are the one in need of comfort.

The pastor retorted, “I keep busy, it gets my mind off of it.”

“I have a different query. Did you happen to observe that stranger that some residents of the town claimed to have seen hanging out near the church?

The pastor had to be careful with his comments. Indeed, I did see him. Have you had a chance to chat with him?

Indeed, we had a talk. Do you recognize his name?

Yeah, the pastor said, “he claimed his name is Bohdan.” “Bohdan? That name is strange.

The priest remarked, “I think that sounds east European.” What did you discuss?

Well, mostly small conversation.

I’m interested to see what kind of small conversation this is.

“He inquired about the church, whether I was the pastor, and other such things.” What did you tell him, then?

The pastor said, “I informed him I was the pastor and he was welcome to come to church on Sunday.”

The sheriff questioned, “Anything else?” No, that’s pretty much it.

Although the sheriff was aware that the pastor was lying, he refrained from confronting him. He knew the pastor would be sympathetic because his wife had recently passed away.

The sheriff continued, “You know I have no leads on the killing of your wife. “Do you suppose this Bohdan might be connected to it?”

The pastor responded, “Why would I assume that?”

Nobody I can think of had a reason to kill your wife, and no one knows him. The timing is questionable. Did you get a sense of his personality from him?

The pastor knew Bohdan had slain both his wife and Angela Johnson, and while he wanted to tell the sheriff what he knew, he also feared for his safety. He appeared typical to me.

The sheriff said, “I want to talk to him; if you see him again, can you send him down to the jail?”

If I see him, I’ll tell him, the pastor said. I have to resume feeding my animals.

I’m only doing my job, sorry to inconvenience you,” the sheriff stated. Returning to the main portion of the town, he mounted his horse once more and rode off along the dirt road. Bohdan quickly left the home and walked over to the pastor, who was now heavily perspiring outside in the heat.

What was his goal? Bohdan enquired.

The pastor answered, “He wants to talk to you. “Me? Why me?”

You should question him, I’m afraid.

If he wants to communicate with me, “you must have told him something about me.”

“Maybe he wants to talk to you since you are the lone local that nobody knows anything about and three women have died in the past two weeks. If I were him, I’d want to know about you as well. Maybe this wouldn’t be an issue if you didn’t stroll about town acting so scary!

Bohdan answered, “I won’t talk to him.

I couldn’t care less what you do; if I were you, I’d leave town as soon as possible. Your back is being watched, and the sheriff is on you. You’re strategy is no longer working, and I’m tired of your constant death threats. Do it, fuck it, if you’re going to do it.

If you don’t do what I say, I won’t murder you but I will make your life miserable. You must approach the sheriff and request that he leave me alone.

“Are you serious? How could I possibly accomplish that? I don’t require a target behind me.

Then Bohdan had an idea—he needed to blame someone for the deaths, and that person was there in front of him, perspiring profusely.