Briery Knob -- Chapter 7 -- A Malevolent Meeting
When she left the prison after the interview, she wanted to leave Missouri as fast as possible. She had two more tasks. Find somewhere to type up the interview and take it back for Franklin to sign before she left town.
About three miles from the prison, she found Brad Van Zee's law firm on North Mine Street stuck in between a laundromat and "Elmer's Buffet." The sign said Elmer offered an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet for $9.95. Melissa didn't stop to wonder about a Chinese restaurant called Elmer's.
"Hi, I'm Melissa Powers," she said to the gum-snapping receptionist as she stepped across the threshold.
"Can I help ya?" inquired the apparent refugee from the Redneck Diaspora.
Pulling her notes from her briefcase, she glanced at the name plate on the front of the desk.
"Yes, Ms. Cauley. I just...."
"Linda, dear. Linda Lee."
"Yes, ma'am...Linda. I wonder where in town I can have my notes typed up. Is there a stenographer near?"
"Heavens no missy. This here's Potosi. You'd have to go to St. Louis for a stenographer."
Melissa rubbed her temples; suddenly she had a headache.
"But if yan'to, I can type 'em up here and now."
"Huh?" Melissa questioned quizzically. "What did you say?"
"I said if yan'to, I can type up your notes."
"Would you? I'll be glad to pay you. How much."
"Ah, no charge honey." She winked and added in a conspiratorial tone, "Us workin' girls hafta stick together."
"I can't thank you enough. I'm going to..." Melissa paused and pointed, "Elmer's...?"
Seeing the furrowed forehead of a perplexed woman, Linda Lee volunteered, "A long story, honey. But a good one. I'll tell you some day."
An hour later Melissa walked in just as Linda Lee pulled the last sheet from the IBM Selectric.
"Wow. Honey. That's something right interesting. You know. I remember when that Jew got kilt. But I hadn't heard about the others."
"A long story," offered Melissa. "But a good one. I'll tell you some day."
Laying a $10.00 bill on the desk, she took the documents, slid them into her briefcase, shook hands, walked outside and headed to Potosi Correctional Center and Joseph Paul Franklin.
"How did it go?" Melissa's boss asked the morning she returned to the office.
"I was terrified," stressed Melissa. "I was holding my breath and trying not to act like I was afraid."
Whatever Melissa did, it worked. She got Franklin's confession. For seventeen years Franklin refused to talk about the murders. Sending Powers to speak with Franklin, a "ladies man", worked too well.
Getting a confession in the Cincinnati case Powers' primary goal remained Melissa's primary goal. . What she got was a slew of revelations about homicides stretching across ten states.
"Something fascinated me about Franklin," Powers told her boss while they poured coffee. "He was flat and didn't feel bad. He felt justified in killing those victims. He claimed he had a purpose and reason for murder."
Melissa's hands began to shake as the memory of the meeting with pure evil rose in her throat.
"I was scared the entire time," she continued. "Once, he looked at me and told me he could kill me before the guards could unlock the door."
Her boss leaned back, flicking imaginary lint from his tie.
"I was ready to leave when Franklin said, 'I committed the Rainbow Murders, you know.'"
Melissa remembered the murders and the rumors which flew when the girls' bodies were found.
One story pinned the killings on a local. The gossips said the girls died because angry residents didn't want the Rainbow group choosing their area for the gathering.