At 6:30 AM the next morning, I was woken by my phone ringing. Keith. “Morning, Bill. I might have a bit of good news for us. I did a little research online. The building that used to be Allen’s Steakhouse is still in existence. Even better, over the years, it’s been used exclusively as a few different restaurants."It’s Luigi’s Italian Restaurant now. Probably been gutted and brought up to code a dozen times since '76, but the bones should be the same. Wanna go take a look?" “Sounds like a plan,” I replied. “It might be a stretch, you never know. I’ll meet you at the precinct, and we’ll head to Luigi’s when it opens at 11:00.”
I arrived at the precinct at a bit past 7:00 AM. Keith was already there, files laid out on the desk. “I used Google maps to get an aerial view of the restaurant and the land around it , and while we’re waiting for opening time, we’ll compare it to shots from the time of the murder,” he said while sorting the photos. The current shots showed that the woods that were near the then steakhouse, where Melanie’s body had been found had been replaced by a group of apartment buildings, and a wooden fence had been placed between them and Luigi’s. However, the small parking lot in the rear- the spot that had been the employee’s parking where Trisha Moore had parked her car that night, and where Melanie had been grabbed from still remained.
Keith and I made it to Luigi’s right at 11:00 AM. We asked for the owner and showed him our badges. We kept it brief, telling him we were working a cold case from forty years ago and needed to see the rear of the property. He gave us a solemn nod and stayed out of our way.
The old breakroom where Melanie had spent her final minutes was an office now, cramped with filing cabinets and the hum of a desktop computer. But the back door was still there. We stepped through it and out into the parking lot.
“So this is where Melanie made her last stand,” Keith muttered, scanning the asphalt with a professional eye.
While he was taking notes, that cold feeling hit me again—sharper than before. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. Melanie was there, her face totally distraught, tears beginning to form. She didn't speak, but she pointed—a trembling finger aimed at where the woods used to be- the exact spot where her life had been taken so violently.
“I know,” I whispered. The crime reports were something that would stay in my memory for the rest of my life. In fact, haunt me as much as Melanie herself.
She faded away the moment Keith looked toward me. “We’ve got the lay of the land,” he said, oblivious to the chill still rattling my bones, “but not much else.” He was really wrong. How could I tell him that the ghost of our victim was hanging out with us without sounding like a crazy person? Melanie would have to remain a silent partner in her own case.
We drove back to the station in a heavy silence. Keith was frustrated, convinced the trip had been a waste of time. I was just drained—hollowed out by the sight of Melanie’s spirit and the raw pain she still carried forty years after her death. “Melanie, I promise that I’ll find who did this to you, even if it takes me 40 more years,” I silently vowed to myself. “You, your brother, and Trisha deserve peace.”
We got back to the office, and after I don’t know how many hours of going through paperwork, my phone rang-an unfamiliar number. “Detective Jennings? This is Tim Phillips. I was Melanie Taylor’s boyfriend at the time she was murdered. Her brother Mark called me and said that you were reopening the case?” “Yes Mr. Phillips, we are doing a review of the case, “ I told him. “ We’ve talked to Mr. Taylor and Melanie’s friend and co-worker Trisha Moore, who was working with her the night she died. We’re looking to see if anything had come up in their memories over the years.” “I hope you find the SOB,” Tim exclaimed. “Mel was my first love. If things had gone right, we’d probably be married right now and have kids.” As if she had been listening in, Melanie’s form stood next to me. On her face was a look that I had seen many times before: the look of a woman who was totally and completely in love with her man, even if it was from beyond the grave. I saw that look a million times on Christie’s face, from when we first dated, till we got married, even during the end of her battle with cancer.
“We had a plan,”Tim lamented. “It was roughly a year until graduation, and both of us would be turning 18 soon after we graduated. Both of us were working, and we were gonna pool our money together, rent an apartment, and move in together while we were going to college. I will never forget the last time I talked to her. She was upset that she couldn’t get off work to go with me to my grandmother’s funeral in Florida. I told her it was OK, and that I would take her out for a romantic evening when I got back. She said that she was holding me to that, and that she was going to get her sexiest black dress ready to go.” With that, I could see Melanie let out a silent laugh, and once again, she faded away.
“It took me a long time to deal with losing Mel,” Tim sighed.” I went to a really dark place, and planned to do something so that I could join her, if you know what I mean.” Yet another victim of the crime. A good cop always realizes that the friends and loved ones of those who have met a violent end are victims as well. I told Tim that we would do what we could, and that seemed to satisfy him as he hung up.
On my way home after the day’s events, my brain was buzzing with questions. Was Melanie appearing to me real, or my imagination because I was getting so wrapped up in the case? Were we ever going to solve this? And most importantly, what kind of sick mind brutally rapes and strangles an innocent 16 year old who had so much going for her in life and so much more ahead of her?
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