A Thirst for Blood by Ray Biondi

Author:Ray Biondi
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504049047
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2017-08-12T04:00:00+00:00

Late afternoon, January 28

Bill Roberts ran Richard Chase’s name through our Records Section and came upon his arrest on a concealed weapons charge in 1973 for carrying a .22 handgun, and for being a missing person at American River Hospital in 1976. In the latter listing he was described as being a “violent mental patient.” The record also revealed that Chase had been a suspect in a 1968 shooting. Further arrests—in 1967, 1968, and 1971—were for possession of marijuana.

Roberts also found information on Chase’s 1977 Pyramid Lake arrest. By calling the Department of Justice he was able to come up with the address Chase had given at that time: the same Watt Avenue street address, but Apartment 15. Christ, Roberts thought, three doors away.

Roberts found an old booking picture of Chase, who at the time had a mustache and goatee. The detective got a copy of the sketch of our clean-shaven suspect. With a black marker he drew in the same facial hair on the suspect, and he put them side by side. The similarity nearly took his breath away.

By now Irey, finished with Nancy Holden (who identified our artist’s sketch as Rick Chase), was also convinced that Chase might be the East Side killer.

They were both flying high now, fueled by their own adrenaline and feeding off each other’s excitement.

I should point out that Irey and Roberts, having been detectives for only two months, were still rookie detectives (but not rookie cops).

“We’ve got him!” Irey told me excitedly. “This is our killer! There’s no question in my mind.”

Detective Roberts, having been out once before to try to talk to Chase and, since then, coming up with a record that involved guns, shootings, and mental-hospital stays, was just as enthusiastic.

Chase did look like a good suspect, sure, but that was all he was as far as I was concerned. I had been through scores of possible suspects who, one way or another, could prove they had nothing to do with the murders. Maybe I was a little down because we had already cleared two “weirdo” surefire suspects that very day.

“Just go out there and see if he’ll come downtown for an interview,” I suggested. “If he won’t, see if he’ll give you a statement there.”

If the tone in my voice had registered, they would have received this subliminal message: Easy does it.

Another new detective, Ken Baker, happened to be in the office. Irey and Roberts recruited him to join them, though Baker wasn’t keen on the idea. He sincerely thought he had better leads to check out. He was nearly dragged out of the office by his two colleagues.

All three of them had already banged on many doors in the Watt Avenue area during canvas operations after the station wagon had been found at the Sandpiper Apartments. Undoubtedly someone had been at Chase’s door. (We would later find out that the door of Apartment 15 had been knocked on more than once, though never answered.)

So I had no reason to be certain that we’d found our murderer.

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