Gorilla Killer: A True Story of Betrayal, Brutality and Butchery (Ryan Green's True Crime) by Ryan Green

Author:Ryan Green [Green, Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Ryan Green Publishing
Published: 2020-12-05T13:00:00+00:00

I Will Fear No Evil

Santa Barbara was a world away from the hustle and bustle of the big city. It was a town in its own right, with a blossoming population, but none of the wickedness that seemed to afflict other places had spread there. It was a place where folks still felt safe to leave their doors unlocked at night, even if there was a huge transient population moving through. Santa Barbara had become the gateway to Southern California, and all the itinerant farm workers seeking out seasonal work there had to pass through this town on the way. It brought a steady influx of wealth to the otherwise docile community, transforming it into a resort town of sorts, and had resulted in a burgeoning industry for hostels, hotels, and boarding houses.

So far from San Francisco, the locals had heard tell of the Gorilla Killer, but none of them ever believed that he might darken their door. Bad things might happen in big cities full of sin and debauchery, but here in Santa Barbara? It seemed ridiculous.

Will Franey was one of the long-term residents in Mrs Ollie Russell's boarding house. With the odd hours that he was required to keep as a railroad worker, the living situation suited him well. He could sleep there through the day or the night without the risk of interruption, as Mr and Mrs Russell ran a tight ship, coming down hard on anyone disrupting their peace.

He came home from his regular shift as the sun was rising, walking through the silent town and the empty streets, already halfway to sleep. He let himself into the house and slipped silently through the halls, feet guided by muscle memory to avoid the creaky floorboards. His key turned in the well-oiled lock of his door and his eyes were already closed. The outer layers of his work-wear fell away from him, crusted with dust and oil, and he collapsed face-first into the bed.

Exhaustion carried him down into the dark and held him there for a few hours, but it wasn’t nearly long enough. Knocking. Someone was knocking. His eyes felt like they were crusted shut, but with a strain of effort, he opened them to the sunlight streaming in narrow beams through his moth-eaten curtains. He groaned. Who was knocking? Everyone knew his shifts. Why hadn’t Mrs Russell dealt with any callers? Still halfway to sleep, he rose up and fumbled into a pair of trousers, trying and failing three times to get the suspenders untangled and over his shoulders before giving up. Tripping over yesterday’s clothes, he made it to the door and let his head rest against the cool wood.

Bending a little, he forced an eye open to peer through the peephole. There was nobody in the hall. He leaned back, his sleep-addled brain creaking as it tried to comprehend the conflicting information. There was nobody at his door, but somebody was still knocking. Hard and rhythmic. Non-stop.

It took him longer than he’d like to admit to realise that the knocking was on his wall, not his door.

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