Chapter 10

Day 10 (17 October 2018) Notes for Taxi Driver Task Force initiated on 8 October 2018

(Detective Trish Cavanaugh Badge 3446 SFPD)

A quick reminder that this entry for day 10 of 17 October 2018 will include the victim case files for Taxi Driver killer Victim number 11 only.

Readers of my journal should be aware of the fact that I have fallen behind in the presentation for shared reading. I never intended for my comments to be anything more than a notebook for my sorting out of thoughts and to keep the faces and the stories of all the victims fresh in my memory and easy to access when I had a question of comparison to a previous case attributed to the Taxi Driver killer.

It was beginning to look like my progress with the case was similar to my progress with changing my teenaged daughter’ attitude about life in general and me in particular. I thought she had made an interesting transition from chasing six foot seven black high school jocks to considering a vocation in the church serving God.

In all honesty, I felt that both of those directions were a bit over the top and in my estimation “fringe” thinking. I know I talked like I was two bit whore sometimes but underneath it all, I was about as “Vanilla” as a girl could get and not be a nun.

My sex-obsessed ex-spouse would often come home a little tanked and wanting to show me some new “trick” he had seen on the internet or read about in some book.

Sometimes, I would be amused and willing to try it out, but I generally didn’t like that sort of depravity because I was a bit uncertain about my core characters beliefs and that was the kiss of death in law enforcement work.

Sure, I had gotten boozed up a few times and I had spread my knees or gotten down on them probably more than the average female of my age and looks, but I never did anything for money or for some favor like a lot of other bitches that seemed to have that first on their priority list. It was probably why I was still only a Detective second class and younger less successful female cops were getting promoted above me all the time. Of course, shooting your almost retired partner in the ass was definitely not a career making move.

When my daughter put away her rosary beads and brought home an eighteen year old fresh Marine recruit just getting ready for an overseas deployment, I was ready to push the panic button.

Douglas was a nice boy and he showed me his tricks for doing push-ups to the maximum of results and minimum of effort. I didn’t like it when he kept pushing down my ass with his bare hands to get me to have a straight line stance, but I understood he was doing it for my own good and not getting his rocks off. Unfortunately, after he had done it a few times, all I could think about was if my Diane was getting full advantage from his high-spirited enthusiasm for unmarried sex. I was ready to jump in and help out if she was still on the close to God routine just to keep Douglas with fond memories of his homeland and the female companionship he could count on in the nocturnal hours.

He slept over in the spare bedroom and I thought I heard him tip-toeing down the hallway to my Diane’s room but I just turned over and went back to sleep.

I sensed someone in the room right next to the bed and hesitated to reach for my .22 LR until I made certain it wasn’t my Diane.

“It’s only me, Mrs. Cavanaugh, Diane has got a bad headache and she told me to ask you for one of your sleeping pills.”

The poor boy seemed distressed and I could tell it was probably enhanced by his not getting any nookie from Diane as she was at that time of the month and she was always a finicky child. I told Doug to stretch out on my bed and I would be right back. I removed the handgun and went and delivered a pill to Diane that I know would have her counting sheep before I got back to the eighteen year old Marine waiting patiently in my bedroom. I figured this was a good opportunity for me to tutor the young man in some of the tricks my ass-hole of an ex-husband had made me learn for his selfish pleasure.

I think I was on my fourth orgasm when I just surrendered and stop counting because there was nothing I could teach this nine inch wonder.

He asked me about the pictures of the dead girls scattered around my room and I explained that I was on the Task Force assigned to catch the serial killer and he seemed to find that so inspiring that he flipped me over on my tummy and started to show me how to build up my resistance to taking it in the prone-bone position. It was a position I had relatively little experience in and when he was finish with me, I felt like a school girl that had fallen in love.

Anyway, he was shipping out the next day, only it wasn’t on a ship, but on a chartered flight all the way over to Kabul, Afghanistan for some “boots on the ground” chasing the bad guys fun and games. I have to admit, I was more than a little afraid for him because he was so young and it would be such a waste if he stepped on an IED or got taken out by some fanatic of an extremist.

Strangely, he wrote some letters to my Diane and she never even slowed down long enough to read them. I kept reminding her and she kept ignoring me until I saw them sticking out of the trash can in the bathroom on a humid Saturday night.

I have to confess that I read all those letters with their repetitious phrases and poor grammar and I started to get that tingle down below where all lust and love begins. I started to write back to poor Doug and pretended to be Diane just pining to get some his nine inch therapy. He told me all his secrets and I made up some of my own in a Diane-like conversational style devoid of any adult logic. In a way, I guess I was obsessed to some degree but I understood my shortcomings and I did my best to not get too deep into the mess I had created of my own volition.

That weekend, I made a point of stopping at the cop bar near the station and picked one of the rookie cops from another station to “help me” hang my bathroom curtain over my window because I thought a peeping Tom was scoping out my booty. The boy’s name was Danny and I almost made a mistake and called him “Doug” but I caught myself in time and we cuddled in bed a short time later. I was completely abandoned and submissive knowing that my Diane was the convent getting some spiritual reinforcement for her sinful ways.