Hillside Stranglers by Darcy O'Brien

have no reason at all to question me,” Lissa Kastin said. Her voice was beginning to sound angry, and she made a step backward toward her car.
    “You don’t want to make a scene here,” Angelo said, approaching her.
    “You have no right,” she said, her voice rising.
    “You don’t want to start something here on the street, do you?” Bianchi said. “So you’d better just come along with us, and if everything checks out, we’ll bring you back again. If you haven’t done anything, everything will check out. That’s what we have our systems for. You’d better step over to our car now.”
    Lissa Kastin hesitated, then walked slowly over to the Cadillac. Buono opened the right rear door and ushered her in, sitting down beside her. As they started up, Bianchi clicked the automatic door locks. He made a U-turn, headed east on Franklin, and passed Tamarind Avenue, his own street. At Western, he turned left, and Angelo said:
    “I’m going to have to put handcuffs on you.”
    “You must be kidding! What is this? Why do you guys have to play cops and robbers? You don’t have to handcuff me! I’m telling you, I haven’t done anything!”
    “It’s procedure,” Angelo said. “It’s police procedure.”
    “Wait a minute. There’s no need for you to put handcuffson me.” She lowered her voice. “Look, I’m not going anyplace. You’ve got me. I can’t go anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”
    “We really wish we didn’t have to, Miss Kastin,” Bianchi said soothingly from the driver’s seat. “Believe me, if it were up to us, we wouldn’t do it. But you have to understand, some suspects aren’t nearly as cooperative as we know you’ll be. We’ve had some pretty ugly incidents, if you understand me. Officers have been hurt, you know, just doing their duty. So we’ve evolved these procedures. Because if you make one exception, then the whole system breaks down. We hope you understand.”
    “Fine,” she said, sighing. She leaned forward, and Buono handcuffed her behind her back.
    “I’m double-locking,” he said. “That way they don’t hurt.”
    “This is a bunch of baloney,” she said. “You guys are wasting your time. When you check me out, you’re going to find out you wasted your time. This is a false arrest.”
    “We have probable cause,” Bianchi said. “I’m sure everything will check out. Then we can take you back.”
    “I am completely innocent,” she said. “I’ve never done anything in my life. I’m nothing but a lousy waitress. Why don’t you pick on a real crook?”
    “We have to follow up leads,” Bianchi said. “If you’re innocent, you have nothing to worry about.”
    From time to time as they drove toward Glendale, Lissa Kastin continued to protest, and when at last Bianchi pulled into Angelo’s driveway and cut the motor, she refused to get out of the car. But Bianchi coaxed her into the house, suggesting that she had no choice, which she did not.
    From that point on the procedure was the same as with Judy Miller, except that Angelo worried that this girl might fight, so he kept her handcuffed and cut off her clothes with a big pair of upholstery scissors. Naked, she appealed to neither cousin. Angelo especially was put off by her unshaven legs and derided her as “some kind of a health nut.” He decided to pass up the sex this time, not even bothering to flip a coin, growing sullen and resentful at this affront to his intentions. Watching Kenny trying to work up some enthusiasm for rape in the sparebedroom, Angelo handed him a root-beer bottle. Kenny applied the bottle with such eagerness and animation that he made her bleed, much to Angelo’s irritation. To make sure she did not bleed on the carpet when she was strangled, Angelo spread a piece of her coat on the floor.
    The murder itself went as before, except that Angelo added one new twist, tightening and then slackening the cord, bringing her to the brink of death and back again several times over,