Jack Olsen - The Man With The Candy: The Story of The Houston Mass Murders

THE MAN WITH THE CANDY

Simon & Schuster
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020

Atheneum Books for Young Readers
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Childrens Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 1974 by Jack Olsen

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole of in part in any form.

Simon & Schuster and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Designed by Eve Metz

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-In-Publication Data:

Olsen, Jack

The man with the candy; the story of the Houston mass murders.

1. Murder-Houston, Texas Case studies. I. Title.

HV6534.H8043 364.1523097641411 74-7260

ISBN: 0-7432-1283-5

eISBN-13: 978-1-4391-2870-1

ISBN-13: 978-0-7432-1283-0

FOR F LORENCE M AE D RECKSAGE O LSEN

I love Texas, but she drives her people crazy. Ive wondered whether its the heat, or the money, or maybe both. A republic of outlaws loosely allied with the United States, Texas survives, and survives quite well by breaking the rules.

Peter Gent, North Dallas Forty, 1973

Two of Your Sons Are Missing

IN HIS CANARY-YELLOW HOUSE on shady Twenty-seventh Street in The Heights, a worn-out section of Houston, Fred Hilligiest got up long before the sun. A gaunt, wind-dried man of forty-nine, he striped streets for the city of Houston on weekdays and ran a small painting business in his spare time. This morning he had to be on the job at five; the Gulf sun would catch him soon enough and sear another layer of brown into his deep-lined face, as dark and dry as old parchment.

Dorothy Hilligiest, a radiant, pudgy woman with china-doll hands and a small voice to match, saw her husband off and began to work through a list of chores. In a few days, the family would begin its annual vacation to the riverside town of Kerrville and there were still errands to runto the bank, the car wash, the grocery, the hardware store, to Sears for the last few pints of paint to finish trimming the windows. The Hilligiests worked on their house endlessly, landscaping and painting and decorating till the little bungalow gleamed like a model home on its corner lot. The fact that The Heights was generally considered run-down did not discourage the Hilligiests. A family could live in only one house at a time, and theirs was more than adequate. Others had weakened and lost heart, but Fred and Dorothy, deeply religious Catholics, intended to complete their ordained task of raising a family within these familiar walls.

Two children were already married and gone; three sons and a daughter remained, and by the time Mrs. Hilligiest returned from her first batch of errands in town, they were up and babbling about the vacation to come. It was May 29, 1971, Memorial Day weekend blazing hot in Houston. There was talk among the three boys about going to the pool at the Bohemian lodge to perfect a few strokes they would use later at the river. On the previous years visit to Kerrville, they had met a couple of young water nymphs who had impressed and outswum them; this year would be different.

David, the familys blond-haired court jester and jazz drummer, called a friend to suggest a swim, but the friend was busy. By lunchtime, David still had not been able to round up a swimming companion for himselfbeing thirteen, he did not relish accompanying his younger brothersand he ate his customary skimpy meal, a hot dog and a glass of root beer. As usual, Dorothy Hilligiest worried about him. He was a small boy with delicate features, five feet three inches tall and not yet a hundred pounds in weight, and he ate like a gerbil. Dont worry, Fred Hilligiest had told his wife. Hes as strong as a lil ol bull. Sometimes the boy earned a dollar an hour working for his fathers striping company and pulled a mans load without complaint.

After lunch, eleven-year-old Gregory and nine-year-old Stanley left for the pool, a mile away. David stayed in the house, looking to his mother sort of lost, and then announced, I think Ill go with them.

Mrs. Hilligiest felt better; David would watch over his brothers at the pool. She heard him call Wait up! but then he said, Oh, never mind, and began walking slowly through the alley that led to Twenty-sixth Street. She made a mental note that his blue bell-bottom pants would have to be passed down to Gregory; they were at least two inches too short. The rest of his clothes fit neatly: a blue plaid shirt and nearly new tennis shoes. He was wearing his bathing suit underneath.

An hour later, the phone rang. It was Gregory, asking his mother to drive to the park and pick up him and Stanley; the pool had been too crowded. Well, wheres David? Mrs. Hilligiest asked.

David? Gregory answered. Hes not here. He didnt come with us.

Mrs. Hilligiest was surprised. It was unlike any of her sons to take off without telling her where they were going. She and David had had plenty of conversations about that. But it was still afternoon and she decided that he must have happened on a ball game or a friend, or even gone to the pool by himself. Later he would call and put her mind at ease.

When Fred Hilligiest arrived home and flipped open the first beer of his precious evening hours, David still had not arrived, nor was he home by the time Dorothy was ready to serve dinner. Fred called the lodge and was told that his son had not signed the pool registry that afternoon. He called a few neighbors and learned that David had been seen by no one except a boy who had exchanged brief greetings with him about 2 P.M., right after he had left home. While dinner went cold, Fred and Dorothy perused their sons room and found nothing out of the ordinary. His life savings of twenty dollars were in a drawer. His wallet, watch and ring were there, his clothes neatly hung in the closet. Wherever he had gone, he had planned no lengthy stay. The parents knew that something was wrong. Another thirteen-year-old might come home for dinner an hour or two late or not show up till the next day or even the next week without panicking his parentsdepending on how the household was runbut an hours lateness by any of the Hilligiest children was cause for alarm. Dorothy and Fred began a sweep of the neighborhood, checking with anyone who might have seen the boy, and calling his name. Periodically they returned to the house, to see if he had come back or telephoned, and then resumed their search in the familys Ford Galaxy.

At three in the morning, they began checking hospitals, but there was no record of the boy. At sunup, Dorothy Hilligiest called the police to ask for a city-wide lookout. The sleepy voice on the other end of the line told her not to worry, that David was probably staying overnight with a friend. Boys do that all the time, she was told.

No, sir! Mrs. Hilligiest said firmly. That caint be. Our chilren have never been allowed to stay overnight without permission. We always know where they are, even in the daytime. Its just not Davids nature to worry us like this.