|Serial child killer Clifford Olson is seen in this 1989 file photo. (QMI Agency Files)
TORONTO - This is the second of a three-part series from the newly published Predator: The Life and Crimes of Serial Killer Clifford Olson, by award-winning Canadian journalist Peter Worthington.
Olson died in prison a year ago, on Sept. 30, 2011.The details of Olson's murders have never made public — until now.
Predator is published by Kobo and excerpted by Sun Media and Huffington Post. A percentage of the proceeds from the book will go Childfind.
"How many people do you have working for you?"
"I've got 135 men and 17 women."
"That's a lot of people."
"Yes, it's a pretty big outfit. You want a cold beer, Terri?"
Terri paused. Should she or shouldn't she? Heck, why not. It was really hot out, and this man didn't make you feel like a dumb teenager.
"Don't mind if I do," she said.
He gestured to the back seat. Terri reached back for a couple of bottles. They drove along in silence for a few moments. The highway was clear of cars. Both were quiet, both deep in thought.
"What do you pay the girls?" Terri asked suddenly.
"They get $10 an hour."
"How come so much?"
"Because it's a union job."
"I wish I could get $10 an hour."
"Maybe you can. How old are you?"
"I'll be 16 in October."
"So you're 15 now. Hmmm. Look, if you want I'll give you a job at $10 an hour."
"Yes, and what's more you'll go on the payroll as of now."
"What would I have to do?
"Well, to start, I'll put you to work at the Surrey Village, cleaning and shampooing rugs."
"And I'd get $10 an hour for this?"
"Yes, and you can start today."
"You really mean this? What about my interview at Guildford?"
"Forget it. Do you want to make $10 an hour or a minimum wage of $3.50?"
"Is it steady work? All year 'round."
"I have a girlfriend that's looking for work."
"How old is she?"
"Same as me."
"Bring her along. Reach in the back and open the briefcase. There are some business cards. Take a couple."
He studied the girl as she leaned back to open the briefcase. He couldn't recall seeing a tighter pair of jeans.
"They're sure flashy," she said, studying the cards in assorted colors -- green, red, white, in 3D fluorescent. "When could my girlfriend start?"
"I'll phone her tonight."
"Can you type, Terri?"
"A little bit."
"That's great. Maybe you can work in the office later."
"Where are you going now?"
"To Hope. The bank there. I've got to pick up some legal documents. You can come. You've already made $30."
"When will we be back?"
"I should phone and tell them at the pet shop."
"Forget them. You're on my payroll now. Reach back and get us a couple more beers. Tonight we'll go out to dinner and celebrate your new job. I'll meet your mom and dad so they'll know who you're working for."
"That sounds great, but my dad doesn't live with us."
"Your mother then."
They drove towards Hope, a couple of hours away. Terri figured she'd be earning $80 a day, $400 a week, $1,600 month. Her mother would be knocked out. She couldn't imagine earning so much money. She opened a couple more beers, drinking as they drove.
Terri kept stealing glances at the man. Not only generous, he was kind of cute. She'd never met anyone quite like him. Not condescending or bossy, and he didn't come on strong at her. He even boasted about his wife and small son.
"My mom won't believe I'm making this sort of money."
"She will when she sees it. What about your boyfriend?"
"I'm not with anybody right now."
"You're not? A pretty girl like you, with a great body and no boyfriend? I can't believe that!"
"Well, I have a boyfriend but we aren't together right now."
"It's a good thing I'm not your boyfriend, or I'd not let you out of my sight."
"How old are you anyway?"
"I'd say about 30."
"No, I'm 41."
"You don't look it."
"I don't feel it either."
"At the job -- how do I get paid?"
"By cheque, every couple of weeks. If you need cash, I'll advance you a couple of hundred dollars."
"You'd loan me money?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Gee. You sure are a great guy. I like you."
"Thanks. How's the beer holding up? What do you like in the hard stuff?"
"Yeah, Smirnoff's best. We'll get some."
The traffic on the highway was light, the sun was bright, both of them were feeling mellow and comfortable. Terri couldn't stop talking about her new job. Maybe she could soon afford a car. And she might move into her own apartment, away from her mother. Independence and freedom beckoned.
"I'll be able to get you an apartment in one of my buildings, if you like," the man said, encouraging and enjoying her modest dreams.
"What do they rent for?"
"Between $400 and $500 for a one-bedroom."
"That's kind of a lot."
"Yes, but you let me know and I can get it for you for $100."
"Do you mean that?"
"Sure. Don't forget, you're working for a guy who builds these places."
"You really are one pretty nice guy!"
"I should say so. Look what you've already got -- a job, you're being taken to supper, you're going to make $80 cash today, and you're drinking my beer. And what have I got in return?"
"You got me to work for you."
Both laughed. He asked her about her glasses, which were quite thick. He asked why she didn't wear contacts. She said they were too expensive. He said he knew an optometrist, and that he'd advance her the money to get some.
"Anyway," he added. "Glasses really suit you. You look good in them."
"Yes, well I'm blind without them. Can't see a thing."
They pulled up for gas. The man asked where the nearest liquor store was. He was told the shopping mall at Mission. He drove there, and while he went in to buy vodka, Terri went into a variety store for orange juice and chips and a carton of cigarettes that she wanted. They continued driving towards Hope, with Terri mixing vodka and orange juice.
"I'd better not have any more. I'm getting drunk," she said.
"Look in the glove compartment. I've got some wake-up pills. They'll counter the alcohol, so you'll be sober for supper tonight."
"We'll, if you say so ..."
"I say so, and I'm the boss."
"Okay ... boss." They both laughed.
"What will your wife say, you taking me to dinner?"
"Nothing, Terri. I forgot to tell you -- she's coming too."
"I'll have to change and clean up first."
"No, what you're wearing is fine. You can have a bath at our place."
"Well, if you're sure it's okay ..."
As they approached Hope, Terri was still feeling drunk. She said she didn't think the anti-drunk pills were working.
"Take three more," the man said. "And while you're at it, give me three too. I've got to stay sober."
"What do they do again?"
"They counteract the alcohol. Here, give me three." He put the three in his mouth.
"Well, so long as you're sure." Terri washed down three pills with a gulp of vodka and orange juice.
When she wasn't looking the man spat the three pills into his hand and put them in his pocket.
"How long do they take to work?" she asked.
"About 30 minutes."
"I'm really drunk. Can we stop a minute? I've got to go to the bathroom."
They pulled down a side road. Terri stumbled out, unzipped her jeans and urinated. She had difficulty getting her pants up again. The man helped her do up the zipper. She crawled into the back seat to sleep. "Wake me up when we get to Hope," she said.
"Yeah, you have a little rest."
Terri didn't answer. She had passed out.
Tomorrow: Olson discovers he has a taste for murder