Early in the afternoon of July 1, 1981, Louis L. Masgay left his home in Forty Fort, Pennsylvania, twenty miles south of Scranton, and headed for Little Ferry, New Jersey. Masgay, who was fifty years old, owned and operated Leisure City, a discount variety store, in nearby Plymouth, Pennsylvania. Before he left, he told his wife that he was going to New Jersey to meet a supplier who had agreed to sell him a large quantity of blank videotapes at a very good discount. To make this purchase, he was going to use all his savings in addition to a forty-five-thousand-dollar loan he had obtained from a local bank, the First National Bank of Wyoming. He was taking the money in cash, nearly a hundred thousand dollars, which he had stashed in a concealed compartment in the driver’s side door of his black 1980 Ford Carry Van. The “supplier” he was going to meet was Richard Kuklinski.
As he backed out of his driveway that afternoon, Louis Masgay was anxious and a little apprehensive. He’d already traveled to New Jersey five times in the past month to meet Kuklinski and conclude this deal, but Kuklinski had stood him up each time. There was always a problem. Each time Masgay would come home, his van empty, and Richie would call a few days later to apologize and tell him that his connection had screwed him up again but that he had another connection who could get him more tapes, only this guy’s price was a little bit higher than the last guy so Masgay would have to bring a little more cash next time. Masgay had wanted to tell Richie to go to hell, forget about it, but even with the increase, Kuklinski’s price was still very good. Too good to pass up really. He knew he could move those tapes at his store and make a nice profit. But this was going to be Richie’s last chance. If Kuklinski stood him up this time, he would tell him to go to hell.
Masgay’s son, Lou Junior, worked for his father and was already on his way to pick up a load in New York that day. Since they were going to be in the same area, they agreed to meet at the Golden Star Diner in Little Ferry, New Jersey, where Louis Masgay always ate when he was picking up merchandise in the northern part of that state. Lou Junior did meet his father at the diner where they had coffee together. He asked his father if he wanted any help loading the videotapes. Masgay assured his son that he wouldn’t need any help and told him to head on home so he wouldn’t miss his regular bowling night.
But Louis Masgay did not return home that night, and his wife started to worry. This was unusual for him. He always let her know if he was going to be staying away overnight so she’d know where he’d be. By midnight Mrs. Masgay had called the Forty Fort police and filed a missing persons report with Detective Henry Winters. Detective Winters asked Mrs. Masgay and her son to try to remember as many details as they could, what Mr. Masgay had said before he left, where he was going, whom he was going to see, how he appeared at the diner in New Jersey, what his mood was—anything they could think of. The next morning Detective Winters contacted the Bergen County Sheriff’s Department in New Jersey and notified them that Louis Masgay was last seen in their jurisdiction.
Several days later Detective Winters learned that Louis Masgay’s black 1980 Ford Carry Van had been found abandoned on Route 17 North in Rochelle Park, Bergen County, New Jersey. It was found on a narrow stretch of the highway where there is no shoulder, and the van was blocking the right lane of traffic. The cab was locked, and the police had to break in to move it. They found that the primary gas tank was empty, but the secondary tank was full, leading them to suspect that whoever was driving the van did not know how to engage the reserve tank. A hidden compartment in the driver’s side door was also discovered, but it was empty.
Detective Winters pursued the case for more than two years with little satisfaction. At times he felt that the authorities in New Jersey just weren’t very interested in pursuing the case of Louis Masgay. Except for the Masgay family and Detective Winters, no one seemed to care about the missing man.
Then, in September 1983, a body was found in a wooded area off Causeland Mountain Road in Orangetown, New York, three miles north of the New Jersey border. The body was taken to the Office of the Rockland County Medical Examiner, where the chief ME, Dr. Frederick Zugibe, performed the autopsy.
The body had been carefully trussed with tape and then wrapped in fifteen to twenty plastic garbage bags, a task that must have taken some time and effort, Dr. Zugibe noted. One arm was taped to the body, but the other had apparently come loose during the wrapping. This hand was less protected than the other, and it had dried out. In effect, the hand was mummified.
As the final layer of plastic was removed, Dr. Zugibe saw that decomposition had begun and that the flesh was greasy. The color of the man’s skin was putty beige. There was a single bullet wound in the back of the head. The contorted, openmouthed expression on the face was similar to that of the famous woodcut by Edvard Munch entitled The Shriek.
When he opened up the body, Dr. Zugibe noticed something very peculiar. The organs were fresh. Decomposition had started from the outside, which is the reverse of the normal process. Checking the heart muscle, he discovered ice crystal artifacts, which supported his immediate suspicion that the body had been frozen, perhaps by a killer whose intention was to disguise the time of death. Had the murderer let the body thaw out completely before he dumped it, the time of death might have been completely disguised and Dr. Zugibe probably would have concluded that this was a recent killing. The problem was the killer had been too meticulous with his wrapping. The layers of plastic had insulated the body and kept it cold longer than he expected.
By soaking the mummified hand in water and glycerine, Dr. Zugibe was able to rehydrate the fingers and take prints. The fingerprints identified the body as that of Louis L. Masgay.
When Detective Winters arrived at the Rockland County ME’s Office to inspect Louis Masgay’s body, he discovered something very odd among his personal effects: his clothes. They were the same clothes Masgay’s wife and son had said he was wearing on the day he disappeared, two years and two months before. Louis Masgay had apparently been murdered the day he left his home with a hundred thousand dollars in cash, and his body had been kept frozen all that time. Frozen solid.
Detective Winters could only shake his head in disbelief. What the hell kind of monster could kill a man, then keep him in a freezer for two years? It was beyond comprehension. He stared down at the clothes in their plastic evidence bags and just shook his head.
He asked a lab tech who happened to be passing by if there was a phone he could use. He figured he’d better tell the Bergen County Sheriff’s Department about this. Maybe those guys down in Jersey would sit up and pay some attention now. Maybe they’d go have another little talk with this guy Masgay was supposed to have been going to see to buy videotapes that day, Mr. Richard Kuklinski.