CHAPTER 16
I was anxious to share my information with Captain Short, but I didn’t get the chance.
The Sugar Creek Police Department had notified us that another body had been found in the north part of their city and had invited us to the scene.
Detective Blaylock had intercepted Ox and me outside the squad room and instructed us to tag along since we had been present at all of the previous crime scenes.
Apparently, an area resident had taken his dog out for a squirt and had seen a fire glowing at the end of the dead-end road.
The place was known for attracting kids who wanted an out-of-the-way place to drink beer or make out, so he didn’t give it a second thought. When morning came, he drove to the end of the road to check things out, and discovered the grisly scene.
The Sugar Creek cops were scouring the area for clues when we arrived.
The staging of the killer’s latest victim was the most horrific we had seen.
The M.E. was examining a charred corpse that was propped up against an old relic of a street sign.
“It’s a female. That’s about all I can tell you until I get her on the table. Time of death, probably between ten and midnight last night.”
That corresponded to the time the neighbor noticed the fire in the distance.
“Was there a book?” Ox asked. “Or at least the charred remains of a book?”
“Sure was,” the Sugar Creek detective replied. “The perp put it just far enough away from the body to escape the flames.”
He handed Ox an evidence bag.
“Ashes to Ashes,” Ox said, examining the bag. “Tami Hoag. It’s about a serial killer that sets his victims ablaze. Looks like he thought this one out pretty carefully,” he said pointing to the street sign.
No one had yet made the connection until Ox shared the message in the novel.
The charred body was leaning against the old signpost that read, ‘N. Ash Street’.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Blaylock muttered. “This guy is not just sick --- he’s clever too --- and that’s the worst kind.”
Ox and I pulled Blaylock aside.
“The Roach guy we’ve been checking out,” I said, “I think he was trolling for hookers in Northeast last night.”
I told him about Willie’s experience.
He listened carefully and was obviously mentally connecting the dots.
“That’s good enough for me. Bring the guy in!”
Oscar Roach was loading empty breakfast trays onto a cart when he saw the same two cops heading his way.
“Shit,” he thought, “they’re back with more stupid questions.”
He was surprised when the big one said, “Mr. Roach, we need you to come with us to the station. We have some more questions for you.”
“What’s this about? I already told you everything I know about Ed and Larry.”
“This is about something else. The detective will fill you in at the station.”
“Look,” he protested, “I’m not going anywhere until I know what this is about.”
The big guy dropped all pretence of civility. “Okay, Roach. You’re going to the station one way or another. You can play nice and we walk out together or I can slap the cuffs on you and drag your ass out in front of your co-workers. Your choice.”
Oscar sensed that he meant business.
“Sure, let’s go. I don’t know what else I can tell you. I have nothing to hide.”
On the ride from the hospital to the station, Oscar’s mind was racing.
“They must still be just fishing. I have been meticulous in my clean-up. There is no way they have any evidence that could tie me to the murders.
He remembered part of his lesson to Ed and Larry on committing the perfect crime, “Most criminals are caught because they tried to hide the crime – what they should have been doing is trying to hide any connection they have to the crime. It doesn’t matter if the police know the crime happened.”
“That’s what must be happening. They obviously know about the murders and have something circumstantial that they think ties me to them, but they have no hard evidence. I can’t lose my cool.”
The cops led Oscar to an interrogation room, seated him at a table and read the standard Miranda Rights spiel off of a plastic card.
After a few minutes, a man entered.
“Mr. Roach, I’m Detective Blaylock. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“Let’s get right to it,” he said. “Where were you last night between eight and midnight?”
So there it was. They obviously had something that they felt connected him to the latest kill.
Then he remembered another passage from his recipe for a perfect crime, “If you do get arrested, this does not mean you have failed to commit the perfect crime. If this happens, do not speak. The police need evidence to convict you – if you have done the job right, there won’t be any. Don’t help the police with testimony. Remember, the court needs to find you guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”
There was no question about what he should do next.
“I’d like to speak to a lawyer.”
Ox and I had been watching from the next room.
Blaylock came in with a disgusted look on his face.
“Shit! Looks like we’re done for the moment. The little bastard lawyered up. Now we’ll have to wait until a judge appoints a defense attorney. I’ll let you guys know when we’re ready to go at him again.”
It was late afternoon when we got the call to return to the interrogation room.
I was totally shocked when I looked through the one-way mirror and saw Suzanne Romero sitting beside Oscar Roach.
Romero was arguably the best criminal defense attorney in the city, and every prosecutor and cop knew that if they had any chance of getting a conviction on one of her clients, they had better have an airtight case.
Her reputation for getting scumbags off on technical errors hadn’t exactly made her the most popular person at City Hall, but everyone respected her zeal for making us stick to the letter of the law.
In the past year, I had developed a personal relationship with Ms. Romero.
Mary Murphy had gunned down a thief that had broken into her apartment at the Three Trails and threatened her with a knife. An overzealous prosecutor, who was under the gun because of a rash of vigilante killings, decided to make an example of her and charged her with murder.
It had been Suzanne Romero that had gotten a ‘not guilty’ verdict for my friend.
I watched with interest as the verbal sparring commenced.
Oscar had met briefly with his defense council before the detective returned to the room and she advised him not to answer any questions until they had conferred.
The detective began right where he had left off.
“Mr. Roach, I’ll ask you again. Where were you between eight and midnight last night?”
Oscar had been thinking about that question since the detective had asked it the first time. Someone might have seen his car. He decided the best tactic was to tell the truth --- at least to a degree. He didn’t want to tell a lie that could be refuted. That would only make them more suspicious.
He leaned over and whispered at length to his attorney.
When they had finished, Romero, spoke. “Detective, my client isn’t exactly proud of where he was last night, but you have to understand that Mr. Roach isn’t --- well, let’s say, skilled with relationships with the opposite sex. Go ahead, Mr. Roach. Tell the detective.”
Oscar summoned his most pitiful look, “I was horny, okay! I haven’t had a date in weeks. No girl wants to date a guy that empties bedpans all day, so I thought I would try to --- uhhh --- satisfy my needs on the street. I drove around Northeast for a while, looking for --- well, you know what I was looking for. Didn’t have any luck. I guess with the cold weather and that Librarian guy on the loose, the girls are just staying off the street. I only saw one woman. I st
opped to talk to her, but two really ugly, scary guys stepped out of the shadows. I got scared and took off. After that, I just gave up and went home.”
“Do you have anyone that can verify your story?” Blaylock asked.
“Well, no,” he replied. “I don’t usually bring friends along when I’m trying to get laid.”
“Anything else, Detective?” Romero asked.
“Yeah, one more thing. When our officers spoke to you about the crime scene where your friends, Ed Weems and Larry Dunlap, were killed, you mentioned that a novel, Secrets of Eden, was lying near the bodies. That information was never made public. How did you know about the book?”
That one took Oscar by surprise. He had made a mistake. He should have just kept his mouth shut about the damn book.
His mind raced and then he thought of a way out.
He would be taking a chance, but the odds were in his favor.
“Oh, that’s easy ---”, but Romero cut him off.
“We should confer before you speak.”
“Oh, that’s not really necessary counselor. I was in the emergency room changing bedding on the night that Ed and Larry died. The drivers of the meat wagon had stopped by to pick up the body of a traffic accident victim. They were the same guys that had picked up Ed and Larry. One was a dark-skinned fellow.”
Oscar knew that the biggest majority of the drivers were African-American, Phillipino, Puerto Rican or some other Latin nationality.
“I overheard him talking about the crime scene. I think he was trying to impress one of the nurses. That’s where I heard about the book.”
Oscar leaned back in his chair and studied the detective’s face.
“Any more questions, detective?” Romero asked. “Unless you have something else, I don’t see anything here that would tie my client to any of the recent deaths.”
“No, nothing more for now?” he said.
“Then is my client free to go?”
“Yes, he can go.”
I stopped Romero in the hall.
“Ms. Romero, I was surprised to see you in the interrogation room.”
“Walt,” she replied, “I’m not surprised to see that you’re part of this mess. You seem to have your finger in most of the weird stuff these days.”
“I didn’t think you took Public Defender cases,” I said.
“I don’t,” she replied. “I usually leave those to the young guys that can’t get real paying clients, but I didn’t have a choice on this one.”
“How so?”
“When the judge heard that Roach was a person of interest in these horrible Librarian slayings, he wanted to make sure that everything was by the book and that Roach, if he was the guy, wouldn’t have grounds for appeal due to inadequate counsel. I tried to beg off, but the judge reminded me that I have several upcoming cases on his docket. It’s not prudent to piss off the judge that’s trying your case.”
“I can see that. What’s your opinion of Roach?”
Suzanne smiled, “Nice try, Walt. You know that I can’t discuss the case, but you overheard the interrogation. If you think this is your guy, you’re going to have to come up with a hell of a lot more than what I saw today.”
She was right about that. If we couldn’t find something solid to tie Roach to the killings, he would walk.
CHAPTER 17
Oscar was upset with himself.
He had dodged a bullet, but he had made a couple of critical errors.
Undoubtedly, the cops had connected the novel that he had left with Ed and Larry with the novels left by the Librarian.
What irked him was that Secrets of Eden wasn’t really necessary. He had staged the crime scene perfectly. His ego had nearly gotten him caught.
His second mistake was mentioning the fact that the novel was at the scene. He hadn’t realized that fact had not been made public. His big mouth had almost cost him dearly. He had no idea whether his bullshit story about the meat wagon guys in the emergency room would hold up or whether the cops would even try to verify his story.
Even with all of his careful planning, he was definitely a person of interest as far as the cops were concerned.
No wonder that so few perfect crimes are committed. He had a greater respect for those who had actually done it.
Now that he was under the cop’s microscope, he needed to do something to shift their focus away from him.
He remembered Rule #8 in the Perfect Crime list, “It is wise to have an alibi – though not essential if you have followed all the other rules.”
He hadn’t worried about an alibi because up until now, the cops had nothing to connect him to any of the murders.
Maybe it was time to throw them a curveball.
The Librarian needed to make a kill and he had to have an airtight alibi at the time.
Given the fact that the cops might have him under surveillance, this would have to be carefully planned.
First, he needed some different wheels. Someone must have seen his old Honda when he was cruising for hookers.
He couldn’t really afford to trade for a different vehicle and if the cops were watching, that might be a red flag.
He had noticed that another orderly had posted a notice on the hospital bulletin board that he had an old Chevy for sale. He would try to talk the guy into letting him take it for the evening for a test drive.
He loaded his equipment in the old Honda and drove to work.
The orderly, hoping for a sale, was more than eager to let Oscar drive it for an evening.
Oscar transferred his stuff from the Honda to the Chevy in the covered parking garage and cautiously exited onto the street.
He drove in circles for a half hour constantly checking his rear view mirrors for a tail.
Seeing none, he was ready to proceed.
He drove to the Country Club Plaza, parked the Chevy on a side street just north of the Plaza and walked the few blocks to the Cinemark Palace Theater.
He had read the listings in the newspaper and had chosen the Batman movie. It had the longest running time. He would have two hours and forty-five minutes to execute his plan.
After purchasing his ticket, he looked around for the prettiest employee he could find.
Several employees were standing by a theatre entrance with brooms and trash bags, ready to clean up the popcorn boxes, soda cups and candy wrappers that the slovenly patrons would leave scattered throughout the aisles.
For him, this would be the toughest part of the whole plan.
With all of the courage that he could muster, he approached the young woman and glanced at her name badge.
“Hi --- uhhh --- Lauren. My name is Oscar. If you don’t mind me saying so, I think you are absolutely gorgeous. If you’re not already hooked up with someone, I wonder if you’d like to --- uhhh --- maybe go with me to the Cheesecake Factory --- you know --- after the movie --- after you get off work?”
Not the smoothest pickup line, but it didn’t really matter.
The girl was polite, but firm, “Look, I appreciate the complement, but I don’t go out with guys that I don’t know. Enjoy your movie.”
Oscar took a seat on the front row near an exit and when the lights dimmed, he slipped over to the door and gently pushed the handle. He stepped out into the night, carefully placing a strip of cardboard between the latch and the doorframe.
He quickly made his way to the old Chevy and headed east to Troost and then turned north.
This was the part of his plan that was the most unpredictable. His last two kills had come from the northeast area and the cops had to be keeping an eye on things there. He just hoped that there were some girls working Troost Avenue.
He cruised for forty-five minutes before he saw a car pull to the curb. It had barely come to a stop and took off immediately when the woman climbed out.
No doubt the guy was in a hurry to be on his way after finishing his business with the hooker.
Oscar pulled up beside the woman and rolled down
the window.
“Looking for some more business?”
“Might be,” she said. “What have you got in mind?”
After the usual negotiations, she climbed into the car and directed him to a dimly lit parking garage.
As before, a blow to the head rendered the woman unconscious.
Oscar had wanted to make his next kill as spectacular as the last one, but with this one, time was of the essence. He would have to sacrifice creativity for expediency.
Just a block off Troost on Emanuel Cleaver Parkway was the Planned Parenthood office.
He pulled into the deserted parking lot and propped the body against the back door.
After he had plunged the knife into her chest and policed the area for evidence, he placed the novel into her hands.
He smiled as he thought of the title, The Killer Inside Me. He wondered when his mother was pregnant with him, if she had any idea that the innocent child she would deliver would become a serial killer.
He looked at his watch. He had just over a half-hour to get back to the theatre.
He parked the Chevy, hurried back to the theatre and quietly pushed open the door.
He peeked inside and saw that everyone was thoroughly absorbed in the suspenseful conclusion of the movie.
After it as over, he waited until most of the patrons had left before exiting.
He looked around and saw Lauren standing by with her broom and trash bag.
“Hi again, Lauren. Great movie. I’m still going to the Cheesecake factory, but I’d be glad to wait if you’ll go with me.”
“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that, but the answer’s still the same. Enjoy your cheesecake.”
He just shrugged and walked away.
He figured that he’d better follow through in case the cops checked out his story, so he walked to the Cheesecake Factory and had a piece of Mocha Supreme.
A great reward for a job well done!
“Damn it!” Blaylock said, as he watched the M.E. examine the body. We have cops everywhere in Northeast and the guy moves south on Troost. Damn it! Damn it! We just don’t have the manpower to cover the whole city.”
[Lady Justice 10] - Lady Justice and the Book Club Murders Page 9