by Paul Bishop
“I also don’t like the way the evidence of the tape and the victim’s clothing turned up at JoJo’s townhome.”
“I agree, but why?” asked Ash. “Isn’t the easy answer usually the correct answer in police work?”
Fey realized Ash was playing devil’s advocate. “Yes, but this time the answer was too easy. Everything was laid out for us to find, as if the pieces of evidence were gifts around a Christmas tree.”
“Kind of like the photos and the cassette tape that your people found down in San Diego.”
“The thing that bothers me most about that scenario is there were no pictures of the third victim – not in San Diego and not in the townhouse here. Nor was there a Polaroid camera in either location.”
“I agree,” Ash said. “Ritual killers, like what we’re dealing with here, don’t change their M.O.”
“I don’t think the killer did,” Fey said. “When we find the killer, I’m betting we find more photos of the first two victims and photos of the third. Also more cassette tapes.”
“There’s another thing,” Ash said. “When we saw JoJo in the hospital jail ward, he was falling apart mentally – anguished to the point of mental breakdown. His background reveals that, other than on the basketball court, he’s a loner with no social skills. If JoJo had become a serial killer, his crimes would be of a disorganized nature. Not plotted and planned and laid out as in the crimes of which he is being accused.”
Fey sat back down and spun around in the swivel chair. “Still, objectively everything points to JoJo,” Fey said. “And that’s why Keegan and Hale at Robbery-Homicide, Winston Groom at the D/A’s office, and everyone else is convince JoJo did it.”
Ash grunted his agreement and then asked, “And what does that tell you?”
Fey thought for a minute before answering. “That the killer, whoever he is, has some kind of a connection to JoJo. An obsession, or an axe to grind.”
“Exactly,” Ash said. “The ritual of the killings doesn’t end with the death of the victims. It goes beyond that to include the torment of JoJo, and finally the framing of JoJo for the crimes.”
“Are you saying that the crimes will stop if JoJo is convicted?”
“Absolutely not. But the killer may change his focus and method once his goal of framing JoJo has been achieved.”
“How many celebrities does the killer think he can frame?”
“I don’t think it’s JoJo’s celebrity status alone that caused the killer to focus on him. I believe the motivation has a deeper connection. I think there is a closer tie between JoJo and the killer.”
“Don’t tell me you’re buying off on Devon Wyatt’s evil twin theory?”
“Not completely, but maybe there is some kind of similar connection between the killer and JoJo.”
“But what about the DNA? How do we explain that away?”
Ash stood up and began to pace the room. “I’m not sure we can at the moment, but there has to be an explanation. This evil twin stuff isn’t going to cut it with a jury.”
Fey waved a hand back and forth. “That’s just a smoke screen thrown up by Devon Wyatt. It’s gibberish, pure and simple. The semen recovered from the victims belongs to JoJo. Sometime before the victims were killed, JoJo had sex with them. If we assume JoJo is innocent, then we have to assume that the killer took each victim shortly after their encounter with JoJo.”
Ash was nodding his head, showing Fey that she was confirming his own thought process. “Which indicates,” he said, “that the killer was watching JoJo and waiting for his chance.”
“Stalking him.”
“Absolutely.”
Fey looked thoughtful. “Perhaps having a stalker after JoJo would explain the items Hammer and Nails recovered in San Diego.”
“Are you saying the killer sent the photos and tape to JoJo?”
“It would fit traditional stalker behavior – taunting his victim.”
“Either that, or the tape and the photos were planted. They weren’t hidden very well. And that might explain why there wasn’t a photo of the third victim.”
“Possibly. Maybe the killer didn’t have time to get down to San Diego and plant the photos of the third victim.”
“Hard to tell at this point, but it’s something that needs thinking about. It might lead to a break.”
“So, what’s our next move?” Fey asked. Marvella had followed them into the room and had jumped into Fey’s lap. She stroked the cat absently. “You’ve obviously been making charts and collecting photos for six weeks now. Isn’t it time for some field work?”
“You betcha, Red Rider. There are two ways to approach the situation; dig deeper into JoJo’s personal background – find out who he has connections with and who might want him to take this kind of fall – and take a harder look at the victims. Both JoJo and the killer had contact with each of the victims. It’s the one area we know JoJo and the killer overlap.”
Fey cocked her head like the RCA dog. “Unless there really is an evil twin who’s doing the killing,” she said. “Then JoJo wouldn’t need to have had contact with the victims.”
Ash gave her a glare of mock disgust. “Now it’s my turn to ask you if you believe Devon Wyatt’s dog and pony show.”
“Only kidding,” Fey said, straightening up her head. “All three of the victims were street chickens. JoJo’s sexual fetish must kink that way. From all the publicity on this case, it’s clear he wasn’t into women. And I know somebody who might be able to give us a handle on victim number one.”
Chapter 41
“Hi, Sharon. How’re you doing?”
“Could be better. How about you?”
“Pretty good,” Fey told the receptionist in Dr. Winter’s office.
After discussing their game plan, Fey had agreed to meet with Ash again much later in the evening when they could put the first part of their plan into action.
Fey had hoped that Ash would suggest getting together for dinner before going out. She sensed that it was in the forefront of his mind, but when he didn’t come out and say anything, Fey suggested it herself.
She was pleased when Ash immediately agreed, but was still a little unsure as to why she’d had to push the issue. She knew she was reading the vibrations she was getting from him right, but also perceived something holding him back.
Ash had suggested an Indian restaurant in Santa Monica, near where they intended to start their investigation. When Fey agreed, she hoped it would be the beginning of solving two riddles – the mystery surrounding JoJo Cullen, and the enigma of Special Agent Ash.
Leaving Ash’s converted church, Fey had driven home and changed. The last few weeks had been so busy that she had only gone to one other session with Dr. Winter. It had been an interesting fencing match with the psychiatrist trying to draw more of Fey’s childhood abuses into the open, and Fey fighting to keep them bottled up where she believed they couldn’t hurt her.
She had thought about cancelling her current session, but when her afternoon freed up, she decided to follow through and keep the appointment.
Sharon, the receptionist, was a slightly obnoxious anorectic who looked as if she’d had more plastic surgery than Michael Jackson. Fey was suspicious that Sharon’s breasts, nose, eyes, chin, and tummy had all become familiar with the surgeon’s scalpel. A bad Dolly Parton wig, along with make-up by Tammy Faye Baker, capped an ensemble of sixties fashion rejects. Fey had to wonder if the woman didn’t work for Dr. Winter in return for therapy to deal with apparently rock bottom self-esteem. How much more of herself could the woman change on the outside, before she’d be forced to deal with what was on the inside?
That was a question Fey was reluctantly being compelled to also ask herself.
Fey didn’t quite know why Dr. Winter kept Sharon in the front office. She never had a good word to say about anything. The woman was the one of the most depressed individuals Fey had ever come across. Perhaps Sharon was there so that Dr. Winter’s patients could be around
somebody who was worse off than they were.
“So, do you really think JoJo Jammer did those murders?” Sharon asked. Fey had never mentioned to Sharon that she was a police detective. However, Fey realized Sharon must have recognized her from the number of times she’d been on television recently in connection with the case.
“It’s hard to tell,” Fey said. “I guess we’ll have to see what happens when the preliminary hearing starts in a couple of weeks.” She was actually getting tired of answering questions about JoJo’s case. Everyone she knew assumed she had inside information because she’d been part of the original arrest.
Not being able to escape the case anywhere she went was getting to be a real pain. Every time Devon Wyatt pulled another rabbit out of the defense hat, Fey found herself in for a fresh round of questioning from her friends. It was bad enough with people discussing the case all day at work, but the constant bombardment from the checker in her local supermarket to her hairdresser was really getting tiresome.
Fey sat in the front lobby for a few minutes before Dr. Winter came out of her office.
“Hello, Fey. I’ll be right with you.” Dr. Winter handed a cassette tape to Sharon. “Put this with Mr. Hawkins’ file,” she said, handing the receptionist a cassette and taking a fresh one from a stack on a credenza.
“Come on in,” she said to Fey, leading the way back into her office.
Fey gave Sharon a nod of her head, which the receptionist ignored, and followed Dr. Winter. She waited for the doctor to go behind her desk and install the fresh cassette for Fey’s session.
In the beginning, Fey had been reluctant about having her sessions taped. Dr. Winter had explained, however, that as a patient progressed through therapy, sometimes it was necessary to listen again to particular session for something that could lead to further progress.
Once Dr. Winter had the tape functioning, she started her fifty minute alarm running and turned her attention to Fey. “How’s the woman responsible for JoJo Cullen doing?” she asked.
Fey shook her head. The case was at the forefront of everyone’s mind. It was the last thing that Fey needed to talk about when the session was costing her two hundred dollars an hour. She’d almost rather talk about her father. Almost.
“I know it’s probably the last thing you want to discuss,” Dr. Winter said, as if intuitively reading Fey’s mind. “You must constantly be being asked about the case.”
Fey sat down in one of the easy chairs and rubbed the back of her neck. She blew out a deep breath. “There certainly is a lot of attention from the media,” Fey responded.
Dr. Winter sat down in the chair next to Fey’s. “Your friends and neighbors as well, I should expect.”
Fey shrugged. “I understand it, but it’s hard when you can’t escape it. Not even here,” she said pointedly.
Dr. Winter laughed. “But that’s the whole reason why I brought it up. It must be driving you crazy.”
“It is.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Not bad, but if I’m right, the worst is yet to come.”
“Really, why do you think so?”
“Because I don’t think JoJo did it.” Fey felt as if she was dropping a bomb, but she knew Dr. Winter was ethically bound to keep what was said in the sessions a secret.
“Wow,” Dr. Winter said. “I thought the whole case was almost a foregone conclusion.”
“Not according to the defense.”
“Nonsense,” Dr. Winter said, waving a hand in the air. “Anyone with any common sense can see that this Devon Wyatt person is strictly using smoke and mirrors to put together a defense. But now you come along and say he might be right?”
“I’m not saying that Devon Wyatt is right,” Fey said. “I just think there’s more to this case than meets the eye.”
“Are you alone in this thinking?”
“Almost,” Fey said. She went on to explain about Ash and their assumptions about the case. It felt good to go through the whole process with an objective outsider. It gave Fey a clearer view of her purpose. Perhaps it was worth the two hundred dollars an hour.
“And you say you are going to start off by asking your brother about the first victim, this Rush character?”
“There’s a chance Tommy can tell us something more about the kid. We need to figure out how the killer came into contact with his victims. Rush was supposed to be into the rave scene, and Tommy is making a living from staging raves. They could have had contact. It’s a small culture.”
“How do you feel about that?” Dr. Winter asked. She stood up and walked to a sideboard where a coffee pot stood. She poured two cups.
“Tommy staging raves, or asking him for help?”
“Both.”
Fey took a sip of the coffee Dr. Winter had set on the low table next to her. “I don’t much like Tommy being into the rave scene. First of all it’s only quasi-legal. And with all the drugs that are supposedly done at these things, I think it will be very hard for Tommy not to backslide.”
“Is that your responsibility?”
Fey had touched on her relationship with Tommy in an earlier session. “You tell me it isn’t, but it’s still hard for me to genuinely feel that way.”
“You had him sent him to jail.”
“No, he sent himself to jail. All I did was stop being his victim.”
Dr. Winter clapped her hand. “Very, very good,” she said. “I think you’re beginning to understand.” She took a sip from her own coffee cup. “Now, are you sure that going to Tommy for help with Rush is not simply an attempt to check up on him?”
Fey shrugged and answered, “Maybe a little of both.”
“Well, that’s a start,” Dr. Winter said. “At least you’re not deceiving yourself about it.”
“Do you think I shouldn’t go?”
“No, I think you should. Your brother is the only close relative you still have, and you need to resolve your issues with him. It will help you when it comes to resolving your feelings toward your deceased parents.”
“What good does picking at scabs do?” Fey asked.
“Believe it or not it helps the healing process by cleaning the puss out of the wound.”
Fey and Dr. Winter continued their discussion until the fifty minute alarm bonged softly. Fey and Dr. Winter both stood.
“I’m not quite sure what we accomplished this time,” Fey said.
Dr. Winter laid a hand on Fey’s arm. “Not every session is going to lead to a breakthrough. Therapy takes time.”
Fey thanked the doctor and took herself out through the office’s secondary exit door. The separate entry and exit assured patient privacy.
After Fey left, Dr. Winter finished her coffee while making notes at her desk. She turned off the tape of the session and took it out of the machine. She stretched and walked back to her reception area. Her next patient was already waiting.
“I’ll be right with you,” Dr. Winter told him. She handed the cassette to Sharon.
“For the Croaker file,” Sharon said.
“Of course,” Dr. Winter said with a smile. She picked up a fresh cassette.
“This way, Mr. Napier,” she said, taking her next client back with her.
Sharon tapped the tape on one thumb. One of the things that she enjoyed most about her job with Dr. Winter was being able to eavesdrop on the patient sessions. She didn’t do it all the time, and certain patients interested her more than others.
When Sharon wanted to listen in to a session, she put the office phones on hold and went into the suites’ small cubicle bathroom. The bathroom and Dr. Winter’s office had a common wall with a shared heating vent.
On one occasion when she had been in the toilet, Sharon heard a patient shouting and crying. When the patient calmed down, Sharon found that if she stood on the toilet lid she could continue to listen through the vent. Since then she had made a practice of listening in whenever she thought something might be of interest. Dr. Winter was totally unawa
re of Sharon’s habit, and the receptionist reveled in her knowledge of other people’s secrets. It made her feel special, superior to the people who tromped through the office on a daily basis.
Sharon hadn’t been interested in Fey to begin with, until Fey paid for her sessions in cash. That was unusual and made Sharon suspicious. When she recognized Fey as one of the detectives involved in the JoJo Cullen case, she made sure she eavesdropped.
This last session that Dr. Winter had with Fey, however, was of particular interest. She’d never done it before, but this time Sharon wondered how best to use what she’d learned – corroborated by the tape in her hand – and, more importantly, how much money she could make from it.
Chapter 42
“Detective Jones, there’s somebody at the front desk to see you.” The volunteer’s voice droned over the speaker system into the squad room.
“What now?” Brindle asked of nobody in particular. She was by herself on the MAC table, and between answering the MAC calls on the phone and at the desk, she was having trouble getting any real work done.
Hammer and Nails were in the field, and Alphabet was down in the jail interviewing a Persian who’d been arrested for making a ‘terrorist threat’ directed toward his business partner – “I will kill you! It is a blood feud!” As far as Brindle was concerned it was bad movie dialogue and simply the way Persians did business. She just wished they wouldn’t keep getting the police involved in all their nonsense. The City Attorney’s office was never going to file, so it was all a waste of time.
Dropping her pen on top of her paperwork, Brindle headed for the detective desk. Entering the reception area, she saw a waif-like girl sitting in one of the visitor’s chairs against the wall. The girl stood when she spotted Brindle.
Brindle felt she should recognize the girl, but couldn’t immediately place her.
“Do you remember me?” the girl asked. There was almost a cry for recognition in her voice. Self-consciously, she pushed a strand of lank blond hair out of her face, and the penny dropped for Brindle.