Johnny Revenge

by Remington Kane

“And meanwhile, the son of the man who stole the woman he loved is a great success as a writer.”

  “Um-hmm, so now you know why the chief isn’t a fan of Joey’s.”

  “I notice the chief’s face is tanned. Did he just return from vacation?”

  “He did, he took three weeks. I felt like I was on vacation while he was gone. The deputy chief, Dix, he’s more laid back than Chief Connors, and nicer too.”

  “Where did the chief go?”

  “I’m not sure, to visit relatives, I think. His kids are scattered about.”

  “Tell me what you know about Jude Rowland?”

  Perkins took a sip of her coffee, made a face, and added more sugar. After taking another sip and finding it satisfactory, she began speaking.

  “I was seventeen and Joey was sixteen when we dated. He had skipped a grade the year before. Anyway, things heated up one day when my parents weren’t home, and I took him to my bedroom… it didn’t work out.”

  “He was impotent?”

  Perkins laughed aloud, then covered her mouth to stifle it.

  “Have you ever heard of a sixteen-year-old boy not being able to get it up? No, believe me, there was a totem pole in those briefs of his. No, the problem happened when I reached over and pulled off his shirt.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Joey has scars, Erica, and I mean a lot of scars, from when his father beat him. I should have handled it better when I saw them, but I was only seventeen and I freaked. Chet Revene, Joey’s father, the man was a fiend. I still don’t understand how someone could do that kind of damage to their own son.”

  “What sort of scars are they?”

  “I guess they were more like welts. Joey said that his father beat him with a belt, like a whip. They were old scars, but they were ugly and rough-looking. Joey went through a lot of pain as a child.”

  “Did you tell anyone what you saw?”

  “I shouldn’t have, but I did. The girlfriend I told about it, Keri Jones, she blabbed it all over town. I should have known better than to confide in her. Keri was a beautiful girl, but she had a mean streak. She teased Joey in front of other people.”

  “Does she still live here?”

  “No, Keri went off to Hollywood after high school. She wanted to be an actress.”

  “Rowland’s father wasn’t arrested for child abuse until Jude Rowland was in his early teens. I’m surprised it took so long for people to notice.”

  “The man was friends with the chief back then, that was Chief Graves, and Chet also had money. The thing is though, we kids knew that Joey was being beaten before that, but I’m not sure the adults did. Other than going to school, Joey kept to himself, and so did his father.”

  “Was Chief Connors on the force back then?”

  “He was, but if you’re thinking he turned a blind eye toward the abuse you’re wrong. The chief doesn’t like Joey, but he despised Chet Revene, Joey’s father. If he could have arrested the man for anything he would have.”

  “At the time, in your bedroom, what happened after you saw the scars?”

  “Like I said, I freaked, and when I calmed down I couldn’t… I wouldn’t let him touch me. I’m not proud of it now, but those scars grossed me out. I should have expressed sympathy, instead, I embarrassed him and made him feel like a freak. I hate that I did that, then I made it worse by talking about it.”

  “I’m glad you told me this, Linda. It may be useful in determining what drives Rowland. And hey, don’t be so down on yourself, at seventeen, your reaction is understandable.”

  “I know that, intellectually, but I still feel like crap about it.”

  “Who else has Rowland dated?”

  “In town? No one that I know of, but he must have dated in college, I mean, other than the scarring he’s gorgeous.”

  “Is there anyone who might be close to him?”

  Perkins nodded. “Mrs. Jackson, Molly Jackson. She was his mother’s best friend. She and her late husband took Joey in after his father went to prison. Now she’s Joey’s housekeeper and cook.”

  “Where can I find her?”

  “Mrs. Jackson lives in one of those new homes that were built on the lake.”

  “That sounds nice. She must have money, so why clean houses?”

  “She doesn’t clean houses, she only cleans Joey’s house. You might say she takes care of him, but he takes care of her too.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Oh, Joey bought Mrs. Jackson her house, just bought it for her as a gift, some serial killer, hmm?”

  “Has he done things like that for other people?”

  “Not that I know of, but he doesn’t come out much. Frankly, people around here think he’s stuck up.”

  “What about enemies? Is there anyone who might like to frame him for murder?”

  Perkins laughed. “You mean other than the chief?”

  “I know about the chief, anyone else?”

  “No, but Joey was picked on in high school.”

  “By whom?”

  “Whom? See, that’s why you’re a Fed and I’m just a deputy, I would have said, who.”

  Erica smiled. “Before she opened her restaurant my mother taught English. She rubbed off on me.”

  “The guys who picked on Joey in high school were the two Floyd brothers and their friend Eddie Watson.”

  “Do they still live around here?”

  Perkins’ brow furrowed as her mouth parted slightly.

  “What is it?” Erica asked.

  “Jay and Aaron Floyd are dead, and so is Eddie Watson.”

  “They must have been young men; how did they die?”

  “The fools were cooking meth out in the woods. Their lab blew up.”

  “That’s not uncommon.”

  “The thing is, it was a clear case of arson. We chalked it up to a rival gang, but no arrests were ever made.”

  “I see,” Erica said.

  Jude Rowland took care of his friends, like Mrs. Jackson. Erica wondered if he also punished his enemies. Regardless of whether he was Wildcard or just a reclusive writer, Erica found Jude Rowland to be an interesting man.

  Chapter Twelve

  Over dinner, Erica had filled in Owens about her conversation with Deputy Perkins. Owens found it all interesting, particularly the part about the extent of Rowland’s scars.

  “That sort of abusive childhood is a classic cause of psychotic personalities. Add in the fact that he grew up without a mother and he’s looking good as a suspect.”

  “He looks too good in some ways, which makes me wonder if someone is setting him up to take the fall.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Look at his recent road trip for example. It was timed perfectly with the killing spree. If Rowland is the killer, then why wouldn’t he have covered his tracks better?”

  “I see your point. He lives alone and could have traveled to the site of the murders and returned without anyone knowing he’d ever been gone.”

  “Exactly, instead, he stayed on the road for weeks while driving a borrowed van.”

  “All right, but who would frame him?”

  “Someone who hates him, or maybe someone who envies him, someone like the man we’re going to see next, Jake Raines.”

  * * *

  The following afternoon, they landed at O’Hare Airport and found a bureau car waiting for them. It had snowed recently, and the landscape was coated in a blanket of white.

  The novelist Jake Raines lived in an exclusive gated community in Wilmette, situated on Chicago’s north shore. This time they were able to arrive at their suspect’s door unannounced. They did so just after three p.m., once they’d flashed their federal identification at the gate guard.

  Jake Raines lived in a large colonial-style home that had eight bedrooms and six baths. The aroma of wood smoke was rich in the air as Owens drove up the driveway and parked in front of a four-car garage. Owens had a slight headache due to the glare of the sun bein
g reflected off the snow. He wished that he had brought along sunglasses.

  The push of an illuminated button sent chimes ringing throughout the house. Twenty seconds passed before the door was opened by a woman with red hair and green eyes. Owens couldn’t help but stare at her for a moment as he drank in her beauty. The woman was about thirty-five, well-endowed up top, and had long legs flowing beneath the hem of a black dress.

  “Hello, how may I help you?” the woman said. Her voice was smooth but had a huskiness to it.

  Erica and Owens held up their I.D.’s and asked to speak with Jake Raines.

  “Mr. Raines is on the phone at the moment, but please, come inside out of the cold and I’ll let him know you’re here. May I ask what this is in reference to?”

  “It’s a private matter,” Erica said.

  “Very well, please wait here.”

  “What is your name and your relationship with Mr. Raines?” Erica asked.

  “I’m Mr. Raines’ secretary. My name is Rhonda Wheeler.”

  “Secretary?” Owens said, “not personal assistant?”

  Rhonda looked at him, gave him the once over with her eyes, then smiled.

  “Mr. Raines prefers the term secretary, and the job’s duties are the same regardless of the title.”

  Rhonda escorted them into the living room where the stuffed head of a lion was mounted above the fireplace. The furniture was large and traditional, the gleaming hardwood floors covered by rugs, and the walls were lined with bookcases stuffed with hundreds of volumes, as well as awards and bric-a-brac.

  After they were settled on a sofa and had declined refreshments, Rhonda walked off down a corridor to tell Raines about their arrival. Before leaving, Rhonda gave Owens another appraising look and smiled at him again.

  “I think someone likes you,” Erica said.

  Owens grinned. “Someone likes her back. She’s a beauty.”

  Only seconds passed before Rhonda reappeared trailing behind her boss. Jake Raines was a big man. His appetite for rich foods and liquor had left him with a soft middle, but his muscular frame was still evident. Raines was clean-shaven and bright blue eyes sat beneath a pair of bushy salt & pepper eyebrows.

  As he walked into the living room, he studied the federal agents, who had stood at his approach. Raines’ eyes lingered on Erica.

  “Are you two with the FBI?” Raines asked. The voice didn’t match him; it was a bit high and breathy.

  Once formal introductions were made, Erica looked past Raines to stare at Rhonda.

  “We’d like to speak to Mr. Raines alone please.”

  Rhonda nodded. “Certainly, I’ll be in the office.”

  “Put a fresh pot of coffee on, honey.”

  “Yes, Mr. Raines.”

  Once Rhonda was out of earshot, Erica began. They remained standing as they talked.

  “We’re investigating a series of murders, Mr. Raines. You’ve been identified as a possible suspect.”

  The bushy eyebrows arched high. “I wouldn’t kill anybody; I haven’t even gone hunting lately. What’s this about?”

  Erica explained the recent deaths, and the fact that the victims were all book reviewers who tended to leave negative comments.

  “How many have been murdered?”

  “There are five victims, Mr. Raines.”

  “Well hell, honey, I’d say that’s a good start,” Raines said with a chuckle.

  Erica glared at him. “Their families would disagree.”

  “It was just a joke, and you can’t really think I killed them.”

  “So far, we have evidence that points to you and one other man.”

  “Okay, arrest the other guy, because I’m innocent, and what sort of evidence do you have?”

  “The five victims left disparaging reviews on your latest book, as well as some of your earlier works,” Owens said.

  Raines waved that away. “My books receive dozens of reviews every day. I’d have to hire a team of assassins to take out every jerk that gave me a bad review.”

  “We also know that you were within driving distance of several murders at the time they took place, thanks to your recent book tour.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, sir,” Owens said.

  The confident expression left Raines’ face as he rubbed a hand over his chin.

  “Maybe someone is trying to set me up.”

  “Can you account for your time and movements over the last few weeks?” Erica asked.

  Raines brightened, then turned and bellowed down the hallway for Rhonda.

  “Come here, honey, and don’t forget your laptop.”

  Rhonda did as ordered. Raines asked her to bring up his recent itinerary. As she did so, Raines spoke to Erica and Owens.

  “I wouldn’t have had time to drive around whacking people. I was busy every minute with meetings and book signings.”

  At Raines use of the term, “whacking people,” Rhonda paused from her work to look up with a worried frown. Moments later, she had the information she’d been looking for.

  “Would you like me to print this out or send it to you?” Rhonda asked Owens.

  “Both would be good, thank you,” Owens said.

  Rhonda sent the files to their phones, then returned to the office to gather the hard copies from the printer.

  Erica looked over the itinerary. If it was verified and corroborated by the people Raines met with, then yes, Raines was off the hook. That meant that Jude Rowland was now their only viable suspect. Erica was surprised to realize that saddened her.

  When Rhonda returned with the hard copies of the file, she handed them to Owens.

  “My number is on the top there if you have any questions.”

  “Thank you,” Owens said. As he took the sheets from Rhonda their fingers brushed each other. She sent him a smile that made him tingle.

  Raines looked at his watch. “I’m giving a radio interview in twenty minutes. Do I need to cancel it?”

  “No, sir,” Erica said. “We’ll be in touch if we require anything else. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Raines winked at her. “I’m not as big an asshole as people say I am, am I?”

  “Things get exaggerated on the internet. You’ve been most helpful.”

  “Great, Rhonda will show you out.”

  As they walked to the door, Rhonda asked Owens a question.

  “Will you be in Chicago for long?”

  “Unless something new develops, we’ll be flying out in the morning.”

  “I see; remember to call me if you need anything.”

  “I’ll do that,” Owens said.

  As they were leaving, a man was walking toward the door after parking his vehicle next to theirs. He was muscular, tall, with a beard and sunglasses.

  Rhonda introduced him to the agents. He was Max Raines, Jake Raines’ son. Max grunted a greeting and brushed by them and into the house.

  “Was he on the recent book tour as well?” Erica asked.

  “Max? Yes, he came along too,” Rhonda said. “But we didn’t travel together. Max has a phobia about flying, so he drove from city to city. He’s responsible for his father’s accommodations.”

  They thanked Rhonda for her help and headed to their car. Once there, they stood staring at Max Raines’ vehicle. It was a white Dodge Ram van.

  Chapter Thirteen

  CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

  Bradley Owens called the handwritten number Rhonda Wheeler had placed on the hard copies of Jake Raines’ itinerary. That resulted in an agreement to meet for dinner. Thanks to a friend working at the Chicago field office, Owens scored a table at a top restaurant. The meal would cost him the better part of a week’s pay, but he hadn’t been out on a date since his divorce. Besides, seeing Rhonda was also business, so the Bureau might pick up the tab.

  Rhonda appeared at the restaurant wearing a shorter dress than the one she’d worn while at work. Her legs were lovely, but Owens was captivated by the beauty of her f
ace.

  Once they’d been escorted to their table, Owens asked Rhonda how she liked working for Jake Raines.

  “It’s a good job and he pays well. I just had to set some boundaries in the beginning.”

  “What type of boundaries?”

  “No touching for one. I’m his secretary, not a hooker. Before he hired me, Mr. Raines went through sixteen different women. Some quit in tears, one sued him for sexual harassment, and another became wife number four. That marriage lasted less than a month and cost him a small fortune to escape from. It taught him not to mix business with pleasure.”

  “That’s a lesson I haven’t learned,” Owens said, “Or I wouldn’t have asked you out to dinner.”

  “You have business with me?”

  “A few questions, then I’ll switch to pleasure mode.”

  Rhonda’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s get the questions out of the way; I prefer pleasure to business.”

  “Tell me about Max Raines. What is he like?”

  Before Rhonda could answer, their drinks arrived. Rhonda took a healthy gulp of her martini.

  “I don’t like Max. He’s odd.”

  “In what way?”

  “This might sound egotistical, but he ignores me for the most part. Men don’t ignore me.”

  “Not unless they’re blind,” Owens said. “Maybe Max is gay.”

  “He’s not gay. At least, I don’t think so. My brother is gay, and Max doesn’t give off that vibe. He’s just… weird.”

  “Does he ever date?”

  “Not that I’ve seen, and I don’t think he has any friends either.”

  “I checked, and he has a conviction for an assault on a woman. It’s a twelve-year-old charge and he did a two-year sentence.”

  Rhonda’s hand went to her throat. “He’s violent? I knew he had a temper, but I’ve never seen him strike anyone.”

  “Being incarcerated has cured many a man of acting rashly,” Owens said.

  “I thought you were investigating Mr. Raines, not his son.”

  “The evidence in the case brought us to Raines, now we’re interested in Max. Once we rule him out, we’ll move on. Does he accompany his father everywhere on the road trips?”