Jake sat down.
There were a few exchanges about the weather, and other mandatory topics that needed to be covered when two strangers meet.
Finally, Jake got down to business. “Mr. Elertson, I’m here on behalf of Lincoln Investigations. We have been retained to look into the disappearance of Jenny James.”
Mr. Elertson nodded. “That’s a sad thing. Jenny was always quite popular around here. She would volunteer to help our office staff from time to time, and we all enjoyed seeing her.”
Jake nodded. “So I understand.”
“So, how may I help you, Mr. Lincoln?”
“The last time Jenny was seen, was leaving the school. One of her friends said she was meeting Chad Bronson. He was the last person to see Jenny, and, as you probably know, he was murdered that same day. He likely picked her up here after school.”
Elertson nodded and leaned forward. “Did anyone see them leave?”
“Unfortunately, no. But I was hoping you had some cameras installed that might help us.”
Elertson shook his head and frowned. “We have some cameras in the hallways, but those are on a daily recording rotation, so anything there would be long gone.”
“And outside?”
“Hmmm. There are only a couple of dummy cameras outside. We’ve been hit with budget restrictions, and just can’t install all of the security measures we’d like to.”
Jake slowly rubbed his hands in thought. It seemed like another dead end.
Elertson continued, “It’s unfortunate I can’t help you.” He sighed. “But hopefully the board will listen to us now, and allow us a little more security budget for the future, but right now...”
Jake nodded and stood up. He offered his hand again, and said, “Thank you anyway.”
Elertson stood up and followed Jake out of the room. “On behalf of the staff here, I certainly hope you find Jenny,” he said. “And if there’s anything else, please contact me any time.” He took a business card out of his breast pocket, and handed it to Jake.
Jake took the card and thanked him again. He found his way out, and back to his vehicle. He leaned against the hood for some time, waiting for a hint of inspiration that didn’t come.
Chapter 38
Monday, August 15th, 9:10 AM
LISA KRUNK was always on the prowl. Today was no exception. She was hanging out near the police precinct, waiting for a victim.
Don was sitting on a low concrete wall; his head down, studying the ground, with the camera in his lap and a bored look on his face.
Lisa stopped her back and forth pacing as she saw Officer Spiegle step out of the precinct door. He looked up at the sun, wiped his brow on his sleeve and trudged down the steps. As he rounded the corner, Lisa approached him.
Don was up and had the camera ready. The red light appeared as it hummed into action.
Lisa said, “Officer Spiegle, may I ask you a few question?”
Spiegle saw the camera, and unconsciously brushed his hair back with one hand. He stood up a little straighter, and his chest seemed to puff out slightly. He put on his best smile, looked at the camera, and then at Lisa, and waited.
She massaged his ego. “Officer Spiegle, I understand you were one of the officers instrumental in finding the body of Chad Bronson.”
He nodded. “Yes, that is correct,” he boasted.
“Can you tell the viewers a little bit about that?”
“Well,” he said, “the body had been buried for over a week, so when we unearthed it, it was rather a ghastly sight.”
“I can only imagine,” she soothed, and then asked, “Do you think then, Mrs. Bellows and Mr. Farley were killed by the same man?”
“Yes, I believe so. We are trying to ascertain that now.” He hesitated. “We think there’s a serial killer on the loose, and we don’t know who it is.”
“So then, should the citizens be worried they may be next?”
Spiegle looked confused. “Well, I sure am.”
“And what gives you the indication the same individual is responsible for all three murders?”
“According to the information I... we got from forensics, he used the same gun and knife all the time.”
“And do you have any indication who the killer may be?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you confident you will make an arrest soon?”
“Well, I sure hope so.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“Well truthfully,” he scratched his head before continuing, “we have no idea at all who it is.”
Lisa faked a smile. “Thank you, Officer Spiegle.”
The camera swung toward her. She said, “In an exclusive report, I’m Lisa Krunk, live for Channel 7 Action News.”
She watched the cop walk away, satisfied that with a bit of editing, she would have just what she wanted.
Monday, August 15th, 9:25 PM
JEREMY WAS RUNNING a little late this morning. His alarm clock seemed to be on the fritz, and hadn’t buzzed him awake.
He had gotten up late, and by the time he had packed his lunch and was ready, it was already past nine o’clock. He was expected to be at work by nine.
Now, as he pulled into the rear lot at Mortinos he hoped he could slip in without catching the attention of his stupid boss.
He jumped from his car, and ran over to the metal door at the back of the building leading into the employee area. He eased it open and peaked inside.
All clear.
He hurried inside and tucked his lunch into his locker, pulled out his cap, and he was ready.
He strode through the swinging doors and into the store like nothing had happened.
But it had.
A shipment of several skids of tissues had arrived. They had been advertised in the flyer, and were to be piled mountain high, and put on special sale. Jeremy’s job.
A page hadn’t turned him up, and so Mr. MacKay had been limping around the store for the past several minutes, looking for him. He finally determined Jeremy wasn’t there.
Jeremy was intent on straightening up some cans a careless customer had moved around. A few belonged on another shelf, so he had moved them to their correct display, and was surveying his job.
“There you are Jeremy.” The boss sounded mad.
Jeremy turned. “Yes, Mr. MacKay.”
“Are you late again?” he fumed.
“Just a few minutes late, sir. I had a small problem.”
MacKay wasn’t tall, but he towered over Jeremy as he gave him his new orders.
Jeremy slunk away, cursing silently.
He set up the display of tissues as the scumbag boss had directed. He was satisfied with the job he had done, and stood back and admired it when he was finished.
A few minutes later, he was paged to come to MacKay’s office.
He walked to the back of the store, and swung open the door to the office.
“Come in Jeremy. Sit down.” MacKay seemed a little bit calmer now.
Jeremy came in and sat on the edge of the chair. He looked at MacKay. “You paged me, sir?”
MacKay cleared his throat. “Jeremy... I’m sorry to have to say this, but I have to let you go.”
“Go where, sir?”
“Uh, I’m firing you, Jeremy.”
Jeremy looked stunned. He didn’t say anything, just stared.
“Did you hear me, Jeremy?”
“Yes... yes, sir,” he said quietly, and then asked, “But why?”
“Because you are always late, or taking time off.”
“It won’t happen again. I promise you.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve already decided,” MacKay said firmly.
“But I need this job. I have bills to pay. Taxes. Food to buy...”
“I will give you an extra week’s pay, and pay you for today, but that’s all I can do.”
Jeremy was dazed. Now what would he do? He got up slowly and turned to leave.
“You may go home now, an
d pick up your pay at the end of the week as usual,” MacKay said.
Jeremy left the office. He went to the break room, opened his locker, grabbed his lunch bag, threw his hat in the garbage bin, and stepped out the back swearing to himself all the while.
Chapter 39
Monday, August 15th, 10:05 AM
BENNY FLANDERS was hungry. He hadn’t had anything to eat today, and yesterday’s pickings had been sparse. His stomach had rumbled all night, seeking sustenance.
He sauntered lazily down Pine Street, a middle class neighborhood in central Richmond Hill. He looked left and right.
Soon he saw a possibility. A house with no vehicles in the driveway. He crossed the road and leaned casually against an old Maple tree while a car drove by. After looking up and down the street, and seeing no one else, he dashed over the lawn and stopped at the side of the house.
He peeked in the window. Nobody. He crept around to the back of the house and looked through the back door. He could see the kitchen. Nobody.
Moving carefully, he kept going around the house, and back to the front door. He climbed the steps, rang the doorbell and waited.
He grinned. Looks like nobody’s home.
He looked around cautiously, and then jumped over a railing and hid behind a bush. A woman was pushing a baby carriage up the street. He waited until she passed, and keeping low and tight against the house, he circled back until he was at the rear door again.
He examined it. The outside screen door opened, but the inside door looked secure. He tested the knob. Locked.
Backtracking a little, he crouched down by a rear window leading to the basement of the dwelling. He smiled grimly as he removed a small knife from his side pocket. He flipped open the knife, and worked the blade in between the window frame and the glass. He struggled with it a little while, and then heard a pop. He pushed gently, and the window swung open.
He climbed through feet first, landed like a cat on the concrete floor, and then stood up and looked around.
He saw the usual junk one would find in a basement. Old cabinets, chairs, a broken table, and a bunch of boxes full of stuff lining the side wall.
The steps to the main floor were to the right. He climbed them cautiously, just in case someone was about. When he reached the top, he swung open the door and stepped in. He listened intently for a moment and heard nothing. So far, so good.
Straight ahead was the kitchen. He could see the fridge and stove from where he stood. He crept across the tiled floor and into the kitchen. The clock on the wall ticked, the fridge hummed, and Benny breathed, but all was otherwise still and quiet.
The fridge proved to contain a harvest of food. Some leftover chicken, half a meatloaf. Stuff to drink, veggies, and more. A real feast. Benny’s mouth watered. He made several trips back and forth from the fridge to the table, as he chose the items he planned to devour.
A cupboard by the sink contained plates. He slid one off of the stack, and then selected a knife and fork from the drawer underneath.
He pulled out one of the hard wooden chairs from the table, sat down, slipped a paper napkin from its holder, and tucked it under his chin.
The can of Coke fizzed as he popped the tab. He took a long swallow, and then breathed out contentedly.
He piled his plate high with food and eagerly set about devouring it. It didn’t take long, and soon he set back, rubbed his belly, belched a couple of times, and sighed with satisfaction.
He sat a minute and formulated further plans. Anything valuable would probably be upstairs. Maybe he could find some jewelry or something to make it worth his while. Or maybe even some money stashed somewhere. Let me try that first. Any money would be in an office, if there is one.
He got up and went to the living room. He spied what looked like an office leading off from there. He pushed the door open. Yup, it’s an office. He went behind the faux oak desk and sat in the swivel chair. A computer sat darkly on the desktop, along with a stuffed penholder, and a small lamp. Rather organized. He tried the center drawer first. More pens, pencils, writing paper, paperclips. The side drawers contained some file folders, a stapler, a checkbook, and lots of empty space.
But no money.
He looked around for a safe. He stood up and examined behind pictures, in a cabinet, and anywhere he could think of, but still no safe. He folded his arms and stood still for a minute. There didn’t seem to be anything worthwhile in here.
I’ll try upstairs.
He left the office and wandered around the rest of the main floor. He spied the stairs leading to the second floor, near the front of the house, by the front door.
He hummed to himself as he climbed the steps. Reaching the top, he saw two bedrooms, and a bathroom. He poked his head through the door of the first room. Hmmm. Appears to be a teenager’s room. There won’t be anything there. The other room must be the master bedroom. He tried the closed door and it swung open silently. He stepped inside and looked around.
He saw a queen sized bed on the far wall, piled high with fluffy pillows, and covered with a pure white comforter. To his right was a walk-in closet. He poked his head in there. Just clothes. To his left was a door leading into the bathroom. There was a dresser along the side wall, and a vanity on the other.
He went to the vanity. It had a big mirror in front. He looked in the mirror and made a face. The mirror made a face back at him. He laughed and continued looking. There was a bank of small drawers in the front, and he popped them open and closed. Nothing interesting there.
On the top of the vanity, there were rows of little containers and holders, containing makeup, lipstick, hairbrushes, tweezers, and all kinds of other junk he had no interest in.
Ahhh! There it is. A small jewelry box over to the side. He slid it forward and lifted the lid. He saw a couple of rings, a necklace or two, and some earrings. It didn’t look like a major score, but he dumped the contents of the box into the side pocket of his overcoat, patted his pocket shut, and tossed the box back.
He took another quick look around, decided there was nothing else worth scrounging, and headed for the door.
My work is done here.
He stepped out into the hallway and stopped short. He could hear someone moving around downstairs. The tap tap of someone walking across the tiled floor, leading from the front entrance to the kitchen.
He held his breath. Should he dare to creep down the stairs and make a dash for the door?
He heard a gasp from downstairs. Sounds like a woman. It was coming from the kitchen. He heard her running around, and then the unmistakable tone of a cell phone dialing. Three numbers. He swore to himself. She was calling 9-1-1.
She must have seen the food and plates he left on the table. He cursed to himself again, and wondered what to do.
He made a decision. He had to try it. He crept down the stairs. The steps that had been so quiet when he went up, had now decided to squeak.
He was sure she would have heard that.
He took the rest of the steps three at a time, and had just reached the front doors when he saw a blur behind him. He twisted the knob. She must have locked it as she came in. Too late. He felt a glancing blow on the back of his head. It stunned him briefly, and he ducked down, and half-crawled, half-ran, into the living room.
She chased him. She was swinging a pot. One he had left on the table.
She didn’t seem to be afraid as she pursued him across the room. He jumped behind a couch, which was in the center of the room, making a barrier between them, and then spun around and faced her.
She was probably in her mid-thirties, and he couldn’t help but notice she was pretty good looking. But she also looked to be in good shape physically, and could probably beat him into meat patties if she caught him.
She stopped and waited, not sure whether to chase him around the couch, or to wait.
“You’re trapped,” she said.
“I didn’t mean no harm,” he whined.
“I don’t mea
n any harm either. Just step over here and I’ll show you that, you coward.” She raised the pot menacingly.
“Ju... just let me go. I didn’t take anything.”
She advanced a foot or two. He crouched, ready to run.
“I called the police,” she said.
He was trembling now, and his hands were shaking. His voice shook as well, as he said, “Please lady, I was just hungry. That’s all I did, was eat a little food.”
“We don’t keep food upstairs.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I can wait here all day,” she said, “until the police come.”
He looked back and forth, and then back at her. He couldn’t find any way out, except past her and the pot she gripped.
She reached into a pocket in her skirt and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed 9-1-1 again.
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
“I called a few minute ago.” She gave her name and address. “I have him trapped in the house.”
“The police are on their way. They will be there shortly. Does he have a weapon?”
She grinned. “He doesn’t appear to have any weapon, but I do. I am holding him off with a pot.”
“Please don’t endanger yourself in any way ma’am. It may be better for you to leave and let the police handle it.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said.
“Stay on the line ma’am. The police will be there shortly.”
Benny looked around again. He had to make a move.
She left the phone on, and as she slipped it onto her pocket, he made a mad dash for the door. She swung the pot and he thought maybe she had broken his backbone. He stumbled to the floor, rolled a couple of times, slammed against the wall, and jumped to his feet.
She hit him again. The pot sang as she caught him on top of the head. He fell again, and then he was up, stumbling into the kitchen toward the back door. He twisted the lock, and then the knob, yanked the door open and dove through head first, landing on his back with a thump.
The pot connected with his shoulder as he rolled to his feet. He lost his balance, staggered a moment, and then dashed across the deck, jumped the three steps to the lawn, and vaulted the hedge.
Blood and Justice Page 19