Requiem For The Widowmaker

by Blackie Noir

  “Like I said, let’s get to work.”

  Nadine says, “When’s Sheba due?”

  Glancing at Vance, then back to Nadine, Logan says, “Sheba? Far as I know, she’s not. This is an exclusive, extended as a professional courtesy to Johnny boy here. And, of course, yourself.”

  To Vance, Nadine says, “What’s going on here?”

  Vance says, “Art? Give us a minute.”

  “Sure. I’ll be over there, by the first vic. Single body, fucking beached whale.”

  As Logan moves away, Vance starts talking, “I need you to stay calm. Listen to me, take this all in, before you start overreacting.”

  “I don’t overreact. But, if you’re jerking me around, I most definitely will react. You may think of it as an overreaction, but you can bet your ass it will appropriate to the situation.”

  “Fine, give me two minutes.”

  Nadine snorts, “You and your two minutes.”

  “Clock’s running. When Butch Ritter told me he was going to put me on the Widowmaker thing, I decided I was gonna be the one to crack it.”

  “Just like that.”

  “Just like that. Why not? This case is six years old. We’ve got nine victims. All in Long Beach, all with the same MO. This shit ain’t random, and it sure as hell ain’t transient. Fucking Widowmaker is overdue. Fact is, I’d be shocked if I, make that we, we didn’t nail his ass. The guy is just another mutt. He’s making mistakes, I know he is.”

  “Then why hasn’t Sheba’s task force come up with anything?”

  “In terms of manpower the task force is insufficient, both in quantity and quality. It’s a band-aid. Window dressing. Sheba’s competent, but she’s understaffed and under financed. The whole thing just mopes along, year after year, because basically there’s no incentive to nail this prick.”

  “There isn’t? He’s killing people.”

  “People? Scumbags, slime balls, that’s the general consensus on the Widowmaker’s targets. Talk to the man in the street, talk to your fellow officers, everybody thinks the guy’s performing a valid service to the community.”

  “Everybody but you.”

  Vance nods, “Right. This guy’s got to be stopped, before it’s too late.”

  “Before it’s too late? The guy snuffs out predators, shitbags. Too late? I don’t get it.”

  “He’s just a man. He’s not infallible. He’s smart, but face it, anybody kills nine people isn’t that tightly wrapped. So far, he’s made some good choices, I’ll give him that. But, sooner or later he’s gonna make a terrible mistake. He’s gonna kill an innocent.”

  “All right, I see your point. You plan on bringing the Widowmaker down, fine. I’m glad to be working with you on it, you’re reputed to be good, very good. I expect to learn a lot from you, but . . .”

  Vance holds up his hand, “But? You’re worried about circumnavigating Sheba. Don’t be, I got you covered.”

  “I’m not buying into this that easily. Sheba Johnstone is the head of the Widowmaker task force. Now, I may be the new kid on the block, maybe I’m a little dense to boot, but the way I see it Sheba’s our boss.”

  “Right, and Butch Ritter is her boss.”

  “If you’re implying something, it’s way over my head. You expect me to stick my neck out, you’d better make a solid statement, and it had better be pretty fucking comforting.”

  Taking a step closer to Nadine, lowering his voice, Vance says, “Butch and I go way back. He wants this thing brought to an end, it looms as a potential liability to his future plans. He knows I can make this case, it’s why he brought me in. He also knows how I work. Because his faith in me is as strong as it is, he’s agreed to give me carte-blanche on this.”

  “All that tells me, your ass is covered. My faith in you needs to be nurtured. ”

  “You are my partner. To me, that says everything. No way I’m gonna hang your ass out to dry. Trust me. You let Butch worry about Sheba. Let me worry about Butch. You? You need to start worrying about if you’re gonna help me nail the Widowmaker. We partners, or not? Let me know, right now. You want out, I’ll have one of the uniforms drive you home. You can report to Sheba on Monday as scheduled.”

  Nadine shakes her head, laughs, and says, “What a waste.”

  “Waste?”

  “You being a cop. You’re an ace pitchman. You could sell bibles to atheists.”

  “Yeah, but did I sell you?”

  “Totally.”

  “Alright. Let’s see what Logan’s got for us.”

  As they make their way over to Logan and the single victim, Nadine says, “Logan calling you on this, that was prearranged?”

  Vance hands Nadine a pair of latex gloves, pulls on his own pair, “Absolutely. Soon as I got the go ahead from Butch, I got in touch with most of the homicide guys I’d ever worked with. The ones that owed me. Told em, you catch any calls got Widowmaker trappings you let me know, pronto.”

  “Trappings, such as small caliber holes to the head.”

  Vance grins, “Trapping number one.”

  Looking up from the body, Logan says, “You two on the same page now?”

  Finishing with her gloves, Nadine says, “Always were. Who’s your friend?”

  “Three hundred pound-plus pile of shit name of Vito ‘Baron’ Barone. And yeah, I did know the mutt. Can’t say I liked him though.”

  Vance says, “Looks like somebody thought even less of Vito than you did. Tell us about him. He mobbed up?”

  Logan says, “Yeah, he was connected. Strictly lower level, nothing to indicate that he was a made guy though. His name wasn’t on the license, he had too long a sheet, some citizen is fronting the club, but JuicyTown was Barone’s club.”

  Vance asks, “What’s his sheet like?”

  “He was a money guy. Lot of receiving stolen goods beefs. I mean, you got thousands of semis pulling containers out of the port and up the 710. Every now and then one of those trucks gets lost. You know how that goes.”

  “Right. What else?”

  “He was heavy handed. Lot of assaults.”

  “He was a collector?”

  Logan laughs, “Yeah, twenty years and a hundred pounds ago. These days it was strictly recreational. Vito liked to bust people up.”

  Nadine says, “Guy people, or girl people?”

  “Both.”

  Vance says, “He ever go down for any of these assaults?”

  “Just one. Broke some poor shmuck’s back. Vito did close to a year, county time, awaiting trial. There were a lot of postponements, witnesses kept drifting off. Then, before the trial actually began the victim died. Natural causes, guy’s health was totally shot. Vito’s lawyer filed for a mistrial, by then the DA had lost interest, Vito walked.”

  Nadine says, “How about the women? Any of them press charges?”

  “A few. Nothing that ever got to trial though. I remember correctly, most of Vito’s many female punching bags were working girls. Truthfully, I think it boiled down to like, ‘who gives a fuck?’”

  Vance says, “ ‘Who gives a fuck?’ Obviously Vito was just the kind of asshole the Widowmaker would ‘give a fuck’ about.”

  Nadine says, “True, but I don’t see any small caliber bullet holes in Vito’s head.”

  Logan laughs, “Shit, I’m surprised he has a head. He took two big ones to the face. If you’re thinking the Widowmaker laid Vito low, then your Widowmaker, more than likely, is one of those two scumbags lying over there.”

  Vance says, “What makes you think that?”

  “We got wallets and weapons off of the bodies. Couple of hillbilly motherfuckers straight out of Bakersfield. Wolcott Bardwell, and Raymond Robert Tibbs. Both of em packing .38’s. Bardwell had him a Smith, Tibbs had a Colt. Both weapons loaded for bear with +P rounds. Tibbs’ piece had two empty shells in the cylinder. We’ll see what ballistics comes up with, but what do you want to bet Tibbs capped Barone?”

  Vance says, “No bet. You’re probably right. What I
will bet you, somehow this fucking thing is the Widowmaker. No doubt in my mind. I can feel it.”

  Logan laughs, “Feel shit. Let me tell you how I read it. Vito’s got cash on the premises, maybe a lot. The rednecks decide to take him down. Maybe they’ve been tipped off, they had someone on the inside. I think we got a fourth party here, a bartender, a dancer, a bouncer. That fourth party is your killer. This ain’t the Widowmaker, this is a robbery. A robbery turned to shit.”

  Nadine grins, “A falling out among thieves.”

  “Exactly.”

  Vance says, “Your fourth party, what are you doing with that?”

  “I went through Barone’s rolodex with Tim. We got the address for Vito’s ‘go to’ guy. Manager, whatever. There’re two signs behind the bar, guys or girls working at JuicyTown got problems, don’t call Vito, call Mike. Dude lives a few blocks away, I sent Tim and a uniform to get him. We’ll take him into Vito’s office, have a chat.”

  Vance says, “Sounds good. What about the two rednecks, they got sheets?”

  “Oh, yeah. Tim jumped on the computer the minute we pulled their wallets.”

  “What’d he come up with?”

  “Wolcott ‘Wolf’ Bardwell, he’s a bad-ass.”

  “Was.”

  “Right. Old Wolf hailed from Oklahoma. Did a bit at McAllister for a string of armed robberies. Migrated here when he got out, wasn’t here a year before he went up for attempted murder. Landed up in Pelican Bay for that one. His rap sheet covers a lot more in the years since he left Pelican, but it’s all small shit, and none of it stuck.”

  “Tibbs?”

  “Raymond Robert ‘Ray Bob’ Tibbs. Desert Storm vet, but with a dishonorable discharge. Get this, discharge was for sexual assault on another soldier.”

  “A guy?”

  “Uh-uh, a woman. They have women in the military now, Vance.”

  “Right, I was just thinking maybe Ray Bob was more than a little twisted.”

  “Well, you figured right. Ray Bob was a freak, no doubt. Serial rapist, did half of a long stretch at . . .”

  “Pelican Bay.” Nadine and Vance exclaim simultaneously.

  “Yeah, where he teamed up with Wolf. Now, Ray Bob’s the one I figure capped Vito. His piece has the two empty shells, I’m hoping ballistics will be able to match the slugs that killed Vito to Ray Bob’s Colt.”

  Squatting, Vance reaches out, tilts Vito’s head, says, “Big exit hole back there. Both slugs might have made it all the way through, nothing for ballistics to work with.”

  Logan says, “Possible. But, Ray Bob’s piece was loaded with hollow-points. Hopefully, at least one of the slugs fragmented, left enough for the lab.”

  Nadine says, “Vito was unarmed?”

  “Baseball bat. No firearms. Look, I’ve already got a workable theory as to what went down here. Why don’t you two go over the scene, do some hypothesizing as you go. See what you come up with, then we can put our heads together. I started here, with Vito, made it over to Wolf and Ray Bob. Now, there it gets interesting, each one of the mutts has a small caliber hole in the temple. It’s why I called you. Your possible Widowmaker connection. Those weren’t the shots that killed them though. We also have three teeth in a puddle of blood.”

  Vance says, “Wolf’s or Ray Bob’s?”

  “From what I can tell, neither one’s. Like I said, over there it gets interesting. I left the teeth as is for the coroner, he’s due anytime now, but you guys take a good look. Inside the club, we’ve got more blood. Not much, few drops here and there, mostly on, or behind the bar.”

  “What about the vehicles?”

  “Escalade is registered to Vito. The van, Ray Bob. We opened up the van, made sure there was nobody inside. I’m open to the possibility that there was an abduction here, maybe one of the dancers. That’s why we looked the van over a bit. I’m leaving the detailed work to CSI. Anything else?”

  Vance shakes his head, Nadine says, “Thanks Art.”

  Moving away, speaking over his shoulder, Logan says, “OK, have fun. I’ll be inside the club.”

  Nadine looks over at Vance, smiles, says, “Hypothesizing?”

  Vance says, “He was showing off, for you. But he’s right, we look the scene over, start speculating. Don’t be shy, you have ideas? I want to hear them.”

  Vance walks over to the van, sticks his head inside the drivers window, pulling it out he says, “Pint of Granddad, or what’s left of it, on the seat.”

  Pointing to the gravel at their feet, Nadine says, “Lot of butts here. The boys put in some heavy waiting time.”

  Vance picks up two butts, holds them up, says, “Marlboro reds, unfiltered Camels. Two scumbags, two brands.”

  Dropping the butts he walks to the right, past Vito, looking down, he says, “Got another Marlboro here. Also some tire tracks, couple of deep grooves gouged into the gravel. Somebody peeled-out of here in a big hurry.”

  “That would explain the pebbles and grit all over Vito. Look, the driver must’ve kept it floored halfway across the lot, you can see the ruts. I’d guess the other two bodies got showered with gravel too.”

  “Let’s walk down there, check them out. We can follow the ruts. Whoever drove that car out of here, might have been talking to the Marlboro smoker before they left.”

  Walking slowly, eyes to the ground, Nadine and Vance make their way toward the bodies of Wolf and Ray Bob. Veering off to her left, slowing, then stopping, Nadine says, “Check it out. Lots of little depressions here. I think someone was running, fast.”

  Stopping short of the tracks Nadine is indicating, Vance says, “Yeah. Couple of someones. You have a runner, but you also have a chaser.”

  “Maybe two chasers. Wait. Two for sure. See these two sets, the big prints? One of them has a lugged sole. The other’s smooth.”

  “Third set is smooth too. Small, maybe a woman.”

  “Oh, it’s a woman. No doubt about it.”

  “What? You’re some kind of deerstalker, all is revealed to you by some marks in the dirt?”

  Just short of the bodies, Nadine grins, squats down, picks something out of the dirt, and says, “Not exactly. This is better than ‘marks in the dirt.’ In fact, this is what made some of those marks in the dirt.”

  Taking a plastic evidence bag from his pocket, Vance says, “What’ve you got?”

  Nadine holds the narrow four inch piece of leather covered wood up for Vance’s scrutiny, before dropping it into the bag. Vance frowns, “Woman’s high heel?”

  “And they wrote books about Sherlock Holmes.”

  “OK, you’ve got a high heel. This parking lot is a haven for hookers. That heel could’ve been lost weeks ago.”

  “Could’ve, but wasn’t.”

  Irritated, Vance gives Nadine a look, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pair of half glasses. After putting the glasses on, he holds the heel up for further inspection. He smiles, says, “You’re right. This is a fresh break, the wood is clean and light in color. Still got some tiny splinters around it. You made a good find here, nice work. Let’s look at the bodies.”

  Far from jaded, undecided in her own mind as to whether or not she is perhaps overly sensitive for this line of work, Nadine still can’t come up with much in the way of sympathy for these two victims. Death has done little to soften the cruel feral angles on the faces of the predators lying at her feet. Familiar faces, not as individuals, but of a breed.

  Nadine’s earliest memory of the species, her blood father, Ralph, a true dessert coyote. Ravaging the weak, packing-up with others of his ilk to confront the strong. Accountable only to his next selfish desire, his next sadistic whim. When told of her part in his death, Nadine’s reaction had been minimal. She neither believed or disbelieved, was not consumed by regret, nor moved to rejoicing. She had gathered herself, subconsciously opting for survival, knowing instinctively that the Ralphs of this world were legion, and that, as a woman, they would forever view her as prey.

  Vanc
e works the bodies, pulling back the lips of Wolf and Ray Bob, then moves to the three teeth, tiny pearl islands in their minuscule lake of blood. On his knees, half-glasses riding the bridge of his nose, he bends to within inches of the teeth. Satisfied, he shifts, resumes a similar position over Ray Bob’s temple. Grunting, he moves to Wolf, completes an examination of both the man’s head wounds, then rises to his feet.

  Dusting off the knees of his trousers, Vance says, “Couple of fucking hyenas. Dead hyenas. I’d say they ran into a bigger hyena.”

  “Or a lion.”

  Vance sighs, “Look, I know your history, so does Butch. He doesn’t think it’s gonna be a problem, but, I have to tell you, you keep saying things like that . . .”

  Nadine grins, “C’mon Vance. How about giving me a break with that shit. Just because I make an off the cuff remark here and there doesn’t mean that I’m this guy’s biggest fan, or even that I’m condoning what he’s done. Although you have to admit whoever did this, and we don’t know that it’s the Widowmaker, is good. One head shot, one heart shot, two dead skells.”

  “Of course he’s good, that’s why he hasn’t been apprehended, yet. And, it’s definitely him. These two mutts were killed by a big fucking cannon, minimum .357 with a very hot load, or a .41, or even a .44 mag. But, you’ve got those two .22 holes, they’re post-mortem by the way, those are signatures, Widowmaker signatures. Prick is bragging.”

  “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself here. Wait till you get ballistics back on the .22’s. If they’re a match, with the Widowmaker’s, then we’re in business.”

  Vance laughs, “Wait shit. It’s him, longer we wait the colder the trail. Worst case scenario, it’s not him. So? We’re still tracking a multiple murderer. We’re still doing what we’re paid to do. You can’t argue with that, even if you could I don’t have to listen, and I don’t intend to. Now, I want some input from you. Tell me what you think went down here.”

  “What? So you can knock it down?”

  “Why are you being defensive? We’re partners, I’m curious to see how you think, what you see here. C’mon, you must have come up with something, lay it on me.”

  Nadine crosses her arms, takes a breath, says, “There’s premeditation here, these two jerks were waiting for someone, I think that’s obvious.”