Charity Kills (A David Storm Mystery)

by Jon Bridgewater

  “What did you tell him?” Storm demanded, hoping Russell hadn’t let too much out of the bag.

  “The truth, he is to sharp for me to lie to, so yes, I told him what this was about and no, he won’t share with anyone else.” Russell looked at Storm as if his friend had just called him a red-headed stepchild.

  “OK, so what did you tell him?” Storm pushed for more information.

  “That you had a case and you had heard a rumor about other killings that might be similar, maybe even related. I asked if he remembered anything about anything.”

  “Well?” snorted Storm, frustrated with the time Russell was taking getting to the point.

  “He did. It took us about an hour to find it, but we found the murder of a girl named Stephanie Gilmore from Huntsville. She was found near the stadium about a year ago naked and her throat cut.”

  “Was there anything in what you found about anyone ever getting caught for it?”

  “Records from the station didn’t show that anyone was ever caught or convicted. In fact, from what we could find, it seemed the entire case seemed to just disappear.”

  “Did you find any more mysterious killings of girls this time of year or around the Dome?”

  “In fact, Baretta, you won’t believe this. We found five more news items that suggest five more girls over five years that were found just like the one you got this morning. And you ready for this, hombre de mio?”

  “Yeah, come on, give it to me,” Storm answered impatiently.

  “The circumstances seem eerily similar in every case!”

  As the waiter approached to ask Storm if he wanted a drink the conversation fell silent. Storm ordered water and Russell ordered another Jack and Coke.

  After the waiter was dismissed Storm asked, “Was there any information about them; names, addresses, family, anything?”

  “Yes, I have a list of their names here for you. They all had their throats cut, they were all found in the neighborhood around the Dome or on the grounds of the Dome, they were all about the same age, similar in appearance, and nobody was ever charged with their murders.” Russell hesitated, pausing over his drink, his brow furrowed. He took a slow drink. Finally he asked, “Storm, what have you gotten me into?”

  “I got no idea, yet, but you’ve done enough. Stop digging for now and don’t leave a trail at the station. I don’t need some hotshot reporter looking into ‘til I know what I got on my hands.”

  Russell shot back a wounded look. He sounded irritated. “First, this is you and me. Second, I’m in this now, and so is Grady, so if this breaks as a story it is ours and yours. You make the arrest and we get the scoop.”

  “Hell of a long way from the weather, Russell.” Now Storm was trying to make a point. He was concerned for his friend. No one knew where this was going to lead and how dangerous it might end up being.

  “Hell with you. I started as a reporter—remember that? And think of the babes I could get if this turns into ‘How the Hero Weather Man Solved the Woman Killer Crime of the Decade.’” He repeated it smiling. “ Hm ...‘Hero Weatherman Solves Multiple Murders.’ I like the sound of it.”

  “OK, but just keep it between you and Grady, and go ahead and keep digging. Let me know if you find something else. And for God’s sake keep your head down if this goes ugly,” Storm warned Russell.

  Storm wasn’t sure what he had gotten himself into yet, either, but it looked like Leslie Phillips was the tip of the iceberg, with five other murders before her. This case of a girl’s murder might have just multiplied and the implications were almost unthinkable. He needed much more information, as there were many more questions than answers so far. They ordered and ate their dinners quietly, catching up on how Tech was doing in basketball since they had hired Bobby Knight and settling into a conversation that would get them back to some semblance of reality and relaxation.

  Chapter Ten

  The Model Employee

  Early Monday morning the day after Leslie Phillips’ body had been discovered the invisible minions who performed the day-to-day toil, who were generally unnoticed by the general public and working members of the largest rodeo charity, began to arrive at work.

  Peggy Wise was one of those unassuming employees everyone wants working for them. She was efficient and extremely capable while performing her job, no matter what the hour was. She was cute and young but on the generously proportioned side, so the office Romeos didn’t hang around her desk romancing her or wasting her time. Peggy was affable, with dirty blonde hair, maybe just a smidge overweight but her personality sparkled. She could captivate most people with her good-natured attitude and warm smile, but if you judged by her physical appearance alone, you’d think of her as quite ordinary and almost invisible.

  Every morning she was not just on time for work, but early. The upcoming three weeks, being early was a necessity and more than just the office ethics of doing a good job. She had worked for the Show for the past eight years, starting as a basic runner or “step’n’fetchit girl.” She had worked her way up to assistant to the head of ticket sales, a promotion that she took seriously. Beginning in January and running through April, the number of employees at the Show ballooned to more than five hundred, including additional office staff, waiters, bartenders, ticket sellers and cleaning staff. During that time she managed a huge group of employees, and clients, customers, and underlings who manned the ticket window quickly discovered she was a problem solver and that she led by example.

  Peggy’s Monday morning routine had just started when the rumors about a girl being found dead on Sunday had begun to filter in from the temporary staff. The entire floor was abuzz with whispers and speculation. Softly spoken murmurs could be heard passing from one part time employee to another: “A young woman has been found dead, yes, on the grounds, yes, they say her throat had been slashed and she had been raped,” each time the details repeated with wide frightened eyes and a shake of the head..

  Eight years of employment with the Show had taught Peggy a lesson she had learned well. Negative rumors would not be tolerated. She knew she had to put a stop to them, or at least quiet them down in her department. Employees who persisted in spreading idle gossip about something that could be construed as negative would be let go.

  “I will not tolerate gossip,” she told her staff. “Rumors are not facts, but the public perceives them as facts, and we cannot be the source of those rumors,” she explained. “Now let’s quit discussing this unfortunate event and leave the settlement to the powers that be to worry about.”

  She reassured her female employees that there were plenty of police officers and male escorts to walk them to their cars after dark, so no one should be afraid. She laughed and said the only problem she’d had in eight years was a drunken cowboy whistling at her. With her figure, she told the girls, she had considered that a compliment, and even the temp girls in the office had giggled at her carefree attitude.

  Peggy also took the opportunity to remind the staff of the rules against fraternization with Show members, committee persons, or fellow employees, a reminder that drew a large collective sigh followed by more giggles—like any of them would fess up, anyway! The Show had always been a great place for singles to meet, whether they were looking for a rich spouse or just someone nice to date. But the Show had made it perfectly clear during informal indoctrination that dating a committee member was off limits to all employees. Dating, drinking, or partying with committee persons was the fastest way to lose your job.

  Peggy went back to her desk and began to work on the receipts of sales from the day before, organizing the remaining seats, calling the ticket vendors, and putting together her report, which was accurate to the last ticket. Tickets that still remained unsold for some of the upcoming underappreciated performances were noted and set aside for further work. Selling unwanted tickets was another part of her job; she enticed local businesses friendly to the Show to buy them and pass them out to employees and clients. The Show hated n
ot being able to say a performance was sold out, or at least ninety percent sold out.

  Over her eight years at the Show, Peggy had seen a lot of changes in the lineup of entertainers, with the most dramatic changes having come in the past couple of years. When she had first come to the Show it was mainly all about Country and Western acts and the Show had attracted the biggest names in the business: George Strait, Reba McIntire, Brooks & Dunn, Martina McBride, and many, many others. But that, too, had changed. When it was decided to extend the length of the Show, now almost a month long, the emphasis changed, too, adding performers from other music genres like Hilary Duff and Little Bow Wow. These performers brought in a much more diverse clientele and added a younger crowd to the mix. The annual dates of the Show had also been moved back almost a month in hopes of attracting high school and college kids on spring break. The new facility was bigger, the carnival was larger, and of course, they had the new stadium that held more people for each of the performances. So everything was changed or changing, some changes positive, some not so.

  During the Show, Peggy’s hours were longer, and they meant working a seven day week. It wasn’t unusual for her to work fourteen-hour-days during those weeks. Many of the staff and working committee members even rented small apartments near the Dome to cut their travel time, many sharing one apartment to cut the cost. Peggy’s decision to buy her home in the neighborhood she had picked had been influenced by her job and proximity to work. She now only lived twenty minutes away. She was pleased that she never had to worry about traffic; she could use back streets, avoiding major thoroughfares, to get in early. Her sleepy bedroom neighborhood was safe, and with the neighborhood watch and the proximity of a police station she never worried about her late hours.

  In spite of being a proponent of the rumor rules she couldn’t help herself, and that Monday morning while sitting at her desk, Peggy’s mind began to wander to the murder. Who was this girl? Peggy was of the few who was aware of the others; she even knew one of them, Elaine Gage. Elaine had been a friend when they worked together at Tejas Petroleum. She too was from a small town not far from where Peggy had grown up. Elaine was a pretty girl and all the guys at Tejas had always been stumbling around her desk like flies to honey. Elaine never had a problem meeting men, even the inappropriate ones and she had dated a lot, always coming back to work after a weekend more tired than she had left for it. Elaine and Peggy were different as night and day, but that had never stopped them and they had become fast friends and had seen a lot of each other until Peggy left Tejas and went to work for the Show.

  Not long after Peggy began to see Elaine at the Show, too. Elaine had joined a working Show committee and would come visit or call Peggy regularly. Many times the two of them would meet for a soft drink or sandwich when both could get away.

  When Elaine joined the committee, she got the privileges that went along with it. She was able to attend social functions given by the Show as partial reward for the hours of work committee members donated to the workings of the Show. She could go to membership only clubs that provided a place where volunteers could drink and mingle without the general public. Over time she and Peggy had drifted apart. Peggy would often see her heading to one club or another with her new acquaintances to drink and flirt with the cigar store cowboys. As for Elaine, she had found a target rich environment at the Show with volumes of available and unavailable men to tempt. There were rich ones, poor ones, cute ones, single ones, and the oh- so-many men who wives were conveniently absent from activities this time of year. The advent of the term “Rodeo Wife” came from the “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”—or its twin “What happens in the Show stays in the Show”— attitude that persisted in the VIP Clubs and provided safe sanctuary for the event elite. The so-called Rodeo Wives are actually the young women who were constantly in company of these elite.

  The year Elaine had been murdered, Peggy had seen her going and coming from the VIP Clubs. One club in particular was a watering hole for dignitaries of the Show and affluent guests. These were people who contributed large amounts of money to the Show or had personal relationships inside the “Good Ole Boy Network” to relax in a nonjudgmental environment. The “gentry” had privileges not afforded the regular committee people—their own bar, real glasses for drinks, and a four-star restaurant. They also had their own security diligently guarding the door, so the riffraff couldn’t intrude. These types of clubs were no different than exclusive country clubs and restaurants in at least one way. The moneyed men who frequented them drew a bevy of cute young women vying to meet her “Cowboy Charming.” The money was in the VIP Club and if these girls didn’t mind letting their morals or ideals slide just a bit, they were welcome, unless they were coming to make a nuisance of themselves. Affairs and trysts were commonplace, with two rules: Just don’t get possessive, and always remain discreet.

  Peggy had known a few of the girls who had gained entry into this world of exclusivity and had done well; they had found someone who would leave his wife for them or been convinced to wait for the wife’s demise, leaving the field open to them. But these girls were the exception rather than the rule. Most rodeo wives accepted their role as the mistress or the other woman, content with the perks bestowed on them. When Peggy saw Elaine she was always in the company of a married man, but she had nice clothes, nice jewelry, and was always invited to the right functions, as long as the wife was not there, and sometimes even if she was.

  There were two VIP clubs, one in the new center and one in the new stadium, both nicer than those they had in the old Dome and old center. There were always extra badges and credentials available to the directors and vice presidents for their “guests.” With these credentials, the girls could come and go without security or committeemen who worked the door asking questions.

  Peggy had listened and watched many things since her friend had been found dead across Fannin Street in an abandoned car. She had talked to the policemen who worked security on the grounds, questioning them about the crime. She knew cops were all voyeurs and would know how the girl had died and if she had been violated. Peggy was revolted by the thought of these strangers looking at her naked friend lying in an abandoned car on the side of an empty city lot, but she was right; most of those working that day had gone over to see the body after it was discovered and could describe the scene in minute detail. She also knew she could ask them and they would tell anything they knew of any leads or clues. In Elaine’s case all the officers knew was she had been found naked and that she had been violated.

  At the time Peggy heard about Leslie’s murder, she knew the police still had no leads and no apparent motive, except for rape. Peggy hated that nothing was being done, and she hated how the media had treated Elaine’s murder as if Elaine had somehow been in the wrong, as if somehow her friend had gotten in with some bad people who had killed her without leaving a trace. The newspapers had carried just a small article about a girl being found dead in an abandoned car near the Dome where the new rail system would soon be built; a rail line that would connect the Dome with the Medical Center and downtown Houston. The article had seemed more concerned with how the location of the rail line would mean the demise of an old apartment project that had been an eyesore for years than with the untimely and ugly death of a pretty young girl.

  The obituary, too, was small. It only told she was from Hallettsville, Texas, she was twenty-five years old, and that she was single with no family. It also mentioned she worked for Tejas Petroleum and was being buried in a cemetery near where she lived in the Westbury area of Houston.

  Peggy had gone to Elaine’s funeral, a sparse affair attended by only a handful of people. She saw a couple people she vaguely recognized from Tejas Petroleum, though she couldn’t recall their names, and another woman who piqued Peggy’s interest because she couldn’t remember where she had seen the woman before. She was a tall blonde woman who looked familiar, but try as hard as she could, for her life Peggy couldn’t put her finge
r on where. Maybe she had worked at Tejas. Maybe that was where Peggy had seen her, but she just wasn’t sure so she didn’t say “hello” to the woman.

  Since Elaine’s murder Peggy had been writing down notes and observations about things that happened at the Show, keeping an eye open to who she saw with whom. If another girl disappeared she wanted to see if she could link them to anyone in particular; someone who could possibly be a murderer. As the years passed, Peggy kept clippings from the other murders; some had pictures, most didn’t. She found she liked playing “sleuth,” her word for herself in this situation. She liked studying the information she found in the papers and the rumors she heard at work. Over time, she found that the cases had a few things in common; each girl was from a small town, most had no family to speak of, and the scariest thing of all was that those for whom there had been photographs, each girl had resembled Elaine.

  But what did that mean? Was it just a coincidence? And what was there other than looks of the victims to tie them together, if anything?

  Peggy pulled out the notebook she had been hiding in her private desk drawer, the one that required a key to open it. She opened it to the first page, on which she had taped some newspaper articles about her friend Elaine.

  _________________________

  Gage

  Elaine Marie Gage, 25

  Of Houston/Hallettsville passed away February 26, 1998. Funeral services will be March 1, 1998 at 11:00 a.m. at Westbury Cemetery, Houston, Texas.

  __________________________

  Local Woman Found Murdered

  Elaine Gage, a local Hallettsville High School graduate, was found murdered in Houston over the weekend. She was discovered inside an abandoned car across the street from the Dome complex early Sunday morning. She was discovered as police ran random checks on derelict vehicles abandoned on the lot. The circumstances of her death have not been released by Houston Police, but anonymous sources have revealed that the girl had been sexually assaulted before her death. Homicide detectives have assured the public they will be investigating her murder and as soon as more information is available, they will be releasing what they know to the press. Miss Gage graduated in 1991 and immediately got a job working for Tejas Petroleum in Houston, where she was living. She had been a member of the Hallettsville District Championship Lady Brahma volleyball team. She leaves no family and services will be held in Houston at the Westbury Cemetery, Wednesday, March 1, 1998 at 11 A.M.