Thank goodness the terminal was in full operation, employees swiftly guided them to their designated gate.
Boarding the plane was quick. They easily moved through the aisle and sat in their assigned seats anxious to disembark. Fike explained in a low tone the findings reported to him. He was cautious not to offend the other passengers. Often, he showed Jones his notes when the horrid killings needed a further explanation regarding the Portland double homicide case.
Chapter 18
“Best of luck tonight, Gypsy Jazz Man, it’s a full house. Just think, the club will be jamming soon to the sound of your music.” Ryan Bufet hugged Steven.
“I’m ready,” Steven replied, “and I’m not as nervous as I thought I’d be. Instead I feel like I can’t wait to get out there.”
“Hey, that’s what I want to hear.” Ryan took note of Steven’s new clothes. “Nice jacket, man.”
“Yea, pretty cool, huh? Bo Bo gave it to me.”
“I should have guessed, black and green plaid, pretty stylish.” Ryan grinned.
“Did you see Kari out there?” I asked, shyly.
“Of course I did, she looks gorgeous! She’s at a table along with Bryan and her parents. Don’t worry about anything, just play from your heart, and everything will fall into place.” Ryan and Steven then exited the back room.
“Set, set, set.” John checked in to inspect us. “Remember guys, to smile at the audience when first approaching the stage and let’s jazz the pants off of them tonight!”
* * * *
Suddenly tingling nerves of pain twisted in my stomach. I faked a smile when I walked across the stage floor.
Moving in what felt like slow motion, I had the sensation of being under water with the current pushing against my body. Kari was wearing a sleeveless turquoise dress; her eyes gazed into mine. Which really helped calm my nerves and I gave everyone a real smile.
I situated myself on stage along with the others. At the sound of Bo Bo’s drumbeat, I dove in strumming my guitar right on cue and the night took flight. I vanished into a journey of another era, absorbed by the spirit of gypsy. Our music seeped into the crevices of the walls, taking on a vibration of jazz sounds. I no longer saw the stage; the audience had filtered away, for my soul had pronounced its glory and the people responded with applause.
Prior to starting the second set, John introduced me to the audience. I presented myself and bowed at their prompt applause. With a quick twirl of the cello, a tap of my foot, and a beat of the drum, the three of us played my song—the first one I ever composed. Totally euphoric with each strum, I was elated regarding my performance; it was beyond my own recognition.
On the final chord, I grabbed my fedora and threw it to the crowd. The excitement was contagious, and everyone stood waving their hands cheering for more. While the cello played louder and the drum beat repetitively, Kari fetched my hat. I bent, lowering myself towards her so she could put it back on my head. Her soft face brushed mine and she kissed my cheek.
Softly, peacefully, the atmosphere settled down, all eyes now on the drummer as Bo Bo sat center stage gently hitting the drum heads, which produced an amazingly beautiful sound. The table lamps all had been turned off. Only the glow of a spotlight now shone brightly on him and his drums. Our blend of uniqueness filled the air and everyone seemed to be connected. John and I noticed this when we finished the last notes of the song. We bowed our heads without movement or applause from the crowd. It seemed like a full minute passed before they stood up and applauded to the end of our night.
Kari and Bryan waited in the lobby for me while I freshened myself in the bathroom. I had perspired profusely. I was so pumped up. The others went on ahead to the restaurant. Kari approached me holding a bag. “Congratulations, this is a celebratory gift for your debut.”
I pulled out a navy blue button-up dress shirt with black pinstripes, which she said complemented not only me but us as a couple. “Thank you so very much, I love it,” he told her with a hug.
We gathered at Lamontes Steak House, and enjoyed a fantastic dinner, which created a great ending to the best night I’d ever had.
The food was delicious. Our conversation was so loud we could have blown out the windows as we all spoke at once. I made the first toast. “Raise your glasses, John, Bo Bo and Ryan,” I shouted. “Thank you very much for giving me this opportunity to perform with you.”
“Here, here,” Paul chimed in.
“We love you, Steven,” Joanne said.
“Here’s to a fantastic opening night, with many more nights to come,” John and Bo Bo said in unison.
Then something unexpected happened. I found myself out of character; I voiced another toast. “To all of you, my new friends, you have given me a sense of security which I will hold onto as our relationship develops, like a flower growing in the sun. Once again, I thank you.”
Chapter 19
A rookie officer from Portland stood there observing the deck of the sailboat. “You think someone would have heard them screaming.”
Captain Clark brushed past him then entered the stairwell to the hull.
A fellow officer replied to the rookie, “Neighbors said Radcliffe was always having sex parties, so any sounds would have been ignored. The bodies were discovered this morning by a friend of the woman victim.”
Portland’s medical examiner J.D. Bloom expressed his findings. “Blood splatter on three walls behind the bed frame and side walls, floor area around the woman soaked with blood. Cause of death, carotid artery cut with a sharp object. Appeared she was sexually violated, there are semen stains on her thighs along with vaginal bleed. The blood on the male victim’s chest showed a distinctive outline that ran down his lower abdomen and lateral sides. Consistent with the assailant sitting with legs spread on top of him when he stabbed the victim in the heart. It appeared he sat there for several minutes as he allowed the blood to pool to form this thick wall around the victim’s legs. Without a doubt, the killer enjoyed watching this man bleed out. The knife wound to the male’s heart was the cause of death. He’s been dead approximately ten hours, and the female about the same, maybe nine hour’s tops,” the medical examiner finished.
“Thank you for that assessment. Are you through here, doc?” Captain Clark asked.
“Yes, actually, I prefer to continue the rest at the morgue,” he replied.
“Thank you again; we appreciate your expertise,” said Clark.”
Photographs were taken of the entire boat, every angle shot from every corner. Multiple photos taken of each victim, and every piece of evidence photographed, bagged and documented. “Don’t forget the outside area and top deck of this boat, too,” Clark ordered the officer.
“Captain Clark, sir, will you come to the top deck immediately!” someone shouted. “Over here, look at the stains on this cushion.” He pointed.
“Perhaps our killer came up here after he knifed them. That sick bastard,” Clark said.
“Sorry sir, I didn’t notice it before. I assessed the surrounding area, focused not to miss anything when I saw the cushion on the floor under this chaise lounge. I picked it up and flipped it over—that’s when I noticed the blood and called for you.”
“Bloody handprints stained at the head portion of the cushion. Several small blood smears and fluid about midway down the cushion. That son of a bitch lay face down here. He was probably naked and I bet he relished in this moment. What are we dealing with here?” Clark asked in disgust. “Get it bagged and sent to forensics,” he ordered the rookie.
Clark’s phone rang. He slid it open. An Officer Pascal announced himself and without hesitation, informed Clark of the interview updates. The first one was with Radcliffe and Tracy’s friends who were regulars at the Freetone Club.”
Pascal said, “The waitress saw them here last night with a young man who was wearing a Mariners baseball cap, blue jeans, a dark green shirt, and black coat. He had dark brown hair, an adorable smile—just quoting the waitress—a litt
le on the quiet side. He appeared to be all right in her book. Says she had never seen him before, that he hung out at the bar for quite a while before approaching Radcliffe. Furthermore, she said that the three of them seemed pretty cozy together and happy when they left the club around one-thirty this morning.”
“Thank you, Officer Pascal, is there anything else?” Clark asked.
“Not here,” Pascal said, “however one of the neighbors who resided at the pier—a Mr. Johnson—saw a naked guy walking on the upper deck of Radcliffe’s boat about three a.m.”
“Okay, that’s good work.” Clark ended the call. He turned to an officer. “I want you to check out a possible witness, a Mr. Johnson, who lives on one of the boats a couple of rows down.” He stepped aside, to allow room for the M.E. and his team to move the bodies out.
Chapter 20
“Welcome Detective Fike and Detective Jones, I’m Captain Clark, the lead on this case. I’ll fill you both in on what we have so far in the car as we drive to the morgue.”
“Thank you,” Jones replied.
The forensic specialist began with the findings, “Semen was found on both victims, and is a positive match to the sample obtained from your Washington suspect. The same match with these blood analyses. However I found no DNA match in the system. I just spoke with your forensic technician this morning. Myrna confirmed this as did the written reports she faxed to us. Photos of both blue blindfolds appear to be of the same cloth, I should have a reading on that within the next couple of hours.”
“Knife blade and angle of insertion are a close to a match with your victim, except these show a less degree of depth insertion,” Clark added.
“He may have used less force, perhaps less anger with Radcliffe,” Fike said.
“Could be,” Clark continued, “the killer not only got off on these acts, but also took pleasure in watching the blood drain from the wound. Physical description matches, also a match verified by our blood samples,” he finished.
Clark escorted Detective Fike and Detective Jones to the morgue.
“Excuse me, Dr. Bloom, these are the detectives from Washington I spoke to you about,” said Clark.
The medical examiner removed his glove and extended his hand to Detective Fike.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Dr. Bloom.” Jones acknowledged him with a nod.
They preceded to the stainless steel tables across the room where the victim’s bodies still lay. After a verbal account of his findings, Dr. Bloom grabbed a plastic evidence bag and gave it to Jones. “Does this look familiar?”
“Yes,” she responded.
The bag contained a blue piece of material identical to the one found with Mr. Crown’s body in Washington. She meticulously removed it from the bag, letting it dangle in front of her. It was clean compared to the one Mark had obtained from their victim.
“Thank you for the information, doctor. We will stay in contact with you until this case is solved,” Fike informed him.
Captain Clark asked Fike for further information pertaining to their analysis of the suspect’s behavior profile. On the drive back to the crime scene, the three of them discussed both cases in length.
At the boat they were greeted by two officers and a couple of curious kids hanging around the crime scene tape near the dock entrance.
“Did you know these people who were found today?” Jones asked the young boys.
“No, we never spoke to her but we’ve seen her topless lots of times sitting on the deck. Sometimes she stood up to stretch her arms to the sky,” one of them said.
“Okay, thanks boys, you head on home now. Go straight home,” Fike said with a grin he couldn’t hold back.
Fike and Jones entered the sailboat. They understood how easy it was to determine where and how the crime took place, especially after viewing the violated dead bodies at the morgue. Fike did a visual scan of the scene while Jones walked a more precise investigation.
“In your briefing, Captain Clark, you mentioned a Mr. Johnson, that he had seen the suspect on top of the boat deck. Anything else can you tell me about him?” Fike asked.
“Mr. Johnson had no problem answering any questions. He seemed captivated with himself as he described the number of times he had observed Radcliffe and his ladies. I gather he is a bit of a peeper. He appears harmless, though,” Clark replied.
“Captain Clark, may I ask what made you come to that decision?” Jones yelled from the bathroom where she had just opened every cupboard.
“Mr. Johnson is in his sixties. He lives alone except for his small dachshund. Even though he has a wandering eye for the ladies, which was easy to determine as he eyed the women standing by the railings during the questioning. The fact is, I had him checked out by the department to ensure us he had no criminal record. Which he had none,” Clark finished.
“Sounds innocent enough for me,” Fike said.
“Question now is, what or who enticed our killer to Portland, and will he assault another person while he’s here?” Jones said, adding, “I believe we’ve seen enough, so we’re through here for now. Thank you for all your participation and information today.”
Back at the police station, the three of them continued in conversation for another half hour. “We would like to thank you once more for allowing us to review your findings.” Fike extended his hand to Clark as he escorted them to the parking lot.
“See you tomorrow about eight in the morning,” Jones replied when they reached their rental car.
They drove to their hotel to settle in, and to change clothes for the night. Before entering her room Jones stood outside her door, and asked Fike, “What do you think about getting out of here later, let things process, clear our heads, and have dinner at the local jazz club?”
Chapter 21
The dark haired man—aka Jay—lurked around a hotel parking lot.
Damn, I miss my Mariner’s cap, I’m so angry at myself for getting blood on it—another piece of me lost. He hid on the side of the motel building as he peered towards one of the doors and overheard an older couple talking about a day trip to Multnomah Falls.
Jay watched the woman leave then returned to her room and she was standing at the door holding a tray of breakfast food. Casually he bumped into her, lifted her key from her purse while she was busy knocking on the door yelling for her husband to open it because both her hands were full. Jay apologized for bumping into her and excused himself as he walked around the building wall.
I wait and wait. I can’t take this much longer. Time is moving too slowly. It’s fucking taking them hours to eat. Hurry up, people. Shit, get the hell out of there, I need to rest. The door opened; finally they emerged from the room and left to get into their car. Suddenly the old man got out of the car walked back to his room while his wife shouted, “You always have to go to the bathroom!”
Five minutes passed before they drove off. Jay removed the key from his pocket unlocked the door, and put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the knob. He turned on the television set to listen to the news channel while he washed his body. Then opened the closet and changed into the old man’s shirt and pants.
Radcliffe’s clothes are too large for me, but shit they saved me from exposing myself in public. I thought that was fucking brilliant.
Jay disposed of his bloody clothes and cap by throwing them into the ocean. He placed rocks inside a plastic bag and observed how fast it sank.
The news reporter’s voice was loud as he reported on a double homicide. Jay recognized the sketch of a man on the screen that resembled him. There was a written note scrolling underneath the sketch for all viewers to be cautious and watch out for this man.
Not a very good sketch of me as they show a different angle of my profile, but the face somewhat resembles mine. What the hell, I killed them.
Radcliffe and Tracy’s photographs were also displayed on the screen. “Both killed on their boat while being deceived into a sexual scheme,” the reporter announced.
&n
bsp; Deceived, I was the one being fucking cheated out of my pleasures! While that damn bitch of a woman fought me and ruined the night for all of us.
Visions of her on the boat’s floor as she lay in a beautiful pool of red blood came to the surface of Jay’s mind. Agitated, he paced the motel room, and then went to the bathroom. Turned on the cold water, splashed it on his face. Jay fiercely scratched his head scraping the skin with his fingernails until he drew blood. His thoughts raced with uncontrollable voices, overpowering his mind.
He grabbed one of the pillows from the bed, hugged it tightly then sat staring at the television. He changed the channel to a music station, cranked up the volume and lay down on the floor. Jerking his body from side to side in a rhythmic motion, his mind quieted and once again he was lost in the woods. Those familiar sounds placed him in a relaxed state as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
An hour passed before Jay awoke. He noticed that he was still in the older couple’s room. Reality: you killed those people. Get up and run the fuck out of here!
Chapter 22
Paul offered to accompany me on my house-hunting excursion. Which I agreed to, but first we dropped Kari and Joanne off at a department store to so they could shop.
“There are some nice apartment complexes near the college with low rent,” Paul said.
I glared at him. “No way, I cannot live in an apartment with hundreds of people constantly around me. I need more space, a place with a quieter atmosphere. You know I like to read philosophy, compose my music, and play my guitar, which absorbs most of my energy. The quiet rejuvenates my body and mind, which produces the energy needed for me to create productive music.”
With a Tilt of My Hat Page 7