Murder Mysteries #5

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  Stacy clicked on the message and took a sip of her tea. Less than minute later, her mouth open, tea mug still in her hand, heart rate increasing, she had trouble comprehending what was written in the text. At first it seemed gibberish, but then after a re-read, it made some maddening sense. She sent a wireless command to her printer and while that was doing its job, she read the mail again slowly:

  "Dear US Marshall Stacy Foreham,

  You're good, damn good. I'm good, damn good as well. We're going to have a game of wits you and I. I'm going to commit murder and you're going to try and catch me. The victims may not deserve to die, but they've served their time here on earth. I'd guess in all respects I'd be deemed a psychopath, but in my world that is not true. After you've given a copy of this mail to your boss Connie Wilson in DC, and a profiler has done their job, I'll give you my profile to see if they match. However, I want this profile made public. Use the Oregonian newspaper and I expect to be inside front page or second page reading material. I'm deadly serious and you'll see my first work on the twentieth of December just four days from now. More in my next mail.

  Yours,

  The Equalizer "

  Stacy leaned back placing her two hands in her lap. She starred at the monitor scarcely believing what she had read. There were two things that made her believe what she saw was real. One was the reference to her ability to solve a crime and the other was this guy wanted some notoriety that was forthcoming. The ploy: catch me if you can was clearly evident. She also realized that the sender was untraceable.

  Stacy went to work. First she sent a copy to Connie and then called Detective Ben Razor of the Oregon State Police. She sent him a copy to his personal e-mail account. Next she did the same thing with a copy going to her fellow US Marshall Rory Caltex in Portland. "Ben sorry to disturb your family life, but please check your mail box for a mail I received. While you're digesting it I'll call Rory and then get back to you soonest."

  "I'll get my kid off the computer gladly and will be ready when you're through with Rory," said Ben without asking any questions.

  With her eyes still focused on the monitor, Stacy glanced down to punch in Rory's number, while it was processing her eyes went back to the screen focusing on the challenge of on sick person. Her fear was this would become a serial killer case. The actual motive was often rather obscure and or vague. The real scary part was the randomness of the killings. The killer would kill in one place and the next location far away. To apprehend a serial killer took patience, insight and the ability to hear and or read what he did not say.

  "Hey Super what's up on a dreary night in the valley," asked Rory.

  "Check you inbox Tall Man and after you've slowly digested the message, call me back in fifteen minutes as I’m going to discuss this with Ben. He's reading my shocking mail as we talk. Let's talk in a few," said a high-strung Stacy.

  Rory swiped his phone clean and could not ever remember Stacy being so strained talking to him. She was always calm with an even voice, not like what he just heard. He reached over to boot up his laptop which sat on the coffee table. His lady friend, Candy, was in the kitchen washing dishes. In less than a minute he was reading the forward mail from Stacy. Like Stacy, he read it through once quickly, then a little slower the second time and finally almost word for word the last time. He leaned back against the back of the sofa, brought forth some much-needed oxygen into his lungs and shook his head thinking this was not real, but a sick joke. Of course he realized that if it was a sick joke, Stacy probably would not have sent it to him, and from what she said, to Ben as well.

  Candy came around the corner wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She saw Rory sitting there as if a ghost had just ran through their living room. "Honey Tex, what is the matter? You look all white faced and worried."

  Rory looked up at his new girlfriend. She was a lovely redhead with freckles everywhere. "Come here and read this mail from Stacy. I'm afraid we've got a wacko that will murder some innocent person very soon. He's already boasting his prowess to Stacy, along with a challenge to catch him. It's one thing for a killer to murder a victim, but for a twisted sicko like this, it's random and not specific hatred for that victim."

  Candy had sat down next to Rory and read the mail. When she was finished, she said, "How do you solve or prevent a person like this from killing someone?"

  "You can't prevent it happening and how to solve it is to crawl inside the killers head to see where he's going. Sometimes a trap can be set and other times a meeting can take place. There aren't any set rules to follow. We've no idea where he'll strike, but we do know the when, but that's of no use to prevent a murder. This Candy my lovely soft and smooth love of my life, will, I've a bad feeling, ruin a lot of holiday sprits including ours."

  "Well Detective Ben Razor, what is your take on this holiday message?"

  "Stacy we've got a real bad one coming. I fear this could have an effect on holiday shopping revenue. If he kills someone on the 20th and demands notoriety, Oregon will be rocked back on its heels. He'll not choose a Joe Average, but a person of position for the initial shock. There's nothing we can do to prevent something we've no idea where it might occur. My guess would be here locally just to prove he can do it right under your nose. He must know your complete history and wants to challenge his mental capacity with yours. Sick, is a good word. I'll be in your office at 9 am. I'll call Salem now and alert my superiors of the mail you received."

  "Okay Ben let's talk in the morning. I'm calling Rory now and I'm sure Connie will ring me soon."

  "Super," said Rory, "You've got a rattle snake about to strike you. What can I do to help?"

  "I wish I knew Rory. There's not much we can do until he strikes. I'm sure the profilers are busy right this minute with the mail I sent Connie. I guess for now, just go about your daily work."

  "Go over to your gym and work out until you are about to drop. Take a shower, drink some honey milk and go to bed. Doctor Caltex's prescription for stress relief," he said with a chuckle hanging up.

  Stacy did as instructed and surprisingly, she slept well that night. It wasn't until 6 am that Connie called. Stacy had just stepped out of the shower and while dripping water, walked to her bed to sit down and listen to her boss.

  "Stacy we've a profiler on the job. She is flying to Portland as we speak. She's one of the best at this time. We hope for the best, but expect the worst. Keep focused Stacy and don't let this get to you. He wants you to squirm and suffer mentally. Don't let the bastard get your goat!"

  "My father taught me to ignore what you've no control over. I'm doing that. It's my guess he'll take another verbal poke at me in a day or so. My laptop will be on it's way to Portland for seeking to find the sender, but I think that errand will be fruitless."

  -3-

  Sheriff Clifford G. Demmit, fifty-nine years old, had been Lane Counties elected sheriff for the last nine years. He was born and raised in Eugene. His father before him was sheriff until he retired. Nowadays the son ruled with a fair hand over a very large county. His staff broached the two hundred count within the last few years. For the most part, his staff would tell you the sheriff was well liked.

  His career began in Eugene and that is where it would end after a thirty-seven year history. Some, like his wife, wished he would retire. Others were happy he was still in office. The killer who was about to take the sheriff's life was of the same thinking as his wife.

  Clifford and Margot had two children who were both professionals living in nearby Portland. The son, Willmar was into advertising and the daughter was beginning her teaching career at a community college.

  Every Christmas the two children came home for a few days vacation. Like many families, it was a special time. Possibly the only regret at the present time for Margot was the fact no grand children scurried about the lovely spacious home of the wishful grandparents.

  Margot was happy to see Christmas fell during the workweek this year. That meant the kids would come on Monday or
Tuesday at the latest. Janice and mother could have some fun with last minute shopping. Father and son Willmar would be happy sitting around talking sports. Lately the Oregon Duck football program was showing its backside to other major universities.

  Margot was in the kitchen preparing some homemade fudge. She glanced at the calendar for, Lord knows how many times that week, noting the day was the sixteenth. So much to do and with Clifford in the living room watching sports news, he was not any help what so ever, she thought. Just as she poured the hot fudge into a pan to cool, Cliff walked in with a smile and pinched her on the backside. "Hey mister! Do that again and I'll cuff you to the bed posts," Margot said with a sly look in her blue eyes.

  "Promises and promises is all I get nowadays my dear wife," said Cliff fetching another diet soda out of the refer.

  "I've an early present honey for you. Would you like to open it now?"

  Cliff looked at his wife and saw her gleaming eyes and her best seductive look about her. "Of course I'd like an early present dear. Where is it," he asked becoming curious.

  "Follow me dearest spouse," said Margot walking with purpose into the living room where the fresh Nobel fir evergreen tree stood recently decorated. She bent over and picked up a small package. She smiled and said open it my dear."

  Cliff was totally curious as she'd never gave him an early present since he could not remember when. He tore off the paper, opened the box and there before his eyes lined up like soldiers were God's gift to men his age: Viagra. He shook his head, opened one up, popped it into his mouth and washed it down with his soda. Off they walked hand in hand to the bedroom where his handcuffs were put to use.

  -4-

  Stacy had received the e-mail on the sixteenth of December. It was now the seventeenth at 8 am. He staff usually showed up before 7:30 most days. Dan Swollow was her deputy who was absent because he was taking criminal related classes at the university. His live in partner, Emma Skyler was Stacy's first secretary/receptionist. Emma proved her desire for becoming more than just a secretary, with Stacy's approval; she would accompany the team to a crime scene. For a while she did both jobs as a secretary/receptionist and record keeper when interviews were required. Then Stacy realized more help was needed. They hired a proven temp by the name of Sharon Lord.

  Stacy, Emma, Sharon and with the addition of Lane Counties CSI investigator Cathy Wilson, sat in the small office kitchen drinking morning tea or coffee. Stacy had called Cathy to listen in and read about the conversation of what she told her staff that graced her e-mail account.

  Emma was first to say, "There's some really mentally crazy people walking around out there. We’ve school shootings that pop up most every week, random hospital shootings, church related killings and the list go on and on. Now we got this eight ball telling us he's going to assassinate someone in a few days just before Christmas. All because he wants to prove he's just as smart as our resident US Marshall. I can't do anything but shake my head."

  "If it becomes reality, I'll hang my head in shame," said Sharon.

  "Indeed he'll murder someone we all know to enhance his stature. He'll giggle at the media stories that will follow his assassination. His problem will be exacerbated by the fact he can't talk about it to anyone but Stacy. One scary part is once he has a taste of being a star, he'll never stop," said Cathy.

  Just then Ben came in with a bag of delicious smelling bakery. "Morning ladies. I got lucky this morning as the kids rode with another parent. Mother had to cough up the spending money so I smiled all the way to the bakery."

  "Thanks Ben. We were just talking about the e-mail. Connie told me that a profiler was flying to PDX and Rory will pick her up."

  "One of our patrol folks will take your laptop and see what or if an IP can be traced. We're probably SOL as this guy wouldn't be so obvious to show us the way to his house. Meanwhile, I've not a clue as to what we can do," said Ben.

  "I suppose we could say a prayer, but sometimes He doesn't listen to our prayers," said Cathy.

  "I'll spend some time reading about serial killers that were caught and how they were caught. What mistakes did they make and why some were never caught. I'm sure when the profiler arrives, she can enlighten us with things we aren't' aware of. My impression from reading the mail is he's educated, middle age and that's about all I can determine about him at this time. I can't respond to his e-mail as I've already tried that. It came up undelivered as you might expect. Well, Rory and his passenger should be here around noon or after. He'll call after he picks her up."

  Ben said, "I'm going over to the university. Another detective told me a hotshot shrink or whatever one might call a head person who has agreed to see me this am around 10. I'll be back around lunch time."

  The profiler had Rory's cell number. She called him as she exited the baggage area. If what she had heard about a pending assassination was true, then she would need a bag full of clothes for an extended stay. It was times like this she was happy she was single. Rory answered half way through the second ring. "Hello Marshall. I'm Angie Burnside from DC."

  "I'm right outside the exit door Ms. Burnside. My vehicle is a blue SUV. Right now a blue light is twirling on the roof."

  Angie drug her bag with one hand and her carry on with the other out into the cold windy Pacific Northwest. She saw a tall good-looking man smiling at her while walking quickly to help her with her bags. After her bags were loaded in the back, he introduced himself. Before they had left the airport they were on a first name basis. "We've a three hour ride Angie ahead of us. Are you hungry?"

  "Not so Rory. Believe it or not, the breakfast they served was spot on. I was surprised. No, I'm good until lunch."

  Rory sensed her subtle perfume. He thought it intoxicating and wondered why this agent was so attractive to him. When he saw her at the airport, she looked not unlike other handsome women. There was not anything special about her that stood out, but her overall appearance and then her personality, coupled with the lovely scent, was distracting to a certain degree. He guessed her age at around thirty-five. No ring was evident on her long slim fingers with a pale pink nail color. By the time they had passed by Salem, over an hour later, he was under her spell. Rory guessed right that he was in trouble with this visitor from DC.

  Arriving in Eugene just after noon, Rory parked underground of the Marshall building. Holding the door open like a good gentleman, Angie Burnside walked inside taking long steps. Sharon jumped up with a welcome smile. Rory made a quick introduction and then both followed Sharon into Stacy office. A long twenty seconds went by as each sized the other up. Stacy held out her hand and soon the introductions were over. Sitting at the round conference table they decided on having some lunch delivered. It was decided deli sandwiches were a good idea. Stacy said, "We welcome you Angie as this is an area totally unfamiliar to me. Of course I've read about various serial killers, but few similarities exist between them. What can you add to what I've said?"

  "First off we don't know yet if this will be the beginning of a string of murders involving one perpetrator. On the surface of the mail I don't see an angry person, but a person who feels confident about what he's doing. If he follows through with his prediction, then the crime will be committed for all to see firsthand his bait for you to catch him. I also think it's second hand reasoning to involve you Stacy. He's another reason for why he's committing murder. His victim will be high profile for shock affect."

  "I agree with what you say Angie. We don't have any idea what to do from here until we've more evidence to work with. Would you expect another mail before his planed murder date?"

  "Maybe yes. If he feels that another barb is what he needs to feel good, then I would expect a mail tomorrow or who knows," said Angie.

  Dan arrived from school and Emma was just back from asking Cathy and Dr. Stone, the resident pathologist to come over after lunch to meet the agent from DC. Stacy explained who Cathy Wilson and Dr. Marsha Stone were in the circle of colleagues germane to the Marsh
all's position in Southern Oregon. Later Angie would meet Detective Ben Razor when he returned from an interview with a local university professor who was the head of the Psychology Department at the university.

  Lunch came with the need to move to a bigger table in the other conference room. Soon with the addition of Cathy and Marsha, along with Ben, the small table in Stacy's office would not be sufficient. Angie was given the eye opening pleasure of seeing Rory consume copious amounts of food at one time. Stacy was the first to poke some fun at him. Rory just smiled with his chipmunk cheeks threatening to rip the skin of his cheeks.

  -5-

  Not so far away, actually just across the river in neighboring Springfield, Chris McGoogle sat in his office eating a sandwich from home. Chris was an insurance salesperson with a fairly successful business. Most fellow businesspersons in town knew who he was, but few really had more than a causal acquaintance with him. He smiled at his neighbors and always said the appropriate greeting. He and his family lived in a sprawling lower middle-income housing tract where one house was hardly disguisable from the other. His wife was a stay-at-home homemaker of a shy disposition. Clarice never made any waves or questioned her husband's orders.

  Chris had been planning this 'project' for the better part of two years. He had to save up some money for his false cover in Eugene. Chris had rented a small building with an office to house his bogus plumbing business. The sign advertised: McDougall's Plumbing Co. It was complete with phone number; which was answered by voice recording. He never used a first name when he actually talked to a customer. Inside the small building sat his used van with his company name advertised on the side. Inside the van was stocked with a complete set of plumbing supplies and tools. It was this van that would be his cover for his work ahead of him.