Murder Mysteries #5

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  Turning the TV off she opened her notebook. After it booted, she fully expected to see a message from the Executioner glaring at her, but with air escaping the new messages were from friends and a new one from Rory was at the top of the page. She clicked and it said:' Hey Super, great time I had the last few days. I spent the day with my parents and when I left they were so happy we'd a good time in Bandon. I'm still offering my help, but don't know what to do. Give me a heads-up if needed. My lady is nearby. See me later.'

  Stacy went to bed feeling better after reading her e-mails from friends and from Rory. Now it was time to put the grey matter to work doing what it was designed for in her body: work out the means to catch the bad guys. Simple, but it was who she was: one of the best to come along in a very long while. Something would surface to get a lead on this guy. Her last thoughts were on the statue.

  The next day Stacy saw big, huge white and dark clouds drifted by on the southerly winds. A cold wind was blowing, but the rain had ceased. She stood waiting for Dan as the darkness drifted away with the clouds. After skipping her workout, Stacy ate left over salad and chicken. She promised herself to go shopping. This might be a good time to have Sharon go with her to see how her Christmas was. She thought that was a good idea as Dan drove in and soon they were in the office.

  As usual Em had some bakery to munch on for breakfast. Sharon was back looking a little peaked, but that might be expected from a holiday of cheer. Stacy still had intended to take her food shopping to subtlety pry into her life just a little bit. Not that she wanted the details of her doings, but to make sure what was said and seen in the office stayed inside the door.

  After chatting Stacy went to her office to draft a response publically to stir his attention to the futility of continuing the dead end road he was traveling. The thing was there was no way of telling what the killer might think and even less of an idea what he might do in the future. Some serial killers went into hiding for years before surfacing. Stacy secretly wished that this might be the case with this murderer.

  Dan came in to remind her that Ben and the professor would be here mid-morning. "Dan," she asked, "Em a little busy so stay on top of those callers making sure the conversation is by phone and not to each other. I'm having Em help me with this document."

  "I can do that very easily. I'll stride back and forth with a glaring look. That should keep their noses to the grindstone," he said while leaving looking over his shoulder seeing Stacy smile.

  He passed Emma coming in looking a bit serious. He'd almost forgot she was a true professional and not to kid around too much. Looking at his watch told him the callers should be arriving now. Sharon was standing at the front desk talking to two of the callers as he came forward to break up the chatting. The two girls scurried away and Dan said, "Let me know when Ben comes and the professor will be here around 10 am."

  Sharon made a note and sat back down. Dan thought maybe he had been a little too bold so he said, "How was your holiday Sharon?"

  "Not bad but a little tiring. The guy I was with had some friends drop by to share way too much egg nog and other drinks. I'm not much of a drinker so it was all boring for me. They partied into the wee hours keeping me awake. I learned my lesson Dan."

  "We do sometimes learn our lessons the hard way. I hate it when somebody says: 'live and learn', but it's very apropos to most all given lessons we learn the hard way. Anyway, you're young and can bounce back with renewed vigor."

  *

  Ben did not hold out much hope finding anything to use for evidence from the crime scene. He parked across the street, got out focusing on the opposite side of the street where the shooter was parked. He had been over that ground many times. However one or two more would not hurt a bit. He zipped up his windbreaker as a cold wind was coming now from the north rather than from the southwest. The sun was casting both light and shadows through the hardwood trees lining the street. He was in no hurry so he would let the sun illuminate the shadow areas as he searched.

  From his pocket he took a fat white piece of sidewalk chalk to make a systematic area search. After he made L shaped on four corners, he took a tape measure for two-foot marks from the centerline to the curb. He made a six inch line on both ends on the long side of his rectangle.

  Ben started at the centerline walking slowly with a high-powered Mag-Lite in his hand. Up and down he went one-step at a time. He would tell you he was looking, not scanning as most people do looking for something. The closer he got to the curb the more intense he became. Cars would sometimes nick things tossing them curbside. He decided to take a couple minute break as his back hurt before continuing.

  Ben stood up looking around at the main street that passed by the restaurant. People were going about their daily business and some were going shopping for after holiday discounts. He went back blinking to clear his eyes and give them a new coat of slick stuff. With his head back down, light on the street of black top, he was about to take another step when the shadow he was in lit up with the sun making its presence known at his feet, he saw something black sticking slightly up from a crack in the pavement. From his pocket, Ben took a pair of tweezers, dropped to one knee, reached down slowly to gently pick it up. It took a little back and forth, but finally a rubber round thing came out. Ben was still in the sunlight so he looked at it closely. It took him a minute or so to identify it but then it hit him. It was a Fawcett washer. He'd changed enough of them to know what they were used for. He thought it rather strange that a rubber washer was in the street next to a curb. Especially what appeared as if brand new.

  Ben never even cracked a smile knowing he held a possible clue to track this assassin down. He put it in a baggie and kept looking. At the end of his search, he hiked across the street to a few businesses that lined the street. The first one was a book store that had seen better days and after walking in, the books resembled the store itself. However, the late middle age lady was sitting behind the counter smiling at him. Ben reached for his ID and as he did she said, "You're police. I remember you when that nice sheriff was murdered. You were looking around in the same place you just came from. I thought for a while you might be like Sherlock Holmes dropping down to your knees with a glass examining the ground for clues. Now enough of that, what can I do for you?"

  "Yes I'm a state police detective. My name is Ben and if I may be so bold, what is your name?"

  "I'm Agnes Warden. I'm the proprietor of this run down book shop. This was my late husband idea of retirement. He retired alright. It wasn't two years later he fell off a chair putting some books away breaking his fool neck. I suppose you're married huh Ben," she asked with a coy look just to tease him.

  "If I wasn't married Agnes I'd be your best customer. Now as you're so observant, tell me if before or on the day the sheriff was murdered, did you happen to see a van that had a plumbing name written on it across the street?"

  Ben knew full well she had an answer, but was drawing it out. Somebody to talk to was his idea she was pretending to research her memory banks. Ben, ever the patient one leaned on the counter that held a few musty smelling books stacked neatly on the glass top. He could not remember the last time he had read a book. He really did not know if that was good or bad in his life. His wife, on the other hand, had stacks of glossy looking magazines that portended to know all there was about growing plants or constructing hot houses. His last thought before Agnes broke in was why should he add to the ever increasing pile of books or magazines?

  "Ben! By God yes I do remember now. It was a dirty white color. Now what was the name on it—oh Lord—wait it'll come. Darn it Ben—I can see the word 'Plumbing', but I can't see the name. Wait, I can see it began with a Mac…..something. Give me a few Ben and while I think, how about a cup of coffee while my search engine sorts through the piles of trivia it's gathered over the years." He nodded an affirmative and she scuttled off with a distinct limp of the left leg.

  Ben had kept his excitement down as Lord knows what kind of infor
mation he might be getting just to keep him around. In no time she was back with two cups of instant coffee in mugs. He sipped it as she did the same. Her bright blue eyes and silver hair were really quite attractive if you liked well over fifty year old women. She knew he was checking her out and she said, "Ben I'm fifty nine years old. I'm grateful my husband was over sixty-five as I can survive on his pension. You might not believe it but I really do sell a lot of books. There're all used and people like cheap books."

  "Agnes how about the new reading electronic devises like Kindle or Nook. Has your sales been hurt by those new things on the market?"

  "I don't think so Ben. My customers are lower middle class with only a few bucks to spend on books. Oh, here it is: MacDougal Plumbing," she said smiling revealing a set of slightly brown dentures.

  "Agnes you've been an immense help. If we can trace this information, I'll be back with a special present for you." Ben finished his coffee, said good-bye and went to see Stacy. He looked at his watch seeing it was close to 11 am and he was running late.

  Ben walked in looking stoic as usual. He nodded to Sharon and strolled back to where he could hear Stacy talking in her office. He leaned against the door jamb and waited until he was noticed. Stacy saw him and waved him in. Ben saw Professor Gethall, Emma and Dan around the table. He sat down and Stacy said, "Ben we've just begun. I decided to rewrite a new note back to the assassin. I don't want to personally meet him under any circumstances where I'm alone. Now having said that, I'm at a loss as to address a document that captures his attention without having him go off on anther tangent of killing people. I've a rough draft here so let's all read it and see what we can do with it. I'm relying on Ron here to guide us with his perspective."

  Suddenly, one of the girl callers burst into the room saying loudly: "I've found the van in Albany. The salesman said he sold it to a guy just before the woman in Salem was killed. He said it had a dark red stripe running down it."

  Stacy sat there with her mouth slightly open not believing what she was hearing. She said, "Was it a brown color?"

  "Yes," said a calmer informative young woman who went by the name Henny, "he said medium brown color and the guy paid cash. His name is Alex Webber with an address in Eugene."

  Ben said, "I think it's time I revealed my search this morning." He pulled out of his inside coat pocket the baggie with the rubber washer in it." He laid it on the table. All eyes went from Henny to the table. He continued, "The nice lady across the street at the bookstore told me she had seen a whitish van with the name 'MacDougal Plumbing' on it sitting where I found the washer. For those of you that might not know, a rubber washer keeps any faucet from leaking."

  "I can't believe it you guys," said Stacy smiling revealing her perfect white teeth against her prominent dimples when a smile of this size comes around. "Let's drop this document and start looking for a plumber and search for a guy by the name of Alex MacDougal."

  She turned to the professor and continued by saying, "Ron keep this info under your hat please. We don't need this to leak out. One whisper and the guy disappears."

  Stacy looked at Dan and said, "Start looking for MacDougal Plumbing. Ben how about a sketch artist going to Albany. Please take care of that and by the way Sherlock, you've done it again!" Ben hung his head in shyness. He rose to make a call to Salem and to get the address from Henny of the used car lot. Henny had it written down for him: name, address and phone number. Ben smiled at her.

  -24-

  While Ben and Dan were busy, Stacy remained at the table talking to Ron. "Ron, what's your professional take on this guy why he chose workers of many years to murder or eliminate. Just because somebody has many years of service, doesn't mean that can't enjoy working until such time as to hang it up. Our government decided many years ago that number was sixty-five many are working beyond that age. I'll grant you that there're many who have retired at one job and moved on to another. Many refer to that as double dipping. Also there're others who can't afford to retire on what their pension are at the time of retirement. They need the extra income. Okay, what can you say to enlighten me?"

  "In our killer's case, he sees, particularly public employees doing very little for their production. They, in is view, have pension enough to retire and let a younger person in the door. His two targets were public long term employees with a good pension plan and benefits. I'd say the guy is self employed struggling to make ends meet. His retirement sucks in his view. Maybe his business has a base of workers needing something he has or has to offer."

  "I think he might be suffering the pains of high unemployment and his sales, if in fact it's sales, is way down needing a boast. The irony is that he proved his point with thousands retiring as we speak. However, Ron do you think he'll quit now?"

  "My gut tell me no he won't quit but find another cause to champion. Lord knows what that might be, but if your leads pan out, maybe we won't have to worry or confront it. I've got to run Stacy. I've an appointment for lunch. Call me if you need me. I'm always there for you and your team."

  Stacy thought he was a nice guy with a hidden agenda. Well, maybe he had a little agenda, as he possibly could reap the benefits of an interview with the assassin. Regardless, he was nice to talk to and very handy. She stood up and made a trip to the restroom. After that she stopped by to see how Dan was doing. She saw him on the phone so went to the room where the girls who were canvassing the used car lots were gathered talking. They stopped when they saw Stacy. Stacy said:

  "Girls, this is confidential information and I expect, no, I demand you don't breathe a word of this to anybody. It's possible if you flapped your lips, it might cost an innocent person their life. That person could be your parent, friend, or lover. Here's what I could do and listen carefully. I could contain you in a place where you couldn't talk to anyone about anything. If I hear, and belive me I will hear or have been told who spilled the beans, I'll hunt you down and lock you up for obstruction of justice. That would be at least five years in Salem."

  Stacy never took her eyes off the girls who seemed all white as sheets. Stacy asked each one to swear on their lives that they would not tell anyone about the van. Stacy told them to go have lunch and thanked all for a job well done.

  Ben had been at the door listening and he too pointed his finger at the girls wagging it to mean they had better listen and listen good. The girls disappeared in a hot second leaving both Ben and Stacy chuckling. Ben said, "A sketch artist is on the way to Albany. We should have something by late afternoon."

  "Thanks Ben and now if Dan has some luck, maybe we can catch this bastard." Ben snapped his head around as this was the first time he had ever heard Stacy use a swear word. She smiled at him and then said, "I'm hungry Ben. Let's you and I go have something to eat."

  Ben and his wife had discovered a nice restaurant just east of Springfield. It sat some distance off the highway back under some large fir trees. It didn't look like much, but as they drove in the place was spotless outside and then upon entering, spotless inside as well. He had an atmosphere of old time logging and there were some evidence of that time with pictures [black and white] upon one wall. The other walls were basically void of any art work except over the back bar a large cross cut saw hung swooping across many bottles of spirits. Stacy was impressed as the saw had at least two inch teeth sprouting forth as if giant dragon had left his teeth behind to remind everyone he just might come back someday for a snack.

  Sitting down among a half a roomful of customers, a pretty young woman came hurrying over with two menus. Stacy said she'd have ice team even though it was middle of winter. Ben said coffee and away she went. Looking at the menu Stacy some the residual of the past logging days advertising a Logger Burger with fries. She quickly did a scan with her eyes landing on a stapled note saying Chef Special. It was baked chicken with or in a cream sauce with a green salad. Perfect she thought. Ben must have thought so too as they both had the same special.

  "Ben we're going to nail this
guy, don't you think so?"

  "He's as good as in the clink Stacy. If we can tie him to the van, likewise to the plumbing van and find some evidence to lock him up, a done deal."

  "Dan will have found the plumber by the time we return. We'll have a picture of him very soon. He has to park that plumbers van someplace. I expect he's got a place rented where he parks it. It would be a good cover for him. We have to assume he used an alias for an address. However, my money is on the name MacDougall. I think that is similar to his real last name. To kill some time we'll scan the Mc's and the Mac's in the phone book and also the unlisted ones too."

  I can feel a stakeout coming and as I see our lunch coming as well. I'm hungry like you are. Let's pretend to eat like Rory does," Ben said with a smile.

  -25-

  Chris McGoogle, aka Executioner, after having his sign redone, felt something closing in on him. He really couldn't identify it, but after he sat down, read the papers again, thought it was time for a new beginning elsewhere. Chris thought he had done his job very well. Oregon was taken care of and now maybe another state needed his assistance.

  He locked the office door, drove to the plumbing warehouse, fetched his rifle and disguise kit, drove to the bank and cleaned out his account. Some years earlier when the refinance rates were low, Chris took advantage of his large equity in his home to stash and fund his retirement project.