ALPHABET MURDERS - ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES #1 (Detective Angie Bartoni Case Files)

by Marshall Huffman

  “Kind of. He had on a baseball hat all the time pulled down fairly low. Did he do something he shouldn’t have?” she asked.

  “Not at all. We think he may have been a witnessed to a case we are working on and want to talk to him.”

  “Something happened in our neighborhood?”

  “We can’t discuss an ongoing investigation,” I replied.

  Shit, this was one of those times I should have thought a little longer before I opened my mouth. It didn’t even sound like a good lie to me.

  She looked at me a few seconds and then let me off the hook by saying, “I have their repair bill if you want to look at it.”

  “That would be great,” Donner said.

  We both knew I had said enough.

  She hurried off down the hall and returned a few minutes later with an invoice. I checked it out and then handed it to the two agents.

  “Anderson Remodeling and Construction,” Donner said.

  “Never heard of them but then I’ve never needed anyone to remodel my place,” I said.

  We thanked her and started back to the car.

  “So, you want to check out the Anderson people first or after we finish with the other parents?” Neil asked.

  “No, I think we should go talk to Mrs. Krainer.”

  “What good will that do? She wasn’t even home when the work was done.”

  “Look, I don’t know how you guys operate but I follow every lead. Even the ones that seem to be a dead end. If this guy was using these jobs to scope out the Worthington’s daughter then we need to follow up. It’s as simple as that,” I said.

  “We tend to operate by not wasting time following up leads that are going nowhere,” Neil said.

  I didn’t reply. I just turned and started up the street to the Krainer house. This guy was really starting to get on my very last nerve.

  Donner caught up with me and said, “Look, don’t let it get to you. We just go about things a little differently. We know he was in the neighborhood for long enough to have checked out Danielle. Neil just wants to go find this guy and bring him in for questioning. The FBI has to watch its image. We are high profile and so is this case. We need to show some progress quickly or it makes us look ineffective.”

  “I appreciate all of that but taking shortcuts isn’t the way I operate. You guys can wait in the car while I go talk to Mrs. Krainer.”

  He didn’t say anything but just kept walking along with me. When we got to the door, I rang the bell. No one answered. I rang it again and after a few minutes knocked on the door. Still no answer.

  “Her car’s in the driveway,” Donner observed.

  “I’ll try the back door,” Neil said.

  “I’ll look in the windows. I’ll see if I can see anything,” Donner said as I continued to knock on the door.”

  Just a few minutes later Donner yelled for us to come to the side window. Donner is over six feet tall and Neil close to the same. My little short butt couldn’t see in the window.

  “What do you see?”

  “A foot sticking up.”

  Donner knocked on the window but the person never moved.

  “Maybe she had a heart attack.” Neil suggested.

  “Or?”

  “Yeah, or.”

  “I’ll force the door,” Donner said, heading back around to the front.

  I was glad he was the one who suggested it. I wasn’t so sure that we shouldn’t get a warrant. Of course I doubt we would ever get one since all we had was a foot sticking up. I doubt if a judge would sign off on that alone.

  It took Donner all of thirty seconds to force the door. The smell about knocked us all over. Death has a peculiar smell and after a few cases, you know it instinctively. The person that was attached to the foot was definitely dead.

  “Man,” Neil said, putting is arm over his nose as we walked deeper into the house.

  She was lying on the floor with a huge butcher knife sticking out of her chest. The autolysis process had broken down her body and her skin had turned almost black indicating the black purification stage was well underway. Maggots had started to eat at what was left of Mrs. Krainer.

  We all staggered back out of the house and after a few deep breaths of air, I went and called it in. This is definitely one time I was glad I wasn’t either part of the crime scene unit or the ME’s staff. Man, having to deal with that would be just too much for me.

  “Maybe we will get lucky and get some prints off the knife handle,” Donner croaked.

  “Won’t help us much right now. He isn’t in the system.”

  “Now can we go check out Anderson Construction?” Neil asked.

  What a moron.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The footsteps on the floor above the cellar alerted Ginny that the man had returned. She had spent most of the day trying to find something, anything, that she could use as weapon. The only thing she had been able to find was the metal bail off of the bucket she had been given for a toilet.

  She had almost thrown up when she was trying to get it to come off but she had kept at it until it finally broke. She started rubbing the hooked end piece on the rough cement floor to try to make a sharp pointed end. It wasn’t much of a weapon but it was all she had.

  She had decided she would wait until he got close enough and then she would try to stab him in the face or eye if she could. If she could just get out of the house maybe she could find help. One thing for sure, she knew she didn’t have much longer.

  Ginny sat very still when she heard the footsteps start down the stairs. She held the bale at her side, ready to try to attack him if he came close enough. The door crashed open.

  “Well Ginny, I see you are up for a change. I was beginning to wonder if you could still stand.”

  “I can stand just fine,” Ginny replied.

  “Look, I’m sorry it has to be this way. Really I am but I simply can’t take the chance of turning you lose. I’ve given it a lot of thought but finally come to the conclusion that it is far too dangerous to just let you go.”

  “So now what? Are you going to just kill me?”

  “Oh heavens no. Nothing so crude. No my dear, I have something else in store for you.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see in a few minutes. I’ve been working very hard to have everything ready. Now, I’m going to walk over to you. I want you to face the wall and put your hands behind your back.”

  “No way. If you intend to tie me up, I’m not going to help you.”

  “You have a smart mouth, you know that?”

  “Yeah, what do you expect me to have? You want to tie me up and for what? You’re going to kill me.”

  “You kids today. You never know when to shut up,” he said rushing toward her.

  Ginny stepped back and just as he got within arm’s length she lashed out with the wire bail. She was aiming for his eye but it caught him on the cheek and ripped a large gash in his face. He howled and pulled back, the wire still embedded. Blood gushed out of the rip.

  Ginny ran for the door while he was holding his face, trying to pull the wire out. She made it out the door and started up the stairs. She was almost to the top when her foot was yanked out from under her. She fell hard, not having time to put out her hands. Her chin slammed into the stairs and she was dazed. She could feel him yanking her back down the stairs. Her face was banging off each of the stairs. She tried to roll over but he just kept dragging her.

  He drug her back into the cellar and started kicking her. How long it went on she wasn’t sure but it seemed like forever before she passed out.

  When she finally woke up it was totally dark. She could feel movement but it didn’t make sense to her. Maybe she was in the trunk of the car. She raised her hands and came into contact with wood. She felt around and realized she was in a box. Oh my God’, she thought. It’s a coffin. He intends to bury me alive. She started clawing at the lid and screaming but neither did any good.

  The vehicle stop
ped and she could hear the door open then close. The back door opened and she could feel the coffin being dragged out of the back. It slammed to the ground, almost knocking the breath out of her.

  “Don’t do this. Please. I’m just a kid. Don’t bury me,” she screamed.

  She could feel the box being dragged for several yards. Suddenly she was almost standing up and then she was back on her back.

  “Please. Mister, please. I won’t give you any more trouble. I lied about being abused. I’ve never been touched. Honest. I made all that up,” she screamed.

  “Too late now,” was all he said.

  “I can be your daughter. I’ll do whatever you want. Please, just don’t bury me. Please,” she wailed.

  “Not such a smart mouth now are you? I hope it takes a long time for you to die you little shit,” she heard him say.

  Then something hit the top of the box. Dirt. He was actually going to bury her alive. he started screaming but there was no one to hear her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Anderson Remodeling and Construction wasn’t anything to brag about. It made me wonder if the place was in this poor of shape, what kind of craftsmanship did they really have. The owner, Bob Anderson, was a good three hundred pounds of mostly blubber. His stomach hung over his belt and I wondered how he ever found his wiener to go pee.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked after we showed him our IDs.

  “Your company did some work for a client by the name of Mrs. Krainer.”

  “Okay, if you say so. We do lots of work for lots of people.”

  “I’m happy for you but I want to know who did that particular job.”

  “Look, if they are unhappy they sure didn’t call me. Anyway, what does that have to do with the police and FBI?”

  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll be the cop and ask the questions. All you have to do is answer them.”

  “Really? I don’t have to even talk to you if you’re going to get shitty with me.”

  “Yeah you do. You can answer them here or I can drag your butt down to the station. That would take a considerable amount of time. So if you want to play it that way...”

  “Look it. What’s going on? Just tell me that.”

  “We are investigating a homicide. We need to talk to the person who did that job.”

  “Holy shit. Are you saying one of my people killed someone?”

  “We don’t know but we would like to talk to that person. It would help clear them from the suspect list,” I bluffed.

  Like we had a list. Hell we had no idea who should even be on a list, but he looked like he was buying it. I could see his wheels turning. Probably the last thing he needed was a bunch of bad publicity.

  “Okay, I have the worksheets in the office,” he said.

  We followed to what he called his office. It was little more than a closet. Junk was piled everywhere. I don’t see how he could find his butt with both hands in all the mess.

  “Here you go. Mrs. Krainer. 1120 East Grand. We were to remodel the kitchen.”

  “All we need to know is who worked the job,” I said.

  “Terry Sims. He was on the job for three days.”

  “Did you check out his work or go to the job site?” Donner asked.

  “Nah. It wasn’t a big job. I usually go to the big ones but little things like that I don’t ever go to unless there is a problem.”

  “Was there a problem?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Did you talk to Mrs. Krainer?”

  “Just before we did the work. I went out and met with her. I gave her an estimate and she signed the contract.”

  “We need the address of Terry Sims,” I said.

  “Well, I guess it’s okay. He lives over on Central Avenue. 14646 East Central. That’s quite a ways out.”

  “Where is he working right now?” I asked.

  “He took the day off. Had a dentist appointment. He will be back tomorrow.”

  “All right Mr. Anderson. Thank you for your help,” I said as we were getting ready to leave.

  “Yeah, sure. Like I really had a choice.”

  Nothing I could say to that.

  “Let’s head out there,” Neil said as we got in the car.”

  You know, for a special FBI guy he was about as sharp as a Q-ball. Where the hell else did he think we would go? Come on, really, could he be that much of a blockhead? Evidently so.

  “Now there's an idea,” Donner said.

  I’m glad he said it and not me.

  The address was almost out of the city limits. The house was a rundown cracker box, likely built right after the end of World War II. It probably had two bedrooms and one bathroom. The one car garage was detached and had a pronounced easterly lean to it. I sure the hell wouldn’t want to park my car in it.

  “No car in the drive way,” Donner said.

  “Maybe he is at the dentist,” Neil suggested.

  “It’s always a possibility but somehow I doubt it,” I said.

  “So where do you think he is?” Neil

  “Don’t have a clue,” was all I could think of to say.

  “What do you want to do?” Donner asked.

  “Let’s pull down the block a ways and wait for him to show up,” I suggested.

  “Can’t we go get something to eat first?” Neil asked.

  I gotta’ tell you. I was getting real sick of this guy. His voice was starting to grate on me. Rather than say anything I just rolled down the window. Donner moved the car down a few houses so we could see when someone pulled in the drive.

  We sat, mostly in silence, and waited. Dusk was just settling in when a white van with Anderson Remodeling and Construction pulled in the drive.

  “That’s our guy. How do you want to play this?” I asked.

  “Neil, you go around back in case he bolts. Detective Bartoni and I will go knock on the door. If everything goes smoothly, I call you in,” he told us.

  “Works for me,” Neil acknowledged.

  “Let’s go,” I added.

  We got out of the car, and waited a few minutes for Neil to slip around to the back of the house. A few minutes later we walked up to the door and knocked. I could see him pull the curtain back and look to see who was at the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mr. Sims. FBI, open the door.”

  “I want to see some ID.”

  “Fine,” I said and Donner and I held it up to the door glass.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to open the door. Now,” I said raising my voice.

  Nothing happened for several moments. I was just about ready to have Donner kick the door open. What? You think I could do it? Are you nuts? I’d probably break my damn foot and how would that look?”

  “Just a minute he said and we could hear him taking a chain off the door.

  As soon as he opened it I knew it was the same guy from the park. The glasses and mustache were gone but it was him.

  “Well, nice meeting you again. Get over the loss of your family so soon?” I said. “That some gash on your face, cut yourself shaving?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah right. Lost the mustache and glasses but I see you still have the same jacket,” I said flipping the one hanging on the coat rack just inside the door.

  “What do you want?”

  “Well for starters, I want you to put your hands behind your back or you can come peacefully with us to the station.”

  “No way. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Then it looks like cuffs,” I said to Donner.

  “Wait. Hold it. I want to call my lawyer.”

  “No problem. Tell him to meet us at the Capital Street Headquarters.”

  “Look. Is all this necessary? Can’t you just ask your questions here?”

  “Sorry. No can do. You need to come with us one way or the other.”

  He stood there just glaring at us. I half expected
him to take a swing at me. Instead he reached over and grabbed his coat.

  “Don’t you want to make a call to your lawyer first?” I ask.

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Ah. Don’t worry, the state will provide you with one if you can’t afford one. Now listen up. I’m going to read you your rights so pay attention.”

  I got out my little card even thought I had done this a hundred times before, and read him his rights. I asked him if he understood but he didn’t answer.

  “That won’t do you any good. I have a witness who saw and heard me read them to you. Not answering won’t save your sorry butt but I will make me even more pissed than I already am.”

  He still didn’t say anything. I wanted to go through the house so bad I could taste it but we didn’t have a warrant and it would not make it into court. Instead we took him to the car and loaded him in.

  His neighbors were watching as we pulled away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  When we got him to the station Donner took me aside and said, “Let Neil handle the interview.”

  I looked at him like he had lost his marbles.

  “Look, I know he is a dickhead but he is good for something. If this is the guy, he will get him to give it up.”

  “Neil?” I said, just to make sure we were talking about the same guy.

  “You have to trust me on this. He’s the right guy.”

  “Hey, whatever you say. I just hope you’re right. We still have a little girl out there someplace.”

  “Let him do his thing.”

  “Okay.”

  “Ah, one more thing. He will disconnect the audio and video for the room and no one is to watch through the observation window,” Donner said.

  “Hey, we can’t do that. We have to follow protocol,” I protested.

  Donner handed me a letter, signed by the Secretary of State. It essentially said that the FBI Serial Killer Task Force had unlimited power to gather information from suspects.

  No way. This is America. The Judicial System is firmly on the side of the criminal, not the victim. I wasn’t buying it.

  “I want to take this up with the Captain.”