The Three Monkeys, a Carter A. Johnson & Kate Menke Thriller

by Robert Schobernd

  Kate straightened as she passed her CD to Deline. "I struck out, too. Roma Barnstein, the senator's widow, was ambivalent about her husband's death. They had a convenience marriage in name only. I felt she might have actually been pleased with his passing, but I have no reason to believe she was involved in it. His brothers, Edward and Myron, had not spoken to him for many years and definitely had no use for him as they expounded in clear detail with many expletives interspersed in their comments.

  "His best friend, retired Representative Toby Isringhousen, said he was unaware of any pending legislation Mr. Barnstein was facilitating that was so important as to have caused his death. Two other local friends had no insight to the murder.

  "Overall, everyone I spoke to was in agreement that Lloyd Barnstein had a rep of being hard-nosed and very opinionated and outspoken. He was noted to be a staunch conservative who campaigned vigorously for several other republican office candidates, especially other members of the Jewish community." She shrugged. "I am at a loss as to where to turn to next. I can not see any value in interviewing more people in Washington."

  Deline put both CDs in a folder. She paused several long seconds to ensure the detectives were finished before addressing Kate. "During your absence, Captain Davis phoned. The computer geeks could not pull any clues off the telephone threats you received. She had your phone returned, and I see you found it upstairs in your living quarters.

  "Next. Laurel Atkins’ reports." She passed papers to Carter and Kate. "Several people stood out as persons of interest as I combed through the reports. The first is Ronald ‘Razor’ Sontag. Laurel overheard him at the crime scene making lewd comments about the victims. He knew Evelyn Estes from high school and apparently did not have a high opinion of her." She looked up to both detectives. "I do not expect this 'Razor' person to be a strong lead as he has no apparent connection to either of the other victims."

  Carter nodded. "Agreed. He sounds like an ignorant redneck blowhard. I'll check him out only so we can remove him as a possible suspect. Just another loose end to deal with."

  "The second person is Luther Westbrook. He is the Grand Master of a small but vocal radical white supremacist hate group, the Order of White Patriots. They appear to be most influential in the immediate Midwest area, but they occasionally join rallies and protest marches throughout the country. He speaks on radio talk shows and appeared on Laurel's TV show twice. His tirades are entirely racial and expound on the Jews, Blacks, Hispanics and other minorities. I contacted Ms. Atkins and obtained video disks of his appearances on the show. His outburst consists almost entirely of racist hatred with twisted facts to give them credence.

  "The third man is Mr. Paul Desmond Peltier, a respected attorney and businessman. He has appeared on Ms. Atkins’ show thrice and rants about a wide range of miscellaneous social wrongs. He appears to be a radical constitutional conservative with an axe to grind against all things liberal. He is nicely groomed and well spoken. I do not see him as a viable suspect."

  Deline passed large envelopes to Kate and Carter. "These contain copies of disks of Mr. Westbrook's TV appearances.

  "Moving on. Carter, your insurance agent called. The hail damage to your car is so severe it’s been declared a total loss and a check is in the mail." She glanced expectantly at Carter. "Do you know what kind of car will replace it?"

  "I don't have a preference right now, as long as it's like Kate: fast, hot and beautiful. Tomorrow, I'll hit the dealerships and see what's available."

  Deline smirked as Kate gave Carter a stink eye stare that almost smothered a deep grin. "What is your definition of fast and hot as it applies to me?"

  "Uhh. Fast to make good decisions, hot enough to latch onto a great catch like me, but slow enough to let me get the hell out of here with my hide attached." Carter leapt from his chair and ran for the elevator as Kate and Deline laughed at his playful antics.

  Carter and Kate stayed up late listening to the recorded grumblings of Luther Westbrook. The interview started with Laurel's usual opening dialog before she prodded Luther to dispense his white supremacist views.

  "Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, we have Mr. Luther Westbrook, Grand Master of the Order of White Patriots. When we first spoke, Luther, you gave me your opinion of what is wrong with this country that needs to be fixed."

  "What's wrong is the ways inferior races of people have been allowed to rise to positions of dominant power throughout all levels of this country. From local government bodies to the highest levels of the federal bureaucracy, the spics, Jews, and niggers have gained power and influence at the expense of hard working white citizens. It has to stop."

  Laurel cut in. "To what do you attribute this advancement of the minority races?"

  "It's because of those damn liberals bent toward emulating the Europeans. And it's not only the socialist liberals in the Democratic Party. The Republican Party leadership has been taken over by loony liberals, too. The politicians pander to the inferior races to get their votes so they stay in power. The votes of Caucasians don't amount to anything because the combined minorities outnumber us. They multiply like horny rabbits and spread over the land like a brown plague desecrating everything in their path. It's not right and it has to be changed. Their actions amount to white genocide."

  Laurel said, "Apparently, you don't give credit to the minorities for assimilating into our culture and learning the language and skills necessary to advance in our society."

  "Oh, there's a place for them but not at the top of the heap. They should be kept where they belong."

  "And just where do you feel they belong, Mr. Westbrook?"

  "In support roles, the service sector. They make good maids in motels, clerks in stores and laborers for construction and yard work. But they should never be allowed in upper management positions where white intelligence is required."

  "Mr. Westbrook," Laurel paused and exasperation filled her voice. "Why do you think the white race is vastly superior to other races? Some people in this country claim Caucasians who are falling behind do so because they are ill-prepared to fill high-paying positions."

  "That's ridiculous. It isn't only a matter of who is superior and who isn't. White Christian settlers built this nation and we're tired of being squeezed out by the brown wave that is taking it over."

  Laurel asked, "What is the Order of White Patriots doing to change these conditions you find so appalling?"

  "We have plans for actions that will get the attention of the white populace and encourage them to get involved in the political actions needed to change the direction the two parties have pushed us to. Very soon you will know we mean business."

  Laurel ended the session. Carter noted the date of the interview was barely a month before the date of the three murders. He pointed the dates out to Kate before the detectives rose and went to bed.

  At six p.m. the next day, a metallic orange BMW M6 coupe parked behind the J&M Investigations office. Earlier, Carter phoned Kate and then Deline to announce his imminent arrival. Both ladies walked out the back door and ogled the racy sports car.

  Deline declared, "Ohhh, it is beautiful."

  Kate grinned as she commented, "It is, but I think the paint job is a bit loud for surveillance work."

  Deline ignored Kate’s comment to ask, "How fast is it?"

  Carter's chest puffed up. "One eighty top end. It's got a 560 horsepower, 4.4-liter V8 engine with twin power turbochargers."

  "Wow," both ladies said simultaneously. Kate added in a low-key voice to Deline, "Whatever the hell that means." She turned to Carter. "I suppose you need to buy another car for everyday work use?"

  "Yeah, I'll find a used car three or four years old. Now, are you ladies ready to take a ride? Let's lock up and then go eat."

  Deline held her hand out for the keys. "Only if I can drive." She grinned mischievously. "We need to take that and my Audi to a racetrack and see which is the fastest."

  Carter replied, "Okay, set it up and we'll d
o it."

  Kate shook her head and looked heavenward. "Protect them, God, for they know not what they do; they are just foolish children."

  Well after dinner, Kate snuggled next to Carter.

  He was silent as he thought about their new business endeavor. Kate let her right hand wander under his shirt to massage his muscular chest and abs.

  Carter leaned his head back and relaxed as he enjoyed the personal attention. Her hand slid down his torso as he straightened. "Idea. Deline says she craves excitement. I'll take her to the shooting range and see how good she is with her handgun. If she passes, I'll see if she'd like to ride shotgun with us when we need a partner and one of us isn't available." He thought for a short time and then relaxed and smiled wickedly.

  Kate noticed his look. "Now forget Deline and pay attention to me, Big Boy. I'm about to put a serious hurt on that hunky body of yours."

  Carter heard heavy rain hitting the roof and windows. His body wasn't ready to rise after the late-night demands Kate had put on it, but his mind was fitfully awake. Additional rumbling originated inside the bedroom; he was hungry and his stomach demanded food. He rolled to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the carpet as his cell phone sounded with You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma. The green-lighted digital alarm clock announced the time was seven twenty-three.

  Kate reacted slightly but still slept. He grabbed the phone and rushed to the bathroom in long strides wondering who the hell was calling so early. "Johnson here," he answered gruffly.

  "Good morning, Mr. Johnson. Sheriff Frank Kahl on this end. You awake?"

  Carter halfway stifled a yawn as he scratched his scrotum with his free hand. "Yeah, enough. What's up?"

  "I've got another body hanging on the door of a shed. Haven't been there yet, but I'm told it's got a rebar rod sticking through its eye. Would you like to come and look?"

  "Damn right. Where are you?"

  "I'm at home, about ready to leave. Body is on the same highway as the others, only about four miles north of them. Just look for the red and blue lights on our cruisers."

  "See you in an hour or less. Thanks."

  Carter ended the call as he stood in the doorway and yelled. "Kate, get dressed! There's another body hanging in Jersey County. We leave in fifteen minutes." He heard a loud, long groan before he closed the door to jump in the shower. The hot blast of water made him sigh and let his body relax. His mind raced a hundred miles an hour with questions about the new murder victim.

  Before he finished scrubbing, Kate's body snuggled next to him in the steam and hot water. He began soaping and massaging her body but quit when he felt himself responding to the stimuli. If he didn't put distance between him and that scrumptious body, they would never make it across the river to Jerseyville in an hour. Kate felt him start to step out from the shower and got a secure handhold to keep him from leaving. Carter quickly decided a fifteen or twenty-minute delay in seeing a corpse definitely wouldn't impact their investigation at all.

  The three-year-old, charcoal gray Shelby GT350 Mustang rumbled as Carter downshifted to third gear then popped the stick into second when he neared the red and blue flashing lights of the County Sheriff and State Police squad cars. They’d run out of scattered rain shortly after crossing into Illinois, and the pavement was dry since leaving the cable-stay bridge over the Mississippi River at Alton. A sparse veil of light gray clouds dominated the sky from St. Louis to the northern horizon. The air was moist with humidity, but no rain fell.

  A small white frame house sat on the west side of the concrete highway fifty feet from the pavement. Deep drainage ditches ran along both sides of the highway, and fields of corn or soybeans surrounded the house and two sheds on all sides. A few macabre gawkers were parked precariously along the steep edge of the road and stood at the yellow barricade tape surrounding the crime scene. Most observers slowed but continued on due to the lack of decent parking space or their lack of morbid curiosity. Carter pulled up to the yellow tape at the driveway. He lowered the window glass and told a deputy that Sheriff Kahl had requested their presence at the crime scene.

  The deputy lowered the tape and motioned for Carter to drive forward. He grinned and leaned down to the open window, "Boy, that exhaust sure cackled sweetly when you started slowing and downshifting at the top of that rise."

  As the window glass went back up, Kate muttered, "Men. All it takes to excite them is a loud exhaust or a pair of big breasts." Carter grinned salaciously. “Yeah, we’re not into those single titted aliens you read about in The National Enquirer.”

  The detectives found Lt. Miller talking in hushed tones with two State Police Officers. She pointed past the boarded-up house to a white painted shed at the rear of the property. She smirked as she focused on Kate’s appearance. Kate wondered if she would ever look her best when she ran into the snotty deputy or if the God of hairdos really hated her that much.

  They saw Sheriff Kahl with the three-man lab crew and walked toward them. The naked body of a man was suspended against a wooden shed door. The pale Caucasian corpse was slim and had a shaved head. Up close, needle marks were visible at the veins in his elbows. White paint outlining the body focused attention on the horrible graphic scene to ensure it would be noticed from the nearby roadway.

  Kate subconsciously ran her fingers through her hair; she'd managed to apply makeup during the hurried high-speed drive but had to let her appearance go at that. The fifteen-minute delay didn't leave time for hair primping, but the bubbly feeling she still had inside was worth it, even if the bitch cop was gloating.

  Sheriff Kahl shook hands with each of them, then sipped from a stainless steel insulated coffee cup before he turned toward the naked male body behind him. "I suspect I called you on a wild goose chase. Nothing about this murder is even remotely the same as the others. The hardware and the method used to hang the body are totally different from those three original murders. Even the rebar looks smaller than what killed those other folks."

  "Have you identified the victim?" Kate asked.

  "Ed Goodman. We're well acquainted with him. Lived in Otterville, a small town southwest of here. We've suspected for some time that he was a low-level drug dealer but never had reason to charge him with it. He's an example of the white trash we deal with ‘bout every day."

  Carter quipped, "You can scratch this one off your list.”

  Lt. Miller heard Carter as she sidled up next to the threesome. "Right, Ed is officially off my future to-do list. Ain't that a shame?"

  Carter pointed at the victim. "He's supposed to be another 'See No Evil,' but the steel rod was driven through his right eye; on the first one, Ms. Estes, the rebar was driven through her left eye. Why would the murderer change positions?" he asked rhetorically of no one in particular.

  Sheriff Kahl scrapped the edge of his boot along the bare ground. "He likely didn't. That's part of why this looks like a copycat killing. I'm going out to Ed's house later to notify his wife and ask her some questions." The sheriff became morose. "I remember that redneck bitch, and I'd bet my next three coon hunts she knows more about this than she'll want to tell." He turned to Lt. Miller. "Plan to go with me when we finish here. Shirley will throw a fit when I imply she's likely involved in his death." A smile creased the sheriff's craggy features. "We may get to throw her in a cell for attacking me. Hell, you might even get to wrestle her to the ground before you cuff her."

  Lt. Miller smirked. "Yeah boy, I get to have all the fun. If I'm real lucky, I might even get to shoot that overweight heifer."

  Kate and Carter chuckled then spoke to Sheriff Kahl and Hattie Miller for a few moments before the Crime Scene Crew needed the sheriff's attention.

  The detectives made the rounds introducing themselves to the sheriff's other deputies and other bored law enforcement personnel. At ten, they decided they were too hungry to starve until lunchtime.

  Carter backed the Mustang onto the highway then cranked the engine tight enough to let the exhaust rumble loudly
for the grinning deputy's benefit. He drove past the south end of town to a recently reopened restaurant that sat by itself off Highway 67 South. They both ordered a late breakfast of sausage, eggs and fried potatoes. They killed an hour over food and coffee discussing the unrelated murder of Ed Goodman.

  A few minutes past eleven, they headed back to St. Louis. Kate noticed it was time for the Atkins Report on the radio. Laurel had mentioned that her show was broadcast on a local radio station the next day after the live TV show.

  She tuned in as Laurel introduced her guest, Paul Peltier. The guest had a rich dramatic baritone voice as he spoke, and his diction was clear and distinct. "Thank you, Laurel, for allowing me to speak in this forum. The citizens of this country need an awakening so they’ll recognize what is happening to our freedoms guaranteed by this country’s Constitution. Those freedoms are slowly being eroded and will soon be taken away if the far left, progressive liberal, socialist onslaught is not stopped.

  "The progressive liberals resist being labeled Socialist, but that is exactly what they are. They repudiate the title for they realize the majority of citizens abhor the thought of being ruled by a central government dictating a one-size-fits-all vision of society. The proof of their vision's failure is that the liberal Democrats have controlled this country's major population centers for the past fifty years, yet the same issues abound as they did in the sixties. The people, especially the Blacks, Hispanics and other minorities are no better off than they were then. In fact, I will argue they are far worse off now in spite of the unwarranted special treatment they receive. But the fools continue to vote for the very people who lie to them every election."

  Laurel asked, "To what do you attribute those failures?"

  "Mainly, it's due to the liberal economic policies. They fail to create the number of good paying jobs it takes to absorb natural-born American citizens entering the workforce every year. To offset that, the liberals depend on entitlement programs to entice the poor and middle-class voters to keep them in office. Liberal economic policies tend to be punitive. They insist on punishing successful people and companies by raising taxes in the name of helping the poor and middle class. But all that does is take funds from the private sector where it would be used to create new companies or expand existing businesses to create jobs and create opportunities for advancement.”