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

by Robert Schobernd

  Kate closed her eyes and leaned back. "So, we are definitely up to five deaths now."

  "Yeah. If you promise to not spread this letter around, I'll fax a copy to you."

  "Thank you, Laurel. I appreciate getting my hands on that."

  "You'll have it in minutes. Bye."

  Kate walked to the front of the building to inform Deline the letter was being faxed and she and Carter would each need copies immediately. She turned around and hurried back to Carter's office to prepare him for the unsanctioned document about to arrive.

  Minutes later, they all read the strange but incriminating missive.

  Fellow Countrymen.

  For the past one hundred plus years, the political leaders of the United States of America have embarked on dangerous paths of destruction for our beloved country. They have repeatedly ignored the tenants of the United States Constitution and betrayed the will of the majority of the people. The time to stop their foolish, detrimental, liberal agendas is now. The minority voters must be recognized and served, but the majority has the right to impose rules and ensure the country stays on a path that meets the needs of the majority of the people.

  The very people who have benefitted from the politicians’ bastardization of our Constitution and rules of law must be held up as examples to be ostracized, shunned or eliminated. We have taken the first steps with:

  Ms. Evelyn Estes

  Senator Lloyd Barnstein

  Mr. Wardell Bowers

  Ms. Jewel Bateman

  Mr. Dinesh Maisuria

  More examples will follow.

  However, it is we the citizens of this great country that have allowed these affronts to continue to occur. We must all become involved in the vetting process by selecting qualified representatives to sit at the highest levels of our governing bodies and then hold them accountable for the lies and half-truths they perpetrate on the American people.

  We, the Guardians of the Constitution, have taken the first steps in awakening the American citizen by focusing attention on five people whose brazen behavior were threats to the future of our great nation. Now is the time for all citizens to rise in anger and reject the people who are either leading our country to ruin or committing brazen crimes that ultimately affect us all.

  Respectfully,

  The Guardians of the Constitution

  Kate finished first and waited for Carter to glance up. "Paul Peltier is still our only viable suspect. Since he is a very vocal defendant of the Constitution and this letter stresses adherence to that document, I say it increases the probability of his involvement in all of the murders." She waited for Carter's reaction.

  "I agree, and I think it's time to share our opinion with Tom Masinelli. The FBI has the resources to check Peltier out better than we can."

  Deline feigned hurt. "Well thank you, Mr. Johnson." She smiled mischievously. "Seriously, I have hit a dead end on searching for more detailed information on the Peltier family. I was able to find one additional, though minor, piece of data. There are three autos owned by Paul Peltier: a one-year-old black Cadillac CT6 sedan; a two-year-old Mustang GT Fastback. The third vehicle surprised me. He also owns a five-year-old windowless delivery van. What use would he or his grandson have for that? Neither of them owns a business requiring items to be hauled."

  The three of them glanced at each other until Deline ventured an opinion to her finding. "It would be perfect to haul victims and corpora…and it is white."

  Carter squinted as he asked, "Cor-what?

  "Corpora - corpses, dead bodies."

  Carter nodded. "Oh…I'll call Tom now."

  Before punching in Tom's office number, he clicked the TV on to Fox News. Speculation on the killer ran rampant among the show's host and the assortment of four guests with law enforcement backgrounds. He assumed the other mainstream news media were going wild with speculation of the killer’s identity and possible future victims.

  Two hours later, Carter called a meeting with Kate and Deline in the small conference room. "I finally caught up with Tom. After laying out our suspicions and the reasons for those, he agreed to request agency manpower to investigate Peltier. He'll also request a warrant to inspect the van. The electronics might reveal the distances it was driven on specific days, so they can piece together where it was driven."

  Kate's demeanor showed alarm. "Does that mean they're taking over and we're pushed aside? We need this case for our resume. Inquiries for our services have increased dramatically in the past two weeks."

  "No, not at all. I insisted throughout our conversation that we stay involved. This is our case and we're simply alerting the agency of a potential suspect. The crimes were committed across state lines so they definitely fall within the FBI's jurisdiction. Tom was cool with our involvement as long as we continue to keep him informed."

  Deline surmised, "Mr. Masinelli must have a very positive opinion of you. Usually the FBI elbows everyone else aside and takes complete control."

  Carter smiled smugly. "We have a very mutually respected relationship."

  He sat wrestling something in his mind. "Kate, are you available to interview Peltier tomorrow morning?" She checked her schedule, then nodded. "Deline will you contact Paul Peltier and set up another meeting at his home tomorrow? I'd like to question him about that delivery van."

  Kate looked to Deline. "Do you have information on Paul Peltier's grandson? I assume he is a grown man, out of his teens."

  Deline stood. "I will get my notes so you are not misinformed." She returned minutes later, sat, and opened a file folder. "John Peter Peltier. Twenty-five years of age, six feet tall, approximately two hundred pounds, blue eyes, blond hair, physically fit, autistic. Has held several low-level jobs but is thought to be unemployed at the present time. I hacked into his high school records. There his nickname was JP2. He has an unusually high I.Q. rating, and excels in those fields he's interested in. His grades were failing or nearly so in subjects he showed no interest in. That opinion was from teachers’ reports over several years prior to his graduation.

  "He is reportedly a whiz at working on computers and writes minor software as a hobby. That is from his Facebook page and those of a few friends. He is reclusive and avoids interacting with people; a German Sheppard named Louie Louie is his constant companion and protector. A newspaper article about the grandfather stated it was named after the 1963 version of the song by the Kingsmen because it's Johnny's favorite song."

  "Could he," Kate hesitated, "be the person seen on the security cameras leaving the flowers out back and putting the mutilated dog in my car?"

  Carter stood and paced around the table. "At the senior Peltier’s age, I'm sure he would need help handling dead bodies; it makes perfect sense that his grandson could be involved and follows his granddad's instructions. And it sounds as if he would be physically capable."

  "If that is true," Kate spewed vehemently, "then Paul is not the benevolent, caring grandfather looking out for the impaired grandson we gave him credit for being."

  Deline ventured, "What do we actually know that points to the elder Peltier being the antagonist, other than his propensity for defending the Constitution?"

  Kate squirmed in her chair and glanced at her friends. "His racist attitude toward African Americans, Latinos, Jews and all minorities in general stands him apart from the vast majority of people."

  Carter injected, "He's strongly anti-union and spoke multiple times against the LGBT movement. Plus, he claims the American society at large has deteriorated due to the breakdown of morals and ethics across all groups."

  Deline said, "Then there are the memberships and donations to several radical groups that preach violent overthrow of the government or those that are simply ethnic hate organizations. To several I traced his donations of ten thousand dollars or more. The largest was for fifteen thousand dollars."

  Carter shook his head. "It's all supposition on our part."

  Deline snickered. "Any decent attorney would ri
p our so-called evidence to shreds and have us laughed out of a courtroom with charges encompassing those issues."

  Carter picked up his notepad. "Gotta go. I'm taking over surveillance this evening for Erthal on the Rawlings case. It’s his wedding anniversary; he’s taking his wife out for dinner. I expect to be back after midnight. Plan to visit Peltier tomorrow, if it can be arranged that soon."

  Kate said, “Horace P. Erthal, that man is some piece of work. Does he ever speak to anyone?

  Carter grinned. “Only when he has something important to say. He’s not much on small talk.”

  At two minutes before one p.m., Kate thumped the devil's head knocker three times. Minutes later the large doors on the Peltier mansion's entrance creaked open. Anastasia silently motioned the pair to enter without making eye contact. The huge door shut with a dull thud, leaving them in the cramped space lit by a single dim overhead light bulb behind a frosted glass. Once more Anastasia escorted them to the sitting room. They sat side by side on the leather sofa and waited.

  Ten minutes later, Paul Peltier entered. He smiled arrogantly as he strode across the room without acknowledging the intruders. He sat and looked at the detectives expectantly without speaking.

  Carter stood and extended his right arm. "Good afternoon, Mr. Peltier. Thank you for seeing us." His proffered handshake was ignored as his nemesis glanced haughtily to Kate.

  "I'm an extremely busy man, Mr. Johnson. Please state your business and get this over with quickly. Your frequent visits have approached the point of harassment."

  "Alright. I'm curious about the three-quarter ton van you own. What is it used for?"

  "I don't see that is any of your business. But to appease your insatiable curiosity, it was used by my grandson, Johnny. He likes to work on old computers and related electronic equipment. He picked them up along the curb on trash days. He's quite good at rebuilding them and making them usable again." With a look of pride Peltier added, "He donates most of them to civic organizations to be distributed to needy people."

  Carter cocked his head and squinted. "You said was used."

  Peltier smiled ruefully. "Unfortunately, Mr. Johnson I no longer own that old van."

  Kate asked, "You sold it? When was that?"

  "No I did not sell it. It was stolen two days ago from my garage. The police believe it was taken by joyriders, little black buggers I'd wager. I'm told it was located across the river in a desolate spot near East St. Louis, Illinois."

  Carter leaned forward, pleased that the police had likely put it in temporary storage. "So, the van is impounded, in the custody of the police?" He heard a squeaking noise from the hallway.

  A husky, slouched figure stood at the entrance to the room. Above the sneakers, Johnny wore blue jeans and a red St. Louis Cardinals tee shirt. Paul looked over and addressed him. "Yes, Johnny?"

  "I'm going out for a while, Grandpa. I'll be back in time for dinner." Paul nodded his assent and Johnny quickly disappeared down the hallway, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

  "You were saying, Mr. Johnson?"

  "I assume the van is in the custody of the police."

  Paul smirked arrogantly. "No, it is not. The vandals set fire to my van and destroyed it. A total loss the police surmised. I've not heard from my insurance agent at this time."

  Paul Peltier's smug look irritated Kate and Carter to no end.

  Paul stood. "If you have no more questions, the maid will see you out. I have pressing matters to attend to."

  On the brick sidewalk Kate said, "Well, he got around that. He must have suspected we would want a forensics team to check the van for DNA evidence."

  "Watch your step. Yeah, his timing was perfect. Too perfect. I'll tell Tom what happened and see if he can get a crew to the site where the van was found. Maybe someone saw it being taken there and noticed what kind of vehicle hauled the driver away from that 'desolate' spot as Paul described it."

  Kate shook her head. "If it’s as desolate as he indicated, I doubt there will be witnesses nearby. That’s why he chose it."

  They got in the car and hooked their seatbelts. As the car maneuvered away from the curb, Kate said, "The news media is having a field day with that letter from the Guardians of the Constitution. It has been the lead story for the national and local TV channels since they received it."

  Carter shifted, then turned left. "I bet it is. It’s unheard of to receive a letter admitting to five brutal murders. When I spoke to Tom this morning, he said all of the known copies of the letter and the envelopes were checked for fingerprints with no results. They were mailed from Columbus, Ohio, near where the last bodies were found. The more time I spend with Peltier the surer I’m that he's our murderer."

  Outside his window, branches of ancient soft maples danced in a slight breeze out of the southwest. Paul watched the detectives walk carefully down the old brick sidewalk, heaved in places by tree roots, to an orange car, a BMW he thought by the look of the emblem embedded in the hood. They were smarter than he'd given them credit for, much smarter and tenacious, too. If he hadn't disposed of the van when he did, they might have caught him. He didn't believe there was DNA evidence lurking unseen in it, but he wasn't an expert in such matters. He believed in the old adage, better safe than sorry. He and Johnny had been lucky, but he detested depending on luck. It was time to take the game to them and cut their numbers. If Johnny was lucky, he may even eliminate both of their antagonists in one fell swoop. His shallow, sardonic grin was mirthless as the orange car passed in front of the mansion.

  Johnny approached the back entrance of the J&M office building the next evening a few minutes past six p.m. The day had been an alternating mix of sunshine and clouds. His grandpa had gone to great pains to coach him on his current assignment. He resisted doing what his grandpa wanted but finally caved in when Paul convinced him he wouldn’t be shot. Clouds managed to prevail past four that afternoon, then the sky cleared and turned blue. The wind velocity had increased with gusts out of the northwest up to twenty-five MPH. The temperature and humidity dropped to a bearable level behind a mild cold front that passed through hours ago. Still, Johnny sweated in the lightweight, long sleeved hooded sweatshirt, bulletproof-vest and tight-fitting leather gloves.

  The business closed at five and Grandpa said if the two detectives were home, they would reply to the doorbell at the back entrance. In the early evening, and in their own safe environment, they would be relaxed and off-guard. He said chances were ninety-five to one they would be unarmed when they came down from their upstairs apartment.

  He pulled the cap down over his face. In deep thought, he stared at the concrete parking lot's surface as he walked toward the rear of the building. The plan his grandpa laid out seemed simple as he continued to review it step by step. A noise caused him to raise his hooded head. His grip on the heavy full-size revolver in his right sweatshirt pocket tightened. The inside door was open and a woman pushed against the open storm door with her right hand as she stepped outside. They were six feet apart. As she pulled the inside door shut, she looked up and startled upon noticing him. Confusion then fear quickly flashed across her features.

  He was confused; she wasn't the lady he was after. The woman in the sitting room with Grandpa and the other man two days ago was a blonde. This pretty woman had dark hair. He was taken aback and hesitated, unsure of what to do.

  The sudden sight of the man with a ski cap pulled down over his face shocked Deline. She stared at the blue eyes visible in the cap's eye ports as she instinctively reached in her purse for her handgun.

  Johnny tugged the revolver out of his pocket. The cloth gripped the hammer until he tore it loose violently. He stood directly in front of the woman, three feet away. Her fear and recognition of the situation caused her features to contort. He felt the power that inducing fear in her generated. She grappled for something in her purse as he stepped forward and swung the heavy revolver overhead like a club. The barrel hit the top of her head and the butt
connected with her forehead. Blood immediately ran down her face from the lacerations.

  Deline collapsed to her knees, groggy from the vicious blow. Blood gushed from the wounds and ran in streams down her forehead and into her eyes. The shiny, new storm door was against her right shoulder. She sensed more than saw where her attacker stood. The back of her left hand wiped across her eyes; she saw a blurred vision of the man in front of her. A gun less than a foot away pointed at her head. Her right arm raised as her vision again clouded over. Her trigger finger squeezed and the gun blasted before it was fully extended. She pulled the trigger again and again, firing blindly, then fired again. She heard shoes slapping on the concrete and fading quickly. She fired two more shots toward the diminishing sound.

  Johnny hesitated, he hadn't known whether to shoot the unknown woman or not. Grandpa hadn't planned for this. The woman's arm flexed upward and he felt pain in his left arm at the same time the sound of a gunshot frightened him. It was so loud when directed at him in close quarters. Another bullet blasted and he felt acute pain in his chest before another shot whizzed dangerously close to his head. He squatted, turned, and ran. In the awkward position, he slipped and almost fell but regained his balance and fled. Across the alley, he dodged two garbage cans, stumbled and noticed he'd lost his left shoe. He ran between two buildings and sprinted until he was at a sidewalk. His arm and chest hurt terribly. The revolver was still in his right hand. He hesitated then turned right and ran as fast as he could with the single shoe going clop, clop, clop.