Murder Mysteries # 2

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  "I wonder if there's anyone in Bandon who professionally takes picture of females," said Stacy as she finished off her oatmeal and muffin.

  Across the street at the station, the three detectives went to work. Ben faxed the picture to Portland; Rory doing an inquiry into the same modus back east; and Stacy working the real estate folks if someone with a professional photography background came to town recently.

  While they were working hard, Chief Ray was drawing plans with his ruler on some copy paper. He'd had help from Flo who was thrilled to help out. Never let I be said she wasn't someone to call upon when needed. Ray said, "Flo, I think we got something here. I especially like the big cement driveway to the roll up metal door. I also agree with you I probably need a small flatbed truck to transport wood and things like that."

  "Chief, you got the world by the tail here. Don't forget a wood stove for heat. I'll call for a building permit and you call for the contractors to bid on the addition. Let's get this project off the ground," said Flo taking the rough design to make a few copies of.

  New Revelations

  Rory hung up from his contact in Portland with the FBI. He sat reviewing his notes and when Ben and Stacy were unoccupied he said, "Okay, here's the story from my FBI guy in Portland. He told me that indeed a similar serial murderer left three female models dead with Indian nickels in the navel. All were shot with a 45 caliber handgun. I've the name of the two special agents with their contact numbers." Rory was looking back and forth between the two observing what response he might receive.

  "We need their reports," said Ben. Stacy looked at Rory and nodded in agreement. Rory picked up the phone seeing it was afternoon back east.

  "Ben, I didn't have any luck with the real estate people. Any hits on Portland?"

  "Not yet, but I've a feeling very soon now. If she was a model then she'll be well known with lots of friends."

  The chief came in to see what was going on. He asked Stacy if she was busy. She shook her head and he nodded to come with him to his office. She needed a distraction to break the waiting time.

  Where the usual legal pad and pencil resided on his desk was now replaced by four taped A-4 copy paper displaying their house and the new addition. "What do you think daughter. Am I doing good or what?"

  She looked at the rough drawings carefully. She saw the covered walkway between house and shop. Looking at the driveway with a double gate fence around the whole property was also to her liking. The roll up door was a nice touch. "Dad, I like it. When will you break ground?"

  "I've contacted two contractors here in town and one from Coos Bay for bids. Flo knows an architect who'll draw the plans to scale. I want it insulated well with plenty of exhaust fans sucking out the dust. It'll have a shower in a full bathroom. Lord this will cost a fortune Stacy." He looked at her with twinkling happy eyes.

  "The banker man is drooling dad. I'd guess around a hundred grand. What did you and mom pay for the original place," she asked.

  "Oh my, let's see now," as he rubbed his chin, "I think $16,000 for everything. It took us fifteen years to pay it off. Now we pay more in taxes than we did house payments. This will make a great tax write off."

  Dan came around the corner and tapped lightly on the door jamb. Stacy turned and he said, "Sorry, but we got a hit on our victim."

  Stacy went back to her office. Rory had just sat the phone down. Both listened to Dan say, "Her name is Rebecca Tallis from Gresham. She's twenty four. Parents are unknown at this time. She freelanced with her own website. Dangerous, but lucrative said her friend Donna Brazor. Rebecca told Donna she'd a photo shoot on the beach down the coast. She'd be back in a week. She was told to take the bus to Roseburg and the photographer would pick her up. A two thousand deposit was wired to her account said Donna. The last she saw Rebecca was when she dropped her off at the bus station with her backpack. She was traveling light as the photographer told her he or she had lots of clothes her size so don't worry. Yes, Donna didn't know if the photographer was male or female."

  "It seems when we ID the victim it hits closer to home. It becomes more personal for some reason. Well now, we have a photographer to find either in Roseburg or somewhere in-between Bandon and there. My gut feeling is that photographer killer is here in or near Bandon. What did you find out from the FBI, Tall Man," asked Stacy.

  "Get a load of this. Michelle is the special agent in charge of this serial killer back east. When I described the victim she told me that was identical to her three victims. Vic number one near Carolina Beach, NC; number two south of Charleston, SC and number three in Florida near Palm Bay. All were about a month apart. Michelle was very nice and said she'd fax all her pertinent records here. Oh, and she said the last one was a little over three months ago. The last thing she said was that she'd check with her boss about flying out to see us."

  "Tall Man, did you fall in love with her," said a joking Stacy.

  Rory's face glowed around the cheeks. With a sheepish look he said, "No but she really did have a very sexy southern accent."

  Dan said, "Hold off putting a blond hair blue eyed Georgia peach vision until you meet her in real life. Us men have been fooled before and will be fooled again. What you see is what you get is very true. Now, we need to visit a camera shop to see if any hot shot photographers have been buying any film. I'm going up to Coos Bay Rory. I'll be back later."

  Evil Eye

  Mrs. Lightfoot had been wracking her brain for the name or some significant clue to the woman Stacy was seeking. She hated to admit it but in her younger days, she was a real snoop. She loved to spy on people. Her husband Slim disapproved, but even he on occasion would take a gander though the telescope upstairs. It'd been a long time since she'd been upstairs to peer through the old telescope. Originally they'd bought it to star gaze and to look at the beach area.

  Carmen Lightfoot wasn't sure she could make the stairs anymore. Her housekeeper, who refused to do the shop area, dusted once every two weeks or so. She thought, maybe if I go up and look through the tele it'll jog my memory. One step at a time old lady. Carmen took her time and soon she was upstairs looking at all of the past memories that came flooding back. After a hard look around, she saw the tele pointed face down. An old wooden stool sat next to it. Carmen raised the tele up and tightened the level. She looked through the eye piece that pointed east away from the ocean.

  Carmen paned the houses across the Beach Loop Rd and to her slight amazement, movement in the backyard of the house on the corner of Loop Rd and 11th St. If memory served, that house had been empty for many years. Carmen increased the intensity to see a heavy weight woman standing with something in her hand. She applied another higher magnification and saw the woman holding a camera. She thought nothing special there except the house was empty and where did this person come from?

  Carmen paned around some more until the name came out of her mouth: "Rita Hayworth." She moved away from the telescope to look out the window to the west and focus on Table Rock a giant sea stack just west of low tide. Now she remembered more. Rita had mentioned she was looking for a man named Raleigh something or other. No last name came to mind. She needed to call Stacy.

  Stacy was looking at Rebecca Tallis website. What a lovely girl, she thought. So vibrant and alive. She never expected to be killed before her twenty fifth birthday. Her references were impressive and nothing but raves for her work. An e-mail stared back at her as it would be necessary to pry into her inbox. She made a note for Ben or Rory. Rebecca also had a blog and soon Stacy was reading about her taking a photo shoot on the beach in southwestern Oregon. It said she'd be back in a week's time.

  Rory was watching the fax spitting out copy after copy. This was going to take awhile to read, he thought. He heard Stacy say something, "Hey when you're through there come here please."

  While she waited for him, Flo came in saying, "A Carmen Littlefoot is on the phone asking for you. I know her. She's been living here in Bandon since the fire."

  "Hell
o Mrs. Lightfoot," said Stacy.

  "I remembered the name Stacy and the name of the person she came to see. Her name was Rita Hayworth, but her real name was Samantha Tallis. The guy she was looking for was Raleigh something. I'm not sure she told me his last name. I hope that helps."

  "Yes, it does help a lot. Do you remember if she said where Raleigh lived"?

  "Not really, but not far is what I gathered. I saw her walking up and down the road a lot. I think he was within walking distance. Anyway, stop by sometime to enlighten an old lady on the things you're doing."

  "Hey Tall Man, get this—the red head Rita Hayworth's real name is Samantha Tallis who was in Bandon to see a man named Raleigh. We're making headway. I wonder if Raleigh is still in town or gone. What's his last name? Maybe dad knows." She jumped up and ran to his office leaving Rory still staring at the fax.

  "Raleigh something huh," said the chief. "Let me think now. Raleigh is not a common name for sure. And you say Mrs. Lightfoot told you and she didn't know him either. We've a mystery man. See Smiling Sam again. He might remember something."

  Rory said, when she returned, "So the redhead Rita that came here almost ten years ago had or has the same last name as our bog victim. How does that fit into the scheme of things Super Sleuth Stacy?"

  "I'm not sure. If, let's say Samantha was around twenty five at the time of her visit here, then she'd be about thirty five now. Rebecca is twenty four. Eleven years or so separate the two. It can't be the daughter. Or, maybe she's another daughter of Samantha's mother, but separated by more than ten years. Let's say Samantha's mother was sixteen when Samantha was born. Then fourteen years later she gives birth to Rebecca at age thirty. No problem Tall Man. It fits, but is it really what happened? Also, what does it have to do with her being murdered while in the same town as her big sister was years ago? Who is Raleigh and what part does he play in this scenario? This is getting way too complicated for me. Let's go eat lunch. Is that fax done regurgitating bureaucratic paper?"

  The chief went with them. He wanted to talk about the shop addition and the two detectives wanted to talk about the case. Age and respect won out and Rory said, after taking a quick look, "Nice. Really nice. My father would be impressed chief. I think you found the lost diamond mine of Bandon. I can see the sign now with an arrow pointed down the street: 'Foreham and Daughter's Myrtle wood Shop.'"

  At first Rory didn't think it so funny, but then when both Stacy and her father were cracking up, customers looking over wondering what was going on, he too started laughing slapping the table spilling the water glasses. The waitress rushed up with a towel to clean up the water mess asking, "What's so funny Chief Ray?"

  "Delia you are invited to our grand opening of the Foreman/daughter wood shop that will open its doors this coming spring time. Be there or be square."

  After all was queit and back to normal, Stacy brought her father up to speed on the case. After hearing it all he said, "What I see is a bunch of loose ends that you can't find the ends to tie together. Dig into that e-mail and that bank wire. Go interview Donna and she probably forgot a few things. There's a reason she was killed. It might not be from anything she did or knows, but just from who she is."

  While they ate lunch, Dan was visiting the most popular camera store in the county. Mr. Kozack was the owner. Dan was talking with him in his office in the back. "Mr. Kozack we're investigating the homicide of a young girl who was, we think, recruited for a photo shoot on the beach by a professional photographer. She was killed down in Bandon." He let that sink in for a minute as he saw Mr. Kozack nod his head knowing about the murder. "Do you know or have you heard about any professional photographers in town or perhaps stopped in to your store?"

  "Now that you mention it I received a call from a woman looking for Ilford film and hi speed Fuji film. Mostly only serious or professionals use Ilford and hi speed color film is for low lighting. I told her that I did have Fuji and she thanked me for my time."

  "You're sure it was a woman caller," asked Ben.

  "I can tell detective between the two, but she did have a deep voice for a woman."

  Ben returned to Bandon after stopping by his house for lunch. His wife was a little surprised he was home for lunch. He got lucky as she'd made some homemade stew that morning. He thanked her and left with a satisfied feeling both about his full stomach and the news it might be a woman killer.

  Peeping Stacy

  After lunch, while Rory read the FBI reports, Stacy drove out to see Mrs. Lightfoot. The sky was becoming dark with a tell-tale sign of a storm coming. She parked in front. The bells jangled again with the same results: nobody present. Stacy made her way back to where she'd been before. Mrs. Lightfoot was sound asleep. She looked so peaceful in her rocking chair. Stacy almost turned around and left when Mrs. Lightfoot's eyes popped open. "I wasn't asleep dear, but just resting my eye lids. Darn things get so heavy sometimes, don't they?"

  Stacy laughed and agreed with her. "I'm sorry to bother you again so soon."

  Oh pshaw, never you mind. I've been thinking about whom might this Raleigh guy be and where he was or is. I'm thinking that he was here for the summer time. Years ago those cabin just before the golf course were rented out by the month. You know Stacy; I was upstairs when I thought about the names gazing through our old telescope. Kitty corner across 11th St. is a house on the corner that has been empty for years. But you know what, I saw a woman with a camera out back of that house today."

  "I saw the stairs before, but thought it went to an attic."

  "Run up and take a look for yourself. I'll put on a pot of tea. Once is enough for me going up those steep stairs? Take your time as I'm no speed person anymore."

  Stacy hurried up the stairs to before her a really nice room to watch the surf or to gaze out the window at the many houses that had been built over the last couple of decades. She turned the tele to the house across the way, but she didn't see anything moving except the trees around the property waving in the increasing wind. Stacy made a note of the address and went back down to tea and stale crackers.

  After tea, Stacy took her leave thanking Mrs. Lightfoot for her help in the case. Stacy drove over to see Smiling Sam. He'd be home now as the rain demanded that she turn on the wipers. She found Sam all bundled up sitting outside on his porch watching the wave's crash against the jetty. He rose as she walked up the stairs to go inside where it was warmer.

  This was Stacy's first time inside his small house. It was typical of an old man's place, but neat as a pin. Maybe a little dusty, but that was acceptable to her. They sat at his rather large kitchen table. He offered coffee or tea, but she declined. "Sam, I was or just left Mrs. Lightfoot. She remembered the Rita Hayworth red head that was here almost ten years ago now. I found her name out from the motel. Mrs. Lightfoot remembered her well. She told me a man by the name of Raleigh was a friend of Rita Hayworth; or her real name is Samantha Tallis. Our victims name is Rebecca Tallis. Do any of those names ring a bell in your head Sam?"

  "Let me stoke the grey cells and see what happens Stacy. I should remember clearly ten years ago and especially a rare name of Raleigh."

  She told me that those cabins just before the golf course were rented out by the month. She thought that maybe he was staying the summer there."

  "Wait a minute I feel a 'remember' coming on. Lord have mercy on my old brain. Ah, yes, here it comes now—sure thing—I can see him down town flirting with the young girls walking around. I remember one girl saying: 'Your name is Raleigh like the explorer?'"

  Stacy was a bit excited now. He continued, "I overheard him say he was a professional photographer on vacation enjoying the beach. Another girl asked him where he was from. I heard him say Hollywood. Then he laughed. The girls loved him. He told them if they wanted him to take some pictures to meet him at the jetty later on when the sun was going down for the best light. That's all I know Stacy."

  "It makes sense now that Rita was here to model for him. Well, thanks Sam. Not sure
where this is all going, but a little bit here and a little bit there. Bye for now."

  When she got back to the station, Ben was there talking to Rory. They stopped when she came in. Ben said, "I was just telling Rory about my camera store visit in Coos Bay. The owner of a shop there told me woman called trying to find some film for a low light photo take. The film she wanted was mostly for professional photographers. It's possible we might be looking for a woman killer."

  "I talked to Mrs. Lightfoot who said she saw a woman with a camera at a house on 11th street that has been vacant for years. Can we put two and two together," asked Stacy.

  "Let's see who the house is owned by," said Rory. What's the address Stacy?"

  After receiving the address Rory called Coquille court house. He left the address and his phone number. "I've some things kind of interesting from the FBI he said. Like our victim, all had sand on the bottoms of their feet, but nowhere else, only on the feet. For me it confirms the photography person as the killer. The strange thing is motive. Why would the photographer kill, what appears like, random victims?

  Another thing interesting, each of these victims had websites portraying free lance models available. The FBI said they hacked into each victims e-mail and found nothing out of the ordinary. I wonder then how the perp made contact. A cell phone is the best answer, but none of the victim's cell phones were found anywhere. The perp must have disposed of the phones. Here's my take on what took place and possibly will take place. Each victim murdered then the perp moves on geographically to another area. A month later kills again and moves on. A month later kills again in another location and moves across the continental United States and kills again. Therefore, the killer has or will soon move on to another location."

  "Well said Rory. My take exactly and if the killer is or will pack up bags and move on, that leaves us very little time to catch the person; if he/she is still here. If 'it' moved on, we've no idea north or south. I'd say we are in deep you know what. This case is becoming most frustrating and baffling," said Stacy.