What he had done so far was:
Flush gas tank and gas lines
Clean and tune carburetors
Change brake fluid and flush system
Flush radiator and replace fluid
Replace fan belt
TOTAL COST: $ 489.95
RECOMMENDATIONS:
Change gear oil in transmission
Change rear end oil
Replace wiper arms and blades
New plugs and points
ESTIMATED COST: $ 223.89
All and all not that bad considering how long the car had been just sitting.
“So is it worth the price?” I asked Franco.
“Are you kidding? You could turn around and sell this thing tomorrow on Ebay or Craigslist for forty thousand or more. I’m serious. With just a little TLC you could get even more. If you don’t want the car, I’ll take it.”
“That good of a deal?”
“Lady, do not let this get away from you.”
With that, I paid for the repairs and authorized him to do the other work. I called Ben and told him it was a done deal and that I would have the money by noon tomorrow. He told me not to worry about getting the money anytime soon. He would pay her and I could reimburse him when I had the time.
Who the hell has thirty thousand just sitting around like that? Obviously Doctor Warman does.
**
Women are pretty much already aware of this but just in case you live in a cave someplace, let me point out that men are definitely different. Take my partner Dan. We are sitting in the patrol car. We had picked up a large pepperoni pizza and a couple of soft drinks. I had my usual Diet Coke and he had his Mountain Dew. That is some vile stuff let me tell you. Anyway, the pizza is between us and I look over and see that pepperoni and sauce are dribbled from the box all the way to his chin. It’s everywhere. On the seat, on his pants, his shirt and his chin. How is that possible? Men don’t eat; they just throw food in the general vicinity of their face and hope some goes in their mouth. I swear he looked like he had been in a food fight.
The other thing is they never use napkins. For some weird reason they think their pants or shirt makes a better napkin so they use those instead. I watched in horror as he inhaled another giant bite of pizza. I know he never tasted it because he didn’t bother to chew. Men just open their mouth and shove it in and it disappears without a trace before they even know what it was they stuffed in there. I don’t think they even wait for food to cool down before they jam it in. No matter how hot, in and down it goes.
“So,” Dan said between huge bites, “We watch Sanders’ place until 3:00 A.M. and then go over to James'. I honestly don’t see that working very well.”
“Hey, neither do I but the captain made the call. At this point the battle is over. We are the minions so we just do as we are told. I think it is an exercise in futility as well,” I agreed.
“Maybe we should just watch this place tonight and then James’ place tomorrow. Switching back and forth just complicates things and makes it more difficult to catch him.”
“You know, that’s not a bad idea. It keeps us within the spirit of the orders McGregor gave us. I think we can pull that off,” I replied.
After watching Dan dribble more sauce down the front of his shirt, I decided that I'd had enough pizza and let him finish it off.
**
We took two hour shifts while watching nothing but the night go by. Two hours doesn’t seem like much but the minutes are like microwave minutes. You know how when you put something in the microwave and you are waiting it seems to take forever? A stakeout is like that. Seconds seem like minutes. By three or four in the morning it is all you can do to keep your eyes open. That is the best time to screw up the entire stakeout. Things can slip past you that you would normally catch.
Finally at 5:54 A.M. we decided that nothing was going to go down at Sanders’ place. We would do the same routine tomorrow with the only difference being we would watch James’ house.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“What?” I practically screamed.
“He got Sanders last night. The ME is waiting for you at the old Standard Gas Works.”
“That isn’t possible. He went to a hotel. We watched his house last night. There is no way he could have gotten to him.”
“Bartoni, calm down. He did get to him. The ME has already IDd him. It’s Pete Sanders. Now grab Dan and get on over there,” McGregor ordered.
We drove in stunned silence. No way. It had to be a bad dream. How could he find Sanders? Is this guy shadowing us and then grabbing the Stillwell gang members? It made a certain amount of sense. How else would he have known that Pete was going to go into hiding? That would explain a lot of things, like how he was finding them so easily.
“Do you think we are the ones leading him to Stillwell’s men?” I asked.
“I’ve been thinking about that and it would clear up a lot of unanswered questions. I thought maybe Fellows, Garner, Vickers, or Cline may be tipping him off but that made no sense. We had already had four dead by the time they came on the scene. It could well be us that he is following to find these guys.”
“But we didn’t even know where Sanders was going to be staying. How could he have gotten that information?” I asked.
“Followed us and waited until Sanders came out with his beat up suitcase. All he would have to do then was follow him and grab him.”
“Damn, this guy is smart, persistent, and deadly. A very lethal combination,” I said.
“The worse kind,” Dan agreed.
**
“Can you believe this guy, Sorenson?” I asked.
“Yes I can. He is obviously very real.”
“What have we got?”
“Two Sanders.”
“Two?”
“Yes. A upper half and a lower half. My guess is a chain saw was used. He cut off his toes first then his feet at the ankles and then cut him in half. Oh, and he has no teeth. They appear to have been pulled one at a time before the cutting started. At least those are my preliminary findings.”
“So he grabs him, brings him here. Hangs him like the others and yanks his teeth out.”
“Correct.”
“Then he goes to work with a chain saw. Cuts Sanders’ toes off, then his feet at the ankles and finally he slices him in half.”
“That would be my best guess at this point in time. Of course this is all subject to a full autopsy when I get him back to the lab.”
“Of course. How long did it take for this to happen?”
“No way of knowing really. I mean he could have taken a long time pulling the teeth. A couple of hours at least. Once he started with the saw he would have to move fairly quickly unless he had a tourniquet with him to control the loss of blood from his toes and feet. Then he could have dragged it out a little longer. When he sliced him in two it was over quickly,” Sorenson replied.
“Essentially like the others, he suffered for several hours before his final demise,” I said.
“That would be my best estimate,” the ME confirmed.
**
It isn’t often that I find myself in this position. I was at a total loss as to what to do. Whoever was doing this was one of the most resourceful criminals I have ever run up against. Usually they screw up at some point and leave a clue. So far we had absolutely nothing to go on.
The only thing I could think to do was to start over and look at each murder fresh. The problem was we were out of time if we were going to save James. If our mystery man had been following us all along, that meant he could well have a line on where James was staying and that was more than we knew at the moment. We needed to find him before he became the next victim.
Dan and I spent the next four hours calling every flop house and cheap motel to see if we could locate him. We came up with nothing. Either he was using a fake name or he had left the city. With a little luck he had done the latter. The problem was we couldn’t rely on luck so that mea
nt taking his picture to all the motels and seeing if we could get a hit that way.
Twenty three motels later we had struck out completely. In some ways that was good but in others it wasn’t so hot. If we had led the killer to James and then he had followed him, it was all over. If he was holed up with a friend or out of the city, he might just have a shot at staying alive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I was like a little kid. Dan was taking me to pick up my new car. Well, new to me. The Healy was ready and I was going to meet Ben there and pay him back.
It was parked by the front door gleaming like it had just come off the showroom floor. The silver-blue paint and white insert were just gorgeous.
“It is beautiful,” I said to Ben as I walked around the car.
Franco was smiling as he watched my reaction.
“I had it buffed out. No charge. I kind of got caught up in the car and that is pretty unusual for me. It is a really solid machine and it should last you a long, long time,” he told me.
“It is magnificent. Have you driven it?” I asked.
He just laughed. It was a silly question, of course he had.
“We did a front end alignment. It wasn’t out much but what the heck, you might as well save some wear and tear on the tires,” Franco replied.
“So what do I owe you?”
“Doc paid the $ 489.95 already so you just owe me the
$ 223.89 you authorized.”
“What about the buff out and alignment?”
“My gift to you. Call it an investment in your future business,” he said.
I paid the bill and thought that Franco may just be a car mechanic but he was a smart one. He now had a customer for as long as I owned the car. There is a lot to be said for common sense.
I gave Ben a big hug and before I realized it a kiss to go with it. It wasn’t all that passionate but it did cause some stirrings that I haven’t felt in a long time. Ben could kiss.
I gave him the cashier’s check for the total amount of the car including the repairs. He argued that he should pay for that since he had the work done without my approval but I wasn’t having anything to do with that. He reluctantly took it after one more kiss. This one was just a little more passionate.
Bartoni, what the hell is going on here? I mean we had been on a few dates but they had all ended with a brief hug and kiss. This was different and I was both confused and a little taken aback by my own actions and feelings. Was it just the fact that Ben had done so much in getting the car for me and I felt indebted or were my feelings developing into something more?
Bartoni, Bartoni. Girl you need to get your head screwed on right and figure out what you are really doing with Ben. It isn’t fair to him if you are leading him on and then going to back off like you usually do. I am such a coward when it comes to relationships. I can never seem to make the final leap of faith that is required.
**
Dan had no idea what a Healy 3000 looked like so he was like a kid in a candy store. He had to look at the engine compartment and look at it from every angle.
“Man that is a beauty. It looks like it is a brand new car.”
“Franco did a really great job getting it ready.”
“Take me for a ride,” he said, climbing in.
I could tell he was surprised by the amount of leg room. Healy’s have lots and lots of it. We took it for a spin and talked about what we were going to do next on the case.
“So we are back at square one,” he said as we were driving along.
“I don’t know what else to do at this point. I think we need to go back and talk to Kenny Miller’s son. He is a pretty big guy. Maybe he is doing this for his old man.”
“That would be a real stretch. First of all I can’t see the father putting his son in that kind of position and secondly, while he is built along the same lines as his dad, he isn’t as big or that well developed. On top of that, these have been pretty gruesome. I don’t see the kid having the stomach for that.”
“Then where else do we go? Look Dan, I’m not saying it was the kid but it is a starting point. Maybe it is an uncle or some other relative.”
“That’s really reaching Angie.”
“I guess so but I’m out of ideas so reaching is all I can think of to do at this point.”
“Then let’s pull him in to the station and shake the tree and see what falls out.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I said.
**
Brandon Miller sat in the chair drumming his fingers on the metal table top. Dan and I had been watching him for the past fifteen minutes. He was pretty calm for someone pulled in suddenly to a police station and placed in an interview room.
“He isn’t worried,” I said at last.
“Let’s go see if we can give him something to worry about,” Dan replied.
We both went in to talk to him.
“Brandon, thanks for coming to talk to us. This shouldn’t take long. We just have a few questions for you.”
“Glad to help,” he said, folding his hands.
“Look, these questions are routine to help us eliminate suspects. Don’t take them personally. We just have to ask them to clear up some details,” I told him.
“I’ll do what I can. I’ll tell you up front, I’m not real good on dates and what I was doing when. That crap I don’t log away.”
“Yes well, just do the best you can.”
“Sure.”
“You work days at Highway 19 Lumber, is that right?”
“You asked that before, but yeah.”
“And you usually get off at 5:00 p.m.?”
“Around that time. Sometimes we have to do some work that keeps us a little longer.”
“Where do you usually go after that?”
“Home. Dan needs care and we can’t afford someone fulltime so I head home.”
“Does anyone look after him during the day?”
“Mary Beth, the neighbor lady, comes over and makes him lunch every day. Without her we would be in a pickle.”
“And after dinner, what do you usually do?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Watch television, get on the computer, talk to Dad. That kind of thing.”
“Do you ever go out?”
“Sure. Not often but of course. Sometimes I take Dad to a movie if it is something funny. No heavy crap. He has enough of that already.”
“What time do you put him to bed?” I asked.
“It depends. Sometimes 10:00 p.m. sometimes later. It just depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“How he feels,” Brandon replied.
“Right. And then what do you do?”
“Various stuff. Pick up the house. Sometimes I do the laundry, wash the dishes, that kind of stuff.”
“Do you ever go out?”
“Rarely. I don’t like to leave Dad alone at night.”
“You do during the day,” I pointed out.
“I don’t have a choice then do I? We aren’t rich. I have to work.”
“I didn’t mean that like it sounded. Sorry. What do you think about all these guys getting killed?” I asked changing subjects.
“I think it’s great. Every time I read about one of them it makes me smile. Why? Do you think I feel sorry for them? Hell no. I love it. I hope each of them die a slow and painful death. I don’t feel one bit sorry for them.”
“Brandon. Have you had anything to do with any of their deaths? If you have, this is the time to tell me. Everyone understands the emotions involved. If you were involved and came forth right now, I can guarantee I will go to bat for you with the DA’s Office,” I threw out just to see if I could get a nibble.
“Oh sure. Like I would admit to that even if I was involved. Look Detective, my father has a lot of respect for you because you put these guys in prison where they belong. That’s all well and good but I damn sure wouldn’t admit to having anything to do with those guys' murders. I’m not stupid. Even if you thought
you could hang them on me I would plead ‘not guilty’ and wait for a really good plea bargain. Anyone with any brains knows no one wants to go to trial, especially a DA that is coming up on an election year. They couldn’t take the risk,” he said and smiled quickly.
I wanted to tell him that he was full of crap but the truth was he had hit the nail right on the head. A high profile trial that would generate a lot of sentiment for the killer would be the last thing the DA’s Office would want to handle.
“Alright Brandon. Thank you for coming in. We may need to talk to you again at a later time. The forensic lab is still sorting through clues that they picked up at the crime scenes,” I told him.
“Good luck with that,” was his reply.
He knew it was a crock and so did I but I wanted to plant the seed of doubt that we may have stumbled onto something. The truth was we had squat. Actually we didn’t even have that. At this point we had no physical evidence at all.
Brandon was a pretty cool kid for his age. Obviously he wasn’t very concerned. That meant he was totally innocent or felt he was smarter than the cops.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Regardless of what you see on television and in the movies, every detective goes through periods where nothing is fitting together. Time stands still as you try to figure out just what has to be done next.
We had nothing on Brandon. Heck, I didn’t even have a gut feeling he was trying to hide anything. In spite of all of this, a good detective has to come up with a plan of action. There is simply no way you can turn a murderer of six people into a cold case.
Right now Dan and I were going through every file and listing the victims, their spouses, children, and anyone else that we felt could possibly be behind this. After three hours we still had nothing.
“Angie, I just don’t see anyone in these files that looks to be capable of doing these crimes.”
SHADOW MAN - Angie Bartoni Case File #6 (ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES Book 1) Page 8