Linda was the first to speak, “Well, we think that Jack Simpson is not anything.” Then she made a face when she saw James Devon sitting in the living room. “This guy is a lawyer?”
I answered from the desk, “Has a secretary, Claudia, who doesn’t think much of him either based on the little notes she has sent him on the computer. He isn’t very respectful to her either. Geesh, you should read this stuff!”
Teresa motioned for us to be quiet. “You guys, I don’t know if I can do this.” We looked over. James had his eyes closed, and it looked like he was falling asleep. Teresa was making faces. None of us could hear anything, so we didn’t know what was bothering her. We all just created our own “clean” chairs and watched her. Now she had her head turned away from him, her chin in the air. Then she looked at us and SCREAMED! We all screamed back! Suddenly Ellen was there with her arms around Teresa, and moving Teresa to a chair. What the heck?
“Oh boy.” Ellen was looking at us, “I am so sorry. I had no idea. You are so not ready for this!” Teresa looked like she was ready to cry, but she was listening to Ellen.
Then Teresa said, “I was trying.”
Ellen interrupted her and said, “I know, I know, you didn’t do anything wrong. Let me just concentrate on him for a minute.” Ellen put her hand over Jame’s head and pulled it back like the air was hot or something.
“Okay.” She was looking at us. “Stay put. Do NOT get close to this man. I will be right back.”
Teresa looked at us, “No way am I going near him. You guys, I can’t even describe the evil.” She was shaking her head, and I noticed her whole body was shaking. Linda, Mary and I all put our hands on Teresa’s hands, and she calmed down somewhat. Shit, shit, shit. Not much gets to Teresa.
Ellen was back, and she brought Granny! UH—Oh
Granny nodded at us and placed her hands firmly on Devon’s shoulders. We could see an aura around her, and it seemed like the room started getting very dark. Ellen had kneeled next to Granny, so we did too. There was a silence that no words could describe. More than an absence of sound more like a vacuum. I tried to look at Granny, but my eyes were held to the floor. Then it was over.
Granny was gone.
James Devon was still sleeping.
Ellen told us it was going to be a very long night.
Whoever started the rumor that angels are sitting on clouds, eating grapes, and playing harps, had better get a clue!
* * *
CHAPTER 12
* * *
“It’s him,” Ellen said flatly. She held her arm out toward him, “He has killed them all, and he’s not done. He won’t stop until he is stopped.”
“Then let’s stop him!” Teresa shouted.
“We can’t,” was Ellen’s answer. “Let me explain. Mortals do terrible things to each other all of the time. Always have, always will. Certain mortals have the task of stopping them. That is the order of things. We cannot alter mortal behavior or manipulate environments to assist these mortals in their goals. What we can do is discover information that is helpful, try to get that information into the right mortal hands, and speed up the process.”
“I am going to relay the filtered version of what Mr. Devon here has on his mind, and we are going to begin our own detective work to find information that Agent Dance and Agent Casey can use in the mortal world to stop him. Before we get started, what questions do you have?”
Linda raised her hand, “Can’t we just write a note to Roger telling him that Devon is the killer. Leave it on his desk?”
Ellen answered, “Nope. Remember that mortals are working within the constraints of legal systems, proof, evidence, and those things are discovered by mortals. Roger and Paul will only come to the conclusion that Mr. James Devon is their killer when they have had their own mortal discoveries of information.”
I raised my hand, “Soooooo, we can discover proof that Devon is the killer, but we have to find a way for Roger and Paul to discover it on their own too?”
“Exactly.” Ellen said.
I had another question, “You said we couldn’t manipulate environments. Could you get a lot more specific about that?” I was thinking that we may have some wiggle room here based on definitions.
Ellen looked at all of us and then especially at me, “That set of definitions will be my primary assignment. To make sure you girls don’t inadvertently break any rules.”
Mary said, “I DO NOT WANT YOUR JOB—EVER.”
I didn’t want to ask, but I was curious what would happen if you broke an angel rule. I mean, what can they do? You are already dead. Sentence you back to life? Did they have little angel courtrooms, angel lawyers? I could be an angel lawyer! Angel jails, community service? Dust the clouds? Everyone was looking at me but not talking. That darn mind reading again.
Teresa cleared her throat, scrunched her mouth at me, and asked, “Why did Granny come?”
“Granny came to protect me and to install a filter to enable me to extract thoughts from Devon without causing harm to myself.”
I was stunned, “He’s that bad?”
“Oh yeah.” She answered. No wonder Teresa screamed.
Ellen began the story of what Devon had been doing and what his plans were. We were all captivated by how dark and ugly his soul was. (Linda and Mary took notes.)
“James Devon grew up the ugly son of a truly gorgeous woman who didn’t want a child in her life. He was told how ugly he was from birth, and that he would never have a pretty girl unless he was rich. His mother kept him hidden as much as possible. She was ashamed someone would see she had birthed something so ugly and had told him so. She sent him to boarding schools where he honed the dark side of his personality. One Christmas holiday his mother was found in a dumpster behind a tavern where her face had been skinned. The newspapers reported the coroner ruled she had been skinned alive and strangled. Little was mentioned about the young teenage son who attended boarding school. He had become a ward of the state and his file had suggested it was suspected that he harbored some serious personality disorders. He was so bright. Even with that, it was determined he was not involved in her murder. The school master stated he worshiped the ground his mother walked on and did anything he could to please her.
That was his first murder. She didn’t look so beautiful when he was done with her. The look of terror in her eyes fueled something inside of him. Pretty girls that know they are going to die. Pretty doesn’t solve everything. That power. Each time it was like killing his mother again and again and again.” Ellen shuddered.
“He can’t get enough. In October of this year he met a woman at the courthouse that somehow means a great deal of money to him. I am not clear on that. He dated her and married her. He considers her ugly and this triggered something else in him. The fact he married her really bothers him. He also has a place, a cabin or something, he just became the owner of. That sparked his plan to steal pretty women, get rid of them when he was done, or when he saw someone he wanted more. He had decided he was going to live outside of this country, where no one could put him in prison. He has money, and he has an elaborate plan. He even has a plan in case he gets caught. As soon as his wife dies, he is leaving.
Nettie Wilson had some legal papers to sign with him and had her young friend Darla drive her here to his office. That was when James met Darla and decided he wanted her. He prepared this cabin, killed Nettie, expecting Darla to go to the funeral. He took her from the cemetery service to the cabin, kept her for four and a half weeks. He raped her, strangled her, and left her body on the side of the highway.
He wanted a replacement for Darla right away. He was at a grocery store, I think Kroger, and saw two women, one ugly (by his definition) one pretty. This was Karen Smith and Valerie McDonald. He followed them around the store listening to their conversation and surmised that Valerie (the pretty one) was visiting from somewhere. He overheard them say that after they took the groceries home, Valerie was going to use Karen’s car to run a qui
ck errand and come back. He followed them to Karen’s house, managed to hide until Valerie left, then he killed Karen. He met Valerie in the driveway and said he was a friend of Karen’s. He tricked Valerie to get her near his car, shot her with his stun gun, and took her to his cabin. He kept her exactly two weeks and then he decided he wanted someone new. He’s been taking women. Oh my …lots of women. He’s running out of places to hold them.
On December 8th, Burna George was in the hospital, and Devon took some papers in for her to sign. She was very ill and had her RN, Ginger Hall, witness her signature. He went to Burna’s house five days later where she was recuperating and killed her. Then he went to the hospital on the next day, and told Ginger she needed to sign another paper. He told her he was in the parking garage and in a hurry. He asked her if she would meet him there just long enough to sign. He shot her with his Taser gun. He’d kept Ginger for two and a half weeks when she escaped.
I don’t know how she escaped. I know he has a woman now, but for some reason she is safe until January 13th. (Ellen was shaking her head). This part is all muddled, but I think he has already decided the next woman he is going to take. He wants to have them both …no…he doesn’t want the one he has, but he has to keep her. I don’t get that, but he doesn’t want to wait to get the one he wants.”
Ellen sat down and looked completely exhausted. We all felt exhausted too, just listening. All of us looked at James Devon. He was fully reclined in his chair. Drool ran down his chin, he sputtered out short snores as he involuntarily twitched in his sleep. The soles of his feet were encrusted with filth. He smelled of sour flesh and sweat.
What kind of monster was this?
Ellen said, “We need to really search this house for any document that might shed light on anything we do know, and figure out a way for Roger and Paul to discover it. Somehow we have to get proof to them that Devon is the killer!”
Is that all? I was thinking, there goes Christmas with the family. Ellen laughed for the first time tonight, “We can do this gals, and still get home for Christmas morning. Let’s put a little music on.” She clicked her fingers and the song “Everybody Dance Now” started playing. “Now, on your watches you have a small button on the right, see it?” We all nodded, “You usually don’t get to use this until your next level. Push that button in and you have photogenic memory. Just look at everything you can, all the papers, everything. We can compare notes later. Ready?” I noticed Linda was still taking notes. We danced around that entire house, office, his car, Claudia’s desk, the files, and his computer. Ellen read the mail, and we finished in about an hour. Talk about a work out! At one point Ellen was break dancing and doing the ‘moon walk.’ Where does she get this energy? All the while the monster was snoring. I needed a rest, and I wanted out of there.
Ellen said we did a great job and to go home to our families.
* * *
Roger pulled into the parking lot of the police center and noticed the lot was over half full. There was a news truck already there. It was only 7:00 a.m.. He quickly checked his phone to make sure he had not missed any messages. Presumably, there had not been any developments on his case.
He left his car and headed toward the side door. A pretty, young woman holding a microphone ran toward him shouting questions. She was followed by a camera man and a technician. Official policy was to not comment on anything regarding an active case outside of the official press releases. The last question the young reporter shouted to him as he reached the door was, “Special Agent Dance! Isn’t there something you can give these families for Christmas?”
Roger stopped, turned around, and saw that the camera was running. He thought for a moment and said, “On behalf of the victims’ families and loved ones, especially on this Holy Day, I will make this promise: If you are the monster I am looking for, I will not stop until you have been captured and punished.” He hoped his killer was watching the news and would find him intimidating.
Roger went inside and heard the reporter, “There you have it, and the FBI is calling in the Heavens to help them capture this monster!”
Roger was shaking his head, “That is not what I said.” Little did he know the Heavens were already on the case.
Roger greeted several now familiar faces as he headed to the little office that had been assigned him during his stay in South Bend. As he passed the Information Desk, a young patrolman stopped him, “Merry Christmas, Sir.” Roger returned the greeting and the patrolman reached behind him and pulled out a paper bag. “Night Officer said someone dropped this off at the station last night for you, some lady. Left before he could get a name or anything.”
Roger looked in the bag, “Did he say what this is?”
“Yeah, something to do with that nurse that was murdered. He said he thinks it was her boss that brought it here. Sorry I don’t know more, Sir.” Roger thanked him and took the bag as he continued toward his office.
Near the conference room he could hear voices. He popped his head in the door and saw the entire task force set up in groups, busily reviewing piles of papers. He walked in and most of them stopped talking. “Isn’t this Christmas morning?” Roger looked at their faces and knew exactly what they were feeling. Their Christmas would come when this case was solved. While they were told to take the day off, he knew they would be here. He was glad he had arranged for a local deli to stop in with a big breakfast. He turned around, and the deli staff was already in the hall with a steam cart piled high with everything he had ordered. He moved aside so they could set up, and received a big cheer from the people in the room.
Paul came into the conference room and saw a line at the buffet cart and several people eating at the tables. He saw Roger across the room talking to Chief Doyle, and he got in line to get some breakfast. He was ravenous! Slept like a baby, and that blonde, whew!
There was plenty of food to go around, and Paul walked the halls encouraging people to come down and have some. Roger made his way to his office, set the paper bag on his desk, and turned on the small TV that had been set up for monitoring the news. He made a pot of coffee at the credenza and stood looking out the window. Another Christmas hunting a monster. The holidays brought out the best and worst in people, like a seasonal full moon.
Paul knocked on the open door as he came in and took a seat across from Roger’s desk. “Merry Ho Ho. I hear we have called in extra troops?” Roger looked at him puzzled, and Paul turned the channel on the TV. Using the remote as a pointer, he directed Roger to listen as he turned the volume up.
“This morning, SSA Roger Dance promised the victims’ families that he would call in the Heavens to catch the killer.” Then they ran the short clip of Roger.
Paul laughed, and then said, “You know if they are going to distort what you said, they shouldn’t play the actual statement right after.”
Roger answered, “Probably don’t want the FBI after their collective asses.”
Roger sat down and looked at Paul. “We have a Christmas present this morning.” He started unrolling the paper bag again to dump the contents on his desk. “Someone, the officer didn’t get a name, don’t look surprised, left this bag at the front desk for the FBI. Presumably, it was Ginger Hall’s boss and these are items that were at the hospital. I haven’t confirmed anything yet. Shall we open our present?”
“Please do,” Paul said as he lifted his coffee cup from the desk. Roger dumped the bag and a small notebook fell out, a folded paper, some personal hygiene items, and a uniform blouse.
Roger got himself a cup of coffee and came back to his chair. He took out a clean index card and started writing a heading on it. Ginger Hall: Items from hospital. He added a question mark and looked to Paul to start describing items. Paul began, “Let’s do the big ones first, we have a (he sniffed her blouse) fresh uniform blouse, size 10, white, looks freshly pressed, unworn, slight wear around pockets. Pockets empty. I see a couple of hairs and looks like a smudge on the button here.” He was holding it out for Rog
er to see.
Roger reached in his desk drawer and pulled out an evidence bag, some gloves and tweezers. Then he said, “We have no chain of evidence here, but the lab boys may find something.” After bagging the blouse Roger went back to his index card, and Paul picked up the personal hygiene items. They bagged them too.
Next, Paul put on gloves and unfolded the paper, “This is a medical Power of Attorney form, for Burna George!” Roger and Paula looked at each other. Paul continued, and he laid it out flat on the desk for Roger to read along. “Prepared by Attorney James Devon, and witnessed by Ginger Hall.”
Roger said, “Isn’t that the attorney for Nettie Wilson, the one that gave Darla Phillips a ride to the cemetery?”
Paul had flipped out his notebook from his breast pocket. “Yeah, I have a note from yesterday to call him and see where he dropped her off after the funeral.” They both sat silent for a moment.
Roger was tapping his pen on the corner of the desk and swiveling his office chair. “This attorney must have a good size practice to coincidently represent two of our murder victims and be seen with a third.”
“Four, if you count Ginger Hall.” Paul was thumping his index finger on the bottom of the form where Ginger had witnessed the signing of the document.
“Four,” Roger said slowly.
“Have our guys check out this Attorney Devon.” Roger was writing down the dates on the document, “This was signed about a week before Burna George was murdered, so we know Ginger Hall was alive then. Do we know when Ginger was last seen?”
Paul looked at his notebook, “Hospital Supervisor, Jenny Camp, probably the one who dropped this stuff off last night, said Ginger had put in for holiday time off. Didn’t expect to see her for a while. Last day at work was December 13th.”
Alcohol Was Not Involved : A Shallow End Gals Trilogy Page 9