Roger was flipping through his index cards, “Day after Burna George was killed.” Roger was talking again, “Can you contact this Jenny Camp and just verify she is the one who brought this stuff here? I don’t think she will mind a quick phone call on Christmas.”
“Will do,” Paul said as he watched Roger place the paper into another evidence bag.
“We also need to get updates from task force members. I plan on doing that as soon as we are finished here.” He was basically just talking out loud, and Paul was carefully opening the small notebook and thumbing through.
“Looks like her version of a day planner. She has little notes about groceries, doctor appointments, etc. I will go through each one later.” He was still thumbing, reading. “Not seeing anything that really jumps at me.” His voice was trailing off, “except…pick up flowers for Burna. No date, but it is toward the end of the notebook.”
Roger was thoughtful, “What do we know about her personal life? Not much as I recall. Can we get someone on the task force to work up the local on that? Our boys didn’t have anything helpful that I remember.”
Paul looked at his notebook, “Single. She used to be a model for a while out in LA. She moved back to Indiana when her mom got cancer, took care of her until she died. Decided to go to nursing school about six years ago. Been an RN at Memorial since 2008. She lives in the house she inherited when her Mom died. Dates some, nothing serious according to girlfriend, fellow nurse, Rachel Morse. That’s it. All I got.” Paul stood, “It’s a little early for calls. I think I will check on what the guys in the ‘room’ have got going.”
Roger said, “Later,” and went back to his index cards. He reached into his desk drawer and got out a blue marker pen. On the top right corner of Nettie, Darla, Burna, and Ginger he put a big blue dot. He was thinking this lawyer Devon was a very busy man.
Roger heard a commotion in the hall and looked around just in time to see a black cat run into his office, jump up, and sit squarely in front of him on his desk. He slowly reached out his hand to pet it, and it rubbed into his hand and purred. “Nice little kitty. What are you doing at the police station?”
A short stocky patrolman slid into the doorway opening, “Grab it! I’ve been trying to catch that thing for twenty minutes! Sucker is fast!” He was out of breath and hanging onto the door frame.
Roger laughed, “I don’t think it’s hurting anything for a minute. Go about your work and I’ll put it outside soon. Hey, see if there is any sausage left in the ‘room’. I’ll feed the little guy before I put him out. It is Christmas.” Roger was scratching the underside of the cat’s neck. The patrolman shook his head and left returning about five minutes later with a small paper plate of sausage and eggs and a little dish of milk. He seemed to be in the spirit now. Someone had put a Grinch hat on him, and he was smiling. “Well, Grinch”, Roger said. “Where’d you get the hat?”
The patrolman proudly modeled it for Roger and said, “It just showed up! I don’t know where it came from!” Roger laughed and looked at the cat now licking its paws, and he could have sworn it winked at him.
Roger sat the cat on the floor and started spreading FBI reports across his desk. The cat jumped up on the credenza, rearranged a pile of napkins next to the coffee pot, and went to sleep. There was a light snow coming down and a Christmas parade on the TV. He could hear the cat purring from across the room. About an hour later Paul stopped in and sat across the desk. Roger wanted to give him a minute to notice the cat, so he pretended to be engrossed in a report.
Seconds later Paul jumped, “Shit! You know you have a cat in here?” He was backing his chair up, “I am not a fan of cats. Especially black ones!”
Roger laughed. The cat stood up and stretched, turned around, and laid back down with his back to Roger and Paul. “It doesn’t look like he thinks much of you either!”
Paul opened a file, “Well, speaking of animals, lab says the dog hair found at Nettie’s and the dog hair found at Karen Smith’s house are from the same dog. Got doggy DNA in yesterday. Guess it has to be sent to some special lab somewhere. Both hairs found just inside the homes, foyer areas, may be from our guy. As far as I know this is the only link between Nettie and Karen.”
“You’re right, we don’t have anything between these two.” Roger answered. Then he said, “Didn’t the crime techs note a bunch of groceries sitting out, still in bags, at the Karen Smith house? Seems I saw they found a receipt,” he was shuffling his index cards. “Yeah, Kroger. Have they produced any security film yet?”
“Not yet,” Paul answered.
“I have a couple of things from the tip line that might be something.” Paul held up a stack of pink phone notes about four inches thick. Roger moaned. Paul volunteered, “You should see how many are in the ‘room.’”
“That is pretty much what everyone is doing today. I think Detective Sal (what Paul had started calling Detective Sally Miller) has about thirty names she would like our guys to check if we would.” He fumbled through his file, “Here it is. We have DNA on that piece of duct tape you and I found at the Hall scene.”
“Yes, but remember that was quite a distance from the actual scene,” Roger stated.
Paul replied, “Well the Lab is running the tests now, so we should see if anything clicks.”
Roger got up to get another cup of coffee and looked to Paul, “Want some?”
The cat raised its head and looked at Paul. Paul shifted in his seat, “No, thanks anyway.”
Roger scratched the cat’s head and gave its back a long stroke on his way back to his chair, “You know, I used to have a black cat when I was a kid. Well, I called it mine, but actually it just had a way of showing up. It always made me feel better when it was around.” He smiled as he said that. The cat stretched out, so it was facing him as it slept. “I think it likes us.”
“Did you do anything after you left the Pub last night?” Paul asked Roger, still watching the cat out of the corner of his eye. The cats’ eyes looked closed, but Paul could see tiny slits watching them.
“Went to the hotel and slept like a baby. I think I am going to ask the manager what kind of mattresses they buy.”
Paul got up to leave, “You know I slept well last night too, and my headache is gone. I’ve had that thing for three days now, non-stop.” With that he left the office. Roger turned his attention to the TV and the latest news report. Paul stuck his head back in the door, “I am going to take a ride by that lawyer’s office. I know he probably isn’t anywhere around today, just curious. Maybe I can get a feel for him.”
* * *
Sandy Devon knew it was Christmas Day. Yesterday, after James had nailed boards over the bedroom window both inside and out, he had attached a type of ankle bracelet to her with a chain long enough she could walk to the bathroom and shower. He had told her not to worry. Now that he didn’t have to screw her, he certainly wasn’t going to. She shuddered at the thought of him touching her.
He had also moved the TV and remote in for her to watch and had brought her food. Only three channels could come in, but she appreciated the company. He told her what he had done to all of those women. He seemed to enjoy talking about them, like he was re-living their horror. She had asked him why. He had shrugged and said, “I guess because I wanted to.” He obviously figured she wasn’t a threat. He was going to kill her after her birthday. He had told her that. The more he confessed to her, the more she believed him. She had seen him walking around outside through a small crack in the boards on the window. He was looking for something, and she figured it was probably his cell phone. The phone she had hidden in the closet. She discovered it didn’t get a signal where she was, but it was working.
She had asked him if he wouldn’t please bring her clean clothes from the apartment, at least underthings. She couldn’t tell from his attitude if he planned to or not. He had brought a small cooler that had some lunch meat and a few cans of pop in it. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a messed up
mind strangles and rapes women, imprisons his own wife, and makes sure she has TV and food? She also didn’t know when he was coming back, so she had to be careful to keep her projects hidden.
She changed the channel whenever the news came on. She couldn’t stand to hear what he had done to all of those women. She knew that there were many more. The families of women that had been missing were begging for someone to tell them ‘anything’ that might help them find their loved ones. How could he have managed to do all of this and not get caught? Of course, she married him and didn’t have a clue.
She had started writing on the wall behind the headboard by carving into the plaster with one of his keys. She had his name, what he had done the whole story as he told it. If they ever found her dead, at least they would catch him. She also was saving food wrappers, so she could use the lettering somehow. She wasn’t sure yet what she was going to do, but anything she might be able to use was being stuffed between the mattress and box springs. She hated that bed, knowing what he had done there. Last night she had soaked the linens in bleach in the bathtub, and they were now hanging on the shower doors to dry. Those poor women. Sandy wiped her tears and turned the channel, again.
* * *
CHAPTER 13
* * *
Ellen wanted to look at the papers on Roger’s desk. When he prepared to leave the office and tried to pick her up, she acted like she was totally dead weight and fast asleep. He laid her back down and went down the hall. When she was sure he was out of sight, she went over to the door and pushed it shut with her tail. She jumped onto the desk and thumbed through his index cards he had stacked by the phone. These seemed to be his “hint” cards. She wasn’t impressed with where he was yet. She heard him coming, jumped back to the credenza, and assumed her sleeping position. Roger grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and started to put on his overcoat. He looked at her and said, “Okay little buddy, hate to do this to you on Christmas, but it’s time for you to go back to wherever you came from.” He picked her up, carried her outside, left her in the snowy parking lot, and drove off.
Roger had decided to stop in at the Hope Rescue Mission and volunteer about two hours to help them get ready for their Christmas lunch crowd. Since he seldom was able to go home for the holidays, this had become a ritual for him wherever he was working. The volunteers welcomed him with open arms, had him in an apron, and slicing vegetables within fifteen minutes. He knew his television coverage in the community had ruined any hopes for anonymity, but he found that few people mentioned who he was or what he was doing in South Bend.
A couple of the characters that he served were not as passive. One gentleman gave a salute to him and a big toothless smile. Many reached over and patted his hand and said, “God Bless you for what you do.” All in all it was what his soul needed. When twelve noon came, he decided they had enough volunteers. They wouldn’t miss him, and he said goodbye. He headed over toward the PUB for a burger. He was hoping they were open, and they were. A big sign on the door said, “Food and soft drinks only on Christmas.”
He saw there were only a couple of cars in the lot. One was Paul’s. Roger nodded to Larry and went down to the end of the bar. “You’re in my seat,” he said to Paul.
Paul grinned, “Yup.”
Larry came down with his rag over his shoulder and smiled at Roger, “You missed your buddy line dancing last night.”
Roger was taken by surprise, “Really?”
Paul was grinning again, about to take a bite of his burger, “Yup.”
Roger ordered a cola and a burger with everything and looked at Paul, “Anything good from the tip line yet?”
“I was going to call you. Nettie’s neighbor, Mrs. Brooks, says for you to call her tomorrow. Doesn’t want to bother you on Christmas, and she’s going to her son’s house today. She says she made you cookies.” Paul had a big grin, “Anything ‘special’ you want to talk about there?”
“Anything else?” Roger asked.
Paul looked up and wiped grease from his mouth, “God these things are good. No, I think just the usual crackpots, but Detective Sal and Ed are making a few home visits this afternoon, just in case. Hate to bother people on Christmas, but at least they are usually home.” Paul finished his burger in one last big bite and looked at Roger, keeping his voice very low. “Our attorney friend? I went by his office, some kind of home/office setup, not so fancy. Old Buick in driveway. Thought I saw a TV on through the window, but I stayed in my car out at the street. A real dump actually. If he has a lot of clients, they are not paying him much, or he does something else with his money. I think tomorrow I am going to call him for an appointment. Maybe our guys will have something for us by then.” Paul meant the FBI researchers would scour every record available on Devon.
Roger said, “I think our guy is smart. A lawyer would know the odds of getting away with this shit in a community where you are known and do business. To openly drive one of the victims to a cemetery service in front of witnesses, in broad daylight, kind of redefines arrogance.”
Paul looked up, “Almost as arrogant as leaving them dead next to the highway in broad daylight.”
Roger nodded, “Yeah, good point. Maybe there has been a trigger. He’s out of control, or plans on leaving the area soon.”
Roger worked on his burger. He and Paul agreed. Either forensics gives them something fast from Ginger Hall’s scene, or they might have to wait for another murder. Roger spoke first, “Ginger Hall was different. He let her loose. She was alive when that car hit her. Why would he leave her as a witness?”
Paul was stroking his chin, “I have been giving that a lot of thought. Maybe he liked her? Dumps her and leaves the area. He must be sure she couldn’t describe him, or it wouldn’t make any difference if she did. He’s gone.”
Roger nodded, “That is exactly what I have been thinking, and I don’t like it. Or, we do have two do-ers and the one in charge of dumping got sloppy.”
Paul stood up from his stool to leave, “If we only have one, and he left Ginger alive because he has split, we are screwed. If he has cracked and just doesn’t care about getting caught, and he’s still here, then he’s still killing…and we are really screwed.”
Larry came over to cash out their bills, and they each gave him a $20.00 Christmas tip. Larry said, “Thanks guys, I know you guys are working on this serial killer thing. Man, I don’t know how you do it. I got to tell ya, it’s causing a lot of people to act crazy. I have a beautiful wife. I mean beautiful! My wife looks like hell lately, on purpose! She quit wearing make-up, wears this ugly scarf everywhere. Says that guy wants to kill pretty women. I hope you catch him soon!”
Roger and Paul laughed when they got outside the PUB. “Now there is a consequence I didn’t expect to hear,” Paul said.
Roger was staring at a billboard across the street advertising BMW. “Start your new life today.” He pointed to the billboard and then said to Paul, “As far as we know, our guy ‘started his new life’ with Nettie’s death. Somehow, maybe she was a trigger. She had to die for his new life to start.”
Paul was nodding, “It seems like that. I will go over her finances again, and I know our boys have searched public records. Found nothing, but we’ll look again.”
Roger asked, “Do you have the address for that senior center Nettie was going to?”
Paul shook his head, “Probably get it from somebody in the ‘room’.”
Roger watched Paul drive off as he waited for someone to answer the phone at the task center. The tip lines had been keeping everyone swamped. They hardly had time to take all of the calls, let alone follow up on them. He and Paul knew that seventy percent of the time when a case like this is solved, there had been a tip leading directly to the killer, that hadn’t been acted on. Finally, Detective Ed Barnes answered, “Hey Roger.”
Caller ID, he loved it, “Ed, can you get me a phone number and address for the senior center that Nettie Wilson used?” After about two minutes he was w
riting down the information and dialing the senior center. “Hello, I was calling to see if you were open on the holiday.”
A small, high pitched voice answered, “Why of course we are honey. You just bring your little self down, hon.” Roger said thank you and thought of his mom, again. He noticed that everyone’s voices start to sound the same after a certain age. Last time he visited his mom her recliner area in her TV room was beginning to get that ‘Senior’ look.
He called his mom again while his car was warming up, “Hey there pretty lady, Merry Christmas!”
He pulled into the senior center parking lot and noticed quite a few cars. Usually seniors car pooled, so he expected a pretty good sized crowd inside and wasn’t disappointed. He was met at the door with a mix of smells, good food, Ben Gay, perfume, and a lot of voices singing Christmas Carols around an old piano being played by a rather young man.
A little blue haired lady ran to greet him, “OOOH! You must have been the young man that just called me. I told the girls we had a live one headed this way!”
Roger laughed, “And you are?”
The lady made a short courtesy and said, “I am Maribell, the Director of the Center. Are you here to visit anyone in particular?” She was scanning around the room to see if anyone had noticed her talking to this handsome young man.
“Well, Maribell I think I am probably here to see you.” Roger flipped open his badge and introduced himself.
Maribell looked like she was going to faint. “Oh my, my! I don’t remember doing anything wrong. I did borrow some of the extra paper plates from the kitchen, but I ..”
Roger stopped her confession before it got too far, “No Ma’am, I am here to ask you some questions about Nettie Wilson.” Maribell was noticeably relieved and motioned for Roger to follow her to her office. She led him there telling everyone they passed to leave her be, she had important business with the FBI.
He learned that Nettie used to be a volunteer at the center, but as she got older she just came for the special events. She usually had her neighbor, Mrs. Brooks, bring her or that nice young girl Darla Phillips. Roger could tell that Maribell didn’t know Darla was one of the victims. He didn’t want to interrupt the interview, so he didn’t tell her. He asked Maribell if she thought Nettie had a lot of money.
Alcohol Was Not Involved : A Shallow End Gals Trilogy Page 10