All In A Day's Work

by Gary Resnikoff

  The man turned and marched up the stairs behind the woman, leaving Stan alone. He increased his efforts to free himself. Unsuccessfully.

  At the top of the stairs the man shut the door and congratulated himself on an extremely productive day. He was proud of himself and his accomplice. Two murders in one day. Both had gone according to plan, and he could feel the goal post coming closer to them. Too bad murder was necessary to accomplish the goal, but that’s the way things work sometimes. It wasn’t like these pawns who were giving their life to his cause had any socially-redeeming qualities. They didn’t. Denver was better off without them. The question was, were they enough? Would others have to die? Still unknowable, but he was prepared for that, just in case. Plenty of other fish out there, if necessary.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.”

  —Isaac Asimov

  Jake Stein had grown up in a conservative Jewish household that observed the Jewish holidays and traditions, but little more than that. Once he was out on his own, he drifted away from his faith and rarely attended Temple. He still had some respect for the religion and his heritage but shied away from all the religious trappings. As he grew older, he came to the conclusion that all religions were unnecessary and somewhat silly. All the crazy rules and procedures baffled him—especially how one religious group could think their traditions were logical and real, and others were silly. By his reckoning, the goal should be to live a moral and just life. No one needed God or religion to do that. Was he spiritual? He probably couldn’t answer that. So, he was a Jew by heritage, and he didn’t shy away from it. When someone called upon him to attend a major Jewish holiday or a life event like a Bar Mitzvah, he dutifully appeared. As he had today.

  He sat in the back row of the temple with his wife and their boys, listening to the son of one of their best friends, reading from the Torah. He could read Hebrew—the result of years of forced attendance at Hebrew school—but could only understand a random word here or there. But the tunes and melodies were all familiar to him, having been ingrained in him when he was thirteen and the Bar Mitzvah boy. It was a big event in the boy’s life, and even though the homicide case he was working on troubled Jake, he couldn’t miss it. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t think about the case, nor did it mean he would leave his cell phone behind—much to his wife’s displeasure.

  When the cell phone in his suit jacket vibrated, it was expected but not welcome. Jake had hoped to have a couple hours’ reprieve so that he could attend the Bar Mitzvah, give a gift, say, “Mazel tov,” and leave his job behind for a few peaceful hours. In reality, he hadn’t really expected a reprieve. As he pulled the phone from his pocket, he tried to hide the action from his wife’s eyes. He knew she would not approve—although, having been the wife of a homicide detective for so many years, she was used to it. Glancing at the screen, he read a text message from Detective Baird.

  Jake looked up from the screen at his wife. They made eye contact. She had been watching him, and although she hadn’t seen the screen, she knew it was bad news.

  “Go on,” she whispered. “I’ll get a ride home. Don’t worry. Go do what you have to do.”

  He kissed her on the cheek, then shuffled down the aisle and out the back of the synagogue. Once outside, he buzzed Detective Baird. “Chris, what’s up?”

  “Jake, we have another murder up at Chatfield Reservoir. I’m heading over there now.”

  “I should be there in twenty minutes.”

  Twenty-five minutes later, Detective Stein arrived at the scene. There was a patrol car blocking the entrance to the area. Two cops were directing traffic away, but they opened the blockade for Stein. The actual crime scene area was cordoned off with the familiar yellow tape. Divers were in the lake, searching for clues, but the body had already been retrieved. Detective Baird was already there and speaking to one of the divers. When he saw Stein arrive, he left the diver and walked over to him.

  “Talk to me,” said Stein, not bothering with a greeting.

  Detective Baird started right in on the details. “Mr. Bill Maley was murdered by drowning. He was strapped—I should say, duct-taped—like a mummy, weighed down with cinderblocks, and tossed in the lake.”

  “How did we find out about it?”

  “His wife.” Chris pointed to a woman sitting by the ambulance. “She and her husband were attacked in their home last night. She said she was hit over the head with something, and when she woke up, her husband was gone.”

  “How did she get here?” he asked impatiently.

  “When she woke up, there was a note beside her. It said her husband was scum, and he would be found at the bottom of Lake Chatfield. It was signed, the Revengers. Like everyone else in Denver, she had seen the articles about the Revenger killings and knew exactly what it meant. She called 911 and told them she was on her way to Chatfield. A patrol car met her here.”

  “How did we find the body so quickly?”

  “The killers dropped a roll of duct tape by the water’s edge. Maley was submerged just off to the side. The patrolmen on the scene called it in right away, and a team of divers pulled him out.”

  The body was lying on the side of lake, still attached to the concrete block, bound from head to toe in duct tape.

  “That’s how they found him?”

  “Yes, Sir. They tried not to disturb anything as best as they could. There was this note sealed in a plastic baggie, taped to his head.”

  The note sounded like all the others, talking about how Mr. Maley deserved his fate and others would suffer the same if they didn’t change their ways. It was signed, the Revengers.

  “Did we send the crime scene team up to his house?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, get it done. Now. I want that house locked down immediately. Maybe we can get lucky and get some physical evidence there.”

  “Will do. Probably not going to find anything. These guys are pretty careful and thorough.”

  “They have been, but eventually, they will make a mistake, and I don’t want to miss it.”

  Detective Baird wandered a few feet away to make the call to have the Maley house secured. He wanted a crime scene crew up there right away.

  Detective Stein approached Mrs. Maley, who was sitting with a grief counselor by an ambulance. She had a huge bandage on the side of her head, and a little blood had leaked through, which made her look a little like a casualty from a war zone. Stein asked her about the attack, and she pulled herself together enough to describe the attack as best as she could, but unfortunately, she had very few details. They had just gone to bed and had fallen asleep when the Revengers arrived. It was dark, and although she hadn’t seen any facial features, she could tell it was a man and a woman. When the man struck Bill over the head, the sound woke her up. She saw him standing over her husband with a hammer, and she screamed. She could just barely make out the woman swinging a hammer at her head, and the next thing she remembered was waking up in bed alone. There was a note on the bed next to her, explaining what had happened and where she could find her husband.

  Stein asked her about her husband’s business dealings. What kind of work did he do? How long had he been in business? Was he having problems at work with clients? Did he have a partner? Had anyone threatened his life?

  She answered as best she could, sobbing between answers. Bill had been in the concrete business for about ten years. He had no partners, and it was tough, but lately, he had been doing much better. Profits were finally going up. There were some recent complaints from a few customers, but Bill had assured his wife it was all very normal for the volume of work he was doing.

  Stein wondered if that was true. It’s possible she was just blissfully ignorant about the details of his business. They were making money and not struggling. She probably didn’t know how many complaints he’d had from unhappy customers. Stein handed her his card and excused himself, wondering if he w
ould find out later that Bill was on the Consumer Champion’s target list. His instinct told him yes.

  As usual, the crowds were already starting to build by the time Stein and Baird arrived at the Maley home. Perverse curiosity or just natural human nature drove people to crime scenes, and this was no exception. It annoyed Stein, but he understood it. Police cars and crime scene units blocked the street in front of the Maley home, and a group of press vehicles and staff were waiting for something to report on. They would want—no, they would demand a statement from him, but he wasn’t going to take the bait. He had nothing new to say. The city officials wanted some movement on the case, and the public was starting to panic. The press wanted answers he couldn’t give. He could tell them it was the Revengers again, but hell, they already knew that. He didn’t want to give details about the nature of the murder, because that only invited copycats and false confessions, wasting the detective’s valuable time. As to the motive? To soon to tell for sure. He could always say what the Revengers wanted him to say, but he didn’t like playing into their hands. Somehow, the thought that it was simple restitution for crimes against society didn’t sit well with him.

  Justin McGraw was in the middle of the press group when Stein spotted him. Like all the other press, he had his photographer and was writing and recording anything that might prove useful. The two made eye contact. Justin looked pleadingly at Stein and held up his pad, as if to say, do you have anything to share? Stein shook his head and worked his way over to the Maleys’ front door.

  Stein’s cell phone rang before he could get inside the house. “Hello, this is Detective Stein. Yeah, yeah. Shit. You’re kidding me. What’s the address? Okay. On my way.” He pulled one of the uniformed cops aside. “Look, I’ve got another crime scene I need to go to. Make sure the team dusts everywhere. I’m hoping the Revengers left something here to help us.” He turned to Baird. “Chris, the Revengers struck twice last night. We need to get over there.”

  “What about this scene?”

  “Not much for us here that the guys can’t give us later.”

  Stein made a hasty retreat to his car, with Baird struggling to keep up. The other scene was still in flux, and Stein wanted to be there as soon as he could. They pulled up to the home of Stan Childs a few minutes later and were greeted by fire engines and ambulances in front of a burned-out house with debris scattered on the sidewalk and front yard. Some of it was still smoldering. Onlookers were kept at a safe distance by police and fire personnel, partially to protect them and partially to protect any potential evidence.

  The fire marshal spotted Jake approaching the scene and waved him over. “Your Revengers have struck again,” he said.

  “My dispatcher said you have a note from them.”

  “Yeah. The wife was inside that van.” He pointed to an electrical service van in the driveway. “She was bound and gagged by the assailants.” He pointed to a woman sitting by an ambulance, being treated by the EMTs. “They taped a note to her.” He handed Jake the note in a clear plastic evidence bag. He continued, “She was out cold when they left, but she thinks the explosion occurred about three or four hours after they left her. She woke up before the explosion but couldn’t get out of the van.”

  “Does she have any idea what caused it?” asked Stein.

  “No. She said she was attacked, and the next thing she remembers is waking up bound and gagged in the van.”

  “Did she see the attackers?”

  “She said she was asleep when the attackers struck. It was dark, but she thinks it was a man who attacked her husband. That was the last thing she remembers.”

  “You have any idea what caused the explosion?”

  “It wasn’t an accident, that’s for sure. First indication is a gas line explosion initiated in the basement. I need a little more time to confirm. We know there was a body in the basement when the explosion and the fire occurred. The body was still strapped to a chair when we found it.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Stein turned to Baird. “What do you make of this?”

  “First time they have hit two people in one night. I wonder if they are getting impatient.”

  “They also went to great lengths to spare the wives,” said Stein thoughtfully. “These guys have a conscience?”

  He looked at the note the fire inspector had given him. He could read it through the plastic bag. Looked pretty much just like the others the Revengers had left behind. Of course, this time, because of the fire, they’d left the note taped to the wife:

  Our warnings have gone unheeded, and scumbags like Mr. Childs will continue to be eliminated. We are not animals, however. As you can see, we have spared his wife, and the wife of Mr. Maley. They may have benefitted from their misdeeds, but they were unwitting beneficiaries. This will continue until Denver is cleaned up and there is no longer a need for the Revengers. Make sure the public is informed!

  The Revengers

  Nothing really important there, from what he could see, but they went out of their way and took a risk with both murders to spare the wives. Why? Did they really have a conscience? Was that even possible with serial killers?

  Mrs. Childs was being attended to by a paramedic. She was still sobbing when Jake and Chris approached.

  “Mrs. Childs,” said Jake softly. “I’m Detective Stein, and this is Detective Baird. We’re handling the investigation. Could we ask you a few questions right now? I understand if you want to wait, but we would like to get anything we can from you while it is still fresh.”

  She looked up at them through red eyes. She was an attractive woman, even with bloodshot eyes and a bandage covering the side of her head where the Revengers had smacked her with a hammer.

  She hesitated and stared at the two detectives for a moment. Jake was sure she was going to break down, but after what seemed like an eternity, she answered slowly. “Sure. I read about these people in the paper. Why did they kill my husband? He was a good man.”

  “I’m not sure, Mrs. Childs. We are trying to figure all this out.”

  “Why haven’t you caught them yet? Stan didn’t deserve this. You people need to do your job.” she sobbed.

  “We are doing all we can. I want to catch them, and hopefully, with your help, we can.” Jake hesitated. “But we can talk tomorrow, if you prefer.”

  “No,” she managed. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “Did you get a look at them?”

  “No. It was dark, and they were a complete surprise.”

  “Did they say anything?”

  “I didn’t hear them speak. They hit me on the head almost immediately.”

  “And what did your husband do for a living?” asked Jake.

  “Stan was an electrical contractor.”

  “Was it his company or did he work for someone?”

  “He’s been on his own for a few years.”

  “Did he have any recent jobs that went bad? Was anyone complaining about his work or threatening him?”

  “No.” She seemed flustered. “I don’t know. He didn’t talk about work much. But he was a good man. He did good work for people. This has to have been a mistake. I thought these people only went after bad guys who ripped people off. Stan never ripped anyone off.”

  Based on the Revengers’ history, Jake wasn’t so sure, but he kept that to himself.

  “Thanks. We won’t bother you anymore right now. If you think of something that might help us, please call.” He handed her his card. “And I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  He turned to leave and signaled for Baird to follow him, then stopped and turned back to Mrs. Childs. “Would you be able to provide us with a client list?”

  “I can look in his office.”

  “Thanks. Please give me a call when you find it, and I’ll send someone over to pick it up.”

  When they were out of earshot, Baird offered his opinion. “I bet that he wasn’t the great guy his wife thought he was.”

  Jake had already considered that, but
as far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter. The Revengers were his concern, and whatever perceived righteous motive they had was irrelevant to him. They were killing people in his town, and he was going to stop them.

  “When we get the list from his wife, I want you to cross-reference it with the other client lists.”

  “You still think this is someone who has a grudge against these guys?” asked Detective Baird.

  “It is still a possibility. I also want you to check with the BBB and state licensing boards to see if these guys had any formal complaints or were being investigated, and, if so, who lodged the complaints. I’ll check with the Consumer Champion to see if they recognize either of these victims. My gut tells me that they will.”

  Justin got the call from his dispatcher about the explosion at the Childs’ home and was sure he knew the name. Checking his notes, he confirmed that Childs had been talked about on the Consumer Champion show, as had Maley. There was no doubt now that the murders were tied to the show. One or two murders could be a coincidence, but not four. He raced over to the Childs’ home in time to see Detectives Stein and Baird talking with the fire marshal. The home was still smoldering, although the fire was out. Making a beeline for them, he called out to Stein, “Detective, it’s the work of the Revengers, isn’t it?”

  “Too soon to comment, Justin,” he lied, but he walked over to talk to him, so no one else could hear them.

  “Come on, Detective. Work with me. I’ve been keeping a log. I know that both Maley and Childs were on the Consumer Champion. I expect I’ll be getting another call soon, too.”

  “You’ve been listening to the show?”

  “Every day, since this started. I’ve got a list of everyone they’ve talked about recently, and these guys were on the list.”