The Blue Executions

by George Norris

  *

  The sound of an incoming text message woke Laurie Bando from her sleep shortly after seven thirty. She retrieved her phone from the nightstand to review the message; it was the same message every assistant district attorney across the city received. Laurie was thrilled to learn of the arrest. She had been worried to death for Tommy’s safety with this mad man running on the loose, killing police officers. The fact that the police department felt Tommy was at serious risk had made her sick to her stomach. She shut off her alarm clock, which was set to go off in less than ten minutes. She scrolled through her recent calls on her phone and called the most recent number on her list. The phone was answered on the seventh ring.

  “Hello,” a very raspy-voiced Tommy Galvin answered.

  “Did you hear? They got him; the cop killer. They caught him this morning.” Laurie made no effort to mask her excitement.

  Galvin seemed to wake instantly. “No, I didn’t. That’s great! Where and when did they get him? Did they release his name yet?

  “I’m not sure. I’ll call you with all of the details as soon as I get to work.”

  “I have a better idea. How about I pick you up and take you to work today? I’d love to see you in action during jury selection.”

  Laurie bit her lower lip, considering the offer. “Okay, you got a deal. But today, you can buy lunch.” She was excited at the idea of having Tommy see her in the courtroom. He would be her good luck charm, she assured herself.

  Galvin laughed. “Okay A.D.A. Bando, you got yourself a lunch date. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

  Laurie laid out a navy blue pants suit and a white blouse on her bed. A touch of red would look nice, she thought as she selected a scarf from her closet. She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Her mind raced in a myriad of directions. Over the course of a ten minute shower, she thought about her relationship with Tommy as well as her career.

  Jury selection was nearly complete and she was formulating her opening argument in her head. The stakes were high for her, but she believed that she was up to the challenge. Bureau Chief Bando; it has a nice ring to it.

  She stared at her image in the mirror. Adjusting the scarf around her neck, she affirmed her decision to wear it. A bit of hairspray should be enough to keep the tight bun in place. Once she was satisfied, she brought in the morning newspaper.

  THE BLUE EXECUTIONER

  She decided the headline was catching, but the paper was a day late and a dollar short since the police had arrested the killer only a couple of hours ago. She set the newspaper down on the table in favor of getting her case folder together. Having stayed up late last night trying to tie up any loose ends, she left the papers from her case folder scattered about the coffee table. Just as she finished with the case folder the familiar tone of a text message from her purse could be heard.

  “I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon. Love you.”

  A warm sensation ran through her body as she got up to unlock the door for him. She began to text him back but then decided that she would wait to tell him in person that she loved him as well. She couldn’t wait to see him.

  ###########################

  Chapter 17

  Michael Underhill was not happy. He sat face down at the table, his arms on the table in front of him. The side of his face was swollen; the pain aggravating. He put a hand to his nose. At least my nose stopped bleeding.

  He glanced at the blood on the floor; shocked that there was not more. Underhill reflected on the events which led him to his current situation. I shouldn’t be sitting here like this. At least the yelling stopped. Underhill didn’t like the yelling; it was a bit unsettling for him. He hadn’t been yelled at like that for years.

  Underhill realized that he was a hero to this city—even if the citizens didn’t yet realize it. He had set out to do a noble deed and had been doing a very good job at it. This was certainly a distraction that he didn’t want, but he knew he would have to deal with it. He picked up the pen left on the table in front of him and began to write what had happened on the legal pad next to it. People needed to know why he did it.

  He finished writing the confession—short and to the point. He signed it not by his name, but instead as the Blue Executioner. There was a certain irony that it took Underhill this long to see the newspaper on the table next to him. It was almost as if the newspaper had been left there on purpose for him to see. He read the headlines, and although he was pleased, he was also agitated that it took this long for the story to be printed. He read the bylines—Brian McGregor. Finally.

  He quickly thumbed through the pages to see copies of his letters printed inside. He would wait until later to read them but there was a great feeling of satisfaction.

  Then he thought back to the yelling again. It was unsettling; it was so loud. It reminded him of the way his gym teacher in high school, Mr. Wahl, used to yell at him. He hated Mr. Wahl. Mr. Wahl would yell at him on an almost daily basis—calling him lazy, a fat slob and telling him that he would get nowhere in life. There was even one time Underhill was pretty sure Wahl had been watching the boys as they showered after gym class. Wahl had always made him feel uncomfortable and Underhill swore to himself that he would one day get even with him.

  Underhill’s daydream was broken when he noticed the door had been left ajar. Very careless. He looked down at the confession which he had just written and picked it up. He decided that he didn’t want to be there anymore. He grabbed the newspaper as well—wanting to read it as soon as possible and headed for the open door.

  *

  Tommy Galvin held a cup of coffee in each hand as he walked toward Laurie’s apartment shortly before eight-thirty. As there were no closer parking spots, he was forced to park near a playground a few blocks away. Although he was off-duty, he wore a tan jacket over a light blue shirt and a paisley tie. Galvin was a complete professional and would show the appropriate respect to the courts that they deserved by dressing in a suitable manner.

  The area was beginning to come to life. Galvin nodded hello to a group of women who were power walking near the park. He watched as a man was cleaning up after his dog only a few feet from where a group of children were waiting for their bus to take them to camp. As he got onto Laurie’s block he watched as more than a few parking spots opened up as people left for work. I should’ve waited a few more minutes. One of Laurie’s other neighbors, a man who looked like he had a rough night, was walking towards him. Their eyes met and the man seemed to recognize Galvin instantly.

  Galvin dropped his eyes, hoping the neighbor would not say anything to him. Over the last few weeks, Galvin had experienced a few uncomfortable situations. With his picture plastered all over the news and in every newspaper, Galvin had become widely recognized. Some supported him; others made snide comments under their breath. Either way, Galvin really just wanted to be left alone. The man slowed down a bit but kept walking toward him, his hands in his pockets—the morning paper folded under his arm.

  *

  Before leaving through the open door, Underhill knelt down on the floor. He momentarily placed the newspaper on the floor before withdrawing the knife from Laurie Bando’s dead body. He reread the statement which he had just written and laid it on top of her chest. The fluidity of the red blood and scarf made it hard to tell the difference from the scarf and her blood absorbed blouse. Underhill plunged the knife back into her chest, pinning the note to her. He picked up the mug from the floor and studied it. It read The Shamrock House; East Durham, New York—satisfied that there was no blood on it, Underhill set it neatly back on the table. With a paper towel from the kitchen, he wiped up the few drops of blood that had fallen from his nose and put the paper towel in his pocket.

  He picked up her newspaper. In the upper right corner, he wrote 0809 hours and 04 seconds—the time of the execution. Underhill confidently strode out of her apartment. Why did she have to keep yelling at me? She should have accepted her punishment. As a prosec
utor, she knows better than anyone that crime does not pay.

  He began walking down the block in the direction of the park where his car was parked. His head was throbbing from when the compromised Assistant District Attorney had struck him with the coffee mug. It hurt a great deal.

  Underhill’s excitement piqued when he recognized detective Tommy Galvin walking up the block. He felt his knees slightly buckle. Keep calm. Underhill observed Galvin had both of his hands occupied, giving Underhill a huge tactical advantage. This was a huge opportunity for him; one that he could not pass up. Underhill kept his hands firmly in place in his pants pocket, hiding any blood he may have gotten on him; and of course he was still wearing latex gloves which needed to be concealed. His right hand grabbed the butt of the .38 caliber revolver. The two men were less than ten feet apart and Underhill deliberately slowed down his pace.

  *

  The two men passed without any comment or acknowledgement, much to Galvin’s delight. Galvin approached the front door to Laurie’s apartment. He stacked one coffee on top of the other and knocked on the door with his free hand. “Laurie, it’s me.”

  There was no response.

  Galvin knocked a second time. “Laurie, love. It’s me, Tommy.”

  That’s odd. I figured she’d be waiting for me.

  He looked down at his wrist watch then he set the coffees down on the floor and called her from his cell phone. When he heard her phone ringing on the other side of the door, he knocked again; this time with more purpose. Suddenly his body was overrun by a sickening feeling. That guy. He had a fresh bruise on his face!

  Galvin glanced down the block to see the man in a full sprint. The man looked back over his shoulder at Galvin and that’s when the reality of the situation hit Galvin. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “Laurie!”

  Galvin put his shoulder into the front door; forcing it open.

  *

  No sooner did Underhill pass Galvin, than did he become infuriated with himself. He would likely never get an easier chance at executing Galvin. This could have been his best day by far since he began the blue executions. He could have eliminated a horrific duo that had conned the good citizens of New York City into letting a murderer walk free.

  He soon forgave himself however. In his heart, he knew that he could not have executed Galvin right there. He was not prepared. His gun was loaded with regular .38 caliber ammunition just in case he needed to use the gun on the ADA. It would not be just to execute the cop with any ammunition other than the cop killer bullets.

  Underhill quickened his pace once the two men passed. He glanced back over his shoulder at Galvin who was now approaching the ADA’s apartment. Just keep walking.

  Time was his ally—the longer Galvin stood there knocking, the further the distance between the two men would be. He looked back at Galvin a second time from over a block away. Underhill knew that Galvin had figured it out. Underhill ran as fast as he could to his car.

  Within minutes, Underhill realized that he was safe; there were no signs of police cars, helicopters or anything else unusual as he made his way back to Brooklyn. He turned on the car radio to listen to the news. He was a bit surprised at the breaking story. The NYPD announced the arrest of a man wanted in connection with the murder of three police officers. They referred to the man as The Blue Executioner. So they can work fast when they really want to.

  Underhill let the news story sink in. He had hoped that the cops would not have the DNA results back until after he had murdered the ADA. That would have clearly taken the heat off the investigation and made it easier to kill Galvin. Either way, at least he had finally gotten even with his abusive high school gym teacher. He hoped the cops would give Mr. Wahl a hard time while he remains in custody. Of course, he realized that would only be temporary now that he killed the ADA while Wahl was in custody. Still it felt good.

  Underhill’s assertion that he was smarter than the police was validated in his mind by the arrest of Wahl. He had masterminded the frame job and the cops willingly bought it. It really hadn’t been hard, thanks to the internet. A quick search of the web yielded the former teacher’s home address. After watching the house for a couple of days, Underhill confirmed that it was the teacher’s residence and that he lived alone. Once Wahl put his recyclables out to the curb for the sanitation department last week, the plan was set in motion. Underhill knew he had him.

  The irony was that Underhill had actually gotten pulled over at three in the morning, just after taking the can of soda from Wahl’s trash. Of course, they let him go after checking to see that his license was valid—still having been stopped by the police while he was setting up his former teacher was quite a rush. He felt the excitement knowing that if they knew who he was, they would arrest him on the spot—but only because they didn’t understand the job that he was doing. Once they let him go, he knew for sure that the NYPD was not yet on to him.

  He carried that excitement with him as he sat at his kitchen table with the empty can of soda in front of him. He dipped a cotton swab into distilled water, and then swabbed the edge of the can where he assumed Mr. Wahl would have been drinking from. Taking the letter he had just written to Brian McGregor, he once again dipped the swab in the distilled water to slightly hydrate it. He held the cotton swab about three inches from the bottom corner of the paper and waited for a drop to fall. Once it did, the DNA transplantation was a success. He had only hoped the detectives would be smart enough to find it.

  Underhill’s reflection was broken by the news reporter giving the name of the man arrested; Charles Wahl, a former high school gym teacher who had been dismissed for inappropriate behavior with a student. Underhill parked his car with a sense of great satisfaction. A warm sensation overran his entire body.

  He turned on the television to the morning news and opened his scrapbook as soon as he entered his apartment. Each and every news channel was covering his accomplishments; they were the top story on each channel. Most led with the Brian McGregor exclusive; even showing copies of all of his letters. Then they went on to say what a great job the police had done in closing the case so quickly with the arrest of Charles Wahl.

  Underhill opened his journal, entering the time and date of Laurie Bando’s execution. He followed with entries regarding the arrest of Mr. Wahl. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow’s paper. He would cut out the articles regarding the arrest of Mr. Wahl and put it with the other article about Wahl when he was arrested and fired years ago.

  A gleam of sunlight through the open shades reflected off the can of soda on his shelf, catching his eye. He looked at the can; to many it would seem out of place—not to Underhill. To Underhill it was a trophy, a symbol of redemption, a symbol of how much smarter he was than everybody else. It was the soda can he had used to frame Mr. Wahl. As he prepared to read through the newspaper, he realized that it was going to be a great day.

  *

  The news of ADA Laurie Bando’s murder only an hour after he had released a statement to the press announcing that the police had arrested the Blue Executioner was the start of another bad day for Eddie Courtney. He couldn’t understand what had happened. Could the lab techs have made a mistake with the DNA, or was he dealing with a rather intelligent criminal. Given the lack of physical evidence to date, Courtney felt he had his answer.

  There were a few things on Courtney’s side. The fact that the murderer had left his note at the scene indicated that he would most likely not be contacting McGregor anytime soon. This meant that nobody would immediately find out that they had the wrong man in custody. Also if the killer’s intention was to frame Wahl as it appears to have been, then he must want the police to believe that they have the killer in custody.

  Lastly, and possibly most importantly, was that during a search of Wahl’s apartment, they found an assortment of child pornography on his computer. This was reason enough to not release him. Courtney decided to allow the charges to be drawn up for three counts of murder based on th
e DNA evidence and the charges of possessing child pornography. It could be a couple of weeks before anybody outside of the department realized that they had the wrong man. That would buy Courtney some much needed time. He knew the clock was ticking on the case as well as his future with the NYPD.

  *

  Brian McGregor was as relieved as almost anyone else in the city when he learned of the arrest. Having feared that he may have irked the madman, McGregor felt that he may have become the man’s next target. McGregor sat at his office punching at the keys of the keyboard, trying to find out as much as possible about the killer. He was surprised to learn that Wahl had been arrested years earlier for statutory rape of a student. According to the article, Wahl had pled guilty to a lesser charge to avoid jail time but was immediately fired from the Department of Education as a teacher.

  Other links under the name Charles Wahl’s had a Youtube video where he publically apologized for his actions. McGregor clicked on the link and watched. It wasn’t so much what Wahl said that bothered Mcgregor, but instead his voice. Having spoken to the Blue Executioner on the phone, McGregor was sure the police had the wrong man in custody.

  McGregor dialed the number Courtney had given him.

  “Chief Courtney.”

  “Good morning Chief, it’s Brian McGregor. I wanted to let you know I think you have the wrong…”

  Courtney quickly interrupted. “Listen McGregor, I don’t have time for this. I’m sure you’re aware we have the cop killer in custody and I have a lot of work to do.”