by Brian N. Cox
“Most people call me ‘Tess’ and that is fine with me,” said Detective Rita Tessier. “Since Rick is, or was the lead investigator, I’ll let him take the floor.”
Detective Gonzalez gave a complete overview of the case to the FBI agents and they were very impressed with both the investigation and his attention to detail.
“Rick I notice you feel the ropes were brought to the scene by the killer and left behind. He would have had to touch the ropes on many occasions, before arriving at the victim’s apartments. Was there no DNA found on the ropes?” enquired Sean.
“I should have mentioned, although I did include it in the report, that the ropes seemed to have been wiped down with vinegar to kill any trace evidence. We have speculated that he wipes the ropes down before he comes and only touches them after putting on latex gloves. Here again, we are assuming he is wearing latex or some type of surgical gloves because of the complete lack of evidence left at the scenes.”
“Seems like a logical conclusion, Rick. Anything unique about the knots he uses?” asked Sean.
“He uses a small bowline on one end to make a loop around the wrist feeding the end through the bight. The other end is just a series of overhand knots on the other wrist,” replied Rick.
“That’s significant. He probably ties the bowline in advance and creates the loop so he can quickly trap the victim’s wrist.”
“That’s what Tess and I had concluded.”
“Since the killer gains entrance to the apartments without force or attracting attention, we want to know how. Did the victims have any friends in common? Did they have boyfriends, particularly boyfriends who had keys? Were there other people who the victims might normally let into their apartments?” asked Sean.
“No friends in common; it appears they didn’t know each other. We’ve checked out former and current male friends, and everyone else we think could have gained easy access to the apartments. We’ve met a dead end there…solid alibis in every case,” said Gonzalez.
“Well so far you seem to have done all the right things. We can all read the reports this morning. Let’s meet after lunch and we’ll get moving on this. In the meantime, I’ll put in a call to the BSU in Washington and get a profiler here to assist us…hopefully.”
Shortly after 1pm, the five law enforcement officers once again sat around the boardroom table, this time each had the most recent investigation report in front of them, with the complete case file in a thick folder in front of Sean.
“Here’s what I want you to do,” began Sean. “Swanson and Zibotsky will go down to Eggletown, Oregon, tomorrow morning. Drop into the local State Police Detachment first and get up to date on anything they might know about the case, and then go and meet with the Eggletown Police.”
“Gonzalez and Tess, I want you to follow up on something that is bothering me. We agree the perp probably wore latex gloves so as not to leave any fingerprints or DNA; possibly they were rubber gloves, but whatever he wore, it served his purpose.”
“Since there was no evidence of his presence on the floors, regardless if they were wood, tile, carpet or whatever, I have to assume he wore foot covers of some type,” continued Sean. “It would appear he didn’t just pull a pair of socks over his shoes because some trace of the wool pattern under the pressure of his weight would have been found somewhere on the floors. Now you can buy latex gloves, or rubber gloves, almost anywhere, latex foot covers are not that easy to obtain. Personally, except for our own Forensic Unit, I wouldn’t know where to purchase these without researching the subject. I doubt if any are manufactured here in Seattle.”
“I want you to do some research and find out where latex foot covers can be obtained in Seattle, and if you find an outlet, ascertain who purchased them….and while you’re doing that, stop for a coffee a few times at the Starbucks in Sector Seven where the three victims were known to frequent. Take surreptitious photos of the men sitting in the off-camera tables each time you are there. It will be interesting to see if any of them show up on the CCTV videos you brought with you. I understand the two Acting Detectives didn’t come up with any more info when studying the videos?”
“Yes and no. They did see a few men that were present in more than one video although they couldn’t tell if or when they left the Starbucks because of the one door being off camera,” replied Rick.
“I’m sure we won’t get this lucky, but if there are any really gorgeous young women in there, and any men leave right after them, see if they are followed.”
“Will do,” replied Tess.
“Another thing to put on your agenda. Check the marine stores, or any others that sell nylon rope, to see if they remember anyone buying ¾ inch nylon rope at an unusual length. Anchor lines, even for a small boat, are very long. If our suspect is buying the rope specifically for his crimes, he probably wouldn’t buy the length required for an anchor line. This could take time so Swanson and Zibotsky can help you cover the stores when they return from Oregon.”
“Swanson and Zibotsky. I probably don’t have to tell you this, but I’m going to tell you anyway. As you heard from our co-workers, the Eggletown Police aren’t exactly the brightest or most competent law enforcement agency on the west coast. When you meet them, you must immediately put them at ease. They will no doubt be defensive about screwing up the case and may take offense to the big city FBI agents showing up. You must be friendly and not patronizing. Let them know you consider them fellow-professionals, etcetera, etcetera….you get what I mean. Thank them for their assistance and let them know you are not taking over their case; you just want their help with a few details. Apparently their Detective threw away the evidence that was found on the floor and they’ve misplaced the rope. Don’t belabour that; just get whatever information you can.”
“I understand perfectly, Boss,” replied Special Agent Swanson with a smile.
“Oh, and by the way,” added Sean. “Don’t call them Barney Fife or Detective Dumbshits.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Li Mei sat at her desk at CAC feeling very restless as desk work was not amongst the occupational duties that held much interest for her. Nevertheless, she sat patiently and listened to Agent Feng, the leader of the State Security Investigation & Surveillance unit give his first report on FBI Special Agent, Gordon Paquette.
“He hasn’t done much moving around since returning from San Francisco and there hasn’t been any phone activity on either the landline or his cell other than to check in for messages at his office. He has stopped at a Starbucks for coffee enroute home from work once, but otherwise the only time he’s been out of the house is on Sunday morning at 9:30am when he took his wife and daughter to their local McDonalds. His wife is a very attractive, tall blond woman. The daughter is about eight or ten years old in my estimation, with blond hair just like the mother.”
“I saw in the report that Paquette’s wife was a Seattle Seahawk cheerleader; sort of the type of attractive woman that Paquette would be attracted to if past history means anything,” said Li Mei.
“How long do you want us to stay on him, Older Sister?”
“You can consider this fairly long term. The orders have come from Washington.”
“Why are we investigating him? What has he done?” enquired Feng.
“You know better than to ask such questions, Little Brother. This is not an occupation for gossip,” said Li Mei, but not in an unkind way.
“Sorry Li Mei; you are right.”
“Sean,” said Li Mei as he picked up his office phone. “You’ll never guess what I missed when I was in China?”
“I assume you mean me,” said Sean with a laugh.
“Besides you. I missed a McDonalds Egg McMuffin…but of course I missed you more,” replied Li Mei, also laughing.
“You can buy an Egg McMuffin in Beijing. I heard they have about two-hundred McDonalds there.”
“They do, but I never went there. When I felt like a coffee, I would usually go to Starbucks with a book b
ecause their seats are more comfortable. With Chinese friends, we always went for a traditional breakfast. Are you busy Sunday morning? How about we go to McDonalds then?”
“There are some excellent brunch restaurants in Seattle, why don’t go to one of those?” said Sean.
“Next week, OK? I have a craving for an Egg McMuffin. I’ll be doing a little work early Sunday morning so I’ll phone you and we can meet at one that is near where I am working….would 9:30 be good for you?”
“9:30 is fine. Talk to you then,” replied Sean as he hung up the phone. He wanted to ask Li Mei if she was keeping some Mei Hua Triad members under surveillance, but wasn’t sure if the phone line they were talking on was secure. Besides, she seldom provided information on what she was doing.
“Gary, I want you to read this report I got from Seattle Homicide about this serial killer that’s got everyone excited lately. Do you have time?”
“Sure, Sean. Give me the report and I’ll read it right now.”
“OK, drop back to my office when you’re ready.”
About forty-five minutes later, Special Agent Gary Webster, Sean’s long-time partner, arrived at Sean’s office and sat in the easy chair opposite Sean’s desk.
“I think I know what you are going to ask me Sean. What’s the significance of the killer leaving those pieces of paper on the floor of the victims’ apartments, all indicating they originated in Portland, Oregon?”
“Exactly. They don’t have much info on the offense in Eggletown yet but apparently a piece of paper was left on the floor there also. Unfortunately, the moron in charge of the investigation apparently threw it out; thought it was garbage,” said Sean.
“Maybe he was a janitor before becoming a police detective and couldn’t help thinking he should clean up the victim’s apartment,” replied Gary with a wry smile.
“It appears to me that this was an attempt to draw the FBI into the case. It’s obvious we are dealing with a very savvy killer here, who leaves no evidence, but he is trying to tell us that he is from Portland, or has been there. With the Eggletown case, it’s obvious that he crossed the State line to commit his offences.”
“I agree. If fact, he probably wasn’t counting on the Eggletown Police being so incompetent and that we would have made the State-line connection much earlier,” continued Gary.
“I’ve sent Swanson and one of the rookies down to Eggletown to see if they can find out any more about the killing there.”
“That would seem like the logical next step. Generally criminals want keep the FBI out of cases, not draw them in; I just don’t get it.”
“He’s obviously a lot smarter than the serial rapists and killers we usually deal with, or at least thinks he is. I wonder if this is an ego thing…maybe he wants to challenge us,” said Sean.
“That’s a possibility I was thinking of also. Keep me in the loop Sean. This case has made me very curious.”
“Will do Gary.”
It would be a few weeks before Sean and Gary realized why the killer was leaving the paper evidence on the floors of his victim’s apartments.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“She’s leaving in her car and turning east.”
“We’ve got her. The tracker’s working fine; we’ve got her on our screen.”
Although Li Mei didn’t expect anyone would be following her as she couldn’t think of any particular reason for anyone to do so, she still performed some counter-surveillance movements as was her custom. She eventually arrived at the Crosstown Travel Agency where she purchased airfare from Portland to Denver and finally to Minneapolis. From Minneapolis, she would be picked up and go by a small, private plane to the final destination.
When she left the travel agency, she saw a well-dressed man wearing a dark blue suit and maroon tie across the street apparently reading a text message on his Blackberry. As she returned to her car, the man crossed the street and entered the travel agency. Although Li Mei saw this, she didn’t pay much attention as there was nothing unusual about the man’s behaviour.
There was no way she could have known that the man, Detective Lou Bradley of the Seattle Police, showed his identification to the travel agency manager and enquired about Li Mei’s itinerary.
While driving home, she decided to give Sean a call at the FBI office.
“Hi Sean; this is Li Mei.”
“Hi Li Mei, I was just thinking about you.”
“Sean, I have to go out of town for a few days on Wednesday, would you like to come to my apartment for dinner on Monday evening?”
“I’d love to. What time?”
“We can decide the time when we meet at McDonalds for breakfast on Sunday.”
“Good enough. See you then.”
Sean wasn’t a man who liked to engage in long telephone conversations. He passed on or received the message that had initiated the call and then liked to get off the phone. Every girlfriend he had ever had, including his ex-wife, liked to stay on the phone talking about nothing in particular for at least thirty or forty minutes, and it used to drive him nuts. When with a special woman in person, he had no problem making conversation, but telephone conversations were an exception to the rule. This was another thing he liked about Li Mei. A two minute phone call was about the maximum time she ever stayed on the phone.
After stopping at the Oregon State Police office nearest to Eggletown and getting an overview of the sexual assault and murder in that town from Corporal Ted Young, Special Agent Diane Swanson and her partner drove to the Eggletown Police Station.
Swanson and Dibotsky entered the modern police building, showed their identification to the receptionist, a plump, middle-aged woman who wore a police uniform, and asked to speak to the Chief of Police, whose name was Percy Beck. The receptionist, instead of phoning the Chief, left and walked down the hallway, returning in less than two minutes, and asked the FBI agents to follow her.
Swanson and Dibotsky were shown into an office where they saw a skinny, balding man of about fifty whose shirt collar appeared too large for his neck. They could see the resemblance to Barney Fife, of Mayberry PD fame, but were able to maintain a straight face since they knew in advance they would have a difficult time not laughing.
Chief Beck wore an elaborate uniform with a great deal of gold trim, making him look more like a military dictator of a banana republic than an American Chief of Police. The Chief looked quite apprehensive about the appearance of the agents and more than a little nervous.
“I wish you had called to let me know you were coming,” said Beck. “I could have been more prepared to help you.”
“I’m awfully sorry about that Chief,” replied Swanson. “We didn’t know we’d be coming here as we were in Oregon on another case. We flew down from Seattle this morning and rented a car at the airport.” The truth was that Swanson didn’t want to give the Chief time to cook up excuses about their bumbling investigation. Spontaneous answers would be more helpful.
“What can I help you with,” said Beck, appearing to relax a bit.
“We heard from the State Police of a murder here about two or three months ago, and it sounded similar to one we are working on. It’s your case; we don’t want to interfere or impose ourselves in any way. We just wanted to get an overview from you or your investigators.”
“Yes, terrible crime,” said Beck. “We’ve investigated quite a few murders here over the years, but this was a particularly gruesome one. We’ve put two teams of detectives on it full time.”
Swanson knew, of course, that the Eggletown Police only had one detective, and according to the State Police, there had never been a murder in Eggletown in anyone’s memory.
“If you could just give us an overview, we should be able to tell if it is similar to our case.”
“Well, a young woman was discovered murdered one morning at the Welcome Inn on Center Street. She had been tied to the headboard by her wrists. She was on her back and we could see bruising on her neck. We assumed she had been raped and
strangled. We called in the State Police crime scene people to assist our Forensic Unit, but no evidence was found. A smart killer; didn’t leave trace.”
“Would it be possible to look at the rope, Chief?”
“Some idiot at the State Police lost it. We’re still looking for it. We’ll find it, of course. Can I send you a photo of the rope when we find it?”
“That would be great Chief.”
“One more thing, Chief. Was the rope looped around the headboard or tied somehow?
“Our forensic expert took a photo and I could see that it was looped around the headboard. Is that significant?”
“Could be Chief. That sounds like the same MO as our killer,” replied Swanson.
“I’d let you speak to our lead detective but he and his teams are out working on the case. He briefs me regularly so there is nothing he could tell you that I can’t.”