by Jon Mills
He crossed over to her to give her the keys, and she ran a hand over his face.
As they got closer to the harbor, Jack lifted his head and could see members of the SWAT team waiting, their semi-automatics lowered, their faces masked up. Among the crowd of cops was Detective Hudson.
Chapter 27
Time slipped by in silence. She didn’t sleep at her apartment that night but opted to stay at Romero’s place. Both of them didn’t get any shuteye until the early hours of the morning. By the time she woke at eight the next day, exhaustion was in full swing. Romero was already up brewing coffee and watching the news on a small TV in the kitchen. He had the volume low and was flicking through channels when she shuffled in.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
She pawed at her eyes. “No, what time is it?”
“Just after eight. I was checking the news to see if there had been another killing. Nothing. Looks like our boy took the bait.”
“And yet he didn’t, because he didn’t show up.”
“That’s debatable, he might have had we stayed longer.”
“Like I told you, that wasn’t an option.”
She went over and helped herself to some coffee. It hadn’t been the first night she’d slept there. The first two weeks after her marriage fell apart, Romero had given her a bed just until she was able to find a place. She thought that might have contributed to the sarcastic jokes he made about them being like a couple.
“Well, at least we got one guy. You going into grill him today?”
She poured some milk, stirred her coffee and leaned against the counter. “I’ll be speaking with him but I don’t expect much.”
“You don’t think he’s got anything to do with these killings?”
She shook her head. “No, but to have kicked up the mob’s nest, he has got to have some ties to the mob. It might be the lead we’ve been looking for.”
Romero leaned back in his dressing gown looking like a young Hugh Hefner. He didn’t have his bank account but he sure as hell went out of his way to try and impress everyone with his choice of clothing and home décor. It was very ostentatious. “Doesn’t matter, with Angelo Marabelle in on kidnapping, and the rest of the charges, he’ll be off the streets for a long while.”
“Still, Marabelle isn’t the only crime syndicate operating in the city.”
Romero regarded her with a curious expression.
“What?”
“What’s your fascination with this guy?”
“Just curious.”
“Well, you know the old saying… curiosity killed the—”
“Put a sock in it, Romero,” she said shaking her head and grinning.
“You know, Sanchez and Daniels are dead.”
She exhaled hard. “That’s too bad.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, like you gave a damn about Sanchez.”
“He was a pain in the ass, I’ll admit that, but he was still a cop.”
There was a silence for a while.
“Hey Hudson, feels like old times, right?”
“I guess.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want to move back in?”
“Thanks, but no.”
She headed out to get ready for the day.
* * *
The office was buzzing with activity that morning. Dickson was devastated about the death of two of his squad but pleased about the previous night’s arrests and the fact there hadn’t been another killing by the Zodiac. He was feeling more optimistic about giving the all clear at the media briefing.
With a coffee in hand, and beginning to feel more like herself, Hudson headed down to the cells to check in with Winchester. They hadn’t spoken since he'd been taken in. Though it wouldn’t take them long to prove he’d killed several of Marabelle’s men, she was keen to know what his connection had been to the cab driver, as well as anything else he might share that could help them with future investigations.
She passed by Charley on the way down the corridor, he was strong-arming some kid through the double doors.
“Charley, how did it go last night?”
He’d been dealing with the situation with Ms. Gilbert. After managing to flag down a passing vehicle, someone called the cops, and they were able to confirm the story that Marabelle’s men had taken her prior to taking Ms. Grant.
The question was why.
“Sometimes I wonder why I do this job,” he said passing by her.
She smiled, and an officer held a door open for her.
“Thanks, Roger.”
When she arrived at the secure holding area, Jack was laid back on the welded steel bench. The walls were nothing more than cinder block coated in a thick cream paint. Basic. Unwelcoming. Just the way they liked it. It wasn’t built for comfort and most prisoners didn’t stay in there longer than twenty-four hours before being transferred to county. There was a stainless-steel toilet and sink and that was it. He rolled over and let out a groan.
“That coffee for me?”
“Afraid not. Maybe later.”
“Transferring me?”
“Not yet. I had a few questions. Can I call you Jack?”
He shrugged.
She turned to Roger, and told him she’d be fine, and to wait outside. She watched as Jack swung his legs off the edge of the bench. The two times she’d seen him before, it was in the dark. He was a well-built man, early forties with a full head of dark hair.
“What are your ties to the Marabelle family?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Oh come on, Jack. I’ve been at this game for long enough to know that few people garner the attention you did last night. He kept her alive because you did something. What was it? Kill one of his men? Sleep with his daughter?”
Jack chuckled, rolling his head around slowly before placing both palms on the hard bench.
“So did it work?” Jack asked.
“What?”
“The media briefing, did it draw him out?”
“That’s still ongoing. We’ll see. Today is the last night.”
“He’ll show.”
“He didn’t last night.”
Jack leaned back. “That’s because he was scoping you out.”
“And why do say that?”
“Because that’s what I would have done.”
Hudson studied him carefully before taking a sip of her coffee and leaning back against the wall. “You know what I find puzzling, Jack. For someone who’s stirred up a hornet’s nest and has an unusual interest in these killings, I would assume you are some kind of vigilante. And yet I pulled what I could find on you and your record’s clean. So why here? Why now? You know we’ve already got you on killing one man.”
“That was self-defense.”
“Maybe. However, destroying police property and assaulting two officers…”
He shrugged. “I did what your officers should have done.”
She scrutinized him. He made a valid point, however that didn’t take away the fact that several of Marabelle’s men had been killed. Even though they still hadn’t found a weapon on Jack, and he hadn’t admitted to firing a shot, they were fairly certain he was the shooter.
“By the way,” Jack said, “I was hoping to tell you this last night but in all the shuffle, I didn’t get a chance. The guy you’re looking for is someone that has come forward before and claimed that the Zodiac was his father.”
She smirked. “Well that narrows it down. You know how many people have made that claim?”
“A lot but I narrowed it down to four individuals. Three aren’t capable of doing it, the fourth, well, he was listed as dead, however I would beg to differ.”
“What?”
“The man you’re looking for is Earl Bernard, otherwise known today as Leonard Tomlinson. Does the name Earl ring a bell?”
She thought back to all those who’d come forward with outlandish claims. They all seemed to blend together. She shook her head.
�
�Well, he remembers you. That’s why he’s focusing on you.” Jack stood up, and she took a step back. He smiled. “It’s okay, officer, if I wanted you dead, I would have done it up on that roof.” He stretched and looked as if he was working the tension out in his shoulders. It couldn’t have been comfortable as there was no mattress provided.
“Over the last few days I visited those that had drawn the most attention from media and police. William Roberts doesn’t have the balls to do this, trust me on that. Steven Farrell struck me as a man who would be too afraid to lose his family. Is he capable? Yes. Would he do it? I don’t believe so. And the third, Katherine Johnson, is institutionalized in Langley Porter Psychiatric Hospital. One look at her and you know she’s not behind it. However, when I went to the address of Earl Bernard, hoping to speak to his mother Jillian, she wasn’t there. A neighbor came out, a man going by the name of Leonard Tomlinson. On the surface, he struck me as a little odd but after hearing his story, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Problem is, his story doesn’t hold. He told me that Jillian Bernard lost her husband back in the ’80s, and her only son, Earl, in a car crash in the Philippines. As for Jillian, she died of cancer three years ago.” He paused and took a breath. “According to Leonard, Jillian had asked him to take over the house once she passed away. Now, it’s unusual but not out of the ordinary. People have been known to do that with those that cared for them in their final days, except there is no record of Jillian Bernard having passed away, and the house next door that Leonard is living in was originally owned by Jillian’s mother Rita Bernard.”
“Okay, but wouldn’t you have recognized him from his photo in the media?”
“No, unlike the others he refused. You see, all the others suffered some kind of ridicule, two of them even lost jobs over it. He must have figured that there was a chance his claim would be shot down, and if it was, he wouldn’t be humiliated, at least by those who knew him.”
“But he put his name out there.”
“Having your name out there is one thing, your mugshot, trust me, detective, that’s where things get complicated.”
She couldn’t help wonder if he was referring to himself.
He leaned back against the wall. “It’s one thing to fake your own death in a third world country by buying a death certificate on the Philippine black market, another to try and cover up your mother’s in the USA.” He paused. “And in case you’re wondering, not long after claiming his father was the Zodiac and being dismissed by the San Francisco police, he spoke to a journalist from the Chronicle, and on that occasion, he blamed the department but specifically you, and told them you were the one who didn’t want to listen to him. See for yourself. Bring up the archives copy of the San Francisco Chronicle, July 17, 2002. It’s all there.” Jack sniffed. “Anyway, I was on my way to pay him another visit when I got the call from Dana.”
It took a moment for her to chew it over.
“But why kill her?” she blurted out.
Jack was quick to respond. “Why kill anyone? It’s a means to an end. The person is crazy, or that’s how they make money for a living.”
“Is that what you do, Jack? Make money from killing others?”
“You’re getting off topic, detective.” He studied her. “It’s easier to blend back into the USA if you have a residence. Both the mortgages on the two homes are paid off, and if he managed to get his mother to sign over power of attorney to her estate, the rest is just details.”
She had to admit, it was an interesting take that she hadn’t considered, but was it true?
Up to this point he hadn’t lied to her, at least that she could tell. He’d been right about Marabelle’s involvement with the kidnapping of Ms. Gilbert and Ms. Grant. She needed to look into it further before making accusations and possibly embarking on a wild goose chase. Warrants weren’t easy to come by, and the red tape on this would be hellish without substantial evidence to justify it.
She turned to towards the door without saying anything and pulled it open.
“Just check out the address,” Jack muttered.
She pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled it down.
“Best of luck, detective.”
She nodded and closed the cell door behind her.
It echoed.
Chapter 28
She certainly had no intention of going on a witch hunt but with less than 24 hours left before the media would be expecting another briefing with an announcement on the 340 Cipher, she had to consider all avenues. Hudson returned to her desk and powered on her computer. Her fingers hovered over the keys. Where to begin? She started with what was readily available — the San Francisco Chronicle archives.
“Hudson, you ready for this evening?” Romero said, strolling over.
The task force still wanted to run the sting operation. They were adamant that he was going to show and with the previous night’s no-show, desperation was setting in and Dickson had already been out of his office twice to find out what was being done.
“Do me a favor, go grab me a coffee.”
He came around and leaned over her. “The Chronicle? What are you doing?”
“Long story. Would you just grab me that coffee?”
“What, am I your errand boy now?”
“Yeah, and make it snappy,” she quipped, flashing her pearly whites.
“I swear it’s time I got a new partner,” he muttered to himself as he strode away.
Hudson’s eyes scanned through the papers until she found the one Winchester had mentioned. Sure enough, there was an article with Earl Bernard’s name in it, and the media questioning him over the response that he’d got from the department. She homed in on one comment he’d made about her. She could see how the department’s dismissal could have been taken the wrong way but what most didn’t understand was how inundated the department was by claims. Even though it had been almost fifty years since the Zodiac’s attacks, every new movie that came to the forefront spurred more people to come forward. The fact was, even though it was still classed an open cold case, the department didn’t have the resources to chase after bogus leads.
Next she moved on to how easy it would be to fake your own death. Surprisingly it was easier than she thought. All that was required was planning the accident, having a place to go and hide and then being able to cut off all ties and communication with friends and family. Hudson pulled up what she could find on purchasing death certificates that’s when she discovered that the Philippines had black market morgues where unidentified people were brought in and kept for a period. Anyone seeking to commit fraud or fake their death would buy a body, have it cremated and then receive the death certificate along with an accident report. After which, all that was required was to file a report with the U.S. embassy.
“Here you go, madam.”
She was so focused on what she was doing that she didn’t hear Romero stroll up behind her. “Seriously, Romero, how many times have I told you about creeping up?”
“Creeping? I was bringing you your damn coffee.”
She took it and took a huge gulp. He squinted and leaned in.
“What the hell are you looking up?” He then chuckled. “You planning on faking your own death? Really, Hudson, this job ain’t that bad.”
Before she could reply, Dickson called him into his office. Fortunately she wasn’t on his radar. She leaned back in her chair and contemplated what she’d uncovered so far. It wasn’t too outlandish to think that someone could have gone to all this effort, but clearly, anyone who would had to be one sick individual. Could he have really killed his own mother? And what of his father? She was curious. If he really was who he claimed him to be, what did he look like? What was his name?
She set her coffee down and began checking obituaries.
There existed several means of checking death records — cemetery records, newspapers, probate, tax records, church records, the census, and of course a death certificate which could be obtained from the San Francisco
County Clerk. Hudson lost herself in the research as she pored over page after page of information, made phone calls and spoke with those who could help her. Sure enough, there was no information about Jillian Bernard having died. No death record. Nothing.
Once that was established, she turned her attention to the two properties and Leonard Tomlinson. Forty minutes later she had gathered enough details to warrant taking a close look at Leonard. She screeched back her chair and gathered up the paperwork she’d printed off and was just in the process of pulling it all together when Romero burst out of Dickson’s office.
“Hudson, let’s go.”
Her head jerked towards him. “What? What’s going on?”
“There’s been another video uploaded online.”
“A murder?”
She caught up with him as he took off towards the elevator. He spoke as he hurried.
“No, a bomb threat. He’s hooked up three individuals with vest bombs and told them that if they want to live, they are to follow his instructions. They’ve just walked into three of the busiest malls in the city.”
Just as they entered the elevator, Hudson spotted Charley.
“Charley. I have a task for you.”
“But I was on my way to Westfield Centre.”
“This is critical. It’s about the Zodiac.”
“So is this.”
“You want to arrest our guy?”
His eyes lit up. That was one thing she could count on with Charley. He was up for any challenge, especially one that might give him a foot in the door with that promotion he was hoping to land. Throw into the mix the chance to nab the guy who was wreaking havoc in the city, well he couldn’t turn that down.
Chapter 29
Considered one of the biggest and best shopping malls in San Francisco, Westfield Centre was located two blocks from Union Square in the northeast section of the city. The 9-story mall had over 170 shops, restaurants, a multiplex and a dome-covered atrium. It was the mall of malls when it came to the city. Within a few blocks from there was Metreon, a 4-story mall in the heart of downtown San Francisco’s Yerba Buena Neighborhood. The third one was Stonestown Galleria, a 2-story complex with atrium and theater. On any given day, all of them were packed with shoppers.