by Peggy Dulle
“Oh, and there is something else. Most were killed with things from their own homes,” Justin said.
“What?”
“The stabbings were from kitchen knives.”
“The electrocutions?”
“Appliances in their houses.”
“The hangings?”
“Ropes from their garages.”
“What about the gunshot victims?” I asked.
“There is no definitive proof since the guns weren’t recovered. A couple of the victims owned guns which were the same caliber as the one that was used to kill them but the guns weren’t found in the victims’ homes by the police.”
“So the killer either killed them with their own gun or brought one of his own.”
“Yeah, and either way the guns were removed from the crime scene.”
“But in the other cases, for sure, the killer isn’t bringing the weapon with him. So does that make these a crime of opportunity rather than a planned killing?”
“I don’t think so since the killer is bringing jewelry, knick-knacks, and a snow globe to put on the bodies.”
“That’s weird,” I said.
“I agree.” Justin said.
“There are also no children.” I got closer to the boards and read the ages of the victims. “The oldest is seventy-eight and the youngest is forty-three, except the last two women. They were only in their early thirties.”
“That’s significant,” Justin mused.
“Probably, but I have no idea why. We’ve got them in order by cities, right?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s try a different way.”
“How?” Justin asked, pulling down the pictures and cards.
“Date of death.”
Justin and I rearranged the pictures.
“I don’t see anything,” Justin said.
“The only thing I see is that the first ten kills all were either married or had a girlfriend or boyfriend in their lives,” I replied.
“You think it has something to do with spousal abuse?” Justin asked.
“If so, this killer is taking the ‘till death do us part’ section of the wedding vows very seriously.”
“But the next five victims didn’t have any significant partner, so why did the killer switch victim types?”
“You think like a profiler, Justin. Are you sure you shouldn’t go into psychology in college?”
“Boring,” he huffed.
“Let’s try a different way. Can you plot these on a map by date of death?”
“You thinking the killer is going up a highway or freeway and killing people along the way?” Justin suggested.
“Maybe.” I shrugged.
Justin brought up a computer map on my laptop and put in red points for all the deaths.
They were all over the map, literally – on a highway, freeway, city street, or country road. There was no pattern that either Justin or I could see.
“If this is a serial killer, we’re missing something.”
“I think we’re missing the why. If we knew that, we’d probably see the pattern.”
“I agree, unless these are just random kills.”
“I don’t think so,” Justin said, then continued, “the ages, jobs, and lack of ready victims makes this calculated. I just don’t know what it is a calculation for.”
“All of the people were gainfully employed. There isn’t an out-of-work person in the lot.”
“Maybe the killer lost his job and is killing them because they have jobs.”
“I don’t know. What was the new information you brought today?” I asked Justin.
“I pulled the information from the police files about the victims’ last twenty-four hours.”
“That should help,” I said, optimistically.
But it didn’t. Almost all of them went to work that day, a few were on vacation, and a couple called in sick. They didn’t visited the same place for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. None of them had gone to the same store, either. All the information told us nothing and it was giving me a headache.
“Lunch is here,” Art called from the kitchen.
“Good, let’s take a break. Maybe I need some caffeine and food to recharge my thought processes.”
Justin shrugged. He was as confused by all the information as I was.
We went into the kitchen and ate lunch with the guys. George talked about his next vacation. He was taking a cruise to Mexico. I told him about my last cruise, leaving out the part about the professional killers and how many of my parents’ cruising friends were killed. Bill’s wife is pregnant with their fifth child and, according to him, big as a house and twice as hungry as an elephant.
“She has cravings twenty-four hours a day. I’m glad I’m here because I get no sleep at home. She’s constantly waking me up to go and get her some food.”
It was a nice lunch and my salad was just what I needed. I drank several glasses of tea and felt a hundred percent better.
“How’s the wedding stuff going in the office?” Art asked.
“Teach is so particular about her wedding program, I think I’ve designed twenty different styles,” Justin lied. It was scary how easily he lied and how believable it sounded.
After lunch, we went back to the office.
I walked up to the board and said, “The group is so diverse. We’ve got to be missing something.”
“But what?”
“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? So let’s consider any reason – why do people kill?”
“Self-defense,” Justin said as he wrote the word on our board.
I nodded, then added, “fear for themselves or someone else.”
“You’ve got the crazies, the religious nuts and the greedy.”
“And mercy killings and those that kill out of anger or desperation,” I added to our list.
“Which of these is motivating this killer?” Justin asked.
“Well, I think there are some motives that we can eliminate.”
“Why?” Justin asked.
“I think a religious nut would want us to know that it was about religion, so that lets out religious fanaticism. These people weren’t sick and didn’t provoke the killer, so that eliminates mercy killings and self-defense. And the pattern is too methodical and efficient for a crazy person.”
“That makes sense.”
“That leaves fear, anger, desperation, or greed.”
“None of these people had huge life insurance policies, and some were just barely scraping by. I already checked on the money angle,” Justin said.
“So that eliminates greed and just leaves fear, anger, or desperation.”
“Does that help?”
“I don’t know but whatever it is, it isn’t on the surface, it’s got to go deeper than that.”
“What do you mean?” Justin asked.
“We’ve looked at these people and their lives. They’re just ordinary folks.”
Justin nodded.
“But some of these people make my gut twist, just a little, especially a couple of the men and this woman.” I pointed to the picture of a woman who had a scowl on her face. “And it may just be a reaction to their photos, but I don’t know.”
“Your gut is usually right, Teach.”
“I think it’s possible that all these victims had a secret and that’s what got them killed.”
“I’ll keep digging on them,” Justin said.
I turned the board around and then walked Justin to the door, got a book and went into the back yard. The afternoon was warm so I read a bit and watched Zoie and Shelby play. I feel asleep quickly since I hadn’t really gotten any good sleep last night. I woke up when Art brought me three slices of ham and pineapple pizza.
“Thanks,” I told him.
“Maury will be here in the morning. If you get up as late as you did today, I won’t see you again until Monday.”
“What kind of take-out does Maury like?” I asked, taking a bi
te of my pizza.
“He hates take-out.”
My eyes widened. “He doesn’t expect me to cook, does he?”
Art chuckled. “No, he’s a cook. He’ll probably bring several pots and pans with him. And I told him you have nothing in the way of spices in your house, so he’ll have several bags of groceries, too.”
“He’s going to cook for me?” I asked.
“You and the guys, yes. He likes to cook, so we let him cook.”
“Everyone needs a hobby.” I took another bite of my pizza, then thought about the strange stuff that Maury might like to cook.
Art must have seen the concern on my face because he said, “I told him you are a carnivore and prefer red meat to anything else.”
“Thanks, Art.”
Art smiled and said, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss Kenny.”
“Me, too. It sucks that he went back to work.”
“We all have to work,” Art said, then added, “It’s nice that you get the summer off,” but before I could tell him why I needed the summer off, he added, “Of course you have to deal with a room full of five year olds all day. I wouldn’t do that job if they gave me summer and winter off.”
“I love those little kids and teaching,” I told him.
“And that’s why you should be the one doing it. You want some more pizza?”
“No, three slices is enough for the moment. If I get hungry later, I know where the leftover pizza is.”
“Unless Kenny comes over and eats it all.”
“That’s always a possibility,” I chuckled. “What time is it?”
“It is almost seven. I let you sleep until the pizza started getting cold.”
“Thanks, Art.”
Art nodded and went back into the house. I finished my pizza, fed the dogs and went back to the office.
I spent the next couple of hours searching for jewelry for my wedding dress and for Jordan. I couldn’t find either; let alone a gift for Kenny.
Tom called at nine. He didn’t have much time to talk. Someone drew swastikas all over the back of the high school gym and he rounded up his usual suspects and was letting them stew.
“I’m letting them sit and worry for a while and then I’m going to go in and talk to them,” he told me.
“Drawing swastikas isn’t your normal graffiti. Are you having a problem with a white supremacist group in your area?”
“We’ve always got some of those idiots, but I don’t think that’s my problem. A couple of these boys have the IQ of an ant. I think they might have just copied it out of a book and don’t have a clue what exactly it means. It has everyone in town upset, so I’ll get to the bottom of it and make sure they understand what it means and why it isn’t appropriate.”
“Then you’ll make them paint over the marks,” I asked.
“And probably half the town will get a new paint job, too,” Tom added.
“Is that a logical consequence?” I asked him. The teacher in me always wants consequences to be solution-focused rather than punitive. Of course they should be held responsible to make restitution and amends for their actions, too.
“No, but it will make everyone in the town feel better. A real consequence would be taking them to the Holocaust museum and letting them see the brutality the Nazi’s inflicted on the Jews but I don’t have the funding or the time to do that, so they’ll paint the town, work at the afterschool program for a month, and pick up all the litter at the school for a month after school starts.”
“That would stop me from writing on any wall,” I told him.
“From your lips to their little tiny brains, Liza. I’ve got to go.”
“Have fun, Tom.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
I hung up and went back to the internet. Three antique jewelry sites later, I found what I was looking for. It was a vintage Victorian bridal necklace with a double chain that came together at a gorgeous vintage garnet red crystal rhinestone surrounded by silver-plated filigree. There was also a Swarovski diamond-shaped pendent that hung lower. It would go well with the diamond shaped designs on my dress. I bought Jordan and Julie the same pendent but without the hanging diamond-shaped crystal.
That just left Kenny. Maybe I’d just ask him what he wanted. It might be easier than spending hours on the internet and finding nothing. Of course, God only knows what he would want!
Chapter 24
In the morning, I awoke to a wonderful smell. Maury was here! I threw on my bathrobe and rushed out to the kitchen.
Maury was even shorter than Art. At barely five-feet tall, he was even shorter than me, but he was all muscle. He looked like he could bench press a Hummer.
“Maury?” I said.
He turned around and smiled. “Good morning, Liza. Would you like a ham and cheese frittata for breakfast?”
“Yes, please,” I told him.
“I also have fresh squeezed orange juice, and country potatoes.”
“I’d love all of the above, please,” I told him, then settled into a chair at the table, then as an afterthought, I asked, “Where are the guys?”
“Bill and Brandon already ate and George is home for the day.”
“Great.”
Maury dished out a nice slice of frittata and potatoes. It smelled wonderful.
There was a knock at the door and Maury opened up the cupboard over the refrigerator. Kenny stood at the door.
“That’s . . ,” I began.
Maury finished, “I met Kenny last night. I came in around eleven and Art told me about him. Which was smart since Kenny came in around midnight to raid your refrigerator. He ate the rest of the pizza. I told him what I was cooking for breakfast and he said he’d be here.”
I laughed, opened the door, and said, “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until Thursday because you were going to work early to beat the traffic.”
“I’ll sit in traffic for hours if I get to eat Maury’s food. I could smell this cooking all the way in my backyard when I let Zoie out this morning.”
As if on cue, Zoie and Shelby came running in through the dog door. Shelby was barking and Zoie was barking at her.
“Quiet,” Kenny said and Zoie immediately stopped. Shelby has no such command.
Kenny kissed me gently on the cheek and sat down at the table with me. Maury dished him up some breakfast.
I gave Shelby a potato and she finally stopped barking.
“You’re reinforcing her bad behavior,” Kenny told me.
“I do that with you all the time, so if you want me to stop, I’ll have to stop with you, too,” I told him.
Kenny threw a potato to Shelby, smiled, and went back to his breakfast.
“I have to buy you a gift for standing up with me at the wedding. I’ve searched the internet and I can’t find anything. What do you want?”
“World peace,” he said, and waved a Miss America wave.
Maury laughed.
“Seriously.”
“You don’t have to give me a gift, Stretch. Finding you again was the best gift I ever got.”
“It’s a tradition,” I told him. “I got jewelry for Jordan and Julie.”
“How about you talk Tom into moving to San Ramon?” he suggested.
“That’s not happening,” I told Kenny.
“I’ll give it some thought, Stretch.”
“Thank you,” I told him.
After breakfast, Kenny went to work, Maury set up his laptop on my kitchen table and searched the internet for a good recipe to cook for dinner. I took a shower and then watched a couple of DVDs, again. I was even getting tired of watching movies – a first for me!
For lunch, Maury made grilled portobello mushroom sandwiches and sweet potato fries, from scratch. Afterwards, I sat down and began a new book. It was a fantasy novel about a woman who is a Hunter. She hunts demons that seem more like angry, hungry dinosaurs to me. She was matched with a cop from San Francisco. I love books with cops in them. Go figure?
By two o’clock I would have killed for a bomb threat or attempted kidnapping. What were the chances that I could escape this house? Then I remembered Tom’s earlier suggestion.
“I need to go over to my school and start packing it up. Can I?” I felt like I was asking permission from my dad to go visit a friend.
“Of course,” Maury said. “I’ll give the guys a call and we’ll all go together. That way we can all help.”
“Thanks,” I said, jumping up before Maury remembered he was an FBI agent and I was under protective custody.
Since the janitors work early during the summer, we were only there a couple of hours that day, but we went back the next. With three men doing everything I told them to do, my classroom was packed up by the next afternoon. Maury called for an FBI van to come and they loaded it up, twice, and took the boxes and file cabinet to my house. They put it all into the garage. By five o’clock I was saying goodbye to the janitor and I was totally out of my classroom.
“Wow, thanks for your help, Maury,” I said when we got home.
“No problem. You shouldn’t be stuck in this house all day so if you want to go someplace tomorrow, just let me know. I can arrange for extra agents if I think we’ll need them.”
“Thanks.”
“Is Kenny coming for dinner?” Maury asked.
“Originally, he said he’d see me later tonight, so I’m not sure,” I told him.
“I’ll make enough for him too. He can always eat it leftover, even though it won’t be as good.”
“What are we having?”
“I thought I’d grill a tri-tip and some asparagus, make some Greek rice, and then strawberry shortcake for dessert.”
“Yum,” I said, already beginning to drool. “What time will it be ready?”
“Give me an hour.”
I nodded and went into the office, grabbing the mail as I went by. I needed to log more wedding response cards. Afterwards, I turned around the board and stared at the victims. What could they all have in common? I wondered. Did they have a secret? Had that secret got them killed? How did the suicides fit into the serial killer angle? Could a serial killer make people kill themselves? I was generating a lot of questions and no answers. I rearranged the pictures by age looking for a pattern but found nothing. Then I redid them by income, years of schooling, and type of object left at the scene. I spent some time attaching the information Justin found to the back of each picture, that way we would have easy access to each victim’s information when we wanted to look at it.