Evil Guardian

by Scott Bonn

  Pritchard says, “Damn, these things are good. My doctor has me eating so much fruit and fiber in the morning that I have actually been dreaming about doughnuts. Thank you, Julia, even if my doctor would not approve.”

  Smiling, Cassidy says, “You are welcome, James.”

  Suddenly, Lieutenant Baker walks into the war room while the others are enjoying their doughnuts.

  Pritchard says, “Good morning, Frank. Have a doughnut.”

  He asks, “What is on your mind?”

  Baker picks up a chocolate frosted doughnut and says, “Thank you, Captain. I just got a report on last night’s stakeout at Lundquist’s apartment. Sergeant DiPilato and his partner observed our subject return home from work just after 7:00pm last evening. The lights went out in his apartment at 11:15pm. The subject never left the building from the time he got home last evening until DiPilato and Robinson completed their watch at 6:00am today. The daytime surveillance team took over for them after that.”

  Pritchard says, “Sounds pretty uneventful.”

  Baker says, “Yes, but you might be interested to know that Lundquist was carrying a large, black plastic bag about the size of a bed pillow when he returned home last night.”

  Pritchard says, “That is rather mysterious.”

  Cassidy says, “Just because Lundquist was carrying a black plastic bag, it does not mean that it was filled with body parts. Almost anything could have been in that bag.”

  Pritchard says, “I suppose that is true. Okay, Frank, thank you for the report.”

  Baker says, “Certainly, Captain. I also got the okay from the owner of Lundquist’s apartment building for our people to examine the tenants’ garbage down in the basement. I am sending a team over there now to get started. The building superintendent will get them set up.”

  Pritchard thanks Baker again, and the lieutenant turns to leave the conference room.

  After a brief pause, Pritchard says, “I hope that one of two things happens today. Either our people find Lundquist’s DNA in the garbage at his apartment building or he does us a huge favor and drops his DNA somewhere on the ground in public for us to collect. We need that sample, one way or the other.”

  Cassidy says, “Well, at least it is not raining today, and it is Friday. Lundquist might spend some time outdoors tonight after he gets home from work and give us what we want.”

  Pritchard says, “We can only hope.”

  Pritchard and the others continue their conversation for several minutes. Then FBI Special Agent Steve Redding unexpectedly enters the war room.

  Redding says, “Excuse me, Captain. I have an update on my investigation into the source of the iron crosses that the guardian is leaving with his victims.”

  Pritchard says, “Good. Please proceed.”

  Redding says, “I called Wheeling Metal Designs right after I received a federal court order for them to release their sales records. The owner of the company was evasive and not very cooperative with me over the telephone, so I decided to go there. Yesterday, Liv Olson and I flew to Wheeling, West Virginia, to meet the owner. He became very helpful after I presented the federal warrant to him in person.”

  Pritchard asks, “What did you find out?”

  Redding says, “Well, it turns out that Wheeling Metal Designs does, in fact, have a client in New York who is buying custom-made, five-pound, cast iron crosses. Now, get ready for what I am about to tell you. The name of the person who is ordering the crosses is none other than Michael Gabriel—that is, the name signed by the guardian when he delivered his letter to CNN.”

  Pritchard shouts, “That is incredible!”

  Redding says, “There is more, too. The manufacturer has been mailing the crosses to a P.O. Box at the Church Street Station of the USPS. That particular post office location is less than a ten-minute walk from here. I think the guardian is taunting us, once again, by operating right in our own backyard.”

  Pritchard laughs, shakes his right fist exuberantly, and says, “This really is amazing news, Steve! You have discovered the guardian’s supplier of crosses and the mailing address where he receives them. Well done. By the way, the Church Street Station is very close to Charles Lundquist’s apartment, too.”

  He asks, “How is the guardian paying for everything? Can we trace the money?”

  Redding says, “I am looking into that, Captain. I can tell you that Wheeling Metal Designs has received two USPS money orders for one-thousand dollars each. The purchaser’s name at the bottom of both money orders is Michael Gabriel. The guardian placed an order over the telephone for thirteen cast iron crosses on August 10th for a flat price of two thousand dollars, including postage. The manufacturer has already completed the entire order and mailed all of the crosses to Michael Gabriel at his P.O. Box. I have determined that the money orders were also purchased at Church Street Station.”

  Pritchard says, “Outstanding, Steve. Can you link any of this to Charles Lundquist?”

  Redding says, “I have photo copies of the two money orders. If we can get a sample of Charles Lundquist’s handwriting, then we can compare it to the signature of Michael Gabriel on the money orders.”

  Redding puts photocopies of the two money orders on the table.

  He continues, “I also have the driver’s license photo of Charles Lundquist that I got from the DMV. I am taking it over to the post office on Church Street now to see if anyone there recognizes him. While I am there, I will also find out how Michael Gabriel is paying for his P.O. Box and money orders to see if it leads us to Lundquist.”

  Pritchard says, “Well, it is a nice day for a little walk to the post office, Steve. Let me know as soon as you know something.”

  Redding tells Pritchard that he will provide an update as soon as he returns from the post office. He exits the war room.

  After Redding leaves, Cassidy looks at Pritchard and says, “You know, James, if we can get a copy of Lundquist’s actual driver’s license from the DMV, and not just his photo, then we will have a sample of his signature. We can have a handwriting expert compare it to the signature of Michael Gabriel to see if they match.”

  Pritchard says, “Good thinking, Julia. Please give the DMV a call while we wait to hear back from Redding.”

  “Done,” says Cassidy.

  She walks to the door and leaves Pritchard and Baldwin sitting in the war room.

  Chapter Sixty Seven

  Soon after arriving at the USPS location at 90 Church Street and presenting his FBI credentials, Steve Redding is sitting with the station manager, Bill Fox, in his office. The manager is shocked to hear that the guardian serial killer may be using his post office location as a base of operations. Redding gives Fox the serial numbers of the postal money orders purchased by Michael Gabriel and the number of the P.O. Box rented in the same name.

  Bill Fox makes two telephone calls to subordinates to elicit their help. Within fifteen minutes, Fox tells Redding that their sales records reveal Michael Gabriel purchased the money orders and P.O. Box both in cash. This finding does not shock Redding at all. In fact, he anticipated it.

  Redding shows the photo of Charles Lundquist to Bill Fox and a number of his employees at the post office. Unfortunately, no one recalls seeing the man in the photo. At Redding’s request, Bill Fox promises to pull the post office surveillance videos for the dates and times of the transactions made by Michael Gabriel and have them sent over to One Police Plaza.

  Redding thanks Bill Fox for his help, then leaves the station manager’s office, and makes the short walk back to police headquarters in the morning sunshine.

  At 11:15am, Steve Redding enters the guardian war room and tells Pritchard and Baldwin everything that he has learned.

  Pritchard says, “Well, we had to assume that the guardian would pay for everything in cash, given what a clever bastard he is. I hope that we get something useful from the surveillance videos. By the way, Julia is trying to get a copy of Charles Lundquist’s driver’s license signature from
the DMV.”

  The words are barely out of his mouth when a smiling Cassidy enters the war room.

  She says, “The DMV will be sending a digital photo of Lundquist’s license and his signature over to us shortly.”

  Pritchard winks at Cassidy and cheerfully says, “There you go. This day is looking very promising.”

  Chapter Sixty Eight

  It is 6:25pm and Charles Lundquist is walking north on Mercer Street toward his apartment building located midway between East Houston and Bleecker. The prison chaplain is returning home from work. Darkness has settled in over Manhattan. Fall is Lundquist’s favorite season, and he is enjoying the calm, crisp evening air while strolling home. He smiles when he notices Halloween decorations in the doorways and windows of some of his neighbors’ apartments.

  He says to himself, “That’s right. Sunday is Halloween.”

  Across the street from Lundquist’s apartment, NYPD detectives DiPilato and Robinson are on stakeout in their unmarked police car. As Lundquist approaches his apartment, the two detectives, who are sitting in their car facing south, notice him immediately. The detectives quickly duck down in their parked car to avoid Lundquist seeing them under the bright streetlights.

  When Lundquist reaches the steps that lead to his front door, he stops for a moment. He suddenly has an uneasy feeling. He turns to his left and glances over his shoulder at the 2017 blue Ford Taurus parked across the street. He thinks to himself that he has seen this car parked there before. After giving it a little more thought, he is certain that he has been seeing this car in the same location for several days.

  He slowly walks up the steps toward his door. He rubs his chin and tries to shake the anxiety he feels.

  While climbing the steps, he silently says to himself, “I never saw that car parked on this street until a few days ago. Now, I see it every night in the same spot. I have a bad feeling about this. Something is wrong here.”

  Lundquist stops directly in front of his door and glances back over his shoulder at the parked car once again before disappearing into his apartment building.

  As soon as Lundquist enters the building, DiPilato and Robinson rise up in the front seat of their car, exhale deeply, and resume their surveillance. They watch the lights go on in the window of their subject’s apartment on the sixth floor.

  DiPilato looks at his partner and asks, “Do you think he made us, Nate?”

  Robinson replies, “I don’t think so, Vinnie, but we need to be careful just the same. Lieutenant Baker claims this guy is very clever.”

  Two hours later, inside his apartment, Lundquist is pacing back and forth. He is uncomfortable, restless and edgy. He feels as though someone is watching him. He cannot shake the feeling and he does not like it. Not one bit.

  Lundquist walks over to his living room window and looks outside. He looks down at the blue Ford Taurus parked across the street.

  “Of course it is still there,” he says to himself while shaking his head.

  After looking up and down Mercer Street from his window, he closes the drapes and sits down on his sofa.

  Lundquist is agitated but hungry. He decides to order Chinese food and have it delivered to his apartment. He calls his favorite local Chinese restaurant and orders Kung Pao chicken and two egg rolls. The restaurant tells him that his food will arrive in thirty minutes. The prospect of enjoying some food eases his tension a little bit.

  While he sits and waits for his food to arrive, Lundquist considers the possibility that either the NYPD or FBI are watching him. He prides himself in being very logical and pragmatic in his reasoning. It occurs to him that it would be very logical and reasonable for the authorities to stake out his apartment, given the circumstances.

  Lundquist says aloud, “Yes, watching me would be the right move on their part, even if they have no real evidence to connect me to the guardian, which they do not. Nevertheless, I should expect them to be watching me after my visit from the FBI the other day. I am under surveillance, all right. I am certain of it.”

  He leans back on the sofa, rubs his temples, and considers his next move.

  Chapter Sixty Nine

  It is Sunday, October 31st at 6:00pm—dusk on Halloween night. The guardian sits at the desk in his alter ego’s apartment. Outside on the street, costumed children and their parents are going trick-or-treating as darkness descends upon the city.

  Earlier today, the guardian returned to rescue the tormented psyche of Charles Lundquist who has struggled all weekend with uncertainty and anxiety over what to do about the law enforcement authorities whom he is certain are watching him. In order to ease Lundquist’s anguish, the cunning and dominant persona of the guardian has emerged to take control of the situation. Most importantly, the guardian is not about to risk that Charles Lundquist will do something foolish that could spoil his work.

  The guardian is also growing hungry for murder. His last killing was six days ago, and his terrible cravings are returning. The pleasure that he derived from Molly Fisher is long gone. He has been fantasizing about murder, rape, and the next special girl that he will rescue in his glorious mission. He will not be able to deny his hedonistic cravings for much longer. He will need another girl soon, he thinks to himself, while sitting at the desk.

  The guardian has been keeping his mind occupied today by writing a new letter to Captain James Pritchard.

  Filled with pride, he looks down at the finished letter on the desk. He just printed it on white bond paper. With latex gloves on his hands, he puts the letter into a mailing envelope, and then places the envelope inside of a plastic binder. Then he removes his gloves and smiles confidently.

  The guardian says aloud, “The foolish police captain seems to think that he can get to me through Charles Lundquist. That will never happen. I will not allow him to use Charles Lundquist against me. Pritchard does not realize that I anticipate every one of his moves in advance, so I am always at least one step ahead of him.”

  He laughs and continues, “Just wait until Pritchard receives my new letter. He will see that I am alive and well, and that his silly mind games do not affect me in any way. He will come to understand that he cannot alter or deter my divine mission. All he has succeeded in doing by his foolishness is to make me more careful and vigilant in my work. He will see that I am very grateful to him for that. It will no doubt drive him crazy.”

  The guardian has decided to mail his new letter directly to Pritchard at his office. He will drop it into the mailbox right outside of One Police Plaza, which he knows will irritate the police captain when he sees the location of the postmark. The guardian also knows that he must be very careful when he mails the letter due to the surveillance team outside. He must not let anyone follow him from his apartment to police headquarters.

  The guardian pulls back the drapes on the window in his living room and looks outside. It occurs to him that the bustle of Halloween activity and cover of darkness offer him a perfect opportunity to mail his letter right now. He is also tired of sitting in the apartment. It is time to go, he thinks to himself.

  As he is about to leave the apartment, he realizes that he has not eaten all day and his stomach is growling. He takes a banana from the kitchen counter, peels it, and begins to eat.

  “I will have something more substantial to eat when I return from mailing the letter,” he says aloud.

  With the plastic binder containing his letter in one hand and the banana in the other, the guardian walks out of his apartment and heads to the elevator. After taking the elevator down six flights to the ground floor and walking through the lobby, he emerges from the front door of the building.

  The guardian glances across the street. He immediately sees the blue Ford Taurus parked exactly where Charles Lundquist has seen it for the last four nights in a row. The authorities are still on the prowl, he thinks to himself. He stares at the car with a look of disdain on his face.

  Although he knows that the police are watching him, he will not alter
his plan to mail the letter. Instead, he will be extra vigilant and elusive. He will take the number six subway train downtown three stops from Bleecker Street to the City Hall where he will exit and walk a very short distance to One Police Plaza.

  The guardian takes a bite of the banana and descends the six steps from the front door of his building to the street. He glances again at the parked car, then turns left and begins to walk south toward East Houston Street.

  Sitting inside the parked Ford Taurus, detectives DiPilato and Robinson are watching every move their subject makes. The detectives observe him as he approaches East Houston. Just before he reaches the corner, he stops and turns to his right. He glances back over his shoulder at the parked car, once again. After a moment, he begins to walk, and drops the partially eaten banana into a trashcan that is sitting on the street corner. When he reaches East Houston, he turns left and disappears from sight.

  The moment after their subject disappears from view, detectives DiPilato and Robinson begin to celebrate. They high five one another in the front seat of the car and let out triumphant cheers in unison.

  DiPilato exclaims, “That banana is exactly what we have been waiting for, Nate. Lundquist’s DNA should be all over it. I will go and get it before someone dumps garbage on top of it and destroys its integrity.”

  Handing DiPilato a sterile evidence bag and gloves, Robinson says, “Here you go, partner. Be quick about it.”

  Less than two minutes after going to retrieve it, DiPilato returns with their prize sealed in plastic. He is grinning from ear to ear when he enters the car. He puts the evidence bag inside of a box in order to protect it until they get it to the crime lab for testing.

  DiPilato says, “I am going to call Lieutenant Baker right now and tell him that we have our sample and are headed to the DNA crime lab on East 26th Street at First Avenue. I am sure he will want to alert everyone, including the FBI, so they can begin their tests immediately. This could be the break we have all been waiting for.”