Murder! Too Close To Home (14 page)

Chapter 31

March 10, 1997

The man sat naked on the bed smoking, staring at the butterfly tattoo on Gina’s butt. Unlike Gina, the butterfly was beautiful, the girl was just a washed out drug addict.

He had called Gina when he decided that he needed to take his celebration to the next level. She was always looking for a good time, especially when she could make some money to feed her habit. Unlike some of the other girls he had been with, this girl actually enjoyed sex, especially when she was high.

Plus, she was cheap.

He had called her about eleven in the morning, waking her from a dead sleep, even agreeing to an extra $25 to get her out of bed. It had been worth it. Coupled with his own high from his adventure from last night, it had actually been the best sex he had ever experienced. Both were now worn out, resting for what he hoped was the next round.

He turned on the TV while he waited; hoping to catch news of his exploits, hoping to hear mentioned the name ‘Ghost’. He had even made Gina call him ‘
Mr. G
’ in honor of his alter ego.

The girl was stirring, letting her hand roam pleasurably over his body as it responded in kind. He concluded this must be the best day ever.

As expected, the murder was big news with various reporters putting their own spin on the information that was available to them. The camera cut to one reporter who was at the scene, as he started pointing out this and that while trying to convince the audience that he knew what he was talking about.

A fantasy edged its way into his head where he again had sex while they were talking about his exploits on the TV, his body reacting positively to the scene playing out in his mind.

Reaching over, he pulled Gina on top of him so that he could still see the TV, the girl reacting immediately with pleasure at the man’s already hard state.

“Wow, are you happy to see me or what,” she exclaimed with pleasure, wiggling her hips easily into position as she started a slow rhythmic motion.

“Someone close to the investigation has said that they now think that this heinous crime was committed by the same person who cold-bloodedly murdered the couple on US 50 a few weeks ago.”

The man’s excitement was indeed building, as he now added his thrusts to the girl’s efforts.

“This same source, who wishes to remain anonymous, has also let us in on a little-known fact concerning the identity of the murderer, or at least the name that the murderer apparently likes to call himself.”

The man started arching his back in rhythm with his thrusts, excitement building beyond belief, his heart pounding in his chest.

“News 7 is your first source with this information, the murderer apparently calling himself ‘The Ghost’. Our source has indicated that this information was left in some form at the first crime scene.”

The man’s loud moans now filled the air of the bedroom, his fantasy coming to fruition; his name and reputation now known to everybody. 

The newsman quickly held his hand to his ear for a few seconds, listening intently as someone passed on some additional information through his earpiece.

“I have just been alerted to a breaking event in this story.”

The newsman again held his ear in rapt attention, nodding periodically as he was fed the information,

“This was just released to the News 7 studios by the Major Crimes Taskforce; it should be coming on your screen now.”

The man, now in a heightened state of ecstasy as he busied himself mentally for his climax, opened his eyes to glance once again at the TV.

As his eyes finally focused on the screen; his heart suddenly stopped. He abruptly let out a yell and pushed Gina off of him with unbelievable strength. She landing on the floor at the foot of the bed with a loud thump.

“You ass!… what the hell!…” she started before looking up at the man and seeing the wild eyed look on his face.

“What you are seeing is a sketch-artist’s rendition of an eye witness description of the man we now know as the ‘Ghost’,”
the newsman droned on.

The eye twitch started before his mind even recognized what he was looking at. As his brain again started functioning, he was suddenly beside himself with fear.

This was not supposed to happen, how did this happen?

The picture on the screen was hardly what he would call an accurate likeness of himself, with one blaring exception, the birthmark. Anyone that had ever met him could identify him with one look at this sketch.

“You have to leave,” the man blurted out as he lunged for the remote and turned off the television, grabbing the money and shoving it into her face.

“Right now!” he shouted as he gathered up her clothes and herded her out of the room and out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Gina just stood there, unsure as to what had just happened. Nevertheless happy to see the money wadded in her hand, she starting off down the sidewalk before she abruptly realized that she wasn’t wearing any clothes!

The realization caused her to let out a scream as she dove behind the hedge and hastily pulled on some of her clothing. Exiting the bushes, she spent a few seconds angrily swatting at some twigs and leaves that had stuck to the cloth.

“That’s the last time that bastard will see
this
ass,” she huffed as she stalked down the sidewalk, the red on her face matching the bra she was now carrying in her hand.

Chapter 32

March 10, 1997

The level of tension in our office seemed greatly reduced since the release of the suspect’s sketch to the media. The general feeling was that someone would see this and immediately be able to identify the man just by the birthmark alone.

Ellen walked into my office carrying a single sheet of paper, setting it down on my desk with a smile before turning to leave. Glancing at it quickly and not knowing what I was looking at, I asked “What’s this?”

“Soil report from the state, from the first murders, just came in on the Fax,” she reported.

I had almost forgotten that piece of evidence as it had taken so long to get back. Picking it up and looking over the scientific gibberish, I was at a loss as to what it meant.

AvA- Avonburg Silt Loam                                                        78%

FcB- Fincastle Silt Loam                                                                      19%

Omz- Orthents, Earthen Loam                                                          3%

Grabbing the phone I called the number on the bottom of the page, asking for the man whose signature was listed.

“Boris Yang,” the man announced hastily as he picked up on his end. I quickly identified myself and my problem, saying I was having trouble interpreting the data on the report.

A sigh was followed by several seconds of silence, then, “Just a minute,” as I was suddenly put on hold. I was at least able to enjoy a somewhat scratchy performance of the Beach Boy’s ‘Good Vibrations’ playing on the hold music. I was half way through ‘Light My Fire’ by the Doors when Boris came back on the line.

“Ok, I have a copy of your report, what’s the problem?”

I sighed inwardly at the realization that this guy thought I should know what was before me; all detectives of course having taken classes in the science of soil.

I pushed down my aggravation and admitted that I had always failed my science classes, but that I needed any information he as a professional scientist could give me that may help solve the murder I was working on.

“Oh, ok,” he said with renewed vigor. “Well, it is 78% Avonburg Silt Loam, which is real common in your section of the state and probably won’t help you much. Orthents is used on earthen dams, but is also widespread for that application, being used all over the state. Fincastle…let me check on something here, hold on.” 

‘Hey Jude’ was half way through when I entered the state’s phone system again, but before it finished Boris was back on the line.

“Ok, I might have something you can use here. There is absolutely no single location in your county that has Fincastle loam. It
is
rather prevalent in Franklin County, however; they have about 13,000 acres of it over there, about 5% of the county. I can send you a map if you like, showing the areas where it is concentrated.”

I replied that I would indeed be interested in a map, asking if he could overnight it to us. He happily agreed, his transition from annoyed state worker to extremely helpful partner in our investigation now complete. I thanked him for his scientific expertise, and assured him that this may help greatly in finding a murderer.

Although I knew this may help find our perp, 13,000 acres equates to over 20 square miles, still a huge area to find a single man in. Plus we didn’t know what the connection to the neighboring county really was, he may work there, live there, or maybe he just visited on the day of the murder.

Maybe our best bet would be to plaster posters with the suspect’s sketch on it everywhere in the area, when we figured out where that was. I would put in a call to the Franklin County Sheriff when we got the information, hopefully he could distribute the posters around the area for us.

I had always assumed that we were dealing with someone more local, but the next county’s mysterious possible involvement in our case probably wouldn’t hinder us greatly.

I felt suddenly groggy, looking at the clock and realizing that it was almost 5:00. I had been up for almost 36 hours at this point, but I also knew I had a couple more to go before leaving for the night. I got up in preparation of doing what I always did when stress was high and long hours prevailed in my work.

“Time for coffee,” I said as I grabbed my cup and headed for the coffee maker.
“I hope someone has made a new pot,”
I thought hopefully to myself, knowing though that I would take any manner of black liquid that was already there. As tired as I was feeling, anything would help, anything at all.

Chapter 33

March 10, 1997

Having hurriedly gotten dressed, the man had grabbed his keys off the dented nightstand and swiftly moved into the living room, snatching the key for the footlocker from under the ashtray.

Opening the trunk, he then grabbed the gun from the first murder as well as the few extra bullets he had on hand. He let the lid slam closed, no longer worrying about locking up his treasures.

He slid the gun into the pocket of his sweatshirt, grabbed a coat and a ball cap and headed to the car, pulling the ball cap low on his head. He would have to head to the hideout set up by the Jasmine for just such an occasion.

To say he was disappointed that his identity had happened so early in his run would be an understatement. Ultimately it didn’t matter though; he could now immerse himself in his real identity from the new location. His old life was over, having never added up to much of anything anyway.

After all, all children grow up and eventually move on. The Ghost had been born inside of him, entering puberty with the first murders, finally coming into adulthood with the death of the old man. The realization of his dream sent an electric shock through his body, his confidence building with every mile. He was the ‘Ghost’, and he had never been prouder of anything in his life.

Chapter 34

March 10, 1997

When I finally got to leave it was 7:00. I realized then that Betty had probably left for home hours earlier.

When I walked through the door, I heard the sound of scratching coming from the kitchen. Recognizing it as Lucy’s sign that she was done with the outside, I went to the back door and let her in. I then went on a search to find my wife; the house was much too quiet for her to be here.

I found her on my chair in the living room with the newspaper lying on her chest. She was fast asleep. She normally found my chair uncomfortable and was probably only intending to sit there for a few minutes, reading the paper while waiting for the too long pent up Lucy to finish her business outside.

I gently tapped her shoulder to waken her only to get a low mumble and her moving slightly to get more comfortable. I gently picked her up and trudged up the stairs, using the last of my available energy to perform the task.

Laying her gently on the bed and removing her shoes, I grabbed a quilt from across the room and laid it over her. Pushing my own shoes off with my toes and dropping my coat on the floor where I stood, I crawled into bed and snuggled up to my lovely wife.

Lying there, I started to worry if I had left the front door unlocked when I had come into the house, but decided I didn’t care if somebody came in and stole everything we owned…as long as they let us sleep.

My last thoughts were a quick run-through of the day in my head. I decided that this was probably one of the longest days of my life before finally succumbing to the sandy feeling in my eyes.

A
very
long day.