Murder! Too Close To Home (20 page)

Betty had left and I was wrapping up when my phone rang. I picked it up without thinking, not knowing it would immediately change my plans within minutes of making them.

Mr. Celtic…err…Gabriel, this is Dale, from ‘The Gas Mart’. I think I may have something for you.

Chapter 50

March 21, 1997

Our buddy Dale may have come through with some information, thinking he had found the ‘
Great Soup Transaction’
we had asked him to look into. He asked if we could come up right away, as the cashier that made the sale was leaving after her shift to go on vacation with her family.

I quickly called Frank back and arranged to head north in five minutes. I then called my wonderful wife to fill her in, telling her I would bring supper home as soon as I could.

Our boy Dale came out to meet us when he saw our car pull into the lot. Although his hair was still long, it had been washed and it was neatly combed this time around, an indicator of his new status as an investigator, no doubt.

“Hi Gabriel, hi Frank,” he said with a smile, extending his hand to shake ours like we were his oldest friends.

“One of our cashiers, Jena, remembers selling the soup you were wondering about. Come on in and you can talk to her.”

We followed Dale into the un-crowded convenience store and over to a cute little girl of about seventeen sporting curly brown hair and deep brown eyes.

“Guys, this is Jena. Jena would you tell these detectives what you told me about the sale?”

“Sure!” she said perkily.

“There was like this old lady that like lugged this big-as…this big box full of soup over to my counter and I was like man you must really like this stuff and she was like giving me the silent treatment so I like know when to shut-it and I rang her out and she like, you know, left…out the door.”

“How old do you think she was?” I asked after recovering from her tirade and the confirmation that it was a woman that had bought the soup.

“I don’t know; it’s like she had on like these big old-lady sunglasses, probably like thirty?”

“What did she look like; fat, thin, hair color?”

“She was pretty well preserved, you know like still had her figure and all. Her hair? It was like, blonde I think.”

“Do you remember the day this happened?” I asked, feeling now like I would have to pull every little detail out of her one at a time.

“We determined that it was March third,” Dale joined in, “Jena remembered it was real busy that day, a lot of old people. Social Security checks, you know?”

“Do either one of you know how she paid, was it with a credit card or cash?” I asked hopefully.

“Cash, definitely,” Jena piped in. “She handed me a five and like didn’t wait for change, I had to like turn it in though cause, you know, they won’t let me keep tips or nothing.”

Frank tapped me on the shoulder, pointing up with his finger. “Do you guys keep tapes for that security camera?” he asked Dale. Dale looked up, a smile spreading across his face.

“We sure do! We keep them for a month; insurance company makes us do it since we were robbed last time.”

Following our intrepid junior detective to the office in the back, he pulled down the tape for March 3
rd
and stuck it in the machine. “Jena said it was about dark when this happened, so I’ll run it up to about 5:00.”

We gathered around the black and white monitor, watching a grainy high speed picture of customers coming in and out.

“There she is!” Dale shouted as he stopped the tape and reversed it in slow motion. Stopping it again, he again put the tape in slow-motion, this time in forward.

It was immediately evident that the woman was aware of the camera, keeping her face averted from it. We watched as she threw the money on the counter, then turned to the right and proceeded to leave the store away from the camera. Just before she got to the door I reached up and hit the pause button, 5:36 PM showing as the time on the screen.

The back of the woman in the picture did indeed reveal her to have a good figure, quite evident even with the hooded sweatshirt she was wearing. With shoulder length blonde hair that looked thick and well kept, I would guess this woman to be a step above your typical murdering mastermind, if that was indeed what she was.

“There she is, Frank,” I said, still staring at the grainy image in front of me. “The best picture we have of the supplier of our murderer; and possibly the brains behind the string of murders.”

Frank silently continued to stare at the picture on the screen. “Betty was right,” he finally uttered, as the ramifications of what he was seeing finally settled in.

“Dale, can we get a copy of this?” I asked as I continued to size up the woman on the screen.

“Sure thing,” Dale exclaimed with a smile as he hurried out of the office. Arriving back in the office after only a minute, the smile was no longer evident and had been replaced with a worried frown.

“I hate to ask, but can one of you guys fork over $4.95 for the tape? My manager won’t let me give you one.”

Reaching into my pocket and pulling out a $5 bill. I handed it to Dale, returning my eyes to stare at the screen once more until he returned.

“You know,” Frank started hesitation heavy in his voice. “This is great evidence, but we can’t use it, not officially. It proves that this lady purchased soup, but we still can’t prove that the perp actually has the soup, or where he is even located to corroborate that he has the soup.”

Frank was right and I knew it, but had no idea what to do about it. The stars were aligning on my psychic event, but I still couldn’t prove I wasn’t full of it concerning my visions.

I had never asked for one of the dreams that came upon me in my sleep, but I was at that point now. If I could just have one more dream…

Chapter 51

March 21, 1997

We thanked Dale for his help, promising we would keep in touch before we headed back to town. We were both quiet on the drive back, lost in thought over our discovery.

Betty was not going to believe it, we had proven her whole theory about the second person, and that that person was a woman. At least the theory was proven in mine and Frank’s minds, we were just not able to make if official yet.

About half way back to town, we passed the Guilford covered bridge park. I could still make out the bridge as we drove by, noticing the new paint and roof on the recently burned out bridge. I remembered reading in the paper that they were going to fix the outside facade, even though the inside repairs were not complete. Their theory was that by fixing the shell, it would protect the inside from any further degradation, as well as giving shelter to anyone working on the old structure.

I continued thinking about the old bridge for the next few miles, not only because it was easier than thinking about our case, but also because I used to play around on it when I was a kid. In fact, I could remember way deep down in my memory banks actually driving across it with my mom and dad when it was still being used. That had been more years ago than I cared to think about.

A couple of other childhood memories floated through my brain, thinking mostly about my mom and dad, happy memories of childhood and love I suppose. Eventually my thoughts turned back to the bridge, again thinking about repairing the roof, the siding. You would do this to protect...

“DAMN!”

Frank, who had himself been lost in thought while driving, swerved slightly at my outburst, getting the car quickly back in control before looking at me with a puzzled look.

“What the hell was that about?” he questioned, surprise still in his voice.

“I’m an idiot, that’s what. I was discounting old houses that looked fixed up in our search because they looked too good to have a room like I saw in my dream. Any sane person
would
fix up the outside first, so that you could then work on the inside…I’m an idiot.”

“You know, that’s true, but I didn’t think of it either,” Frank said in regard to my mistake. “We did this on the spur of the moment, probably just didn’t think it through well enough.”

“I know, but I can think of at least three houses we passed up because of that, and I don’t remember where they were.”

“Well then, we’ve got a choice to make my friend. Either we keep going and then start over when we are done, or we start over now, using our new outlook to investigate more of the buildings. I don’t see any shortcut way out of this if we want to be thorough.”

Frank was right as usual, about everything. We had jumped the gun and wasted time; and we would have to do it again.

“I think we should start over,” I said with regret. “Our search pattern started in the south and worked north. If we make the assumption that our man is hiding as close as he can to our county, then we might theorize that we’ve already passed it.”

“Sounds right to me” Frank chimed in with conviction. ”We just need to do it, no regrets, starting tomorrow. It’s Saturday, so we could start early, say 8:00?”

We finalized our plans as we pulled into the lot. Saying goodbye, I unlocked my car and got in. As I sat down in the driver’s seat, I marveled again at Frank’s unwavering devotion to doing things the right way, and his ability to defuse an emotional situation with his logic. No pity party allowed. He had made me feel better immediately over my screw-up, and I thanked whoever was up there once again for his friendship.

Right now, however, I had to prepare myself for the final, most important decision of the day.

Mexican or Chinese?

Chapter 52

March 22, 1997

“Larry Loudon, deputy extraordinaire, driving around back country roads at three in the morning,” The man mumbled to himself.

“What the hell am I doing here?”

Feeling sorry for himself was not like him, but the unexpected overtime after putting in extra time with the task force was wearing on him.

“Nothing out here but deer and raccoons,” he added in continued frustration as he slowed for a small herd of the former. The least they could’ve done was to give him a patrol area that had some action to help keep him awake. Relegated to a series of mostly gravel roads in the middle of the county, the most exciting thing he had seen all night was a train riding slowly passed as he was pulled off the road to take a leak…seventy six hopper cars heading south, probably taking corn to the distillery.

“That’s so sad,” he thought out loud at the overly involved thought process he had used on the train. He should be so lucky to solve the murders as easily.

Sliding slightly on his seat to get into a more comfortable position, he was looking forward to 5:00 when he could grab three hours sleep before his regular shift started.

Rolling down his window, he pulled out the old chew in his mouth with a crooked finger, flinging it out the open window before taking a new dip from his can and packing it in next to his gum.

“Thank God for chew,” he intoned as he started feeling the rush that a new dip sometimes gave him.

Rounding the next corner continued the rush however as he became instantly alert at what he saw ahead of him. A car was pulled off to the side of the deserted road, the driver half in and half out of the car; laying face up in the road.

Regs demanded that he call in a situation like this before leaving the car, but he wanted to look it over a little more before doing so. Turning on the vehicle spotlight, he first brightly lit the man in the road, then his surroundings to make sure he was alone.

Moving the light back to the man, he slowly got out of the car, pulling out his weapon as he moved around the front of his cruiser.

Reaching for his mike, “14 to base.”

“Base.”

“I have a 10-42 on Bonnell Road, 5 miles north of Guilford.”

“Roger, Larry, keep me apprised.”

Moving forward carefully and checking his surroundings as he went, he stopped at the back of the car, noticing that it was an older Taurus.

Taking one last look around, he moved forward toward the body, reaching down and checking for a pulse at the carotid. He felt relieved to feel the beat under his fingers, having seen enough dead bodies in the last few weeks to last him a lifetime.

Pulling the metal flashlight off of his belt, he looked the guy over to determine his condition. A knot on the man’s forehead easily explained his present condition, probably had a fight with a drunken buddy.

Reaching to his mike to call in the Life squad, Larry felt a prick on his leg. Thinking he was leaning against a thorn bush, he attempted to move sideways to get away from it.

It was the last thing that he would remember.

Chapter 53

March 22, 1997

The Ghost left his hiding place and walked up to the scene beside the car, both men now lying on the ground. Reaching down, he pulled the tranquilizer dart out of the deputy’s leg with his gloved hand and deposited it into his sweatshirt pocket, “Fast actin’ shit,” he mused as he stood and admired his handiwork.

The old disabled car ploy had again easily gotten him another victim, although he had had to wait over an hour for a passerby to even show up on the deserted back road.

Once the old man had stopped, a tire iron had handily disabled him as he attempted to get out of the car, drunk as a skunk.

Getting back into his own car, he drove up about a mile before turning onto the railroad right-of-way at a crossing, doubling back using the old road bed from the second track they had removed years ago.

Stopping again parallel to the old man’s car, he had grabbed the tranquilizer gun before having to quickly hide from a sudden and unexpected freight train that announced itself with its loud, mournful horn and bright light from around the curve behind him.

Hiding in the weeds between the tracks and the road, he let his heart calm, his eye twitching like a rabbit’s nose from the surprising appearance of the train.  He estimated that he was about thirty yards away from the road at this point.

“Should be an easy shot,”
he had thought to himself as he settled himself into the grass.

Another hour passed before the deputy showed up, being careful and taking his time before getting out of the car. The spotlight had surprised the now blonde man when it had come on suddenly, panning the area with its piercing beam. He had to flatten out in the sparse weeds to avoid being seen, readying the gun in the off chance he would be spotted.

The light finally settled on the car in front of the cruiser as the deputy slowly advanced forward, using extreme caution and calling in his situation as his training demanded.

“Unfortunately for him,”
thought the Ghost,
“caution will do him no good tonight.”

Taking aim through the sights of the gun, he squeezed off the shot as the deputy squatted by the disabled man. Hitting the deputy in the thigh, the distracted officer seemed barely to notice before dropping to the ground seconds later.

The Ghost could only smile at the way this had all come together. Sure, his mentor had given him the tentative schedule, but it had taken his skills and tenacity to accomplish the result lying before him now.

“Now for the piece de resistance,” the man said as he lifted the deputy’s hand, the gun still in its grip. Threading his gloved finger over that of the patrolman, he took aim at the center of the old man’s chest, the body jumping as the slug entered the rib cage amid the amazingly loud retort of the discharging weapon.

The Ghost leaped up quickly, not because he was surprised or scared, but because he was ecstatic!

He wanted to shout to the world his accomplishments, but settled for a little jig around the participants in his melodramatic play, looking to the entire world like a leprechaun dancing around his pot of gold.

Common sense finally settled in and he headed back to his car, picking up the tranquilizer gun on his way. Jumping back into his car, he moved slowly away from the murder with the lights off. He would follow the tracks for about four miles before exiting the railroad right-of-way onto the highway.

It was way too late to buy any liquor on the way to his hideout. That was one detail that had gotten away from him, should’ve picked something up on his way to ‘work’.

He would need to get out tomorrow and get some to celebrate, in fact that was all he had planned for tomorrow, celebrating the continued success of the Ghost.

Chapter 54

March 22, 1997

“14…to…Base”

“Base”

(Several seconds pass)

“This is Base, go ahead Larry”

“Something…something has happened.”

“I need…I need help.”

“Are you ok? Are you injured?”

“No…yes…I don’t know. A man is dead. I need help.”

“What? Where? Are you at your last reported location Larry?”

“
I’m…I don’t know…Bonnell Road…I think”

“Hang tight Larry, I’m sending help to your last location.”

“Hurry…please hurry…I need help.”

Chapter 55

March 22, 1997

Sheriff Lean McHenry was dressed in two minutes and out the door, the power of the police V8 emanating throughout the car as he shoved his foot to the floorboard.

His pulse rate matched that of the the speedometer on his cruiser as he made his way down the curvy hill toward Bonnell Road. His house was only about three miles from where Larry had called in from, and he was certain he would be first on the scene.

He had never heard his dispatcher Joan so shook up. She had said that Larry sounded very confused…she was afraid he was injured.

The sheriff put that thought out of his mind as he concentrated on getting to the crime scene in one piece.

Pulling quickly left onto the gravel road, his tires threw a hail of rocks as he powered through the corner, barely noticing as the car fishtailed back and forth a few times. He hoped the wailing siren and flashing lights would keep any deer out of his way, but he would plow through any brave enough to challenge him tonight.

Pulling up to the scene was like entering a nightmare vision right out of
Dante’s Inferno
, the strobe effect of the light bars on the cruisers lighting the area in a bizarre array of reds and blues. The spotlight on Larry’s car immediately focused Lean’s attention to the macabre scene of the bloody man lying on the road as it pierced the darkness, the strobing lights lost in its intensity.

The sheriff’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Larry, almost lost from view in the relative darkness of his position. Slumped over beside his car with his chin to his chest, Lean’s first thought was that he too was dead.

As the sheriff exited his car, he detected movement in his deputy and rushed over to his position, grabbing the younger man’s shoulder with one hand and lifting his chin carefully with the other. Tears were running down Larry’s cheeks as he started a rapid-fire babble at the sight of his boss, the words coming out as mostly slurred and unintelligible.

“Calm down, Larry, calm down! Take some deep breaths. That’s it, take a couple more. Now, slowly, tell me what happened.”

Larry swallowed hard and slowly started to describe what happened, at least what he knew.

He described how he had found the man lying on the road, how he had first checked his surroundings before approaching, and of checking the man’s pulse to find him alive.

He stopped there, hesitating with a confused look on his face.  

“What happened then, Larry?” the sheriff questioned after a few moments of silence.

“I don’t know,” Larry answered quietly. “The next thing I remember I was lying on the road with my face in the gravel. I remember that I felt groggy…”

He stared off into nothingness for a few moments before the sheriff nudged him, urging him on as to what happened next.

“When I realized where I was, I got up and checked on the injured guy…he had been shot!

I checked his pulse, but he was dead. I grabbed my gun and looked around but couldn’t see anyone else. I looked down on the road and found a 9mm shell casing lying there…and then I checked my weapon…”

Looking up at his boss, the tears started coming again as he held up his Glock with two fingers as if in an offering for the sheriff. Continuing on in a sorrowful voice, Larry finished his tale.

“My gun had been fired…I think I shot that man.”

Chapter 56

March 22, 1997

Sirens wailed in the distance as the sheriff rose from the ground, holding Larry’s gun with two fingers. He stood there a few seconds, still, digesting what his deputy had just told him before heading to his trunk for an evidence bag.

Taking a whiff of the barrel before inserting the gun into the bag confirmed that it had indeed been recently fired.

“Damn it,” was all that his overloaded mind would let him say as he sealed the bag, writing the pertinent information on the outside of it with a marker. 

Taking out a cigarette and popping it into his mouth, he quickly dug his Zippo out of his pocket to light it.

Play smoking wouldn’t suffice tonight.

Keying his mike, he raised dispatch to make sure that forensics and the coroner had been called, and to tell everyone that Larry was ok, at least physically.

He hoped that there was enough evidence to help clear his deputy; otherwise it looked like he might have at the very least an accidental shooting on his hands. He had known Larry for years, there was no way, even in his wildest imagination that he could conceive of the deputy doing this on purpose.

Lean had another problem scratching at his soul however, one that had even more dire consequences for him personally. This would be the third strike on his department in a little over a month. Voters wouldn’t be lining up to reelect someone with a string of screw-ups like he was piling up. That is, of course, if they didn’t try to run him out of town before the election.

Thank God they didn’t tar and feather anymore.

Police cars were everywhere now, the sheriff quickly falling into his normal role of barking orders and overseeing details. He spotted the life squad as it weaved its way through the parked police cars. Sheriff McHenry directed it personally to Larry’s position. 

Squatting down to talk to Larry once more, he gently shook the now almost comatose deputy.

“Larry, look at me son.”

Larry slowly looked up, his red eyes finally coming into focus.